Chapter 395: Applied Learning
Legions of hellfire demons were replaced by swarms of alien parasites as they climbed the tower. As a result, Coop was forced onto his backfoot, unexpectedly confronting new enemies.
His momentum had already been relatively choppy, building up on one platform only to be interrupted each time they skipped to the next level, but it was truly impeded by a complete reset of the field. It was like a hairpin turn had been introduced to an uphill straightaway. He was spinning his wheels, desperately trying to adjust and regain traction before sliding back down.
Instead of flames licking at his exposed skin, needle-point spikes sliced and pierced his body while he wasted precious seconds adjusting. He prevented the worst impalements with dodges and deflections, mostly trading them for stinging wounds that were comparable to massive papercuts criss-crossing his skin.
The wounds didn’t even really bleed, but faint hints of mists leaked from his skin, indicating where he was injured. His own sweat burned as he struggled to navigate the parasite kill zones, refusing to back down from the trial and sacrifice any amount of their progress. He told himself that the pain was nothing compared to being repeatedly scorched by hellfire, though if he was being honest, they were about the same.
Elongated spider-like limbs audibly whipped through the air, rising above his Fog of War before piercing straight through the foggy domain he channeled into the battlefield. The aliens skirted his flanks, utilizing the malleability of their appendages to stab where he couldn’t effectively counter.
They weren’t deterred by his mists at all, seemingly at home in the vapor-filled environment. Groups of enemies established multi-pronged attacks that left him to decide what he let through, putting the onus on him to detect and negate deadly strikes coming from above, behind, and every direction except below.
It was impossible to avoid everything unless he sat in Vaporform forever, but that would get him nowhere. Besides, if he wasn’t sufficiently recuperating with his Reaper title, his mana was dangerously finite.
Stagnation was unacceptable, whether it was in the midst of battle or over the course of his broader progression. That was the fundamental truth of his build and class.
After eliminating retreat as an option from his mind, accepting the slicing attacks became a necessary trade. The alternatives were dramatic stabs that were easily capable of punching through his armor and puncturing his skin. The limbs were designed to impale his body and lift him into the air like a living trophy. To that end, the shallower cuts seemed much more appealing and he accepted them as a necessary price to pay.
He willingly exchanged a bit of pain for the potential gains, eventually finding an opportunity to return the favor by flickering through the mists or launching his spear across the platforms and choosing an unlucky target to whittle down in exactly the same fashion as they intended to do to him.
Defeating the forces of mana was the key to healing the chippy wounds, so he went all in on the aggression. Riddling him with minor injuries just goaded him further.
Contrary to the demons, instead of collapsing onto his position and forming a melee when they were challenged, the parasites spread out, sacrificing one of their own in order to maintain distance on the Champion. Even swapping to a mace so that he could apply Sunken Grasp only temporarily altered the distribution of enemies.