Swordsman's Regression: Reawakened as a Necromancer-Chapter 73: Mire Crocs (2)

At first, he aimed for the head or the armored back, but then he decided against it.

Those were the hardest part of the lizard creatures.

So, changing his shaft’s trajectory, he pushed himself downward and as he fell past the gaping maw, he stabbed downward, driving Lightpiercer, sheathed in deathly blue, into the soft, hot roof of the creature’s mouth.

SHLUCK.

The Soulfire didn’t cut; it extinguished. It flooded into the beast, seeking its Beast Core. The Croc’s colossal charge turned into a death spasm.

It crashed snout-first into the mud, plowing a trench, dead before it slid to a stop.

⸢ Ironhide Mire-Croc (Lvl 50) killed ⸥

⸢ +150 EXP ⸥

⸢ Title Bonus (First Hero) Active: x1.5 ⸥

⸢ +225 EXP ⸥

One down.

Percival checked his mana: ⸢Necro: 698/1300. Swordsman: 3760/5000⸥.

Just twelve spent since the Unwelcoming Hills. That’s good.

NGGRRRHHH!

Percival turned.

The Lvl 45 Croc, enraged, used ⸢Mud-Anchor⸥.

Its claws dug deep into the swamp bed, locking it in place. It became an immovable, spitting fortress. Acid globs flew in rapid succession, forcing Percival into a frantic, splashing dance.

The third Croc (Lvl 40) and a fourth he hadn’t seen (Lvl 42) surfaced from the deeper murk, circling wide. They were learning. They wouldn’t charge blindly.

’They’re herding me,’ Percival thought with creased brows.

He was right.

The acid barrage forced him toward a patch of deeper, still water: A perfect kill zone for them to use that skill, ⸢Death Roll⸥.

He saw the fifth and final Croc (Lvl 48) waiting there, mostly submerged, its heat signature a muted glow in his perception.

A trap. Set by beasts.

A grim smile touched Percival’s lips. He let himself be herded.

He sprinted straight for the deep water, toward the waiting Croc. The anchored Croc intensified its barrage. Acid splashed around him, burning holes in his cloak.

The hidden Croc tensed, ready to explode upward.

At the water’s edge, Percival allowed himself to spend some Necromancer mana as he activated ⸢Grave Step⸥.

⸢-14⸥

Blue flames exploded around him. He disappeared into it and reappeared over the deep patch.

The hidden Croc erupted a second too late, snapping its jaws shut on empty space.

Percival was already descending toward the anchored Croc, the spitting fortress that couldn’t move.

The beast saw him coming. It inflated its throat, aiming point-blank.

Percival fell, sword first. But not with an aura. As the acid glob formed, he poured a thread of Necromancer mana into a his Swordsman skill: ⸢Silver Mist⸥.

⸢Silver Mist: A disorienting skill that blinds every target in an area with silver smoke, allowing user to move and attack unseen⸥

⸢C-Rank⸥

A sudden, localized fog of chilling blue mist exploded around the Croc’s head. It was blue this time because of his Necromancer mana.

For a creature that saw through heat, the mist was meaningless. But with the Necromancer mana that attacked the soul, the Mire Croc’s Soul Core was affected.

It couldn’t use its magic to see again. Percival’s blazing heat signature had disappeared.

The Croc hesitated, disoriented.

That was all he needed.

Percival landed on its broad, anchored back. ⸢Blessed Edge⸥ returned, blazing. He didn’t waste energy hacking at the iron hide.

He located the precise seam where the head armor met the shoulder plate—a weakness. He drove Lightpiercer down into the neural junction with all his weight and enhanced Strength.

The blade punched through scale, flesh, and spine. The Croc shuddered, its anchor skill failing. He ripped the blade free and leapt clear as it slumped, dead.

⸢ Ironhide Mire-Croc (Lvl 45) killed ⸥

⸢ +135 EXP ⸥

⸢ Title Bonus: +202 EXP ⸥

Two left, plus the hidden one.

He checked his mana again ⸢Mana: Necro: 640/1800. Swordsman: 3220/5000⸥.

’Alright then,’ Percival swung his blade, placing it by his side as though it was sheathed. ’Let’s end this.’

He pushed into the pools, showing clear intent to attack. In defense of their habitat, the crocodiles burst out at him.

Percival almost smirked.

Slash! Slash!

His sword slaughtered through two, ⸢Soulfire⸥ and ⸢Blessed Edge⸥ empowering the blade.

The earlier two on land charged after him, a coordinated bulldoze of scales and fury. One of them from the water, slithered onto the side to sneak attack.

Percival fake-sheathed Lightpiercer again.

Click.

When the Croc lunged, his hand became a blur.

⸢Quickdraw⸥.

SHIIING!

A crescent of condensed silver aura, thinner than a razor and hotter than a forge, blasted from his sheathe.

Following the edge of his blade that was already fortified with two skills, the attack hit the lead Croc.

Surprisingly, it ignored the armor, and struck the joint of its front leg.

KR-CHAK!

The leg severed cleanly. The beast crashed, its momentum turning it into a tumbling wreck of scales and agony.

Percival was already moving past it, toward the second.

He didn’t draw his sword again. He closed the distance, meeting the second Croc’s snapping bite with his gauntleted hands.

He caught the upper and lower jaws, his muscles corded, boots digging trenches in the mud. The beast’s immense bite force strained against him, rusted teeth screeching against his vambraces.

Saliva and the faint green glow of pre-acid dripped onto his chest plate.

With a roar of effort, he wrenched the jaws wider, and then up, using the creature’s own momentum to flip it onto its back, exposing the pale, soft belly.

Then, he drew a dagger from his belt, coated in a flicker of ⸢Soulfire⸥. He stabbed down once, puncturing the heart. The beast convulsed and died.

The third Croc, seeing this, tried to retreat into the water.

"No," Percival growled. He was out of patience.

He snatched the shaft of his scythe and swung fast and hard.

"You come here!"

The curved blade caught the beast by its top maw, and when Percival pulled, the blade sliced through the reptilian monster, dissecting it into perfect halves.

⸢ Ironhide Mire-Croc (Lvl 45) killed ⸥

⸢ 202 EXP ⸥

The battle ended. All the Mire Crocs were dead.

Percival waded to relatively solid ground and checked his status, a slight pain flaring in his side from a bruise he couldn’t remember taking.

⸢Necromancer Mana: 595/1800⸥

⸢Swordsman Mana: 3109/5000⸥

The silver pool was still half full, regenerating slowly. But the blue pool was critically low.

Moving into the next Encounter Zone like this was a profoundly risky move.

He was going to need his Skeleton Soldiers, he knew that, and sustaining them outside the Summon Space cost mana.

Percival had two choices: rest and let his natural mana regeneration refill it over time, or use an elixir.

He weighed the option for a time.

Then, he claimed three bottles of elixirs from his inventory. He uncorked and drank them with a sour face.

They always tasted like lightning for some reason.

But... they did their job, restoring 300 Necromancer Mana instantly.

⸢Necromancer Mana: 895/1800⸥

⸢Swordsman Mana: 3109/5000⸥

It wasn’t full, but it was enough. It would have to be.

He tossed the vial into the swamp, where it dissolved with a hiss. No traces.

He returned the War-Scythe and Lightpiercer to his back, and looked toward the dense, mist-wreathed trees marking the next zone.

The crocodiles were just the beginning. The Encounter Zones in this Gate World had endless threats waiting for him.

Some he could remember, some he could not.

Percival moved forward.