Noah's consciousness returned to the void, the weight of another death pressing onto him. But this time, something was different.
He exhaled sharply, his gaze shifting to the glowing blue screen before him.
…
[Skill Details: Gaebolg]
Absolute Accuracy
— The act of striking is meaningless. The result is already decided.
— A weapon is merely a medium. The conclusion has been determined.
— The path between intent and impact is irrelevant. If thrown, it will reach.
…
His fingers hovered over the text.
It was a concept—a certainty that the moment he committed to an attack, reality would conspire to make it land.
Noah lowered his hand and took in a deep breath.
The first thing he saw upon return was the skeleton rushing toward him again. The worn, rusted sword in its grip gleamed under the dim torchlight.
Instead of reaching for the sword he had chosen before, his hand moved toward something else.
A spear.
The moment his fingers curled around its shaft, a thin thread of light emerged from its tip—an abstract, erratic path forming midair, weaving toward an invisible point.
Noah's breathing steadied.
Then, he threw.
The spear arced wildly, seemingly off-course. An airball—until it wasn't.
Mid-flight, the spear twisted, redirecting itself.
The tip found the skeleton's precise weak point—shattering its skull into fragments. The moment it hit, the spear vibrated and returned to his grip, as if it had never left his hand.
His body moved on instinct. Without looking, without thinking, he turned and threw again.
A sickening crack.
The orc behind him let out a choked gasp, its massive body collapsing as the spear embedded itself cleanly into its skull before flickering back into his grasp.
Noah stared at his hands. Then at the system window. Then at the corpses.
His face remained unreadable, but beneath his breath, he muttered:
"...What the hell?"
…
Noah stood still for a moment, gripping the spear in his hands. His chest rose and fell with each heavy breath, the weight of everything settling in.
Then, it hit him.
This was insane.
He looked down at his hands, then back at the system window, then at the spear—then back at the system window again. His brain struggled to process it, like a gamer unlocking a secret ability out of nowhere.
And then—
"KYOOOOOS!"
His entire demeanor flipped. His exhausted expression twisted into one of manic glee as he practically glazed over the skill. His suffering? His previous deaths? They were background noise now. This? This was the real deal.
"THIS IS A CHEAT!" He grinned wildly, twirling the spear in his grip. "Well... not as broken as Adam's ability... but still!"
His excitement barely had time to settle before the kobold lunged at him.
Noah turned, aimed—threw.
The spear zipped through the air, slamming into the kobold's chest with an almost comical force. The impact sent it skidding back, impaling it against the ground like a pinned insect.
Noah stared at the sight, still high off the sheer satisfaction of it.
Then—a feeling.
Something foreign. Something unfamiliar, stirring deep within.
He frowned, but quickly shook it off.
Noah's excitement was cut short as his instincts screamed at him. His breath hitched.
The Minotaur.
His gaze snapped forward. He hadn't even reached that monster yet. And worse—there were still two unknown enemies waiting beyond it.
The thrill of his newfound skill didn't erase the bitter reality. Even if he could one-shot them, relying solely on that wasn't enough. The Minotaur wasn't just strong—it was smart.
If he just threw his spear without thinking, he'd be wide open.
His grip tightened around the weapon. I need to use this properly.
Noah reached for the spear, yanking it from the kobold's corpse with a slick, wet sound. His mind raced. The system gave him a gift—but a weapon wasn't just something you used. It was something you mastered.
And so, he made a decision.
For the first time since stepping onto this cursed tutorial, Noah stopped rushing to kill.
He stood his ground, spear in hand, as the werewolf came sprinting toward him, its gaze locked onto him.
This one had instincts.
Noah didn't throw the spear. Instead, he lowered his stance, gripping it closer to the base. The werewolf lunged—Noah twisted his body, narrowly avoiding its swipe, and struck the shaft of his spear against its ribs, redirecting its momentum.
It stumbled, but immediately spun back, growling.
A grin crept onto Noah's face.
Good. Now again.
The werewolf attacked, and Noah dodged, using his spear as a lever to manipulate its movements. He focused on precision—adjusting his grip, testing his footwork, learning the flow of combat.
The fight dragged on, his breathing was growing heavier.
For the first time, he was fighting not to survive, but to improve.
After a dozen exchanges, Noah finally ended it—his spear lashed out, catching the werewolf in the throat. It let out a strangled cry before collapsing.
Noah barely had time to breathe before the living armor advanced next.
This one was different. It had no instincts—just unrelenting force.
Noah exhaled and switched tactics. If the werewolf was about adjusting to an enemy's movement, then the armor was about to control that same movement.
He tested spacing, prodding the spear at the gaps in its plates, seeing how it reacted. He measured timing, parrying its swings before countering with quick thrusts.
Every exchange was a lesson. Every dodge, every block, every strike—refined his technique.
And when he finally shattered its core, Noah wasn't just stronger—he was better.
…
[Stamina increased.]
[Dexterity increased.]
[Strength increased.]
…
Panting, he straightened up, gripping his spear like it was a part of him now.
He looked ahead, eyes narrowing.
The Minotaur was waiting.
And this time, he was ready.
But then…
[Due to the increase in the climber's power level, the Minotaur's level has been adjusted accordingly. The trial's difficulty will now scale to match the challenger.]
Noah stared at the notification, his mind blank for a moment.
Then, the frustration hit him like a tidal wave. His breath turned ragged, his hands shaking.
Unfair.
So unfair.
It wasn't the system he was angry at. No—it was his luck.
This hopeless, endless cycle. Every time he thought he had control, every time he thought he'd found a way out, the ground would be pulled from beneath him again.
How many times had he faced this? How many times had he come close, only for the trial to grow even harder, even more impossible?
This was it. This was the reality.
Rage boiled inside him, but it wasn't directed at the system. It wasn't even directed at the Minotaur.
No.
It was rage at the hopelessness.
His teeth ground together as he stared at the Minotaur, his face hardening into something he never wanted to see again—an expression he swore he'd left behind in another life.
The Minotaur met his gaze. Its eyes gleamed with something almost predatory.
Then it grinned—a twisted, mocking grin that stretched from ear to ear, as if it reveled in the hopelessness Noah felt.
A grin that seemed to dare him to do something about it.
The Minotaur's hulking frame shifted, muscles tensing as it lowered its body, hooves scraping against the ground in preparation for a devastating charge.
At the same time, Noah's stance changed. His grip on the spear tightened, his breath steadied, and without hesitation—
"UAAAAAH!"
He screamed, his voice raw, and launched himself forward in what seemed like a reckless, suicidal charge.
The Minotaur reacted immediately, swinging its massive axe in a brutal arc meant to cleave Noah in half. But at the last second—
Noah evaded.
Their clash began.
Each time Noah thrust his spear, the Minotaur countered with a terrifying precision.
Each exchange left Noah struggling—his arms shook, his feet skidded against the ground, his body barely holding together under the onslaught.
But the Minotaur? It didn't falter. Not even once.
It was mocking him.
With each failed attack, Noah saw it—that cursed grin that never left its face. A gaze filled with amusement, as if it wasn't even taking him seriously.
And then there was the thread of light.
Every time he thrust his spear with the intent to pierce, the golden thread extending from its tip would shoot toward the Minotaur's body, guiding the strike—
Only to shatter.
Each attempt was denied.
Noah gritted his teeth and lunged, the spear thrusting toward the Minotaur's chest.
CLANG!
The beast deflected it with the shaft of its axe, retaliating instantly with a horizontal slash meant to tear Noah apart.
He barely twisted his body in time—
WHOOSH!
The axe sliced through the empty void, missing him by inches, but the sheer force of it sent a powerful shockwave that pushed him back.
[Stamina increased.]
Noah had no time to acknowledge it. He planted his foot against the unseen floor beneath him, pushing forward to spin and strike at the Minotaur's ribs.
THWACK!
The spear landed, but—
The Minotaur barely flinched.
It smirked, grabbed the spear mid-air, and yanked.
Noah was pulled toward it, his body lifted off balance.
The Minotaur's fist came next.
BAM!
A direct hit to the stomach sent Noah hurtling backward, his body tumbling weightlessly through the space.
Floating lanterns flickered around him, their dim glow warping as his vision blurred.
His lungs screamed for air, but he forced himself to adjust, shifting his center of gravity to stabilize.
[Strength increased.]
The Minotaur was already upon him. It raised its axe high, a downward cleave incoming—
Dodge.
Noah tilted his body, letting himself fall sideways just as the axe sliced through the space where he had been, leaving a trail of distorted light in its wake.
[Dexterity increased.]
He didn't stop.
Pushing forward, Noah twisted his body mid-movement, using his spear like a staff to parry a follow-up swing before delivering a desperate thrust to the Minotaur's shoulder.
SLASH!
The spear dug in, cutting flesh, but it was shallow—the Minotaur twisted and countered, bringing the axe's blunt side straight toward Noah's ribs.
CRACK!
Pain exploded in his side as he was sent spiraling backward, his body colliding with the surface.
A few lanterns drifted from the force, their faint light flickering as they spun.
His vision blurred for a moment.
[Stamina increased.]
[Strength increased.]
His entire body screamed in agony, but—
There.
A gap.
A tiny, momentary gap in the Minotaur's stance.
Noah's body moved on instinct.
His grip tightened around the spear.
Gaebulg activated.
The golden thread extended from the weapon's tip, weaving an erratic, chaotic path through the darkened space—until it settled on the Minotaur's forehead.
Noah thrust.
SPLURCH!
The spear pierced straight through the Minotaur's skull.
A beat of silence—
Then—
BOOM!
The Minotaur's head detonated, crimson mist dispersing into the endless black. Its massive, lifeless body floated for a second—then began to dissolve into nothing.
Noah stood there, covered in blood and sweat, his breaths heavy.
For a split second—
He smiled.
Then his fingers twitched.
A low, breathless chuckle escaped his lips, barely a sound at first—until it grew.
A strained, hysterical laugh bubbled from his throat, a whimpering, choked thing that didn't belong in the mouth of someone victorious.
His shoulders shook, his grip on the spear tightened, and his head tilted slightly, as if his mind was caught between two realities—one where he had won, and one where he had already lost.
This fight—
It had pushed him too far.
And yet—
A shadow.
Noah's eyes widened.
Above him, beyond the glow of the drifting lanterns, something moved.
A pair of glowing, merciless eyes stared down at him.
Wings of stone and shadow flapped in the void.
A gargoyle was descending.