[Chapter 290. Outmatched]

With the massive axe held in both hands, the Gatura King let out a guttural cry that shook the very foundations of the castle—a sound of pure rage and bloodlust. Then it charged toward him. Its movement was terrifyingly swift, faster than the Elites had been, covering the distance between them in mere seconds. The axe began to glow a deep yellow-green, the energy along its blade burning brighter with each passing moment.

Searanox's drones immediately opened fire the moment the King swung its axe. Crimson and violet beams streaked across the chamber, but they didn't even come close to their target. Every shot was deflected by an unseen force. The King somehow repelled anything that came within a meter of it, without even having to use its weapon. The beams simply curved away at an unnatural angle the moment they got close, as if hitting an invisible wall of kinetic force surrounding the beast.

The Gatura King swung its axe in a downward arc. The glow of its blade intensified and coalesced at the edge before shooting out a broad, vertical wave of energy that tore the stone floor apart as it traveled toward him, leaving a smoking trench in its wake. One of his Defensive Drones sprang into action, moving forward to intercept the slash by positioning itself directly in the path of the energy wave. Its barrier arrived just in time, but shattered both its barriers the moment it made contact, filling the room with dust and debris as the drone exploded in a shower of metallic parts and blue light.

Moments later, the three-meter-tall Gatura King was upon Searanox, swinging its massive axe in a horizontal arc that hissed through the air like a falling guillotine. Searanox brought the Mycelial Fang up to block the strike, but the sheer kinetic energy behind it made his knees buckle. His body careened through the empty space between the pillars, his boots scraping against the cracked marble floor as he desperately tried to regain his balance.

Searanox missed one of the columns by mere centimeters and slid over the ground on the outer edge of the hall, leaving a trail of scratched stone in his wake. As he finally came to a stop, the impact sent a shockwave of pain through him. Pushing himself up to his feet, he placed both his rifle and the dagger into his Storage Ring with practiced speed, the familiar weight of his primary weapons vanishing in an instant. In their place, he brought out one of the heavy swords he had just plundered after entering the dungeon.

`One on one it is.`

The thought echoed in his mind as he tightened his grip on the unfamiliar hilt. He dismissed all his Assault and Offensive Drones with a flick of his will, the crimson and violet beams winking out of existence, leaving the chamber bathed only in the eerie turquoise glow of the crystal like lanterns. In their stead, he summoned two Healing Drones. Their soft green light cast a gentle glow on his battered form, their presence a small comfort in the face of overwhelming odds. In addition, he brought forth four Basic Defensive Drones to act as cannon fodder for anything thrown his way, their translucent barriers shimmering into existence around him like a fragile shield.

He knew full well that the single-layer barriers would not hold more than a single hit; the Gatura King's strength was simply too great. But even if they couldn't fully stop a strike, they would at least weaken it, buying him precious seconds to react.

Searanox moved in, sword in hand, his muscles protesting the unfamiliar weight.

`I've never swung a sword... but I have stabbed things and people with a knife before. How hard can it be?`

The thought was a foolish comfort, a desperate grasp at experience he didn't truly possess. He had always preferred the cold efficiency of ranged combat or the intimate, precise violence of a dagger. This—this was clumsy, brutish, and entirely alien to him. The weight distribution felt wrong, the balance foreign. He lunged forward, a surge of adrenaline masking his uncertainty, the heavy blade dragging slightly in his grip.

He swung his blade in a wide arc the moment he was close, the steel whistling through the thick, musty air. The Gatura King grunted—a low, guttural sound of contempt—and didn't even bother to parry. He simply kicked out, a movement far too fast for its size, its armored foot connecting with the flat of Searanox's blade with a sharp clang. The force was immense, throwing his weapon wide and leaving him completely exposed. The King didn't hesitate, bringing down its own weapon in a sweeping downward slash that seemed to split the very air.

Searanox lost his balance the moment his sword was knocked aside, the sudden momentum throwing him off like a drunken sailor in a storm. The air thickened with the sound of his own ragged breathing and the roar of blood in his ears. He stumbled back, his feet slipping on the dusty floor slick with the Gatura's vile ichor. Another heavy sword materialized in his grasp. He brought it up in a desperate, clumsy block to intercept the heavy downward strike.

He staggered under the blow, the heavy blade feeling like an anchor pulling him down. The impact sent a numbing shockwave up his arm that made his fingers go momentarily limp. The Gatura King capitalized on this, its single eye tracking his faltering movements with predatory precision. It swung its massive axe in a wide horizontal arc that Searanox only narrowly avoided by scrambling backward. His feet slid across the dusty floor, his boots scrabbling for purchase as he tried to regain his balance. The King's blade sliced through the air where he had been moments before, the sheer displacement of wind ruffling his hair.

`This isn't working. I'm just dancing to its tune.`

He ducked under another horizontal slash, the Gatura King's weapon whistling centimeters over his head, the passing wind kicking dust and debris into his eyes. He retaliated with an upward thrust of his own sword—a textbook move he'd seen adventurers perform a hundred times, aiming for the King's exposed armpit, a weak spot he hoped existed. But the massive beast simply shifted its weight. It was a subtle movement that betrayed a combatant's experience far beyond a mere beast. The clumsy strike glanced harmlessly off its armored plate with a grating screech of metal on metal.

The feedback from the impact traveled up his arm in a jarring vibration. In that moment of vulnerability, the King brought the hilt of his axe down in a crushing arc that slammed into Searanox's collarbone with sickening force.

The impact threw him sideways, the heavy sword torn from his grasp as he crashed into the massive stone pillars right next to him with bone-jarring force. He slumped against the cold stone, gasping for breath as his vision swam for just a moment. The emerald glow of the Healing Drones bathed him in their radiance, their energy relieved him from the pain he felt and healed the dark spots that had for sure already formed underneath his suit. The sensation was grotesque, despite how often he'd experienced it.

`The sword is not the solution. It's just making things worse.`

He scrambled away from the pillar, his boots scraping against the cracked marble as the King's axe crashed down exactly where he had been moments before. The impact shattered the stone with a deafening roar, sending sharp fragments flying like shrapnel.

This deadly dance continued for what felt like an eternity, but was likely only a minute or two. Yet throughout it all, there was not a single opening. Not a single slash of his blade made contact with the Gatura. The only thing he was able to do was block each swing to the best of his abilities; the only reason he was even able to react to its attacks were his enhanced reflexes and strength. But even with them, the Gatura had the upper hand. Its movements were fluid and calculated, every attack purposeful and precise, unlike his own desperate, clumsy maneuvers.

Each blow cracked the stone floor; each skill it used devastated the room as if a bomb had gone off. As Searanox blocked one particularly vicious swing of the axe, the King pivoted with impossible speed, delivering a fluid spinning kick that caught him squarely in the ribs. The impact sent him flying toward the doorway, his body tumbling across the debris-strewn floor before skidding to a halt in a heap.

He pulled himself up off the ground, his fingers digging into the cracks of the floor for leverage. But before he could fully rise, the King was once again upon him, its massive form blocking out the turquoise light. Its next strike was intercepted by one of his Basic Defensive Drones. The two Intermediate ones already had their layered barriers shattered and were still recovering, their energy cores pulsing weakly as they tried to rebuild their defenses.

As the Defensive Drone shattered into a spray of blue sparks, its metallic fragments scattering across the dust-choked floor, the King didn't even flinch. Its massive body coiled and uncoiled like a spring, the thick muscles beneath its matted fur rippling with terrifying power as it covered the distance between them in a single, ground-eating stride. A devastating haymaker punch—its fist wrapped in that ominous yellow-green energy that crackled and spat like embers—slammed directly into Searanox's chest with the force of a battering ram.

The world dissolved into a blinding flash of white-hot pain as every rib in his torso shattered. The explosive impact lifted him from his feet and sent him hurtling through the stone archway into the corridor beyond. He hit the opposite wall with a wet crunch, the sickening sound of bone and flesh meeting unyielding stone echoing in his ears. The taste of coppery blood filled his mouth as he slid to the ground in a heap. The two Healing Drones hovered over him, their light a panicked, desperate flutter against the encroaching darkness that threatened to swallow his vision whole.

`He hits even harder than the fucking Dragon.`