Deep in the heart of the Den of Evil, the air was so thick you could wring water out of it, reeking with a rot that shot straight to the brain.
Rayleigh gripped his newly acquired Frost Wand, feeling pretty damn good about himself.
“Extra Fast?
Listen here, you little shit—today I’m gonna show you what a speed bump looks like!” In his past life playing the game, he hated fast-moving elite mobs like this the most.
You couldn’t outfight them, couldn’t run away, and they stuck to you like gum on a shoe.
Now, though, with a short staff granting +1 to Ice Bolt, he felt ready to take on the world again.
“Watch me kite you to death!” Rayleigh peeked out into the clearing.
In the dim light stood a massive silhouette—Corpsefire itself.
Flickering around him were his horde of zombie minions.
“A bunch of scrub mobs.” Rayleigh curled his lip, not taking those trash mobs seriously at all.
Memories from his past life told him that as long as he took care of Corpsefire, the minions would be light work.
Taking a deep breath, he gathered mana at his fingertips and launched a sizzling Fireball, tracing a bright orange arc through the pitch-black cave.
“Die, motherfucker!” The Fireball struck Corpsefire dead in the forehead.
However, the expected scene of a plummeting health bar didn’t happen.
The massive zombie’s health bar merely budged a tiny, reluctantly minute pixel downward.
Rayleigh’s smile froze.
“What the hell?” “Is that a scratch?!” “My level 5 Fireball did…
*that*?” The next second, Corpsefire let out an enraged roar that didn’t sound like an ordinary zombie at all.
It moved.
That was nowhere near a zombie’s speed!
Without a hint of stiffness or lag, its bulky frame exploded with terrifying power, its legs churning like windmills as it charged straight toward Rayleigh.
The ground vibrated!
“Holy shit!” Rayleigh was scared half to death.
This was completely off-script from what he remembered!
What made him even more desperate was that behind Corpsefire, the zombie minions—the ones he had treated as mere background props—were flanking him from all directions at the exact same absurd speed.
That wasn’t mindless undead; that was a well-trained special forces unit!
“I’m cooked!” Alarm bells blared in Rayleigh’s head.
Survival instinct made him raise his wand instantly.
“Ice Bolt!” A blue orb wrapped in frost shot out, slamming into Corpsefire, who was charging at the very front.
A thin layer of frost instantly coated its body, and its speed visibly slowed down.
It worked!
Just as hope flared in Rayleigh’s chest, he saw an utterly mind-boggling sight.
A zombie minion nearby suddenly side-stepped, forcefully shoving itself in front of Corpsefire, taking the second Ice Bolt with its own body!
“They take hits for the boss?!” Rayleigh was completely dumbfounded.
These bastards had brains!
They were taking turns covering each other, trading a minion’s slow-down for the boss’s unhindered charge!
Seeing Corpsefire about to shake off the chill effect, Rayleigh panicked.
Years of professional instinct saved his life at this moment.
He didn’t even have time to chant; his left hand formed a practiced gesture.
The Bowel-Plucking Curse!
Nonverbal casting!
This was his most practiced spell, practically carved into his DNA.
In an instant, the five zombies rushing at the front, including Corpsefire, froze in place.
Without warning, their bellies burst open, blasting colorful, steaming guts every which way.
The stench in the cave spiked several levels, almost knocking Rayleigh out cold.
The health bars above all five zombies plunged significantly.
It worked!
But before Rayleigh could celebrate, he realized something was wrong.
The four minions had lost half their health, but were still standing, their movements merely slowed.
Meanwhile, Corpsefire’s health bar had only dropped by a third!
Its vitality was far higher than its minions!
“Fuck!
Built like a tank!” Cursing under his breath, Rayleigh pulled a Stamina Potion from his belt, chugged it down, and turned to run.
He had to open up distance!
While retreating, he alternated Fireball and Ice Bolt, attempting to kite them.
But it was completely useless.
His speed under the Stamina Potion was fast, but compared to the five “jet-powered guts sprayers” behind him, he was still a step too slow.
The Ice Bolt’s effect was continually neutralized by minions fearlessly taking hits with their bodies.
Corpsefire grew closer and closer.
That rotten face was practically pressed against the back of his neck.
“Stay the fuck back!” Rayleigh felt like he was going insane.
He finally understood the terror of being rear-ended by a dump truck.
Right as a minion’s tackle sent him stumbling, Corpsefire’s giant fist, trailing a foul wind, smashed brutally into his chest.
*Bang!* Rayleigh flew backward, his full health bar instantly plummeting to a sliver of red.
The world went blindingly red.
Pain didn’t hit immediately, but a deathbed weakness washed over him.
Akara had warned him long ago that this wasn’t a game.
Death here meant real death—no graveyard, no corpse running.
The shadow of death fell truly upon his head for the very first time.
*No!* *I can’t die here!* *I haven’t become the Tony Stark of the wizarding world yet!
I haven’t lived my degenerate dream of being surrounded by beauties on both arms!* A fierce urge to survive overwhelmed all fear.
Mid-air, Rayleigh forced his body to twist.
The moment he hit the ground, he didn’t pause for a microsecond, using the momentum to roll desperately toward a corner.
Right there was his exit strategy.
A Town Portal faintly glowing blue floated quietly by the wall.
“See ya, suckers!” Crawling and scrambling, Rayleigh plunged headfirst into the portal.
Vision spun.
When he reopened his eyes, he was back beside the warm bonfire of the Rogue Encampment.
He collapsed onto the ground, gasping violently for air, drenched in cold sweat.
With trembling hands, he opened his character panel.
[Health: 3/57] Just one hit away from being wiped out.
Sprawled on the ground, Rayleigh was overcome with lingering terror.
He touched his chest—it was intact, no broken bones, not even a bruise.
But he clearly remembered the power behind that punch.
In the real world, his sternum would have shattered into dust and punctured his heart.
“A digitized body…” Rayleigh muttered to himself.
He finally understood what that meant.
It wasn’t just converting health and mana into numbers; it transformed his entire physical form into a digitized entity.
No vital points, no weak spots.
As long as his health bar wasn’t empty, even if his head blew up, he could theoretically survive.
This was practically…
a divine trait!
After the relief of surviving came a surge of frustration.
How the hell was he supposed to fight that?
Corpsefire was fast, tanky, and had four bodyguards who understood tactics.
With his current half-assed toolkit, going back would just be feeding.
Sitting on the ground, Rayleigh began to calculate calmly.
Ask NPCs for help?
Won’t work.
Akara and the others treated him well, but they were restricted by rules and couldn’t leave the Encampment to fight alongside him.
He had to rely on himself.
That left only two options.
First, keep grinding trash mobs on the Blood Moor, slowly chipping away at levels.
He checked his experience bar; he was still far from level 6.
But once he hit level 6, he could learn the Sorceress’s next skill: Inferno!
Continuous fire damage, tailor-made to counter stationary or charging enemies.
Hopefully, that skill would give him a pleasant surprise.
Second…
Rayleigh thought of Hogwarts.
That place was practically a treasure trove of European wizarding knowledge.
Its library was bound to have spells far stronger and better suited for his current predicament than the Bowel-Plucking Curse.
“Damn it, why choose?” “Only kids choose—I want both!” Rayleigh slapped his thigh and stood up.
A two-pronged attack!
Come back here at night to grind EXP—every level counted.
During the day, head to the Hogwarts library!
He refused to believe a magic school with hundreds of years of history couldn’t yield a way to kill a damn zombie!