Close Combat Summoner: The Way Of The Unrivaled

{Argus's POV}

Argus continued slashing through the endless wave of enemies. The real undead had stopped appearing after he killed the 20th, but the dungeon-generated skeletons still surrounded him, more organized and tougher than before. Some carried shields, others axes, while a few remained as basic swordsmen.

A skeleton with a round shield and sword approached him, moving with caution compared to the others. The sound of bones rattling filled the air as the shield-bearing skeleton raised its defense, anticipating Argus's attack. Argus studied it for a second, then swung his scythe down in a feint.

The skeleton raised its shield, ready to block, but Argus twisted his weapon at the last moment, swinging low instead. His scythe hooked the skeleton's leg, pulling it off-balance. As the skeleton staggered, Argus capitalized on the opening, bringing his scythe up in a swift arc that sliced through its neck. The skeleton disintegrated immediately, vanishing into thin air just like the others.

The axe-wielding skeleton that followed met a similar fate. It swung wide, aiming for Argus's chest, but he stepped aside effortlessly, the Sovereign's Intuition guiding his every move. The axe missed by inches, and Argus countered with a sharp, fluid slash. His scythe cleaved through the skeleton's ribs, and like the others, it vanished upon death.

Though these enemies were tougher than usual, Argus could feel his combat experience showing. The countless dungeons he had dived into over the past few days had honed his skills. He had fought non-stop, facing hundreds of foes, and his proficiency with the scythe had grown dramatically.

'I've mastered the basics.'(Argus)

It was true, he had reached a level of mastery with his scythe that most would never believe. Mastering the basics of a weapon usually took months, if not years, but here he was, less than a month into his training.

A pair of shield-wielding skeletons closed in on him from both sides, moving in coordination. They raised their shields in unison, trying to box him in. Argus smirked, his eyes narrowing.

'Not fast enough.'(Argus)

He lunged at the skeleton on his left, aiming a powerful blow at its shield. The impact forced the skeleton to stumble, its shield moving just enough for Argus to slip his scythe behind it. With a sharp pull, he yanked the shield out of the skeleton's hand, spinning his weapon in a smooth arc to decapitate it. The skeleton disappeared before its shield even hit the ground.

The second skeleton rushed in, thrusting its shield forward, trying to slam into him. Argus stepped to the side, avoiding the charge, and brought his scythe down in a wide, sweeping motion. The blade sliced through the skeleton's torso, and it vanished in the same manner as the others.

Despite the growing strength and tactics of the enemies, Argus was more than prepared. His body moved on instinct, a perfect blend of offense and defense. He had mastered the basic slashes of the scythe, and each movement was as sharp and deadly as his weapon.

As he fought on, the pain from his earlier injuries throbbed through his body. He'd taken a cut to the arm and another across his side, but he ignored it, pushing through the pain as if it were nothing. His years of experience combined with his newly honed skills made him relentless. The enemies couldn't overwhelm him, even if they were stronger.

After what felt like hours of fighting, the last skeleton fell, disintegrating into nothingness. The chamber grew eerily quiet, with no more enemies in sight. Argus scanned the area, his heterochromatic eyes narrowing slightly.

'They stopped sending the real ones.'(Argus)

He winced slightly as the pain from his injuries became harder to ignore. But he had no time to dwell on it. Something about the atmosphere of the dungeon felt... different. The skeletons had stopped coming, but the real danger was still ahead.

Astrea did not scold Argus again for being reckless this time. Sylvan, knowing it could not help its master in this fight, felt a bit sad. Sylvan had been told not to use its roots to control the undead, so it had no way to assist directly. However, Sylvan noticed the drops scattered around from the defeated undead. It decided to collect them, knowing that its master had no time to gather the drops while in combat.

After he defeated the last of the undead, no more enemies appeared. The battlefield was silent now, and the previous noise of fighting was replaced by a heavy quiet. Argus sensed something was still off, even though no more undead were coming.

Ignoring the pain from his injuries, which were slowly healing due to his physique, Argus focused on the magic circle in front of him. His wounds were closing up, but the pain reminded him of how tough the fight had been. He had faced many types of skeletons—swordsmen, spearmen, archers, and shield-bearers, all working together to wear him down. It was clear how clever the dungeon was and how tough the challenge was.

Even with his injuries, Argus's mind was clear. His recent dungeon dives had greatly improved his combat skills. He had mastered the basic slashes of his scythe, something few people could do in less than a month. His recent battles had made him more skilled, allowing him to use his weapon with better precision.

As he stepped into the magic circle, he was teleported to the dungeon chamber. As Argus stepped into the new chamber, he was greeted by a daunting sight: another row of undead stood in formation. The variety of classes among them was as diverse as before—swordsmen, archers, spearmen, and shield-bearers. Their array was impressive, each one brimming with an intimidating presence. Argus could tell from his Sovereign's Intuition that these were real undead, not the ordinary dungeon creations he had been fighting. His experience with the twenty previous undead had confirmed this.

At first, Argus thought he might still be on the fifth floor of the dungeon. But as he scanned the chamber, he quickly discarded that idea. There was an undead warrior standing at the very back of the group, holding an oversized dark butcher knife on its shoulder. This warrior was different from the rest. Although it looked like a normal undead warrior at first glance, Argus felt a deep sense of danger emanating from it.

He focused his attention on the warrior and realized that the threatening aura was being released by the knife it carried. The more he concentrated, the clearer it became that the weapon was the source of the danger he felt. His eyes moved from the warrior to the throne positioned in the center of the room. The undead warrior stood beside the throne, acting as a guard.

Argus's gaze then shifted to the figure seated on the throne. It was a cloaked figure, shrouded in mystery. Despite the figure's presence, Argus felt a stronger pull towards something else in the room. Below the throne, he noticed an inconspicuous box. The box seemed to be made of light itself, an ethereal object that caught his eye. The box's appearance was unusual, and Argus couldn't quite understand why, but he had an instinctive feeling that something or someone important was sealed inside it.

With a sense of urgency, Argus knew that he had to deal with the undead array before him, but his curiosity about the box and its contents was also growing. The danger he sensed from the oversized knife and the presence of the cloaked figure added to the complexity of the situation. He realized that the next steps he took would need to be both strategic and careful.

Sure, here's an extended version for the cloak figure greeting its guest:

---

The cloaked figure's voice echoed through the chamber, its tone smooth but laced with irritation.

"Welcome, esteemed guest. I see you've finally made your way here. I must admit, I did not expect you to arrive so soon."

The figure's eyes narrowed as it spoke, the frustration clear in its voice.

"I had hoped for a bit more entertainment before your arrival. However, I trust you'll make up for it with your presence. Now, let's see if you can offer something

interesting."

Argus ignored the cloaked figure's blabbering, his focus on the chamber and his surroundings. He needed to fully heal his wounds and understand his enemies better before making his next move.

As he scanned the room, Argus's gaze landed on the dungeon core. He noticed a large, eerie gate situated below the core. The gate was shrouded in an unsettling aura, its edges flickering like ghostly wisps. It looked like it was made of shifting shadows, almost as if it were not entirely solid.

'That's where these undead came from?'(Argus)

Argus muttered to himself, piecing together the connection.

His attention shifted to the massive formation beneath the core. The formation was intricate, a complex array of runes and symbols etched into the floor. It was clear that the formation was designed for a specific purpose.

'A summoning formation? And does it summon that eerie-looking gate?'(Argus)

Argus wondered aloud, trying to decipher the purpose of the formation and the gate.