Eldritch Assassin: Reincarnated With An SSS-Rank Devouring System
Chapter 92: Trial Of Blind Combat (II)

Chapter 92: Trial Of Blind Combat (II)

Kael pushed himself up from the ground. His muscles didn’t obey, but he forced them.

His dagger weighed a hundred kilos. His legs felt like hollow steel.

But he stood.

Because what else was there?

He’d made it this far. Through suppression, through constructs, through blood and bone, and the endless dark.

He was not stopping now.

The first three came at once. Lvl 30. Blades like wind.

Kael stepped forward. Barely. Just enough. His dagger met one blade. Parried. The second grazed his arm, tearing open a fresh wound. The third thrust for his heart.

He dropped low.

The floor wasn’t stable. It shifted beneath him, a tremor rolling through the void. The terrain had changed again.

He adapted.

Slid beneath the strikes. Rolled to his left. Dagger flicked up—sliced through the knee joint of the nearest construct.

He felt the pressure fade. One down.

Eleven remained.

No time to count.

One lunged from his blind spot. His instincts caught the motion just in time. He twisted, caught the spearhead against his vambrace, and felt the metal crack.

His arm went numb.

Still, he moved. Dagger slashed across the construct’s hip. Weak point. He struck again. Again. The construct shattered.

Ten.

The next ones came in a group of four. Coordinated. Swords and spears in a formation.

Kael had no defense left.

But he had motion.

He dove forward. Into them. Through them. A blur of desperation.

They struck, cutting him. Everywhere.

But he kept moving. Every attack he took, he gave one back. He stabbed. He twisted. He cracked a helm.

Then—a flash of instinct. One behind.

He whirled. Abyssal Fang took the construct’s arm. He finished it with a punch to the chest—raw force from a Lvl 19 body that refused to fall.

Another fell. And another. And another.

Kael landed hard, barely breathing.

Seven left.

His mask cracked fully. Fell away. His silver eyes, bloodshot, locked on the faint pulses in the void.

He didn’t hide anymore.

Let them see him. Let them all see him.

He stood.

"You want me gone?" he muttered. "Then send more."

The constructs didn’t hesitate.

They came.

And Kael met them.

He didn’t dodge every strike. He couldn’t.

He was too slow. Too wounded.

But he made every movement count. Every blade he parried, every dagger thrust he made—it was survival distilled.

The ground beneath Kael’s boots churned, betraying him with every step. What had once been solid stone now crumbled into loose gravel, sliding underfoot like the sands of a merciless desert.

His body screamed in protest—muscles torn, bones bruised, blood seeping from countless gashes that painted his armor in crimson streaks. His vision had long since abandoned him, swallowed by the oppressive darkness of the Trial’s void.

Sound was a distant memory, muted by the suffocating weight of this cursed arena. Yet, even in this sensory wasteland, his Predator’s Instincts burned like a beacon in his soul, painting the battlefield in shades of instinct and intuition.

Seven auras pulsed in the blackness. They encircled him, closing in. Each one a predator in its own right, their malevolent intent crackling like static across his battered senses.

Kael exhaled, the breath sharp and ragged, tasting of iron and despair. His arms trembled under the weight of Abyssal Fang, the dagger’s rough edge glinting faintly in his mind’s eye, a lifeline in this endless night. His legs were little more than slabs of agony, held together by sheer, unyielding will.

"Come, then," he rasped, his voice a broken whisper, lips cracked and bleeding. The words were a challenge, a defiance spat into the void itself.

The constructs surged forward as one, their movements a synchronized storm of death.

Kael didn’t retreat. There was no room left for it-no sanctuary to flee to, no reprieve to claim. The Trial had stripped him bare, leaving only the raw essence of his defiance. He lunged, not away, but into the fray, straight toward the first construct’s chest.

A blade arced for his neck, its edge singing a lethal promise. Kael’s vambrace—shattered, jagged, barely clinging to his arm—caught the strike with a screech of metal on metal. Sparks flared in the void, briefly illuminating the grotesque, humanoid silhouette of his foe.

The follow-up strike came faster, a brutal blow that slammed into his shoulder. Flesh tore, blood sprayed, but Kael’s momentum didn’t falter.

Abyssal Fang found its mark through alloy plating. Through the construct’s glowing core.

Through the kill.

The aura shattered like glass, its fragments dissolving into the void. One down.

Six remained.

No time to savor the victory. A spear thrust toward his ribs, its tip gleaming with lethal intent. His Predator’s Instincts screamed a warning, sharp and urgent.

Another attack—a low sweep aimed to cripple his legs. Kael leapt, his body protesting with a flare of white-hot pain. Too slow. The spear nicked his thigh, a shallow cut that burned like molten fire racing up his nerves.

He didn’t stop.

With a snarl, he drove his elbow into the spear-wielder’s chest, the impact reverberating through his own battered frame. Abyssal Fang followed, a brutal stab to the construct’s knee joint. Metal groaned, and the construct collapsed with a thud that echoed even in the soundless void.

Five.

The air grew heavier, the remaining constructs pressing their advantage. They sensed his weakness—his flickering lifeforce, his faltering strength. One struck high, a blade aimed to cleave his skull. Another came low, a claw-like appendage slashing at his knees.

A third attacked from the side, its weapon a blur of motion. Kael bent backward, the high strike missing his nose by a hair’s breadth. In the same fluid motion, he countered, Abyssal Fang spinning in his grip, slicing across the third construct’s knee with surgical precision.

He rolled, gravel crunching beneath him, and came up in a crouch. His dagger flashed—three rapid strikes into the fourth construct’s gut. Artificial flesh tore, its aura fracturing into nothingness.

Four left.

Kael swayed, his knees buckling under the weight of his own body. His breath came in shallow, desperate gasps. How was he still alive? No Primal Force remained. No stamina. No vision. Nothing but the ember of spite burning in his chest, the raw, unrelenting refusal to die.

A spearhead burst through the void, aimed for his skull.

He didn’t think. He moved instantly.

Ducking under the strike, he slashed upward, catching the construct’s wrist. Bone—or whatever passed for it in these abominations—cracked.

The spear fell, and Kael’s numb fingers, acting on instinct, caught it mid-air. Abyssal Fang slipped from his grasp, too heavy for his failing grip. He didn’t hesitate. Spinning the stolen spear once, he drove it through the construct’s neck with a wet crunch.

Three.

The spear shattered in his hands, its haft splintering into useless fragments.

Another construct struck from behind.

Too late.

A blade sank into Kael’s side, cold steel biting deep. He grunted, the sound more animal than man. But pain was an old friend now, a constant companion in this hell.

He grabbed the arm wielding the sword, yanking the construct forward with a strength born of desperation. His forehead met its face in a brutal headbutt.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

Metal cracked, the construct’s head crumpling under the onslaught. Kael seized the back of its head, driving it down into his rising knee with a sickening crunch.

Two.

He turned, blood dripping from his side, his vision swimming even in the absence of sight. The last two constructs moved in perfect harmony—one wielding a sword, the other a spear. The spear thrust low, aiming to hobble him. The sword arced for his neck, a clean, killing blow.

Kael had nothing left.

Nothing but will.

He leapt into the attacks, embracing the pain to come. The spear pierced his thigh, a fresh wave of agony threatening to drown him. The sword carved across his shoulder, blood spraying in its wake. He didn’t care.

Grabbing the sword-wielder’s arm, he dragged it down with him as he fell, twisting mid-motion. His fingers found Abyssal Fang on the ground, its familiar weight a spark of hope in the dark.

With a roar that tore from the depths of his soul, Kael drove the dagger into the final construct’s chest. The aura shattered, its light snuffed out.

Silence.

The void exhaled, a hush settling over the battlefield. Kael collapsed, his body sprawling across the cold, invisible floor. Blood pooled beneath him, seeping from a dozen wounds. His HP flickered at a measly 0.01%. His breathing was shallow, his limbs numb, his mind teetering on the edge of oblivion.

[Wave Four: Completed.]

A chime echoed through the void, cold and mechanical.

[System Alert: Bonus reward unlocked—User has completed four waves under Blind Combat Restrictions]

[System Alert: Final Wave Initiated

Wave Five: Thirteen Enemies – Lvl 31-32 Constructs]

Kael’s mind stilled. ’Thirteen’ he thought to himself.

He couldn’t even stand or move a muscle. His arms twitched, fingers barely curling. His body was a ruin, spent beyond recovery.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.