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After crushing Lagavulin, Ironclad felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. His legs gave way, and he knelt on the cold floor. His chest heaved violently, each breath bringing pain and fatigue. Yet, the end of the battle seemed to offer him a moment of respite. The special power within him—Blood of Fire—began to flow slowly, healing his wounds and alleviating his weariness. This peculiar force was the result of his pact with the demon and was a crucial factor in his survival in this desolate place.
As time passed, he felt his strength gradually returning, and the fatigue and pain began to fade. He struggled to lift his head and looked at the broken corpse of Lagavulin before him. Suddenly, a tiny point of light floated out from Lagavulin's body. It drifted gently before finally landing on Ironclad's forehead, disappearing without a trace. When the light touched his forehead, a long-forgotten memory surged into his mind. It was a brand new combat technique—Heavy Blade.
He saw himself in his memory holding a huge sword, smashing the heavy blade with astonishing force towards the enemy. Each strike carried earth-shattering power, enough to tear through hardened armor and shatter tough shells. The awe-inspiring power and absolute control were evidently the perfect extension and culmination of his current strength-enhancing skills. This was not just a skill, but also a powerful way to release energy, allowing him to deliver a fatal blow to the enemy at a critical moment.
He couldn't help but feel a hint of excitement in his heart. This new skill undoubtedly provided him with new possibilities in future battles. Currently, his skills mainly relied on strength enhancement, and this heavy blade skill was undoubtedly the perfect display of power release. Not only could it give him an advantage in battle, but it also provided him with new combat strategies.
Ironclad's breathing gradually steadied, and he felt every muscle twitching slightly, a reaction after the battle. He pushed himself against the ground, leaning on his sword as he slowly stood up. As he stood, a wave of dizziness washed over him, and his throat tightened, causing him to spit out a mouthful of phlegm mixed with blood onto the ground. He knew that this battle had drained too much of his strength and energy. Taking a deep breath of the cold air, he struggled to regain his composure.
He slowly walked toward the remains of Lagavulin, each step feeling difficult due to the thick blood and severed limbs on the ground. However, his gaze was drawn to a peculiar object on Lagavulin's corpse. It was a metal anchor, glowing faintly with a green light, creating a stark contrast against the surrounding gore and debris.
He reached out and took the metal anchor from the wreckage of Lagavulin. The surface of the anchor was smooth, with a distinctive coldness to it, and it had an unusual weight. He felt that this anchor seemed to contain some kind of special power. He gently tapped the surface of the anchor with the tip of his sword, producing a crisp sound that seemed to hide endless secrets.
Ironclad carefully observed the Orichalcum in his hand, its surface shimmering with an unusual green light, giving off a mysterious and incredible feeling. A peculiar memory surged within him, as if he had a profound connection to this metal. The scenes from the memory seemed to carry deep significance, but he could not articulate it.
Orichalcum - This name echoed in his mind, carrying a distant and mysterious call. The origin of this metal was unknown, but he could feel the special power it contained. It seemed to provide the wearer with a strong protective force, like an invisible armor guarding his body.
He pondered whether this Orichalcum could provide crucial protection for him in future battles. He knew that on the climb up the spire, any bit of protection could become a matter of life and death. He decided to carry this Orichalcum with him, hoping it would unleash its power at a critical moment.
He tied Orichalcum around his waist, feeling a faint warmth emanating from its interior, as if it had formed a subtle connection with his body. This filled his heart with anticipation and strengthened his determination to climb the spire and unravel the curse's mystery.
Gripping the sword tightly, he gazed at the seemingly endless road ahead, knowing that each step was filled with unknowns and dangers, but he would never back down. With the newfound Orichalcum and the power of the heavy blade, he set out once again on the path to uncover the truth. Each battle would bring him closer to unlocking the key to lifting the curse.
Ironclad continued to climb upward. Compared to the previous dangers, this room was much quieter and safer. At that moment, a strange blue humanoid creature wearing a golden helmet approached Ironclad with a big smile on its face. "Hello there, friend! I am the Priest! Would you like to try my services?!" the creature shouted loudly.
Ironclad watched the peculiar being warily. Its appearance was completely different from the other creatures he had encountered in the spire. This being, called the "Priest," wore a friendly and enthusiastic smile, but Ironclad's instincts told him that no creature in the spire could be fully trusted.
The blue-skinned priest and his golden helmet stood out remarkably in the dim environment. His smile appeared harmless, but Ironclad still gripped his sword tightly, ready to face any potential danger.
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