Luke's brain was racing even as adrenaline pumped through his veins. He couldn't just stand there and take a beating from this oversized furball—luckily, his Combat Mage skills included Basic Martial Arts, and it was time to put them to use.
He stepped sideways just as the beast's massive claws came slashing down. The air where his chest had been split with a sickening whump as the werewolf's fist crashed into the wall, sending splinters flying.
Dust and tiny chunks of plaster rained down, filling his nose with that sharp, dry taste of old paint and decay.
Holy fuck, I would've been dead if I'd been a second slower, Luke thought, heart pounding wildly in his chest like a trapped animal.
"Alright, time for a counterattack," he told himself, already calculating the next move. The werewolf was pulling its arm out of the wall, snarling, eyes full of fury, and lunging toward him again, the muscles in its legs bunching for another strike.
Luke narrowed his eyes, flames suddenly flickering to life around his gloves—a vivid, orange blaze glowing hot in the dim apartment light, casting long shadows that danced on cracked walls. The heat prickled his skin, comforting and dangerous all at once. He bent low, barely dodging the beast's punch, the air vibrating from the force.
Just like with the Basic Martial Arts, the combat skills of his Combat Mage class were etched deep into both his mind and body.
There was no need for training or practice—everything was wired in, ready to be used instinctively. It was pure, direct combat, flowing naturally through his muscles and reflexes as if he'd been fighting his whole life. No second-guessing, just action.
"Fire Punch," he muttered under his breath, feeling the heat radiate through his fists as he launched a quick, brutal strike—an undercut aimed straight at the beast's chin. The smell of burning fur and flesh hit his nose, sharp and sickening.
Smack.
The fire caught in the thick fur on the werewolf's face, igniting tufts of hair in bright orange flames. The beast reared back, roaring in pain and thrashing wildly, trying to shake the burning fur off its muzzle. Its wild eyes flashed with fury and confusion as it backed away, smoke curling from its singed fur.
Luke exhaled slowly, trying to calm his wild breathing. This is just the opening round, he thought, eyes scanning the room for any other threats. The place smelled like burnt hair, sweat, and fear.
"Time to finish this," Luke murmured, determination steeling his nerves.
"Blazing Dash."
Flames erupted at Luke's feet, the heat warping the air like a desert mirage. In an instant, he blurred forward with a streak of orange fire, moving too fast for the werewolf's blurred vision to catch. The beast swayed, trying to focus but missing his swift advance.
"Fire Punch!"
Combining the speed of Blazing Dash with the raw power of Fire Punch, Luke drove his fist straight into the beast's chest—right where the heart should be.
The impact exploded in a sickening crunch, followed by the wet, tearing sound of flesh and muscle ripping apart. Blood sprayed across the dark walls like a twisted Jackson Pollock painting. Luke's flaming fist smashed through thick fur, bone, and muscle, crushing the heart in one brutal blow.
He pulled back his arm, but immediate pain shot up through his fist—like punching a wall made of iron.His muscles strained, the sting sharp and sudden, shooting up his arm like a bolt of heat and pain.
Ouch. Definitely harder than it looks, Luke thought, wincing and shaking his arm. Werewolves weren't just bulky—they had some serious defense. This thing wasn't going down without a fight.
The werewolf collapsed with a heavy plop, blood flowing steadily from the deep wound. Luke's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the dark crimson soaking his gloves. Nausea churned in his stomach.
This was the first time he'd actually killed something — really killed someone. The weight of it hit him harder than any punch or claw ever could.
For a long moment, he just stood there, frozen, the raw reality sinking in. Earth's morals and rules felt like a distant memory now, powerless to protect him here. It was simple — kill or be killed.
A sudden glow flashed before his eyes. Text appeared, bright and clear in the air, as if projected from the app embedded deep inside his mind.
[Monster Eliminated]
[1000 EXP received]
[Level up]
[Level up]
[Level up]
[You have reached Level 4]
Luke blinked, his heart still pounding wildly. A part of him wanted to laugh — this was straight out of a video game, the one he'd been developing before all this madness started. But another part was numb, trying to process the cost of these "level ups."
No more running, no more hiding. This world plays by its own rules, he thought grimly. And if I want to survive, I'm going to have to play along — even if it means crossing lines I never thought I would.