Chapter 462: One Punch Mogal

CH462 One Punch Mogal

***

Alex and the expedition party continued roaming the periphery of the Red Rock Berserk Beast Nest.

One thing the group was grateful for was the reduced heat. Unlike the outside desert, the temperature within the nest was noticeably milder. Given that they were traversing an open plain with no shade in sight, this difference mattered greatly.

Alex suddenly paused and subtly glanced behind him.

Then he continued walking without a word.

Because he had done this several times already, Zora noticed something was off.

"What’s the problem?" she asked quietly.

"I feel like we’re being watched," Alex replied, uncertainty colouring his tone.

His instincts were sounding alarms, yet he couldn’t identify the source. Even his Spirit Sight revealed nothing unusual. The ambient mana remained stable and undisturbed.

"What do you want to do?" Zora asked.

"Nothing for now," Alex replied.

Zora gave him a searching look but nodded nonetheless.

The party advanced for another quarter of an hour when Alex suddenly sensed a massive energy signature approaching rapidly.

He raised his fist, signalling the group to halt and prepare.

Moments later, the owner of that energy signature appeared on the horizon.

"Is that...?" Alex narrowed his eyes.

"It’s a Dune Croc!" Silver called out.

Alex let out a quiet sigh of relief.

For a moment, he had feared it was an Earth Drake—like the one he killed back in the Dankrot Forest. Fortunately, as the creature drew closer, its silhouette confirmed it was only a Dune Croc.

Ordinarily, Alex would have preferred to ambush such a beast. Dune Crocs were notoriously troublesome in head-on engagements. However, on this flat, barren plain, there was nowhere to hide.

"We really need terrain camouflage gear," Alex muttered.

"Leader, please let me take this fight."

Mogal’s deep voice broke the momentary silence.

Alex turned to him, raising an eyebrow—before his expression shifted into a frown.

"Are you sure?" he asked. "Dune Crocs are essentially walking armour. Your fists won’t pierce through its scales."

"My fists are my strongest weapons," Mogal replied firmly. "And this creature will fall to them."

He bowed his head slightly.

"Please, allow me to prove my resolve."

Alex felt a headache coming on.

Just as he expected, the recent breakthroughs born from combat and adversity had lit a fire under the expedition members. That was good—but it also carried the risk of making them reckless.

He hesitated, conflicted about granting Mogal’s request.

But before he could decide, the Class 3 beast had already spotted them.

With a thunderous roar, the Dune Croc charged.

"...Fine. Go for it." Alex ordered through gritted teeth.

Boom!

Mogal exploded forward, charging with nothing but his fists.

"Be ready," Alex said to the spellcasters, positioning them to strike from afar if anything went wrong.

Then he turned to Udara. "You too."

The Shadow Dancer nodded. She was the fastest among them—if Mogal needed support, she’d reach him first.

When the Dune Croc saw Mogal rushing toward it, its massive body suddenly leapt upward—

—and dove into the ground.

[Dune Dive]!

This was the Dune Croc’s racial ability, allowing it to swim through earth as if it were water.

Mogal skidded to a halt.

Unlike ordinary burrowing techniques, [Dune Dive] left no disturbances on the surface. No shifting sand nor vibrations.

Realising his eyes were useless, Mogal closed them and focused inward.

In that moment, a memory surfaced.

A towering barbarian—far larger than even Mogal—loomed over him. That man looked less a barbarian, and more a walking mountain.

"To walk the path of a Dravo Pugilist," the at least three-metres-tall giant barbarian had said, "is to forsake weapons. It is to believe that your body is your ultimate blade."

"But you must as well understand—before you reach the peak, your body is also fragile."

"So a Dravo Pugilist ends battles quickly."

"The truest essence of our way..."

"...is to kill with one strike."

"Never forget it."

’One strike.’

A faint disturbance rippled beneath Mogal’s feet.

His eyes snapped open.

He rolled aside just as a massive maw burst soundlessly from the ground.

Mogal pivoted on one foot.

Barbarian energy surged violently into his arm.

His fist shot forward—driving straight into the Dune Croc’s exposed underside, just beneath its heart.

[One-Heart Punch]!

True to its name, Mogal put everything he had into the punch—his internal energy, will, belief, and trust.

Like a cannonball, his fist punched forward with terrifying force, tearing through the Dune Croc’s underside and punching straight into its heart.

The Dune Croc died instantly.

Silence followed.

The expedition party watched in stunned disbelief as Mogal felled a stronger opponent with a single strike.

"Now!" Alex suddenly roared.

[Shadow Dash]!

Udara’s figure flashed—and vanished from Alex’s side.

At first, the party thought another beast had emerged to ambush Mogal. But Udara didn’t reappear beside him.

She appeared more than a hundred metres behind the group.

Strangely, there was nothing there.

But that made no sense either.

[Shadow Dash] required shadows as a medium.

Udara could not have arrived there without one.

Which meant only one thing...

"Reveal yourself," Udara said coldly, her blade already drawn and placed on ’something’, "or I will slit your throat."

"Stop! Stop!!" A soft voice cried out.

Like a mirage collapsing, a dark-skinned figure suddenly materialised in front of her.

Udara already had the figure restrained—arm locked around their body, and her shortsword pressed firmly against their throat.

On closer inspection, the figure wasn’t merely dark-skinned.

They were black-skinned—obsidian-dark.

"What are you?" Udara demanded.

"You’re a Dark Elf, and you don’t recognise your own kin?" the stalker replied lightly.

Udara wasn’t amused.

Her blade pressed closer, enough that even the slightest pressure would draw blood.

"Wait—wait. I’m a Night Elf. A Night Elf," the stalker hurriedly corrected.

Alex arrived just in time to hear the exchange.

"A Night Elf?" Udara frowned. "Never heard of it."

"How can you say that? I’m technically a Dark Elf too!" the stalker protested.

’So she’s the one watching us,’ Alex realised.

The presence he’d been sensing all this time belonged to this girl.

She looked young—no older than thirteen—aside from her pitch-black skin, moonlight-silver pupils, and elongated elven ears.

Alex stepped closer.

"Why have you been following us?" he asked calmly.

"You could tell?" the Night Elf blurted out, genuinely surprised.

"Answer the question," Udara ordered.

Her blade trembled slightly.

The Night Elf gasped as a thin line of blood formed against her throat.

"Loot!" she shouted. "It was for the loot!"

***