Chapter 103: Chapter 103

Merin raises his arm, blocking the swing of a jagged bone sword.

The impact jars his arm, but the blade fails to pierce his skin.

With a grunt, he spins and drives a kick into another monster’s ribs.

A loud crack echoes as bone splinters under the strike.

The monsters’ weapons are dangerous, but not risky enough.

Not sharp enough to cut him, not strong enough to stop him.

If his true energy was full, this wouldn’t even be a battle.

But after the fight with the rhinos, his energy is dangerously low.

He conserves what little he has, saving it for something worse.

These bone creatures aren’t a threat individually, but their numbers worry him.

One strike won’t kill them, but two or three will.

He weaves through them, dodging a spear aimed at his gut.

Then sweeps low, snapping another monster’s leg in half.

It stumbles, but doesn’t fall—hopping forward, swinging wildly.

Merin growls and shatters the skull of another with a well-placed kick.

It drops in a heap of loose bones, lifeless.

Like that, he keeps going.

A kill every minute. Sometimes two.

But they just keep coming.

And he knows it’ll take hours to carve through them all.

Merin moves like a machine—grit in his teeth, sweat trailing down his face, body coated in dust and chips of bone.

Each strike is precise, measured, and efficient.

He ducks under a sword, steps into a swing, breaks an arm, then the chest.

Bones clatter across the cracked ground like dry rain.

Even as his arms grow heavy, even as his breath shortens.

He crushes a skull under his heel and yanks a jagged blade from another monster’s grip—then uses it to cut down three more.

The blade snaps in half against the fourth.

Kicks out a knee. Cracks a spine. Shoves a palm through a brittle sternum.

He roars once, not in rage, but to breathe.

A spear grazes his ribs. He spins, grabs it mid-thrust, pulls its wielder forward, and slams an elbow through its head.

He bleeds, but the cuts are shallow.

Bones crunch underfoot. His knuckles ache. His legs burn.

The field is thinning.

He headbutts a monster and smashes its chest in with a single blow.

The last three charge together—reckless, desperate.

Merin lets them come.

He sidesteps one, grabs its spine, and slams it to the ground with a crack.

A heel to the chest shatters the next.

The final one stabs—grazes his shoulder—then gets its skull caved in by a rising knee.

Nothing but the sound of his breathing.

Around him, broken bones litter the plain like white ash.

He stands alone, bloodied, gasping.

Merin collapses onto the barren ground, chest heaving as he gulps in breath after breath.

Dust settles around him, bone fragments littered like broken glass.

After several minutes, he pushes himself up, muscles sore but steady.

He scans the field, surprised to find all the white bone monsters’ remains gone, as if they never existed.

Their surfaces gleam faintly with a silver hue.

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Curious, Merin picks them up one by one, inspecting the odd lustre.

During the battle, he never saw bones like these.

Where did they come from?

He pours a thread of true energy into the silver arm.

At first, nothing happens.

No resistance, no reaction.

Only quiet absorption.

He begins to pull back, wary of wasting what little energy remains—recovery here won’t be easy.

He flinches, eyes darting to his hand.

The arm fractures, then crumbles into a fine powder.

Left behind, hovering over his palm—

—a silver sphere of light.

Before he can react, the sphere dissolves into his body.

A warm pulse spreads through him.

His true energy… is returning.

Not only that—it’s growing.

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His eyes widen. “What… was that?”

He checks his body; his pulse is calm, his mind alert—nothing feels wrong.

No hidden injuries. No imbalance.

Just a quiet, steady power humming in his core.

His true energy rose by nearly 2%.

He glances at the thigh bone and skull, heart pounding with anticipation.

He repeats the process.

By the end, his energy has grown by nearly 10% in total.

He stands still, eyes closed, scanning every inch of his body—no rejection, no backlash.

He opens his eyes slowly, exhaling.

This nightmare land, this death-ridden plain…

…it might be a land of treasure.

More skeletons mean more bones.

More bones mean more growth.

He picks a direction at random and starts walking.

Not away from the danger—

As Merin walks beneath the eerie glow of the purple moon, he begins to sense something strange.

The moonlight isn’t just light—it carries energy.

It seeps into his skin, trying to entwine with his true energy.

Merin doesn’t know what would happen if it succeeded—and he doesn’t care to find out.

After some time, he halts.

A wide field lies ahead, scattered with the bodies of white bone monsters.

One by one, they begin to rise.

This time, he charges first—

—cutting them down before they can even fully stand.

He doesn’t hold back his true energy.

Flames burst from his fists.

Blades of wind howl with his strikes.

Moments later, the last one falls—and like before, they vanish without a trace.

All except one ribcage.

He shatters it with a palm strike laced in fire, and from the dust rises a silver sphere of light.

The warmth flows into him.

Two more groups fall the same way.

His true energy has grown by over 20% since arriving.

But the deeper he goes, the stranger the land feels.

He walks across cracked earth when suddenly—

Something stirs in his senses.

A bone spear whistles past, piercing the space where his heart had been a second ago.

Its bones are the colour of ash, mottled with runes.

Its eye sockets glow with cold purple fire.

The Grey Bone Monster raises its palm.

A runic circle blooms in the air.

A second spear forms in a swirl of purple energy—

Merin dodges again, eyes narrowing.

This opponent is different.

The grey bone monster doesn't rush—

—It conjures another spear.

Purple runes pulse across the air, and a bone spear hurtles toward Merin.

He sidesteps, the bone scraping his shoulder as it flies past.

Spears rain down like arrows from the sky.

Merin grits his teeth, weaving between them—each dodge bringing him a step closer.

The monster senses it.

Just as Merin reaches striking range, the grey bone monster reacts.

The arm swings, palm sharp as a blade.

Merin raises his forearm and blocks—

The impact sends a jolt through his bones.

He lands lightly, sliding backwards on the dry soil.

Murmurs under his breath, “It’s strong.”

Unification Realm's strength.

The white bone monsters were mindless, brute, and brittle.

But this one moves with intent.

Its stance shifts—left leg forward, spear-like fingers outstretched.

Merin takes his own stance.

Every strike from the grey monster carries weight and technique.

Every block from Merin drains a bit more energy.

He spins low and kicks at the shin—

—but the monster leaps, countering with a downward elbow like a falling hammer.

Merin pivots, dodges, and thrusts his palm into the ribs.

The monster retaliates with a backhand, catching Merin’s jaw and forcing him to retreat.

Blood touches his lip.

He wipes it off, eyes focused.

He dashes in again, this time forming a flame-wrapped fist.

The monster conjures a purple rune, another spear rising—

—But Merin is faster.

His fist slams into the runes mid-formation, shattering them, then follows with a spinning kick to the ribs.

Cracks spider along the grey bone.

The monster stumbles but doesn’t fall.

It snarls without a mouth and charges.

Merin meets it head-on. Merin and the grey bone monster clash again.

Their strikes blur into flashes—bone scraping against skin, flame flaring, feet grinding the cracked earth.

Suddenly, the monster’s body ignites.

A purple flame erupts across its skeleton, licking through its ribs, curling around its limbs.

The next punch slams into his gut before he can react—

—and he’s thrown backwards like a ragdoll, rolling across the barren plain.

The monster follows, its steps like hammers striking the earth.

Merin pushes off the ground, barely dodging the next blow—

But another catches his shoulder, another cracks across his ribs, and the next sends him flying again.

He coughs, blood on his lip.

He’s being overwhelmed.

Power, speed, reaction—the monster beats him in all.

But as it charges, Merin breathes in.

His eyes flash blue and red, flickering together.

—his palm glows, ice swirling around molten heat.

He steps in and slaps his hand against the monster’s ribs.

The explosion tears the monster off its feet, sending it hurtling backwards, smoke trailing its broken frame as it crashes and rolls.

One more Iceflame Palm, straight to the skull.

The head explodes—shards of bone scattering like shrapnel.

The purple light fades.

The grey bone monster collapses.

—But one thing remains: the monster’s right foot, glowing faintly silver.

Merin hasn’t touched it yet.

He stumbles back, sits on a stone, and closes his eyes.

Two opposing energies in his body—fire and ice—roil through his veins like a storm.

His muscles ache. His bones creak.

But something’s changed.

He begins circulating his true energy to heal—

No high-level technique, no rare treasure—just the clash of two extremes.

“I refined my energy… using that move?” he murmurs.

A slow smile spreads across his face.

Pain hums in his ribs, but he barely notices.

He’s found something new.

He reaches for the monster’s foot.

But even as his fingers close around it, a thought anchors his rising hope—

—the Iceflame Palm is powerful, but repeated use could cripple him.

The clash of cold and heat tears at his meridians.

If he wants to refine his energy safely, he needs more than just brute force.

He’ll have to fuse the breathing methods—ice and fire in harmony.

Control, not collision.

He exhales, slow and steady.

Then shatters the foot in his hand.

The silver light bursts forth—warm and dense—

—and flows into him, merging with his core.

Just then, a sharp burst echoes from the left.

Merin’s eyes snap toward it, hope flashing through them.

Could his teammates be nearby?

He stands quickly, brushing dust from his clothes.

The ground rumbles beneath him.

A massive explosion blooms in the distance—

—a rising fireball silhouetted against the dim purple sky.

Without hesitation, Merin turns and runs toward it.