William and the centaurs stood in the center of the second floor, Lumina hovering beside him. The dim yellow glow from the wall stones cast flickering shadows across their faces as they stared at the system screen, its display showing the poison arrow trap set up on floor one.
At the entrance stood six wolf-like monsters and one hulking green brute in the center, hostility etched across their faces. William felt his guts twist. He was outnumbered from the very start, and the sight made him want to shit rainbows.
Only he and the centaurs could fight, and that juggernaut of a beast was giving him a seriously bad feeling.
Every monster glared at the path ahead, growling every few seconds like they knew exactly what hell awaited them, and absolutely hated it. William pulled up the wolves' status screens, bracing himself for whatever bullshit the Tower just received.
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Name: Ashfang Skulker (D-Rank)
Race: Duskwolf
Rank: Tier 1 (Low)
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Attributes
Strength: 9
Constitution: 10
Agility: 15
Intelligence: 6
Mana: 5
Affinity: Shadow
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Skill
Flicker Bite (Low)
Lunges in a shadowy blur, striking from the flank with vicious speed. Has a 15% chance to tear flesh and inflict bleeding.
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William's eyes went wide as he stared at the status screen. "Oh, come on. First, you drop six of these bastards in a tower where fairies are the main force, and then you make them D-rank—fucking D-rank!" He glared upward, cursing whatever God was behind this. Then he turned his attention to the Hulk-sized brute and brought up its status.
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Name: Grudmaw Ironbrute (C-Rank)
Race: War Orc
Rank: Tier 1 (Intermediate)
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Attributes
Strength: 20
Constitution: 24
Agility: 12
Intelligence: 10
Mana: 10
Affinity: Earth
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Skill
Crushing Swing (Intermediate)
Swings its spiked iron bat with brutal force, dealing heavy damage with a 35% chance to stagger the target.
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"You could just say you want me raw, you sick bastards! Why make it extra miserable by sending this walking meat grinder? He'll smash me into paste with that bat of his!"
William was on the verge of panic. It wasn't that the orc was some invincible monster; he could handle him, given time. The real nightmare was if the whole pack made it through the trap: seven monsters versus two was a death sentence.
As William's brain was having shock, the beasts had started moving, the Skulkers positioned themselves at the front in the pair of two's, and at the end stood IronBrute.
William, now snapped out of his stupor, locked his gaze on the screen. The centaur and Lumina stood at his side, both fully alert and watching the trap path with tense anticipation. Slowly, all seven beasts began to move.
The trap corridor stretched about eighty meters, lined with twenty-eight arrow traps, each trigger hidden beneath the identical stone tiles.
Then they started moving. The tiles were massive—only four in a row. If a lone humanoid tried this path, they'd have a 25% chance of dodging the arrows, but these beasts? They were in a group.
The two at the front strutted onto each tile like they were daring the arrows to come at them. There was a method to their madness: they cleared the first row, then the second, but as they hit the third, the leftmost wolf triggered a trap.
But what did you expect from these speedy bastards? Their agility was high, like really high for Tier one low. The arrow, laced with poison, shot out, but the Skulker shifted its body and dodged at the last second. The arrow clattered uselessly to the floor, and the wolf flashed its fangs as if it was mocking whoever set up this toy trap.
They crept forward, slowly as thieves, inching past ten meters, then twenty, then thirty. Ten arrows fired at them along the way, half zipped harmlessly by, but the other half grazed fur and flesh, leaving stinging, bloody lines.
Watching this, William was sweating like a pig at a butcher's block. "What in the tomb-raider hell is this? These bastards are passing through traps like their mothers gave birth on a bed of poison spikes," he muttered, eyes glued to the screen as the parkour continued.
The wolf on the right had already been nicked by three arrows. Five meters later, it caught another, this time, right in the eye. It let out a guttural howl and thrashed its head against the wall, trying to dislodge the shaft. In its frenzy, it triggered another trap, earning a fresh arrow buried deep in its shoulder.
Even when the arrows only grazed them, it was enough, as their tips were laced with poison, and even a scratch could paralyse or poison them. Every hit slowed the Skulkers in front down, making their frantic dodging go from a dance to a desperate zombie walk.
When the second arrow struck, the Skulker went down hard, body wracked with tremors, blood pooling beneath it. The poison was kicking in, and it collapsed in a twitching heap, not dead yet, but as good as useless.
The rest didn't even pause. The newly vacant spot was filled by another Skulker, and they pressed on. Fifteen meters later, the cocky bastard on the left, the one who'd smirked at the start, went down just like the first, except now he had an oversized arrow jutting from his cheek like some oversized dimple piercing.
Now, with two down and fifty meters cleared, the fresh Skulkers took the lead, pressing forward. Ironbrute lumbered behind them, looking every bit the sadistic prince escorted by his battered minions.
With only thirty meters to go, the new wolves at the front seemed to breeze through. They inched closer, until only ten meters remained, and only one Skulker had taken a scrap from an arrow.
William, seeing this all, felt his panic dial back, just a notch. Two down, not dead, but at least out of the fight for now. He'd hoped the traps would take out a couple more, but now, watching them near the finish line, he muttered, "Twenty-five arrows and only two fuckers down? And they're not even dead yet. Looks like it's gonna be five versus two."
The beasts kept moving, only a few meters left, when suddenly the final trap triggered. Three arrows shot toward the right. The Skulker twisted with freakish speed, dodging two; the last one struck his torso. It wasn't deep, so the bastard kept on his feet, refusing to drop.
With the last trap spent and not a single arrow left, all five beasts went toward the end of the path, ready to be sent out onto the second floor.
As they started to fade from view, William, the centaurs, and Lumina stood in the center, right where the climbers would drop in. William shot the centaurs a nervous, crooked grin and muttered, "Alright, let's get this over with. I hope I won't have to use the strap-on."
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[A/N]: Powerstones greatly help the novel. If you enjoy it, please throw some!