The one Nect left for Young was certainly no low‑class soul‑being; it was likely a high‑class warrior, perhaps even a skeleton knight. Yet Nect barely cared. In his mind, Young could probably handle the stronger foe despite his age, and if not, at least he would serve as a meat shield.
Nect's priority was clear — fight the weaker one, carve out a safe space, and survive. He gave Young a meaningful gaze, silently signaling that the stiletto‑wielder was his target while the other was left for his friend. Young's eyes met his, carrying a look of understanding, and with that unspoken agreement, Nect moved forward, ready to battle the weaker of the two.
However, the moment Nect moved forward, a familiar wave of shock washed over him — an eerie sensation that danger lurked close. His instincts screamed, urging him to watch his opponent carefully and search for the source of hidden damage. Yet the soul‑being revealed no unseen attack, nor did it appear overwhelmingly dangerous.
Gathering his courage, Nect evaded the creature's strike with surprising ease and launched his own counter despite the weakness gnawing at his body. His punches landed solidly, forcing the soul‑being back several steps. Overjoyed, Nect felt a surge of pride as his attack staggered the foe, and he easily sidestepped the bone stiletto without sustaining a single wound.
However, Nect's brief joy did not last long. Almost as soon as his attack pushed the soul‑being back, he heard Young mutter sharply:
"Crap! We are surrounded."
At first, Nect thought he had misheard, convinced Young was joking — a cruel attempt to lighten the mood with dangerous humor. Yet his hope shattered in an instant.
A crushing blow struck the back of his head, seemingly from nowhere. Blood spurted from his nose and mouth, his eyes turning bloodshot as dizziness overwhelmed him.
The strike nearly knocked him unconscious, leaving him clinging to awareness by sheer luck. Slowly, his vision cleared, and he saw the truth: more enemies had encircled them. They were truly surrounded, and the bitter realization struck him — it was all his fault.
***
Young's moment of reflection ended abruptly as the soul‑being's strike connected with Nect's head. A part of him felt the blow was well deserved, yet he could not afford to dwell on it.
His instincts screamed for vigilance, knowing another attack could come at any moment. The soul‑beings were merciless, striking without hesitation, and neither he nor Nect was safe. They did not distinguish between prey or enemy — to them, all living beings were targets, and any head could be crushed beneath their relentless assault.
So Young decided to launch an attack — or better yet, prepare a plan of attack, one that would ensure both he and Nect survived the soul‑beings surrounding them. Despite not truly caring about saving Nect, Young knew survival demanded strategy.
His first plan of action was to know his enemies. It came as a shock that his first foe of the day was not a lone adversary but a group, encircling him with hostile intent. Worse still, he was injured, weakened, and forced to fight while heavily disadvantaged. The realization weighed on him, yet his mind sharpened, determined to carve a path through the chaos.
All the aforementioned were old news, things Young knew would not help him survive. They offered no escape plan, no guarantee of safety. Quickly, he scanned the area, counting the soul‑beings that had gathered around them.
There were five in total. Two had first caught their attention as they advanced into the camp, but in the moment Nect launched his attack, three more had materialized behind them, silent and sudden.
Facing five enemies was no easy task anywhere, especially when they appeared out of thin air and encircled you completely. The weight of their presence pressed down like a suffocating shroud, reminding Young that he was trapped in a battle fought at a crushing disadvantage.
The only source of comfort for Young was the absence of advanced‑class soul‑beings in their midst. Yet that did not mean the battle ahead would be easy. Low‑class and high‑class soul‑beings were still deadly, capable of grinding down their foes slowly and mercilessly.
Their presence offered only a sliver of hope — a chance for Young and Nect to fight, survive, and perhaps even smile in victory. But failure meant a slow, agonizing death. And had they been facing advanced‑class soul‑beings, like a dreaded skeleton knight, their fate would have been sealed instantly, wiped out without even the faintest chance to resist such overwhelming power and skill.
Next, Young discerned another vital detail. Despite the force surrounding them being composed mainly of high‑class soul‑beings, their formation was weakened by the presence of a few low‑class ones.
In the initial group, the stiletto‑wielder was clearly a low‑class soul‑being, while in the trio that had appeared behind them, one lingered between two stronger foes, its posture betraying weakness.
Young's tired old eyes caught these flaws, seeing them as cracks in the enemy's formation. He wondered whether to exploit them — perhaps striking down a low‑class foe to open a path — or whether he should gamble on defeating a single high‑class soul‑being, whose fall might shatter their cohesion and create an escape route from the encirclement.
Punches flew and weapons advanced, forcing Young to twist and dodge desperately. A halberd aimed at his head grazed across his back, a burning reminder of how close he was to death. The relentless strikes left him no time to think, no chance to stand idle like a sitting duck.
Briefly, he glanced at Nect, curious to know whether his companion had suffered new injuries, been knocked unconscious, or perhaps even died. To his surprise, Nect was still alive, moving with uncanny ease, seemingly untouched by the chaos. A sense of relief washed over Young, though he couldn't help but wonder how Nect had evaded every attack unscathed, as if fate itself favored him.
Sadly, Young had no time nor the liberty to wonder about Nect's uncanny survival. He needed a plan — to know who he would attack, when he would strike, and how he might shield Nect from the soul‑beings' relentless blows.
Gritting his teeth, he chose a concise foe: one who wielded a powerful weapon, though not as harrowing as those carried by the other high‑class soul‑beings. Yet even this choice carried peril. The weapon might not be the deadliest, but the raw power coursing through the high‑class soul‑being was undeniable, a force that could not be ignored. Young braced himself, aware that his decision would decide whether they lived or died.