While the climbers struggled through the First Floor, William wasn't just watching like some clueless buffoon. He was plotting how to deal with them. They waited near the spot where the beast would teleport after clearing Floor One, ready to launch a surprise attack the moment it appeared.
Sure, William knew these were underhanded tactics, but there was no time to debate morality when you were literally minutes away from being skewered by a spiked steel bat.
William had decided to take on the Brute himself; their stats weren't that much off, so he could handle it. He told Centaur to handle the remaining Skulkers and planned for Lumina to buff Centaur first. The wolves might have been weaker, but since Centaur would be fighting four at once, he needed every edge he could get.
He'd also handed Centaur a few Bloom Flowers, just in case. If things got rough, the red one would give his attack some boost. William had calculated: as long as everything went according to plan, they could actually win.
As the climbers cleared the arrow trap on the first floor, they started teleporting. William stood on guard, sword in hand, and growled, "Be ready. Let's give them a bloody warm welcome." Centaur nodded, spear ready, while Lumina hovered above him, her hands stretched out, ready to cast her buff.
For a second, nothing happened. They were poised to ambush the climbers until a low growl rumbled from behind. William, totally baffled, turned around slowly. His eyes narrowed as he saw all the beasts standing behind them, their gazes dripping with disgust, as if to say, 'Degenerate.'
Instantly, the three of them spun toward the climbers. William clenched his teeth, saying internally, 'Rollie, we're going to have a talk about this later.' He was pissed at Rollie for the wrong direction, and at that moment, Rollie snapped back:
[I told you they'd appear in the center, and they did. I am innocent.]
[You never asked which direction, genius. That's on you.]
William ignored Rollie's blabbering; he had bigger things to worry about. And by bigger, he meant massive. The Brute loomed over him, presence radiating menace, wielding a four-foot iron bat covered in spikes. One hit from that thing, and he'd look like Swiss cheese, not that he needed more holes.
Next to the Brute stood four Skulkers, dark gray skin, lean muscles, each one baring fangs and growling every few seconds. One of them limped, an arrow still jutting from its torso as it hung back behind the Brute.
William glanced at Centaur from the corner of his eye and gave a nod, the signal to start. Centaur, powered by his strong body, charged forward on four legs toward the Skulkers. William did the same, but his eyes were locked on the Brute.
Centaur moved first and grabbed all their attention. The wolves stayed put, watching and waiting for the right moment to strike as Centaur came closer. But the Brute wasn't the waiting type; he advanced straight towards Centaur, lifting that monstrous bat.
But before the Brute could smash Centaur to hell, William had already closed in. The Brute, over seven feet tall, hefted the steel bat high with both hands. William wasn't waiting for any ceremony.
He drove his sword's edge into the Brute's exposed armpit, no fancy slashes or showy moves. William fought dirty, and he wasn't even pretending otherwise. The blade sank deep into that soft flesh, all the way to the shoulder joint.
The Brute shrieked at the sudden pain, his grip loosening as the bat crashed to the ground with a heavy thud. William, flashing a nasty grin as the beast jerked in pain, taunted, "Tickle…tickle…tickle."
The injured Skulker behind the Brute lunged at William, fangs flashing, but Centaur swept his spear through the air and caught the wolf right where the arrow stuck out. The force sent the creature tumbling across the floor.
Centaur glared at the other wolves, his eyes practically screaming, 'You lot are mine.' Lumina had already cast her buff and now hovered at a safe distance from the chaos. Centaur pressed forward, drawing the fight away from the center.
Now, William and the Brute faced each other, the Brute holding his weapon low, absolutely not letting William play dirty again. Both moved forward, but William was faster; he closed the distance, skidding to the Brute's left and slicing beneath his ribs.
This time, the Brute didn't even flinch. He swung his bat backward at William, who twisted and tried to parry with his sword, but the force behind that blow was monstrous, probably using his damn skill.
William's body flew back several meters; the strike had monstrous strength behind it. If that thing had hit his head, he'd be toothpaste on the floor. He muttered, 'Na…a no fucking way am I getting hit by that.'
William steadied himself and took a defensive stance as the Brute charged at him, snorting like a bull. The beast swung his bat again and again, like some deranged game of Whac-a-Mole. Thanks to his agility, William dodged them for now, silently chanting, 'No hits, no, no damn hits.'
Meanwhile, as William whispered a life spell, Centaur was in his own hell. Three Skulkers attacked him head-on, forcing him onto the defensive by their numbers.
But that wasn't even the main problem. The real bastard was the Skulker attacking him from behind, the same one with the arrow in its torso. It fought dirty, a sneaky little copy of William. Every time Centaur tried to turn and end that pest, the other three lunged, not letting him turn around.
The Skulker at the back was like a mosquito, always buzzing, always annoying, but never quite dangerous enough. Each claw swipe left only shallow wounds. Centaur just needed one opening to take at least one down. For now, he ignored the pest at his back, but he knew if this kept up, it would be a real problem.
Seeing Centaur cornered, the cheeky bastard at the back grew bold. This time, he didn't bother with claws; he used his skill, Flicker Bite, and lunged for Centaur's back thigh. Fast as hell, in a blink, he sank his filthy fangs deep into Centaur's flesh.
The attack was quick, but the Skulker lingered a moment too long, fangs still in Centaur's thigh. Centaur gritted his teeth but kept his wits. He jerked his lower body upward, tossing the wolf into the air for a split second, then slammed both hind legs into the bastard's gut with a brutal kick.
The Skulker let out a sharp yelp and went crashing back several meters. With that pest down, Centaur turned his attention back to the ones in front, finally, a fair fight.
At the center of the floor, the brawl between William and the Brute was madness. The Brute swung his bat like a maniac, most blows dodged by William, but the ones he couldn't dodge, he tried to parry, and each hit sent numbness racing up his arms. The sheer force, the weight behind every swing, was almost too much.
His hands were starting to go numb. Earlier, he'd chewed a couple of Green Bloom Flowers to speed up his healing in case of muscle tears. Still, William felt the tension rising; if this slugfest dragged on much longer, he'd be running out of stamina.
He popped a Red Bloom Flower into his mouth. Instantly, a surge of strength flooded his body. A wicked smirk curled on his lips as he locked eyes with the Brute. Now, with strength to match, he could parry those brutal attacks.
As the Brute came in swinging, William parried, redirecting the weapon upward. He didn't hesitate. Shifting his stance, he delivered a brutal vertical slash to the Brute's other armpit. Green blood spurted, painting his blade green.
The Brute let out a guttural shriek, his underarms burning. Orcs were a warrior race; they craved battle, even considered dying in a fight an honor. But the human before him fought with no dignity at all. The Brute glared, his eyes spitting 'filthy.' William just grinned, taunting, "Everything's fair if you can win."
William didn't wait; he kept attacking, pressing his advantage. The tables had turned: now the Brute was defending, both shoulders wounded and his strength leaking away. William knew he had to finish this quickly. When the Bloom's effect faded, he'd be weakened by the aftereffects, and that bastard would happily smash his balls for what he'd done.
William stepped back, lowering his sword until it hovered just above the ground, knees bent and ready to spring. His eyes narrowed, fixed on a very specific spot. The Brute caught the look and, following William's gaze, realized it was aimed right at his balls.
The Brute's eyes flew wide open, a cold chill racing through him as he figured out exactly what this human bastard was planning.
Immediately, the Brute shifted his bat in front of his crown jewels, determined to protect what was second most precious to him. William smirked and lunged, but the Brute held his weapon steady, refusing to budge. Little did he know, William wasn't aiming for that at all.
William sprang forward, planting his foot right onto the bat and launching himself upward. The Brute was so damn big that, from the ground, William's attacks could never reach above his shoulder. He'd baited the orc, making him worry about his balls, then used the Brute's own weapon to vault up for a real attack.
As he soared up, William rotated his shoulders and, with all his strength, unleashed a brutal horizontal slash at the Brute's neck. The blade sliced clean through. Blood spurted in a wild arc, and in an instant the Brute crashed to the ground with a thunderous thud, lifeless.
Some distance away, the fight between Centaur and the Skulkers was coming to an end. It hadn't been like William's duel; Centaur was battered and bloodied. Every time he struck at one wolf, the other two attacked him; his wounds kept stacking up.
But with pure, stubborn will to serve the Tower, Centaur pushed on. Now, only one Skulker was left, trembling on wobbly legs. Centaur didn't waste time. With a final burst of strength, he drove his spear forward with Static Thrust, burying the blade deep in the creature's torso. The wolf let out a broken howl and collapsed.
William glanced around, wiping sticky, disgusting green blood from his face. The fight was over. Only one remained, the same cheeky bastard with the arrow in his torso, now convulsing on the ground. Every other beast was dead.
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[A/N]: Powerstones greatly help the novel. If you enjoy it, please throw some!