Ronan was confident after defeating Lord Rockmore for the first time. He'd suffered for it, but the level up was the icing on the cake. His mana was around a third full, slowly regenerating, but he had a full bar of both health and stamina.

He'd goaded Vulparis, but the fox seemed reluctant to leave the comfort and relative safety of the shadows. Surely it knows I'm not under the sway of its illusions. What is it waiting for? he wondered.

The shadows all seemed to come alive, moving and dancing in the faint light of the moon. He tried to follow them, searching the fox under the blankets of darkness.

Vulparis had revealed itself before, when Rockmore had killed Ronan. Why wasn't it revealing itself now that the opposite had occurred?

Maybe the taunt was a step too far. He'd scared the beast? Ronan doubted it. No monster became a mini-boss by being a coward. Then again, this one was dubbed the 'Trickster.'

He hadn't heard of tricksters who were proficient in melee combat—not the kind that Ronan enjoyed, anyway. Well, if the fox doesn't want to come out and fight me, I'll just have to drag it out by its bushy tail, he decided.

It could try to hide in the shadows, but Ronan had a powerful resistance to its illusions and other mental skills. He would find the beast, and then he would kill it.

He quickly opened his inventory, skimming through the contents. It was mostly the same junk he picked up on every iteration. A few useful stat-boosting items and a bunch of monster parts. There were five new additions now.

Three shards, all partially consumed, but still a great resource to advance his cultivation. They weren't the biggest prize, however.

A familiar rapier occupied the first slot, with a plain-looking ring beside it. Ronan wasn't that talented with a sword, so he left it in his inventory for now—he could probably sell it for a shitload of credits in the marketplace.

What's worth more? Increasing my credit multiplier at the end of the iteration by selling it, or keeping it and going for another merit through inventory value accumulation? he pondered to himself.

While he thought, he kept looking around the room. No sign of the fox, but the way the shadows moved and the colours he saw subtly morphed told him the beast was still attempting to put him under an illusion. Persistent thing.

Ronan took the ring out of his inventory. He read the description, skimming it for the most important details. So this was why his magic was so damned powerful… Talk about tunnel vision, he thought as he read it.

Skillbound Conduit Ring (Uncommon)

An enchanted ring, crafted with singular purpose by a determined mage-smith for a renowned madman. As the legend goes, the madman only ever used mana bolts. He turned it from a basic class skill into a force of nature capable of slaughtering mythical beasts. This ring only served to empower it further.

Allows the wearer to select one of their skills to bind to the ring. They can then choose any number of 'sacrificial' skills to mark with the ring. They do not actually lose these skills, but while the ring is equipped they cannot be used. Once a skill is bound, it can never be unbound from the ring. There is a bonus/malus for sacrificial skills depending on the rarity difference between them and the bound skill.

For each 'sacrificial' skill marked, the bound skill gains:

-25% Cast time

-10% Energy cost

+10% Effectiveness

Now that is the most interesting item I think I've ever seen. No wonder his attacks were so deadly. He probably sacrificed every other skill he had in order to boost that one rapier thrust, Ronan thought to himself.

The ring itself was beautiful, but he didn't want to lose himself in admiration while technically fighting Vulparis. It was a plain silver band, but had veins of faintly shimmering blue cutting across the polished surface.

He returned it to his inventory for now, not wanting to make a rash decision like losing access to particular skills while in the midst of battle. He suddenly saw a shadow in the corner of his eyes burst outwards.

He whipped around. He saw an orange blur darting out of the darkness. Claws flashed in the moonlight, descending towards the still-sleeping Keith.

Ronan cursed. In all his confidence—knowing that he had the stats, strength, and resistances to take down the fox—he'd forgotten his far more vulnerable ally. Keith was occasionally an annoying bastard, but for the most part he was a decent guy to have around.

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Ronan knew any injury or death suffered by Keith wouldn't be permanent, but he didn't want to make the guy suffer more than was necessary to help him grow. There wasn't much time. Ronan forced himself to move, perhaps faster than he ever had before.

His strides were long. He cleared a metre or more with every lunging step. Two seconds passed, but it felt as though they stretched on forever.

The fox's claws were an inch from the pile of blankets that was Keith. Ronan was a step away. A step too far.

Even so, he struck out. A lunging kick that might knock Vulparis' claws off target and save Keith from a painful awakening.

Then he felt the tug of his trait. It tried to shift the destination of his kick, but then he felt it snap. A twinge in his mind. He realised what had happened. Had barely any time to react.

Ronan smashed his foot into the ground, cancelling the kick. Using the force of the impact, he pushed himself back and to the side.

An instant after he did that, razor-sharp claws cut through the space he'd just been occupying. The fox barely faltered as it missed its illusory ambush. He saw its lithe, agile torso twist and writhe. It lunged at him a second time as he caught his balance.

Ronan had expected the attack. He tried to dodge. He immediately realised he would fail. It was a good thing, then, that his class was designed for adaptation.

While half-stumbling, half-dodging, he managed to plant one of his feet and shift his centre of balance. He immediately felt rooted, no longer flailing.

The claws carved through the air towards him. It was a split-second between the attack landing and the present moment. Ronan leaned on one of his new skills—calculation.

He could dodge or he could parry. He could counter attack. What would end with his victory? He ruminated for that brief instant and found a path he thought would work.

Ronan saw Vulparis' lips peel back in a hideous grin as the claws struck. It thought it had won. That even though he'd resisted its illusions, it was still the stronger creature.

There was a metallic ding noise as the claws struck a hard surface and bounced off. Ronan delighted in the confused expression that appeared on the fox's rather emotive face. Then he hit back.

Or rather, he gripped back. Another of his recently acquired skills was put to immediate use. He leapt forwards, and before the fox mini-boss could withdraw its claws, he grabbed hold of the black-furred leg.

The creature screeched, in that horrible way foxes do, but even when it pulled with its entire weight, Ronan didn't budge. He felt the faint drain of stamina, but it was worth every point. He was like an unmovable, ancient tree, with deep, sturdy roots.

His iron grip marked Vulparis' death. With a roar, he bent his legs and then yanked with all his might. Vital surge gave him a subtle, but meaningful boost to his power.

The fox kept screeching. Ronan suddenly winced as three cluster migraines blossomed in his skull. The pain was awful, but tolerable.

A direct mental attack, rather than an illusion. The mini-boss was growing desperate. Ronan grinned wider. His plan was working perfectly. His tug had flipped the fox into the air and it knew what came next.

Ronan leaned backwards. He'd never been a huge wrestling fan, but he'd always appreciate a video of an expertly performed suplex. The move was elegant and utterly devastating.

The fox kicked out with its hind paws. Every time the razor-sharp claws seemed as though they would carve him open, a metallic shield appeared to block their path.

A deafening boom rocked the tower as Ronan slammed the fox's head into the concrete floor. He felt the creature go limp in his arms, but he didn't loosen his grip whatsoever.

When it began to screech and claw at him a second later, he knew that had been a great judgment call. His abdominal muscles burned slightly from the weight of the beast. He ignored them and hauled it into the air once more.

It howled and clawed. Kicked and sent agonising mental strikes at him. Ronan watched his health points plummet. Felt the suffering of his body and his mind. He grinned through it all, and then smashed the fox into the ground once more.

This time, it didn't struggle. There was no notification, which meant it wasn't yet dead. However, Ronan suspected he'd knocked it right out.

Still, he didn't dare release his grip. He twisted himself up and out of the suplex hold. He stood over Vulparis the Trickster, the fox's front legs gripped in his hands.

He yanked them to either side. The front legs snapped with a sickening crunch. The fox twitched, but didn't wake up. Satisfied it was truly immobilised, Ronan turned and ran about ten metres away.

If I'm using wrestling moves, might as well go all out, he thought to himself, the grin plastered on his face stretching even wider. He started to run towards the concrete pillar closest to the fox, slowly at first but rapidly gathering speed.

He leapt into the air, feet first, aimed at the pillar. They crashed into it, bending to absorb the impact. They exploded outwards like two coiled springs being released. Ronan shot towards the fox and curled his right arm into his chest.

The six-foot mass of muscle, backed by 76 levels worth of stats, condensed all his strength into a single elbow-point. He activated magic strike, dumping almost all his remaining mana into it with sheer force of will. He activated double strike, feeling the nauseating drain of his stamina.

The entire tower trembled as the final blow was struck. The fox's body held out for an instant. The first wave of mana struck, followed by a ghostly elbow and a second wave of mana.

Vulparis the Trickster exploded into a jellified shower of fox guts and shredded fur, painting the walls, pillars, and ceilings of their base in a way that could only be described as morbid modern artistry.

This time, Ronan got a notification. He'd finally done it.

Lord Rockmore was dead and defeated.

The sneaky fox puppeteering them from the shadows was dead and defeated.

Ronan had won.

And he felt incredible.

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