Bully Lord

Part-217

James groaned, pushing himself up slowly. His body still felt the ghostly remnants of the pain from the arrows, though the wounds had disappeared. He rubbed his neck, half-expecting to feel the blood there, but there was nothing. Despite the dungeon’s ability to revive him after each death, it could not spare him from the agony of the battle itself. The pain, however fleeting, was always real. He had no doubt about that.

"Immortal, but still vulnerable," he muttered to himself, rubbing his sore shoulder.

This latest defeat wasn’t the first time James had fallen to a swarm of goblins, but it was the first time he’d been taken down so swiftly. The archers were a problem, one he hadn't anticipated. He had assumed he could take on a larger group of goblins after his earlier victories in Level 2, but this time, he had been sorely unprepared.

"Not ready," he admitted quietly, his frustration mounting. "Not for that many enemies."

He knew what he had to do. If he was going to make it through the Early Midsection, he needed to level up, improve his skills, and hone his strategy. He wasn’t strong enough to face so many goblins, especially not when half of them were using ranged attacks. His reliance on **Sloth View** and **Crisis Mode** had proven useful, but against a coordinated group, they weren’t enough.

James made his decision quickly. He’d return to the Level 1 dungeon and grind for experience, gathering as much EXP as possible before returning to face the goblins again. If he kept pushing forward without strengthening himself, he would just keep dying over and over.

And so, with renewed resolve, James headed back to the Level 1 dungeon. He spent the next couple of hours battling familiar enemies—the Ratling Scavengers, and the occasional feral goblin. The fights were far easier than before, allowing him to test out different combinations of abilities and practice his swordsmanship with the wooden blade.

Each Ratling rewarded him with 25 EXP, and while the experience gain was slower than in Level 2, it was steady. James methodically worked through the enemies, one by one, allowing muscle memory to take over. His movements became more fluid, his strikes more precise, and his dodges more instinctive. **Sloth View** was becoming second nature to him, and though **Crisis Mode** drained his stamina quickly, he was learning how to use it more sparingly.

Time slipped by as he continued his grind, and before he realized it, the Lamp of Time—a magical artifact that controlled his access to the dungeon—began to flicker. He glanced at it just in time to see the last few drops of oil burn away, and with that, the dungeon faded around him. He had been kicked out, forced to return to the real world until he could refill the lamp.

James blinked as the familiar surroundings of his apartment came into view. The sudden shift from the chaotic, dim-lit dungeon to the stillness of his room always left him disoriented. He glanced at the clock on his desk—it started to run where he left it. The time was frozen.