SSS Awakening: Creating Primordial Beasts To Be My Summons-Chapter 11: A Man Who Takes Risk

Cohen tore across the ash-choked plains, blades flashing—but he wasn’t fighting like himself.

Right now, he used a hit and run strategy, not a direct battle strategy, despite being stronger than the hounds.

Bobby didn’t interfere more since Cohen wanted to leverage these dungeons to level up and the slime didn’t seem capable of not overpowering its targets.

Cohen moved across the plains, not fighting like he wanted.

The Ashbound Hounds surged like living smoke, over twenty snarling shadows ripping through the ash, teeth gleaming and claws scraping the gray earth.

Cohen was a blur of calculated motion, his dual daggers flashing with every pass.

He’d use his superior agility to burst into the cluster, slash deep into the flank or neck of a Hound, and then instantly spring back, landing twenty feet away before the other hounds could close the gap.

Every strike was clean, the Null Aura-reinforced blades ensuring that even a glancing blow left a fatal wound.

Although the Hounds moved through the ash swiftly, giving them advantage, Cohen still had more raw stats.

He could kill them all in moments, but his current strategy stretched the encounter into a prolonged, unnecessary dance of death.

He was fast. He was strong. He was clearly winning.

Yet it didn’t feel right.

He slashed low at a flank, then hesitated, half a heartbeat too long.

The largest Hound, a Level 13 brute, snapped its jaws where his back had been.

Cohen’s Perception of Grays flared, but the warning was too late.

He saw the movement—a split second of gray blur closing in—just as his body was committing to the retreat.

Before Cohen could scream, a black rift tore open.

An arrow flew, stabbing the Hound’s skull mid-lunge.

The violet blob bounced once, smug and silent—a guardian in miniature form.

The stone struck the Hound with the force of a high-caliber bullet, crushing the bone above its eye.

The monster collapsed mid-lunge, its momentum carrying its dead body into the ash at Cohen’s feet.

"Thanks, buddy," Cohen muttered, adrenaline spiking.

He refocused, leaping over the downed Hound, his speed doubling.

But his mind simiarly raced.

’I’m meant to be dealing as much damage as Bobby, overwhelming these Hounds like it would.’

He plunged his right dagger into the throat of a Hound, then pulled back too slowly.

’So, why am I not?’

Another Hound, Level 12, sensed the moment of mental absence. It slammed into his armored side before he could fully pivot.

The Null Aura flared—a dull, gray flash—absorbing the bulk of the impact, but the sheer force rattled his ribs and drove the air from his lungs.

The monster’s massive jaws clamped down on his thigh, the strengthened armor screaming under the pressure before it was tossed away by Cohen’s quick kick.

The pain, sharp and searing despite the defense, was a cold shock.

He looked around. He had killed eight.

Thirteen Hounds remained, circling him with renewed vigor, sensing the blood that now stained the ash around his boots.

He struck a Level 11, drawing blood, but again, he retreated.

’Wait, am I running? Isn’t that how most of the Outliers fought?’

Cohen’s breathing was heavy.

He was hit. He was losing control of the pace. The pack was starting to coordinate, exploiting his predictable pattern.

’...Am I scared?’

He felt the familiar, cold presence of his Null Aura enveloping his body, its essence reacting to his inner state.

He thought he was being aggressive, but the Aura wasn’t sharpening his blades; it was pooling stronger around his skin and bones.

It was in defensive mode.

His instincts bending towards defence, not offence.

’Of all times to be scared... it’s now?’

This was not him. This was not the man who charged into a collapsing building.

This was a man paralyzed by the fear of losing what he had just gained.

’Was I seriously thinking awakening such power meant I won’t get hurt at all?’

He realized his fear was not of the Ashhounds, but of being drained and being hurt .

This fear made him slow, and being slow was the fastest way to fail.

Cohen laughed, an odd scene to witness.

A fierce, focused determination—the calculative mind hidden underneath a casual smile—returned.

He halted.

Rolling his shoulders and jumping from one leg to the other, he felt the pack approaching through the ash.

He planted his feet in the ash, a visible shift in his posture.

The pack lunged, all thirteen of them a coordinated explosion of motion.

Cohen didn’t retreat. He didn’t rely on Bobby. He met the attack head-on.

The Null Aura wrapped around his body forgot the concept of defense.

His dagger’s quality flaring beyond its capabilities.

He dropped low, dodging the initial leaps, and his left dagger tore into the underbelly of three Hounds in a single, blurring sweep.

He didn’t stop to admire the kill.

He spun, his right dagger, now a heavy, lethal extension of his arm, slammed into the skull of the Hound that had hit him moments before.

The sheer aggression startled the beasts.

They were used to the man that ran, not this being that became a whirlwind of reinforced steel and killing intent.

He didn’t move like a low level awakened.

One second he stood in their front. Another, he was in their midst. Next, he was behind them.

He took a bite to his forearm, and the teeth pierced through, drawing fresh blood.

Cohen didn’t flinch.

Using the monster’s weight, he threw it up, leaving two arrows that appeared from a rift to decimate its body.

Cohen was bullying the hounds in their turf.

His blades were harbinger of death, cutting through flesh like paper.

His body dripping of blood while he remained indifferent to it, like a man sharpened by pain.

He was taking hits—minor grazes, bruising impacts—but for every ounce of damage he absorbed, he inflicted tenfold.

At some point, he even stabbed his dagger into the ash, directly into the heart of a prey.

Even within the conceal of the ash, they weren’t safe.

To the Hounds, their greatest advantage—the concealing ash and their surprise attacks—had become meaningless.

Cohen moved as if he already knew where each of them was.

The ash turned into a storm of gray and red. Blood spatters coated his blades; the taste of iron filled his mouth.

Every strike ripped through the pack like lightning, each dodge a hair’s breadth from death.

In under almost a minute, the ground was quite safe for Cohen’s ragged breathing.

All thirteen Hounds lay still.

[You have reached level 8!]

[You have obtained 16 stat points!]

Cohen stood among the corpses, his shoulder throbbing, his thigh slick with blood, the Null Aura slowly settling back around his body.

He pressed a hand to his wound, a grim, satisfied smile on his face.

"I don’t run from my problems. I face them." he muttered with a smile.