Chapter 28: The Beast That Wouldn’t Die

Arc stood still, catching his breath as the abomination dragged itself to its feet, bones creaking and resetting like an old machine grinding to life. It looked different now—its eyes burned with intelligence, as if each failed death awakened something ancient and calculating within it. The creature flexed its limbs, testing its body anew, while Arc rolled his neck, muscles tense but ready. He could feel his blood boiling—not just from exhaustion but from excitement. This was no ordinary fight. This was evolution in real time, for both of them.

The church's broken walls seemed to close in as Arc and the abomination circled each other, slow and deliberate, like predators testing one another's limits. Dust swirled in the dim light streaming through shattered windows. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing—man and beast locked in the silence before chaos.

Arc's status panel flickered in the corner of his vision.

Strength: 297

Agility: 299

Mana: 900

It wasn't just him—the longer this fight dragged on, the stronger both of them became. Arc could feel his muscles adapting, senses sharpening, his body pushing past its limits. His mind, trained over centuries and lifetimes, adjusted to the beast's unpredictable attacks. Every martial art he knew was evolving, flowing together into something seamless and natural.

And yet, even with this growth, Arc knew one thing: This creature was still stronger.

A Calculated Retreat

The beast struck first—faster than before. Arc twisted his body just in time to avoid the claws aimed at his throat, the razor-sharp talons whistling past his ear. The ground exploded beneath him as the abomination's fist followed, shattering the stone floor with sheer force. Arc retaliated with a flurry of strikes—a spinning elbow into the ribs, a kick that cracked bones, and a rapid jab aimed at the creature's throat.

Each hit landed with precision, but the monster barely flinched. Arc cursed under his breath. This wasn't a fight he could win through sheer force alone.

With a swift leap, Arc disengaged, darting toward the entrance of the ruined church. He needed time—time to plan, time to heal, and time to think. Charging in blind wouldn't work here. This wasn't some grunt on a battlefield. This was something else entirely.

The abomination snarled, sensing the shift in Arc's tactics. It gave chase, its massive limbs crashing against walls and pews as it barreled toward him. Arc dashed through the crumbling streets of the ghost town, every footstep sending clouds of dust into the air. His mind raced, running through every technique, every strategy, every bit of knowledge from lifetimes past.

He needed to slow the fight down. A battle of endurance.

Into the Shadows

Arc vaulted over a fallen lamppost and rolled into the cover of a half-collapsed building. He pressed his back against the wall, slowing his breathing. He knew the beast was close—it could smell him, hear him. The key was patience.

From the shadows, Arc's mind began assembling a plan. In a fight this long, his only advantage was adaptation. He needed to exhaust the creature, force it to keep evolving until it hit a wall. Everything had a limit, even abominations born from twisted science.

He checked his supplies. Minimal food, a combat knife, a small sidearm, and a vial of adrenaline serum—barely enough to stay alive, let alone win. But Arc knew this wasn't about supplies. It was about the fight. The longer they fought, the more he learned—and the more dangerous he became.

A flicker of movement caught Arc's eye—the creature, sniffing the air just outside the building. It prowled slowly, its claws scraping against stone as it searched for him. This was no mindless brute. It was learning, just like him.

Arc smiled grimly.

"Let's see how far you can go."

The Art of Adaptation

When the abomination crashed through the wall, Arc didn't flinch. He met it head-on, launching into a barrage of attacks designed to confuse and overwhelm. Muay Thai knees connected with its jaw, followed by a Judo throw that sent the creature crashing to the ground. Before it could rise, Arc transitioned into Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu holds, wrapping himself around the beast's limbs, twisting and snapping with brutal efficiency.

But the monster adapted. It twisted its body with animal-like grace, escaping the holds and countering with brutal swipes. Arc barely dodged in time, the claws tearing through his jacket and grazing his skin.

The fight became a blur of styles—Krav Maga, Capoeira, Wing Chun, and Systema, each move flowing into the next as if Arc were writing his own martial language. The creature responded in kind, mimicking techniques with terrifying precision, each exchange more brutal and refined than the last.

With every blow, Arc grew stronger. His status panel flickered, showing steady growth:

Strength: 340

Agility: 350

Mana: 1000

He could feel the weight of his evolution—his body moving faster, hitting harder. This was what evolution felt like. The thrill of becoming something more, of rising beyond human limits. But the beast was evolving too, its rage becoming more calculated, its movements sharper and more lethal.

The Beast's Death and Resurrection

After what felt like an eternity of bone-breaking combat, Arc found his opening. He feinted with a low kick, baiting the abomination into overcommitting, and then drove his knife deep into the creature's heart. The beast collapsed, convulsing as Arc twisted the blade, ensuring the kill.

For a moment, everything went still. Arc knelt beside the abomination, panting, blood trickling down his arms. It was over. He could feel it—the creature's life draining away, its body going limp.

But then, something impossible happened. The beast's wounds began to close. Its eyes snapped open, burning with renewed life.

Arc stumbled back, disbelief washing over him.

"No... that's not possible."

The abomination rose to its feet, its body fully healed, stronger than before. It roared, shaking the very ground beneath them.

Arc's mind raced. This wasn't just a battle—it was a nightmare without end. Every death was a reset, and every resurrection made the creature stronger.

He clenched his fists, fury bubbling to the surface. "Fine," he whispered. "You want to play that game? Let's see who breaks first."

Embracing the Fury

Arc knew he couldn't afford doubt or hesitation. If this was a war of endurance, he would fight until the very end. He activated the adrenaline serum, feeling the liquid fire surge through his veins, pushing his body beyond its limits. His status panel glowed brighter, numbers climbing:

Strength: 400

Agility: 390

Mana: 1200

The beast charged, and Arc met it with everything he had. This wasn't just a fight anymore—it was survival, raw and unfiltered. Every punch was a promise, every kick a declaration: He would not be broken.