The battle had lasted three full days.
Radeus knelt on one knee on the cracked earth, propping himself up with a longsword in his left hand. Every breath felt like swallowing a mouthful of red-hot iron filings.
Some monster's horn had pierced his left shoulder, leaving a bloodied hole the size of a bowl that went clean through. The dark red blood had long since drained away, leaving only a thick, blackish-brown crust.
Starting at the root of his right thigh, purplish-black poison spread like a spiderweb down to his knee. His muscles were stiff all over, and even the slightest bend brought agonizing pain.
Three claw marks ran down his back from his shoulder blades to his waist, the flesh peeled outward in a gruesome sight.
Countless other wounds, large and small, covered his body. Yet despite his battered condition, Radeus felt a sense of strength unlike anything he had ever experienced.
Even in his current state, with physical strength alone, he could thrash his self from three days ago with one hand.
The Dharma Wheel still turned slowly behind Radeus's head, constantly strengthening his body through "adaptation."
The entire plain had long since lost its former vitality. Corpses strewn everywhere, blood-soaked earth, and shattered ground all testified to how many brutal battles had taken place here.
Radeus's consciousness was a little hazy. His Six Eyes had long since been pushed to their limit, his eyeballs covered in blood vessels, his gaze somewhat unfocused.
His vision blurred, overlapping images swimming before him. The world seemed shrouded in a thick veil of bloody mist, and he could barely tell whether what rushed toward him was the wind or the roars of the next wave of monsters.
Even at this point, the battle still had not ended.
Magical beasts poured toward