Chapter Thirty-Five: Life Is Precious (Part One)

Solo Journey Allergic to alcohol 3135 words 2026-03-06 14:54:18

Sometimes, I find myself pondering a question: how should we measure a person’s strength? Is this so-called comparison of "strength" truly just a matter of relative levels, differences in equipment, or the proficiency with which one wields their professional skills? I don’t believe it’s entirely so, because I have witnessed scenes, more than once, where in many duels, adventurers of lower level and inferior equipment have not always been defeated by their opponents—regardless of whether those opponents were warriors, mages, or anything else.

I believe that, at times, other factors can also determine the extent of a person's strength—such as the wisdom to choose the correct tactics, the discernment of timing, and, perhaps most importantly… courage.

Just now, when I was still trembling in terror before death, unable to bring myself to join the battle, in my eyes, the mighty vampire marquis Minerval appeared so powerful that he seemed akin to Death itself, capable of snuffing out my life with ease. In that moment, I dared not even meet his gaze, let alone consider confronting him head-on; such a thought was beyond contemplation.

At that time, I was utterly feeble. I believe that anyone, even a staggering child with a small wooden stick, could have easily struck me down, for I had not a shred of courage left within me.

But now, as I steady myself and once more stand bravely before him, I realize that the formidable, savage, and invincible vampire marquis existed only as a phantom in my mind. He is indeed powerful, difficult to withstand, but before him I am not utterly powerless, not doomed to close my eyes and await death.

Having lost my shield, that effective piece of defensive equipment, Minerval’s fierce assaults became even harder to parry. I could only defend with all my might, conserving my battle energy as much as possible, relying heavily on the skill of "parry" to lessen the blows I received, struggling to hold him off and create more opportunities for my companions to inflict harm.

With my current abilities, to withstand the vampire’s assault alone would be no different from courting death. Fortunately, the minotaur shaman, Krado, was there to assist. Though a spellcaster, he was robust, but by virtue of his profession, his defensive prowess was inferior to mine. However, the minotaur’s stamina far exceeded that of a human, allowing him to share some of my burden, if only for a short while. At times, he could even deploy an “Anger Totem” to distract Minerval, buying us brief but precious moments to recover our strength.

Our efforts were not in vain; under our combined assault, Minerval’s vitality steadily diminished, dwindling to a mere tenth of what it was at the outset. Yet, as his life waned, his counterattacks grew ever more frenzied: the swings of his greatsword no longer followed any rhythm, each blow liable to fall upon us without warning; his spells were cast with increasing frequency, flashes of dangerous magic regularly erupting before our eyes, sapping our vitality in dazzling, deadly bursts.

Last time, I paid with my life for my arrogance and failure to replenish my health in time. Having learned this bitter lesson, I dared not again show the slightest negligence, leaving no opportunity for the vampire to strike by surprise. All my healing potions were long exhausted, so whenever my life ebbed to half, I would immediately withdraw from the fray to receive the dual restoration of the Healing Totem and Longbow Sunshot’s sacred magic.

My caution proved to be both wise and prescient.

At the very brink, with Minerval’s life hanging by a thread, death imminent, the monstrous vampire suddenly unfurled his wings, conjuring a violent gale that scattered us all. He then cast aside his sword, pressed his palms together, and loudly chanted a strange incantation. Between his hands, a red glow, thick with menace, began as a tiny point of light, then swelled larger until it became a blood-red orb the size of a fist.

The vampire marquis lifted the orb with both hands, brought it before his face, and, baring his fangs, swallowed the magical sphere in a single gulp.

When this was done, Minerval threw back his head and howled in elated frenzy. His hideous features contorted further, flesh twisting into grotesque cords. A dark, purplish hue seeped beneath his skin, and his nails grew longer and sharper, like venomous thorns. The red glow in his eye sockets blazed even brighter, as if a wicked fire burned within.

True to the valorous spirit of his kind, the minotaur shaman Krado was the first to charge Minerval, bellowing as he went. He hadn’t even set up his totemic pillar, just swung his great axe directly at the mutated vampire beast.

Thud! The axe struck Minerval, but instead of a spray of blood, it made a dull sound, as if hitting solid wood. On Minerval’s arm, struck by the axe, there was only a shallow, pale mark, not a single drop of blood spilled.

This blow inflicted a mere fifty points of damage—far less than Krado’s usual output.

Minerval growled, and with a swipe of his hand sent Krado flying. This barehanded blow was even more powerful than the earlier sword attacks; Krado, struck, was instantly transformed from a robust warrior into a critically wounded casualty in dire need of rescue.

As another close-combatant locked in struggle with the vampire marquis, I soon suffered the same fate. The frenzied Minerval struck me down with bone-crushing force. Not only was his assault brutal, but there was something insidiously dangerous about it. I felt as though some malignant magic clung to his claws, releasing an icy power at the moment of contact that sapped all strength from my bones, leaving me limp and fragile—so much so that this seemingly ordinary blow nearly killed me outright.

Had I not been careful to keep my vitality high, this blow would surely have sent me back into that endless void of death.

"Be careful, his attacks are strange—don’t try to take them head-on!" I shouted as I scrambled to my feet, warning the others. At that moment, Minerval lunged at Black Aegis.

Our elven mage should have had ample time to escape, but he made a fatal error. As the monstrous vampire closed in, he was in the midst of casting a fireball, nearly completing the spell. I suppose he didn’t want to waste the mana already spent, and misjudged Minerval’s current attack strength, choosing to endure the blow in order to finish his spell.

The fireball struck true, exploding in a burst of flame against Minerval’s chest. This attack dealt far more damage than Krado and I had managed—one hundred and fifty-three points of life vanished amidst the smoke and fire.

At the same time, Minerval’s massive claws tore into Black Aegis. Against the insidious magic of his attack, even my chainmail was no protection; the elven mage, clad in little more than robes, was all the more vulnerable. Unsurprisingly, he was pierced as if he were no more than a sheet of paper, crumpling to the ground lifeless with a single helpless cry.

The dwarven priest Longbow Sunshot had always been the most fearless among us, but though reckless, he wasn’t as dim as he appeared. Just moments before, he’d been shouting, “Hold this brute for me! Watch how I send him reeling!” twirling his bone staff as he charged. But upon seeing Black Aegis slain so easily and Minerval turning toward him, he paused in shock, then let out a wild cry and fled at nearly double his charging speed, casting healing spells upon himself with such abandon that he nearly bled from every orifice.

Who says dwarves aren’t agile? Longbow Sunshot’s nimble footwork in flight would make a cheetah bow its head in shame. His short legs spun like springs at incredible speed, and, surprisingly, he didn’t so much as trip over his own beard.

Perhaps it was because Longbow Sunshot was such a small target, or perhaps Minerval’s vision was greatly impaired after two transformations and being twice scorched by fire. Whatever the reason, he abandoned pursuit of the dwarven priest and instead, with menacing force, charged once more at Krado and me.

Why is he coming for me again?!

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