The limp body of a small-framed, green-scaled beast slid off the edges of a dark blade and fell to the ground; two more just like it lay not too far apart, all three of them dead.
Three ghostly dark silhouettes stood above them. Among the three, only one looked complete. One of them had a gaping hole through its intangible body, while the other was missing a limb. The darkness spewed out of them like a cold mist, but they didn't heal up.
Socrates dismissed them both, greatly reducing the pressure on his mana reserves. The hundreds of dark blades he had summoned still decimated the battlefield, vanquishing each new wave of spawned abominations. He knew it was only a matter of time before whatever spawned these atrocities modified their anatomy till they faced another evolution.
It had done it before; the three beasts that lay dead before him were a testament to its twisted use of mana.
He approached it swiftly, but with caution, the hundreds of dark blades creating a bloody path for him. He knew his strengths better than most, but also knew that approaching an enemy without knowing its capabilities would most likely make you prey instead of predator.
Mere metres separated him from the beast when it finally decided to move, its skeletal body creaking as it kicked off on its back legs and rose up high.
Silver hooves glimmered under the moonlight—a terrifying but beautiful sight. It dropped down in a split second, and the moment it did, a sonic clap resounded around it in a shockwave.
The wave travelled fast, nearly invisible to the naked eye. The dark swords that had reigned supreme over countless beasts shattered like glass under its presence.
Socrates felt the approaching threat and dissolved into the shadows, allowing it to pass over him. After a few moments, the dark silhouette emerged once more. The residual waves struck his intangible body hard, and for the first time since he took this form, he felt pain.
The pain wasn't physical torture, but the after-effects of having his mana flow disrupted by that of the beast. The dark silhouette was created through his affinity to shadows, an affinity that could only be accessed through his mana flow.
Disrupting it could greatly damage his core, and that was another realm of pain he didn't plan to visit.
It didn't take less than a second for him to conclude on dismissing it; it had helped him so far, but against this particular enemy it might just be the reason for his death.
The dark silhouette dissolved once more; a tall, dark-haired human emerged in its place. Calm blue-green eyes locked on the approaching beast.
He brandished his longsword and dashed towards it, the wind catching his long hair in a flow. The beast bent its head low, vying to crush its opponent under the weight of heavy bone.
Socrates sidestepped, the charge missing him entirely and striked its bony body. The attack bounced off without effect, catching him by surprise. By then, the beast had already rerouted itself and dashed for another charge.
Socrates evaded it several more times; striking at its skeletal surface had become fruitless. Each one more meaningless than the last. He couldn't hurt it—not with a blade.
And sadly, that was the only weapon he had in hand.
The hundreds of dark blades had been shattered under the abomination's first attack, and he didn't have enough mana to summon them back. This resulted in him facing off against countless small abominations while mentally thinking on how to kill their spawn point.
The beast couldn't be damaged, meaning it couldn't be killed. Its skeletal structure felt impenetrable, deflecting his dark blade like it was made out of worn-out iron. It charged continuously like a raging bull, its abysmal dark sockets filled with the intent of crushing its opponent.
Socrates deflected one of its charges, bent low to avoid the strike of a lesser beast, and buried his blade inside the chest of another. As the beast passed, he noticed something about it—something he hadn't seen before, his mind previously clouded under pressure.
A part of it was different, a section where its mana flow spiked uncontrollably. But it couldn't be noticed unless someone focused on it directly; without focus, it felt like that was the overall mana flow of the beast. Socrates had noticed it—in its last charge, its broken ribcage that spawned countless atrocities had faced towards him when he deflected it.
Dozens of beasts bombarded him, but his mind could hardly focus on them because of the heavy mana pressure that had crashed onto him. His face had grown pale, colour draining from it in a second.
He had found what was possibly the strongest part of the beast—maybe even a way to kill it.
But to get to it, he had to cut through the countless creatures that surged forward like a never-ending flood.