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As Ironclad gradually climbed upward, an unusual feeling surged within him. With each step, he sensed the looming danger ahead growing more intense; it was an instinct, as if the presence of some powerful creature echoed in the enclosed space. He gripped his sword tightly, every step filled with vigilance and tension. His heart raced, and with the echo of the tower, he felt an unprecedented sense of oppression.
He slowly approached the next level when suddenly, he saw a massive white shell-like object blocking his path. This object had a large opening at its base, resembling the shell of a hermit crab, spanning across the stairs leading to the next level. Its shape was bizarre, with ancient runes and markings covering its white surface, exuding a mysterious and ancient aura. The runes seemed to tell of some long-lost mystical legend, while the markings on the shell indicated that it had endured countless battles.
Ironclad stopped. He knew that this was certainly not a benevolent creature; its appearance seemed to guard some kind of secret of the tower. He took a deep breath, deciding to face this unknown being with caution. He approached carefully, sword pointed forward, ready to respond to any potential attack. Within him, tension and excitement intertwined—a fear of the unknown and a desire for battle.
At this moment, he felt the power of the demon surging through his veins. To be prudent, he decided to activate Demon Form. He closed his eyes and felt his blood begin to burn, like flames racing through his veins. The intense power slowly surged from within him, enveloping his body in a layer of crimson light.
His eyes opened once more, burning with a crimson flame. He felt an immense power coursing through his body, a force capable of shaking everything to its core. His sword felt sturdier, and his steps were more resolute. He knew that this powerful shell creature might be a test on his path to the secrets of the Tower.
Ironclad gradually approached the massive shell creature, his sword raised high, every muscle tensed to the limit, ready to respond to any potential attack. The shell creature seemed to sense his approach; a faint blue light suddenly illuminated its dark hollow. Then, it slowly extended three long, sharp legs, roaring at Ironclad. The sound was deafening, like an ancient roar echoing through the silent Tower, shattering the previous calm and bringing an unprecedented atmosphere of terror.
A surge of memories suddenly flooded Ironclad's mind; he had seen a description of this creature long, long ago. It was called Lagavulin, an ancient and mysterious being said to possess immense power and guard certain secrets of the tower. Its appearance indicated that Ironclad was one step closer to the truth of the spire.
As Lagavulin's foot slowly descended, each toe scraped against the floor with a chilling sound that sent shivers down the spine. The ancient runes on its shell seemed to shimmer with its awakening, each rune appearing to chant some ancient and mysterious curse. The air was thick with a sense of oppression and danger, causing Ironclad's heart to race, yet his resolve grew stronger.
The three elongated legs of Lagavulin moved slowly through the air, each motion appearing deliberate and solemn. However, Ironclad knew that once it launched an attack, its speed would be so swift that there would be no time to react. He gripped his sword tightly, taking a deep breath as the flames within him burned even more fiercely. He understood that only by defeating Lagavulin could he continue to climb higher, approaching the top of the Spire.
Lagavulin's light blue eyes sparkled with a mysterious glow against its massive white shell, while a cross-shaped scar marred its other eye, seemingly robbing it of its original brilliance. This strange sight sent a shiver of unease through Ironclad, but he dismissed it and tightened his grip on his sword even more.
No longer hesitating, Ironclad charged swiftly towards Lagavulin, his movements as quick as lightning, launching a series of relentless attacks in hopes of finding a weakness in Lagavulin. His uppercut struck Lagavulin's shell with force, but only created a small ripple, seemingly unable to inflict any real damage.
Ironclad was unwilling to accept this. He focused all his strength and unleashed a wild strike, the blade aimed directly at the center of Lagavulin. The power of this blow was immense, causing the surrounding air to feel almost solidified. However, Lagavulin's shell remained incredibly sturdy; it merely trembled slightly, effortlessly absorbing all of Ironclad's attacking force.
Ironclad took a step back, his brow furrowed, and a hint of anxiety crept into his mind. He understood that breaking through Lagavulin's tough exterior would not be easy; he needed to find another way.
Lagavulin seemed to sense Ironclad's hesitation. Its three sharp legs suddenly accelerated, launching a fierce attack towards Ironclad. He snapped back to reality and swung his sword to block, but Lagavulin's force was overwhelming, pressing down on him with unprecedented pressure. Faced with Lagavulin's powerful and forceful assault, Ironclad struggled to wield his sword in defense, but its strength far exceeded his expectations. As those three sharp legs struck fiercely, he felt a tremendous force push him away, leaving him unable to control his body as he took the full brunt of Lagavulin's attack.
The pain caused a trickle of blood to seep from the corner of his mouth as his body slammed heavily against the wall beside him. Agony radiated from every cell, making it nearly impossible for him to breathe. Yet he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand up; he knew he could not fall here, or all his efforts would be in vain.
He wiped the blood from his lips and gripped his sword tightly, staring intently at Lagavulin. Despite his injuries, the determination in his eyes remained unwavering. In this critical moment, Ironclad forced himself to stay calm; he understood that only by finding Lagavulin's weakness could he have a chance to defeat it. Clenching his jaw, he continued to engage fiercely with Lagavulin, and in his eyes began to shine a steadfast light searching for an opportunity.
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