Time passed by, one second at a time.
Amid the endless slaughter, Min Zimo's vision gradually blurred.
The silver-gray spear had long since been stained pitch-black. A viscous, tar-like liquid streamed down the shaft and pooled beneath his feet into a black puddle.
His breathing was ragged. Every attack and every block tugged at the dozens of wounds of varying depths covering his body.
Yet he could not feel the slightest pain. Only numbness and weakness remained.
After once again forcing back the attacks of two Octopus Monsters, a thought flickered through Min Zimo's dazed mind.
How long had it been since Liu Zhao sacrificed himself?
Five minutes? Or ten?
He wanted to calculate it, but his thoughts froze there, unable to turn no matter how hard he tried.
The Abyss Monsters' attacks came wave after wave, as if they were endless.
Although Min Zimo fought with everything he had and bore most of the pressure alone, there was no way he could cover everything.
Suddenly, an Octopus Monster sprang up from the side of the "pencil," leaped onto the floating island's cliff face, then crawled upward, circling around Min Zimo.
Whoosh—!
A powerful gust rang out as a pitch-black tentacle lashed viciously across the forearm of a swordsman who failed to block in time.
Crack!
The crisp sound of breaking bones rang clear. The swordsman's left forearm twisted at an unnatural angle, blood gushing like a spring.
"Ah!"
He let out a wretched cry, his longsword slipping from his hand as he nearly toppled over.
A sword-and-shield fighter reacted in time, taking a sidestep to shield him from behind and using his shield to forcibly block the next several attacks.
Min Zimo turned at the sound and happened to see this scene.
And not only the swordsman.
Aside from