Chapter 32: Is This The End?
## Chapter 32: Is This The End?
The taste of gore and sweat was heavy in Michael’s mouth. He did not look at the dead bodies around his feet, and he ignored the blinking gold notifications in his vision.
A large **Wolf-Variant** charged at him fast. Michael held his ground, spear braced short, and drove the point forward the instant the beast leapt, catching it clean in the chest. The impact rocked him back half a step, but his footing held. He twisted the shaft, driving the iron deeper, and the wolf’s frantic thrashing slowed, then stopped, its dead weight sagging heavy on the blade.
[You have killed a Hound-Fox-Variant (Level 2)]
[You have received 25 Experience Points]
He planted a foot against the corpse and wrenched the spear free, already turning as another shape burst out from a row of shattered seats, drawn in by the smell of fresh blood.
His movements were quick and controlled as he swung the spear in a final upward arc. The iron tip caught the panther-like creature square in the belly, cutting it open.
But it did not die immediately. The wounded predator snarled horribly, thrashing its claws wildly as it collapsed on top of the spear shaft, trying to drag itself up the wood to tear Michael’s face off. One clawed paw caught his side before he could twist away, tearing through his hoodie and dragging four deep, burning lines across his ribs.
Michael sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth but didn’t let go of the weapon. A wave of pure, unfiltered rage burned through the pain. He pulled the spear back a few inches and began to stab it into the creature’s chest over and over again.
He didn’t care about form or stamina, stabbing the creature until it finally went completely mangled and still.
[You have killed a Shadowclaw Panther (Level 3)]
[You have received 50 Experience Points]
There was no pause after that kill. No breath, no time to recover. More shapes kept pouring out of the dark edges of the room, drawn by the reek of blood and the noise. Michael didn’t think anymore. He couldn’t afford to. Every rational thought burned away somewhere in the chaos, leaving only the raw need to keep his heart beating for one more second, and then one more after that.
He fought on instinct alone, spear jabbing, twisting, tearing, fists and feet finishing whatever the iron didn’t. Blood, his own and theirs, soaked him from head to toe — the shallow claw marks on his ribs kept reopening with every twist of his body, joined by fresh nicks and scrapes he no longer had time to notice. Monster after monster lunged out of the gloom, and monster after monster dropped under his spear, never given the chance to be more than a blur of teeth and claws before it went still. He stopped registering shapes or numbers. They were only obstacles between him and staying alive, and every one that fell was one less thing trying to kill him.
Gold light kept flashing at the edge of his vision, notification after notification piling up unread. He didn’t look at them. He didn’t have the strength left to care what they said. Only the next monster mattered, and the one after it, and the one after that.
Somewhere in the middle of it, the adrenaline that had carried him through the fight finally started running out. His arms grew heavy. His spear thrusts lost their sharpness, landing a half-second slower each time. His legs, tireless minutes ago, now dragged with every step across the debris, and his lungs burned with every ragged breath.
His determination didn’t let him stop. His will didn’t let him stop. Somewhere underneath the growing exhaustion, something in him had made a decision that had nothing to do with reason anymore: he was not going to die on this floor. Not like this. Not yet. That single, stubborn refusal was the only thing still moving his arms long after the rest of his body wanted to give out.
Then, out of nowhere, two fast **Hound-Foxes** slammed into him from both sides.
His slowed, exhausted legs failed to react in time. The left fox crashed into his side, its heavy impact throwing him flat onto his back, the spear torn from his numb fingers and clattering somewhere out of reach. Before he could push himself up, the right fox dove directly onto his chest. Michael threw his arms up to protect his face, and the creature’s jaws clamped hard onto his jacket at the left shoulder, teeth tearing through the fabric and grazing a thin line across his skin beneath.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Michael let out a strained grunt. He clenched his right fist and punched the fox hard in the ribs, trying to force it off. But he was still just an amateur with ordinary human strength; his bare knuckles hit the creature’s thick hide with a dull thud, doing almost no damage, the impact numbing his knuckles instead.
The fox did not let go. It shook its head, the fabric at his shoulder tearing wider, the bite beneath stinging hot. Pinned beneath its weight and unable to break free, Michael was trapped.
The fox on his side exploited his helpless position. Its teeth tore straight through the thin canvas of his sneaker and sank into his ankle. White-hot pain shot up his leg, and Michael couldn’t hold back a scream. Claws raked across his forearms, tearing through his sleeve and opening thin, stinging lines of blood, while another set of teeth clicked shut just past his collarbone, missing by a hair. He had never come this close to being torn apart in the entire fight before. He was being buried under a storm of teeth and claws.
As the jaws kept snapping and the claws kept raking, impossibly close to finding their mark, the cold shadow of death finally touched his mind.
*Is this it? Is this how I die? On a dirty university floor, torn apart by dogs?*
The thought lasted for less than a second before a sudden, violent heat exploded in his chest. Fear turned into pure, unadulterated rage.
*NO! I am not going to die here! I will not die! I will get more powerful… more and more powerful… MORE!*
Using that sudden wave of blind panic and fury, Michael stopped trying to punch. He reached up with both hands, grabbed the fox on his chest by its thick scruff, and violently slammed his own forehead into the creature’s nose. The hard impact dazed the beast just enough for its jaws to release the torn fabric at his shoulder.
With a desperate heave, Michael used his whole body to roll to the right, throwing the dazed fox off his chest and pinning it underneath his own body weight. Desperate for a weapon, his hand hit a piece of a shattered metal desk support frame—a jagged, heavy iron shard. He grabbed the cold iron and forcefully jammed it straight into the fox’s eye socket. The beast shrieked in agony and thrashed violently beneath him, pinned by the heavy metal spike.
[You have killed a Hound-Fox (Level 1)]
[You have received 10 Experience Points]
“More… more… MORE!” Michael screamed, his voice raw, continuing his desperate thoughts out loud.
The other fox still had its teeth locked around his bleeding ankle. Michael gritted his teeth against the pain, dragged his leg forward against the resistance, scrambled on his elbows, and frantically felt around the floor for his fallen spear.
The fox released his ankle and lunged forward to bite his throat. At that exact microsecond, Michael’s fingers closed around the shaft. He swung it up and blindly thrust it straight ahead. The iron tip went through the open mouth of the lunging fox and pierced the back of its skull, killing it instantly.
[You have killed a Hound-Fox (Level 1)]
[You have received 10 Experience Points]
He slumped back, his hands slipping off the gore-soaked spear. Dark spots danced heavily across his vision. Sheer, bone-deep exhaustion was dragging him down into a dark, cold abyss. He was on the verge of collapse. His eyes lazily drifted toward the translucent blue status window floating at the very edge of his blurring sight:
[Experience: 700 / 750 XP]
*Fifty more… just one more kill…*
The darkness pulled harder, trying to force his eyelids shut. If he passed out now, he would never wake up. The remaining monsters in the room would tear him to pieces.
With a final, desperate surge of raw defiance, Michael forced his eyes open. He gripped his teeth until they nearly cracked, channelling every single ounce of his **Willpower**. He actively fought against the creeping unconsciousness, violently pushing back the dark fog in his mind through sheer, stubborn determination. He refused to die so close to the edge.
Gritting his teeth against the throbbing pain all over his body, Michael spun around on his knees. There was one more boar-like variant lurking nearby.
His options were nearly depleted. He had wounds all over his body and was dead tired. *One more wound doesn’t make a difference anymore.* Michael thought and planned his next, life-threatening move. He gripped the spearhead and did nothing more, only waiting for the attack to land. Seeing his prey not move, the boar-like variant lunged at him with his sharp teeths. Michael finally reacted by raising his left arm and sacrificed it. The monster took the bait and bit into it. With a final, guttural grunt of fury, Michael ignored the surging pain, lifted his other arm and drove the spearhead into the monster’s right eye all the way to its brain.
The moment the beast finally stopped moving, a loud, thunderous chime echoed inside his head.
[You have killed a Hound-Fox (Variant) (Level 3)]
[You have received 50 Experience Points]
[Ding! You have leveled up]
[Congratulations! You have reached Level 6. All baseline attributes have automatically increased by +1 point. You have received 5 attribute points and 1 skill point]
A flood of secondary windows began to pop up in his vision—attribute and skill points—but Michael quickly **skipped** the whole cluster of notifications right after seeing the level-up message, clearing his vision completely.
Instantly, the system’s absolute magic took over.
A warm, golden wave of energy erupted from his chest and rushed through his entire body. The crushing exhaustion that made his limbs feel like lead was washed away instantly, replaced by perfect, fresh energy. The bite on his ankle sealed shut, the claw marks on his ribs and forearms smoothed back into unbroken skin, and every other trace from the battle vanished, his muscles humming with renewed strength.
Michael took a long, deep breath. His heart rate slowed down, and his body felt completely recharged again.