CHAPTER 59: RANK 1 TRIAL III

The demon roared and charged, raising two cleavers high while the other pair swung low. Its speed was terrifying for its size. Rhys didn’t retreat. Instead, he lunged forward, throwing both of the spears at him. One spear met the incoming cleavers with a blinding flash, forcing the demon back a step while the other pierced his chest, as its flesh hissed and smoked where the spears had pierced it.

The monster bellowed, enraged, and swung all four weapons in a relentless storm of steel. Rhys pivoted, weaving through the blows with [Ghost Edge Step], each movement a blur.

"Puddle—lock it down!"

The slime’s body pulsed, and [Shadow Tendrils] erupted from the cobblestones, winding around the demon’s legs. The brute staggered, its movement slowing as the magical bindings tightened.

"Good... now hold it."

Puddle also activated [Abyssal Grasp], dark hands clawing up from the ground to clutch its arms. For a moment, the demon strained against the bindings, snarling—but its attack rhythm broke. That was all the opening Rhys needed.

Mana swirled around him, coalescing into something entirely different from before—his third skill he bought from the Mage Guild skill: Magic Blade.

A single stroke of moonlight descended into his hand, condensing into a long, sleek sword of pure white-blue radiance—forged entirely from his Moon Magic. It hummed with divine sharpness, the faint echo of an ancient hymn seeming to resonate from the blade itself.

This wasn’t ordinary magic—it was pure, condensed moonlight, channeled through the skill’s ability to shape any magic into a sword form. Normally, Moon Magic spells was beyond his reach until he learn it directly from the Moon Elf race... but thanks to Misty’s blessing, he had unlocked it, meaning he had the Moon magic and if he has this magic, then he can form a Magic blade of it.

The demon saw the blade and went still for a fraction of a second, as if some primal instinct recognized the danger.

Rhys didn’t waste the moment.

With a flicker of motion, he flashed behind the brute—one clean, decisive slash cutting across its thick neck. The moonlight blade didn’t just slice flesh—it burned the corruption from within. A halo of pale light burst from the wound as the demon’s head separated from its shoulders in slow motion.

The massive body staggered forward a few steps before crashing to the ground with a thunderous boom. The head rolled once, twice... then burst into ash.

The bindings dissolved. The air was suddenly still.

[ Mini-Boss Defeated – Red Cleaver Demon ]

[ Rare Drop Acquired – "Demonbone Cleaver" ]

Rhys rested the moonlight blade on his shoulder, smirking. "One down... plenty more to go."

Rhys didn’t rush forward immediately.

The trial’s chaos could wait for a minute—because the demon had dropped something worth his attention.

He crouched beside the smoldering remains of the mini-boss, brushing away the last flecks of ash until the object came into view. A single, massive weapon lay embedded in the cracked cobblestone—its dark metal gleaming faintly under the red-tinged sky.

It was the Demonbone Cleaver, the very blade the monster had wielded moments ago. Up close, it looked even more menacing: forged from blackened bone reinforced with a strange crimson alloy, its jagged edge seemed hungry, as though it wanted to bite into flesh again. Etched along its surface were runes that pulsed faintly, whispering in a language Rhys didn’t understand.

He reached out, fingers curling around the rough leather-wrapped grip. The weapon was heavy—heavier than his Treant Lord’s Sword—but perfectly balanced for brutal, sweeping strikes.

A soft golden shimmer danced across his vision as the system scanned it.

[ Epic Quality Weapon Acquired – Demonbone Cleaver ]

Type: Greatsword

Rarity: Epic

Attack Power: 2,280

Durability: 1,520/1,520

Special Effect – Blood Feast: Restores 2% HP per damage dealt against living targets every one minute.

Special Effect – Demonic Edge: Deals +15% bonus damage to pure and holy enemies.

Requirement: Strength 600+, Greatsword Mastery Lv.3+

Rhys let out a low whistle. "Oh... this thing’s a monster."

It was more than just a chunk of sharpened metal—it was a weapon built for pure slaughter, especially deadly against holy beings. The life-steal alone meant that, in the right hands, the wielder could keep fighting far longer than normal.

"What a powerful sword... pity I can’t equip it," Rhys muttered, sighing. He lacked both the Strength and the Greatsword Mastery needed to wield it.

With a small shake of his head, he slipped it into his inventory.

Rhys tightened his grip on the Corrupted Treant Lord’s Sword as he stepped past the shattered remains of the mini-boss.

The inner district gates loomed ahead—splintered and barely hanging on their hinges. From the moment he crossed the threshold, the atmosphere shifted. The air was heavier, thicker, almost choking.

And then they came.

The first wave was a swarm of corrupted humans—former townsfolk now reduced to level 50–60 monstrosities. Their skin was cracked and gray, eyes glowing with a faint crimson light. Many still clutched farming tools twisted into crude weapons, charging at him with mindless fury.

Rhys moved like a blade through water—Whirlwind Slash cleaving through three at once, Light Bullets from Puddle bursting skulls apart with radiant precision. He didn’t even slow down.

But deeper in the inner district, the corruption only worsened. These weren’t just farmers anymore.

Level 60–80 noble-class demons began appearing—hulking, twisted shapes still wearing tatters of fine silk and gilded armor. Their hands had become clawed talons, and their faces were stretched into grotesque masks of malice. Some rode nightmare-like horses, black flame spilling from their manes and hooves, their riders wielding jagged lances dripping with ichor.

The narrow streets erupted into chaos. Sword-wielding corrupted knights clashed against Rhys, their strikes heavy and relentless. Above them, shadowy gargoyle-like demons clung to rooftops, leaping down to join the fray.

Rhys grinned despite the odds. "So... the nobility decided to join the party, huh?"

The corrupted cavalry charged, hooves pounding like war drums. Rhys raised his blade, mana gathering around him. "Let’s see how long you last."