The monstrosity in front of him was massive, not with a single stare but many—orange glowing spheres drifting endlessly inside its swollen, decaying body like eyes that refused to stay still.
"Shit…" he muttered, gritting his teeth as the realization settled in.
A Yaksha—Mystic-ranked, a guardian of the Night World.
The hierarchy ran through his mind in a flash—Spawns like evil spirits, then Alpha like demigods, then Mystic like this thing… followed by Transcendent, Divine, Void… and beyond even that, Null.
'I am screwd!…'
The Dead Grave Keeper shifted, and the moment it did, the ground beneath it cracked violently as its entire mass lunged forward with terrifying speed, far too fast for something of its size, forcing Noct to throw himself sideways as the impact landed where he had been standing a split second ago, the earth erupting upward while trees snapped and collapsed under the sheer force, the shockwave catching him mid-motion and sending him rolling before he forced himself back up without hesitation.
It didn't give him a moment to recover, another attack following instantly as a massive portion of its body swept across the field, tearing through everything in its path and forcing him to duck low and rush forward instead of retreating.
Slipping under the attack by inches, he felt the pressure scrape past his back as he closed the distance and swung with everything he had, the wooden blade striking deep into the rotten flesh and meeting resistance that felt wrong—too dense, too thick—before the surface suddenly tightened and shifted, trapping the blade for a fraction of a second.
His eyes widened.
'What the—!'
He yanked hard, panic flashing through him as the blade barely came free, the grip on it tightening like something alive trying to swallow it whole.
He ripped it out just in time as the mass snapped back violently, sending him skidding backward, the surface writhing for a moment—then settling, completely intact, as if his strike had never done any damage at all.
"…This is bad," he muttered, a hint of panic slipping into his voice as he steadied himself.
His attack—it was useless, barely effective.
And if that thing held his blade even a second longer… he wouldn't have gotten it back.
'Think… think… don't freeze now…'
He stepped in again, but this time nothing was clean, nothing controlled—he was barely dodging as a massive limb tore past his head, missing by inches, the sheer force alone throwing him off balance before another tendril whipped toward his side, and he twisted just in time—but not enough.
It clipped him.
Pain shot through his ribs as his body staggered, breath hitching, his footing almost giving out before he forced himself upright again.
"Tch—!"
Another swing came, then another, each heavier than the last, and he moved through them barely, slipping past by inches, his body reacting more on instinct than control as the pressure kept building.
'One mistake... and i will be dead meat good for nothing…'
The thought flashed through his mind, sharp, irritated—but buried under the growing strain.
His eyes locked onto the glowing orange clusters near its lower mass, the only weak point, and he rushed in fast—but reckless.
His sword drove into the thick flesh near one of the glowing spheres, but the moment it hit, it stopped—like striking into something far denser than it looked, the blade sinking only slightly before refusing to go any deeper.
'...Yeah, this is great. Absolutely fantastic. Love this for me.'
He gritted his teeth and pushed harder, focusing everything into that single point, trying to force it through—
Nothing, the flesh held, didn't give, didn't break, and then a tentacle slammed into him—hard.
His body lifted off the ground, thrown like nothing, crashing across the dirt and rolling before coming to a stop, the impact knocking the air out of him completely.
"…Ghk—!"
For a moment, he couldn't breathe, his body refusing to respond as pain spread through his chest and limbs.
And ahead of him—it moved again, slow, massive, its grotesque body dragging forward, layers of rotting flesh hanging loose over a swollen frame, multiple limbs twitching out of sync as thick, vein-like tendrils pulsed beneath the surface, hollow pits where eyes should have been fixed in his direction, closing in, relentless.
'…Body, move. Don't betray me now…'
He forced himself up again despite it, faster this time, knowing he couldn't afford even a second of delay as the ground trembled once more under the creature's movement, cracks spreading rapidly while its massive form advanced, destroying everything around it as if the land itself couldn't withstand its presence.
"…No… I can't defeat this thing… not like this…!" he forced the words out through clenched teeth, mind racing, desperately searching for a way out.
Now as the Grave Keeper loomed closer, its massive form dragging forward with unstoppable weight, Noct found himself with no way out—but then, something clicked. His eyes locked onto it again, sharper this time, and he noticed it—the weak point. Near the upper mass, close to where its head should have been… the flesh there was thinner, less dense.
"…There…!"
But reaching it was the problem.
Before he could think further, the creature struck again, a giant limb crashing down toward him, and he rolled instantly, barely dodging as the impact obliterated the ground behind him, trees shattering into splinters.
'Not dying today…!'
As he pushed himself up, his gaze flickered around—and then he saw it.
The surroundings came into focus in an instant—black, dried trees twisted and lifeless, their brittle trunks shattered and scattered across the ground, jagged wooden fragments strewn everywhere like crude spears, sharp, uneven edges pointing upward from the cracked earth as if the forest itself had been torn apart and left behind weapons meant for something far more desperate than survival.
A grin slowly spread across his face.
"…Now it's do or die."
The Grave Keeper attacked again, its tendrils lashing out from a distance—but this time, he didn't raise his sword.
Instead, he let it fall.
That useless wooden blade… it wasn't worth anything here.
He grabbed two jagged pieces of broken wood from the ground, their edges sharp enough to pierce, and secured another sharp fragment against his back, ready for use.
He stood still, completely motionless, not moving an inch as he held his ground.
Not yet… not yet…
The tendrils closed in, tearing through the air, aiming straight for him—
Now!
He moved.
In a single burst, he drove one of the sharpened wooden stakes forward, stabbing straight into the incoming mass as the tentacle wrapped around him—but he didn't let go.
The wood sank deep.
The force dragged him forward, his body pulled violently as the tendrils tightened, the pressure crushing into him with brutal force—it was painful, really painful—as his ribs screamed under the strain and he coughed up blood from the sheer impact.
And in the next moment—
He was being pulled straight toward the Grave Keeper's body.
He let go of the two wooden pieces embedded in the Grave Keeper's body, using that very momentum to launch himself upward, his body lifting into the air for a brief, weightless moment before gravity took over and began pulling him down—but that was exactly what he wanted. He was above it now, directly over the upper mass, falling straight toward the creature; if he failed to secure his grip, he would be crushed the moment he hit the ground.
Mid-air, he quickly pulled out the third sharpened piece from his back, gripping it tightly as the wind rushed past him, his body descending faster with each passing second. The Grave Keeper didn't react—didn't even notice him—its countless glowing orange spheres still concentrated around its lower mass, its distorted face-like structure, and its limbs, leaving the upper region almost blind, almost unguarded.
As Noct dropped closer, his eyes locked onto that thin layer of flesh, his grip tightening around the wood as he aligned his fall—
—and just as he was about to make contact, his hand tensed, ready to drive it in with everything he had.