Esoteric Buddhism: To live as king in America

The other person's figure was indistinct in the darkness, but Org's keen sense of smell allowed him to discern the other person's form through the darkness. Without a doubt, the person hidden in the shadows was the one who should have been trapped on the tenth floor.

But how could that be? Could the trap have malfunctioned?

Org quickly dismissed the possibility, fully aware of the extent of the Order's involvement in this matter. That looping stairwell was believed to trap a terrifying Shallow Sea monster—capable of tearing the entire building apart when enraged.

Despite this, the other party still broke through the trap in such a short time.

Without a doubt, the other party must be an extraordinary being with unfathomable strength. No wonder he was able to tame that immature "minion." He is the real enemy!

His adrenaline surged to its peak. His instincts, born of wild instincts, told Org that he should retreat now.

"Look" at that guy pretending to be an unemployed homeless man. He's hiding in the shadows, motionless, with his hands behind his back, emitting a pungent odor.

In the realm of magic, this pungent odor is always associated with spells that destroy the field.

Without a doubt, that guy was accumulating a terrifying destructive spell, just waiting to finish charging up so he could annihilate him in one blow.

Running—if it were now, surrendering oneself to a wild beast might be the only way to escape. But…

"This is your last chance."

The words that Olger's mentor, his guide, the mastermind behind the scenes had once spoken to Olger flashed through his mind.

Cold and ruthless, he instantly extinguished any desire in him to escape.

There would be no next chance. If he couldn't complete this mission, Org knew that even if he escaped, he would be killed by his boss.

We have no choice but to take a desperate gamble.

His muscles contracted, and his bones briefly twisted into the most suitable shape for a charge. In the instant he made up his mind, Org charged toward the great enemy.

Knowing the power of the charged spell, Org was determined to settle the score with his opponent before it was too late.

The air was torn apart in an instant, and Org was determined to compete with his opponent using speed and impact.

However, just as he reached halfway, Org discovered that the mysterious enemy was frozen in place, completely still.

The instinctive alertness that Orge felt suddenly amplified to its extreme. This was illogical.

There's no way the opponent couldn't have reacted to the speed of his surprise attack! He can tame a "minion," he can solve the looping maze on the tenth floor, yet he's standing here so defenselessly? Wait, look at the corner of his mouth!

In the midst of this rapid sprint, Org caught a glimpse of a slight upturn at the corner of the other's mouth. Instantly, an ominous premonition exploded in his heart.

A trap! This must be a meticulously designed trap! Could it be that what he's hiding behind him isn't a powerful, charged spell, but rather a close-range killing technique?

If that's the case, then it makes sense. By deliberately adopting such an easily seen-through posture and exuding such a stimulating aura that he could easily detect, the purpose was to deceive Org into thinking that the other party was casting a destructive spell that required charging.

In reality, however, they used this as bait to lure Org closer, and then defeated him with a melee spell.

A cunning smugness flashed across Org's face, which was almost contorted into a beast-like shape.

Haha, I see now, I won't be fooled by you.

Just before the sharp blade of the dagger was about to pierce Mian's chest, Org let out a suppressed, beast-like roar.

His muscles and bones groaned under the strain, forcibly reversing his forward momentum in a way that completely defied the laws of physics.

This extreme change of move brought intense tearing pain, but he didn't care. He simply shifted his sprint trajectory, leaping backward, and with a flick of his wrist, the dagger, infused with bestial power, transformed into a streak of black light, flying out of his hand and shooting towards his opponent with a piercing sound.

clang!

A clear, sharp sound, like the violent clash of metal, rang out in the dimly lit corridor.

As if to witness this absurd scene, the faulty corridor light above Da Di's head flickered a few times before stubbornly lighting up.

The dim, flickering light mercilessly dispelled the shadows in the corners, exposing everything nakedly.

Org's pupils contracted sharply, as if stung by the sudden flash of light. For the first time, he saw the image of his formidable enemy with his own eyes.

Under the lamplight, there was no mysterious monk in sight. There was only a nearly naked man. He wore a pair of faded, cheap gray underwear, and his exposed skin was ashen, as if he had endured a long period of torment.

Yet it was this very man who blocked the dagger thrown by Org, the price being nothing more than a shallow scratch on his arm.

The dagger itself was thrown off balance, its blade bent as it fell onto the dusty cement floor.

Cold sweat instantly soaked Orger's back, and a chill of relief shot from his tailbone to the top of his head. Horror and disbelief overwhelmed him.

You endured it? With just your physical strength!

Although it wasn't his full-force attack, it was still a throw infused with bestial power, powerful enough to pierce steel plates. As a result, when the opponent was completely unprepared and didn't even show the slightest sign of extraordinary energy, he was left with only a superficial wound that would heal in the blink of an eye.

Once the armor is pierced, all that remains inside is soft flesh and blood, but even if the skin is cut open, the flesh, blood, tendons, and bones of a solid body remain incredibly strong.

Recalling the crisp sound like metal clashing, Org had no doubt that even if he hadn't changed his move and had instead thrust his full force into his opponent's body, the result would likely have been merely a slightly deeper gash in his arm or chest, not enough to cause any real serious injury.

This is such a terrifying inhuman body, far more chilling than the "minion" girl who was killed by the trap.

A mixture of lingering fear and twisted relief welled up in Org's heart, making the tearing pain throughout his body seem less unbearable.

Fortunately, he hadn't chosen to approach recklessly, and fortunately, he hadn't opted for a close-quarters attack. Now that he had dodged the opponent's melee spell, it was Org's turn.

No matter how skilled a spellcaster is, it's impossible to cast two spells in a short period. Org, however, can seize this opportunity to take control of the situation…

boom!

The pungent smell of gunpowder filled the air. The gunpowder weapons, the culmination of human ingenuity, could not kill the "minions," but they were enough to make Org, who had just been specialized in speed, suffer the taste of a heavy hammer hitting his chest.

Olger's eyes widened in surprise.

Only then did he realize that what the other party was hiding behind his back was not a spell of destruction or killing, but a pistol loaded with bullets.