Single Mother of a Werewolf Baby

Chapter 236: A New Record-1

Chapter 236: A New Record-1

After the fifty-first level, each floor of the Tower of Legends became a battle against shifting compositions of monster armies across varied and hostile terrains. With every ascent the challenge grew harsher. The monsters themselves seemed to evolve, adapting to her tactics, some even displaying unnerving intelligence as they marshalled others under their command.

At level fifty-two, Eleanor entered a maze of dark, dripping limestone caverns. The floors and walls were slick with phosphorescent algae that glimmered faintly, casting ghostly green light. Deep, still pools dotted the chambers, concealing submerged passages.

The Crocodile Monsters lurked beneath the water’s surface, bursting forth to seize and drag her down. Multi-headed Venomfang Hydras found sure footing on the slippery stone, their broad stances anchoring them as they spat venom that hissed against the wet rock, cloaking the cavern in toxic mist. From precarious ledges, Goblins loosed stones from their slings, the algae’s glow guiding their aim, while others scurried across the treacherous floor to strike from the flanks.

Level fifty-three was a suffocating network of trenches and tunnels, narrow and choked with mud. The passages were too small for her to stand upright, forcing her to crouch or crawl. Barbed wire and sharpened stakes lined the edges, cutting off escape routes. Goblins swarmed through the cramped passages, swift and sure-footed. Orcs blocked choke points with heavy shields, while Skeletons clawed their way from the sodden earth, reassembling even after being shattered. The level demanded combat in confinement, where there was no room to breathe, much less swing freely.

The fifty-fourth level unfolded into a silent forest of stone. Towering petrified trees stood like jagged pillars, their brittle, needle-like leaves crunching underfoot with every step, making stealth impossible. Spiders dropped from the high branches, skittering across the noisy ground. Stone Golems lay in wait, half-merged with the trunks for sudden ambushes. Orcs melted into the dense cover, loosing arrows in sudden, darting attacks before vanishing again.

At fifty-five, Eleanor found herself upon a desolate volcanic plain of black sand and jagged rock. The ground trembled with the constant threat of eruption. Jets of scalding steam roared skyward without warning, while ash thickened the air into a choking haze. Magma Fiends used the geysers themselves as weapons, merging with them and erupting in surprise assaults. Rustclaw Beasts raked the ground with claws impervious to heat, kicking up storms of blinding ash. The Orcs, clad in heat-hardened armour, locked their shields together and drove their formations forward, forcing her step by step towards fissures and geysers ready to erupt.

Level fifty-six was a sunken temple, its drowned courtyards and shadowed halls filled with murky, chest-high water. Crumbled stairs and fallen pillars hid beneath the surface, waiting to trip or trap the unwary. Trolls waded in with terrifying persistence, their wounds knitting closed beneath the water. Crocodile Monsters struck from below, dragging prey into the depths. Blight Serpents tainted the very water with their venom, sapping Eleanor’s strength with every breath and step.

At fifty-seven, beauty masked lethal danger. The cavern was a cathedral of crystals, towering shards of razor-sharp stone refracting and amplifying every glimmer of light and spark of magic. Colours splintered into dizzying illusions, while beams of focused energy seared through the air without warning. Chitin Lords scuttled unseen, their reflective carapaces vanishing amid the crystal spires. Golems lumbered forward, their bodies sheathed in growing crystals that turned them nearly indestructible. The Hydras spat venom that refracted across the surfaces, transforming each spray into a barrage of death from a dozen directions at once.

their branches webbed together with thick, gleaming silk.

tracking her through the vibrations of each step. Chitin Lords clambered up the stone trees with bladed limbs, slicing the webs to send her plunging into traps. Skeletons, immune to both sticky silk and fall damage, were

of foul gas ignited into

turning the bog into a field of fire and choking smoke. From

a vast hall floored entirely with ancient bones. The acoustics were unnerving... every sound amplified and

fused skeletons. Arrows hissed through the darkness from unseen bowmen,

the land treacherous. Patches of solid ground were rare, and a

severed limbs regrowing in the murky depths.

howled through the cliffs. The winds threatened

by the gale. Orcs fired crossbows with thick, wind-cutting bolts. From

level stretched across a barren plain of corroded metal ruins. The air itself was corrosive, rusting blades

hides rusted and jagged, turned their very armour into weapons that tore through flesh. Chitin

vast desert of sand and crushed bone. Bone-laced whirlwinds raged across the plain, shredding anything caught

storms. Skeletons clawed their way from the sand in endless numbers, reassembling the instant they were broken. At their backs, Orc necromancers bent the death-soaked desert to their

sixty-five was a canyon carved into dry, splintered stone. The ground fractured into narrow crevices