It already had cracks splitting through it.
"Damn it."
With a final set of blows, the door snapped in two, and armored skeletons came pouring into the room, weapons raised.
Without hesitation, I charged the closest one. But when my sword struck it, it bounced off harmlessly—the armor deflected the blow.
I swung again, but before I could land the hit, a larger skeleton slammed into me, launching me across the room and into the wall below the window. Blood sprayed from my mouth as I hit the ground.
"AGH, bastard! That hit hard.
As I sat there slumped under the window, the skeletons began to close in. I tried to stand—but I couldn't. That one blow had drained all the strength from my body. Even the sword in my hand now felt impossibly heavy.
As they drew closer, a memory surfaced.
It was from a training session with my master in the forest. Once again, I had lost.
"Attu, how many times do I have to tell you?" he had scolded. "When you strike, aim for their weak points—not just wherever your blade happens to land."
"How am I supposed to find a weak point on you?! You don't have any!"
"Of course your opponent won't show you where to strike. And why do you stop channeling Flame Mana every time you're about to get hit? You should increase it during an attack. That way, the hits will hurt less, and you'll get stronger. Now get up—we're not done training."
I clenched my fist and reignited the Flame Mana.
[Again… I stopped the flame at the moment of impact. I keep losing control of it when I'm attacked. Why? What did I feel when I got hit just now? Pain? No… something else… something that drained my very will to fight.]
I looked down at my trembling hand.
[Fear. That's it. I'm afraid of their attacks… I'm afraid of fighting. If I want to survive, I have to face that fear.]
The Flame Mana began to warm my body, flowing through me and slowly reviving my strength. I stood up and gripped my sword once more.
I remembered another thing my master had told me:
"Attu, if you ever feel afraid before a battle and you have no choice but to fight—scream. Scream with every ounce of your strength. It'll drive the fear right out of your body."
[Let's see if he was right.]
I rose to my feet, raised my sword, and shouted:
"Flaming Wrath, Stage One—Flame Mana!"
The fear vanished. My grip steadied. The sword felt lighter.
[He was right.]
The skeletons charged again. One of the armored ones swung down from above—I blocked and began analyzing.
[Where is its weak spot? Think! The armor's heavy—it'll slow them down. Their vulnerable points…]
Then I saw it—the joints.
With precise strikes, I shattered its joints and crumbled it. But suddenly, another skeleton swung a battleaxe toward my neck.
I dodged just in time, shattered its arms, and sent the axe clattering to the floor. Then, with a swift stroke, I decapitated it.
Elsewhere, Valorant was giving everything he had. The skeletons never let up for a second.
[If this keeps up, I won't last much longer. I'll have to use a technique.]
He searched the battlefield for a clear space. Finally, he found one and turned to his right.
"Flaming Wrath, Stage Two—Burning Hands!" he bellowed.
Green flames erupted from his hands, racing down to his fingertips and onto his blade. The sword ignited, the flames extending the blade like a fiery extension of his will.
The heat surged outward with incredible pressure. It looked as if his sword had grown into a weapon made entirely of pure fire.
He slashed the blade horizontally—everything within the radius leading up to the main gate was reduced to ash. Skeletons, debris, and even the very soil beneath them turned to blackened cinders.
Nothing remained of the entrance's beauty—only scorched, level earth.
Smoke billowed thick, obscuring everything.
Valorant moved toward the gate to check if the necromancer had been destroyed. As he neared the entrance, he saw something that made his heart sink.
The necromancer was still there—completely untouched, standing exactly as before, as if nothing had happened at all.