[CH598+ Continued] Dungeon Diver: Stealing A Monster's Power

Chapter 611

I walk up and down the aisles, picturing the two silver blades aimed at my core and heart slowly piercing through my flesh.

The microseconds pass as the rush of new stat points adds to my base power. My speed and agility are what I have to rely on most for the plan I've devised next. I slowly make my way back to the white marble throne and replay the exact movements my body has to make in my mind a hundred times.

I want to make them feel more intuitive, like second nature, before turning around and sitting down on the white throne again.

Once I do, a single deep breath in and out is all it takes for my split consciousness to combine into one and force myself into action.

Power surges through my body, and I give up on trying to land the perfect shot on the Dragon's core.

The only thing I do right now is step off the air with as much force as I can with my right foot and twist my body with the newfound speed, strength, and agility coursing through me.

The movement I practiced in my mind hundreds of times while walking through the aisles is happening in real-time.

While the pleasure of receiving tens of thousands of base stat points feels immaculate, the sensation of silver blades tethered with Divine energy multiple times denser and more potent than my own tearing through my flesh definitely cancels this good feeling out.

This being may have denser Divine energy than me, but the amount of torque and speed generated by my spin launches me upward while the blades are still inside my body.

The critical moment passes, and my perception of the world around me speeds back up to let this exchange play out.

Both silver swords plunge through my torso and chest.

One slices right through my upper ribcage, missing the upper portion of my divine core by millimeters.

The other misses my heart and stabs right through the top of my upper pec and out through my left shoulder.

While this is one of the most painful attacks I've ever been hit with, I can't help but get a rush from the fact that my plan worked.

Some bones have been broken and muscles torn, but none of my vitals were hit directly, and I can still follow through with my right hand's downward slash against the dragon's open body.

It's not perfectly lined up after my stunt to save my own life, but I manage to release an attack that opens up a deep gash on the bronze dragon's side and tears its left wing in half.

As my blade digs into the monster's flesh, I can feel the silver blades twisting and attempting to move downward in my own.

The only thing I can do is take another step off the air with my left foot upward to outpace my invisible attacker and forcefully pull the blades out of my upper chest.

As I do this, soaring forward and pulling my own blades away from the dragon's mutilated wing, I feel its mixed emotions ripple through me as it makes contact with the outer layers of my purple barrier.

The sensation is so odd.

It isn't angry, or scared, or even battle-hungry.

The creature still seems sad for me, even now as I slice off part of its wing.

As it falls down into the dark crater made from our clashes in the desert before, I feel it wishing that I landed the shot.

The feeling seems very similar to that of the hunters from the Association when they realized they were being forced to do tasks they don't want to do.