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Fifty Feet left.

Maybe less.

So close. So fucking close.

SO FUCKING CLOSE.

SO FUCKING CLOSE TO THE MAN WHO HUNG ME UPSIDE DOWN AND SHOVED THINGS INTO MY–

I charged towards Coum and he began to scream.

"AHHHHHHHHH!"

No… it wasn't him. He had his mouth closed.

It was me.

I was the one screaming.

And the fucking coward with his befuddled eyes looked to Tanya with fear and actually turned and began to run.

No spells. No Magic.

He just began to run.

And it felt good.

It felt good to chase him. To see him turn his back on me. Those lanky fingers that were so precise, flopping around helplessly. From brain damage or fear. He was a rat, I was the cat. The rabbit and the wolf.

I wanted to hunt him. For this moment to be captured forever in an eternity of memory. To feel this power over him. This feeling of complete control over his fetid rotten little life in the palm of my hands and no one being able to do anything about it.

...I wanted to kill him.

And bring him back.

And kill him again.

Coum had fucked my mind and I wanted nothing more than to make him feel the same things I did.

The moment I reached Tanya, she stabbed downward with her harpoon; already having used [Gigantification]. But I reached her a moment too soon, catching her at a time when she was still transforming. Still transforming meant the flow of mana was still moving towards her [Racial Trait], and that she couldn't use [Wind Barrier].

But I didn't even bother.

Without the momentum of the her throw, or the strength boost from her completed transformation…

Her harpoon bounced off of my armor.

"COUM! GODDAMIT RUN!"

I felt her hand clutch at me, trying to clasp me in her fingers.

I spun like a top, cutting them off. Big fat sausages fell from the sky, turning dwarf-sized again.

I heard her scream.

More buffs. More speed. More defense.

So good. So happy.

"SHOOT HIM! MAGES! FIRE HIM DOWN!"

–Coum, whispering sweet things to me, healing me, torturing me, healing me, torturing me–

Countless arrows came sailing towards me. But I knew the level of these Cultists, maybe grade 8. Grade 7 at best. They weren't a threat. Either my [Lunar Shield] x [King's Guard] blocked them or my skin would.

Buffs continue to flow into me in the heat of battle.

And something latched onto my back and began slamming things into my neck. Or trying to.

"FUCK! DIE! DIE YOU FUCK! FUCK YOU! JUST DIE!"

Delas Ender.

No Aura. No Elemental Damage. Or if he had elemental damage, he wasn't using it. Stupid. Dumb. Probably panicking, or a lack of game knowledge. That I wasn't invincible. But he believed I was.

Nood. Nothing's unbeatable in this game.

Ten paces.

"DIEEE!" Delas wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled.

And immediately, my thoughts returned as the supply of oxygen was suddenly cut off. It only took a second for instinctual panic to overwhelm my brain and it began to scream 'WE NEED TO BREATHE'.

So [Defense] didn't work against grapples.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

It was good to know.

Streaks of red vein-like images were crowding around my vision.

I took a step.

Five paces now.

"DIE ALREADY GODDAMN IT! WHY ISN'T IT WORKING?!"

Finally having had enough, Delas took one hand off from choking me to try and stab me with a dagger again. Giving me a breath of air. I gulped it greedily, never taking my eyes off Coum.

Two paces away.

Coum had nowhere left to run. Unless he chose to jump overboard. But we were on top of a tsunami. Where could he go?

He looked at me, eyes dark and hateful.

But afraid.

His fear fueled me.

I pushed my hips into Delas and then hip-thrust forward. The momentum gave me some space to elbow him in the ribs. The assassin –not built for long drawn out battles in close quarters like this– sucked in a breath and I could tell from the raspy sound that I'd just broken his ribs. A lot of them. Acting on instinct honed from years of living as an assassin from MSS, he released me and back-jumped fifteen paces in a blink.

Right before he gained distance, I struck out with a thrust. My own instincts, trying to do even 1 more tick of damage to a retreat enemy.

And right before my sword tip hit his eyes… it wavered.

And stopped.

…

……

………

It had wavered.

And it had… stopped?

Like that one time.

In the Scavenger's Hideout.

And my world shifted in knowledge.

"Horsehead." I heard myself whisper.

Delas didn't answer. But his silence was enough.

He redoubled his effort, joined by two more cultists. The two cultists rushed me from either side while Delas hung back.

"Sacrifice yourselves." He ordered in a rasp.

But before they could even hear him, I was moving.

I shifted everything to [Speed], moving like a madman. Before the first word was out of his mouth, I'd already cleaved the Cultist on my right from shoulder to hip. Then I kicked the separated torso into the other cultist. They weren't brainwashed enough to be completely obviously to things like that; the brutal technique gave him pause.

Following up the kick with a thrust into his stomach, I kicked the man with enough force to send him overboard.

A small explosion reached my ears a few seconds later.

Just how high up were we?

As I asked myself that question, Delas appeared –his daggers dripped with venom.

Finally, he'd come to his senses.

I pivoted immediately, hearing the ear-tearing sound of metal scraping against my armor. He spun to the side, mirroring my move and aimed for my ankles. I jumped up, slapping the side of his shoulder with the flat of my blade. The smaller man absorbed the blow by rolling with the blow.

Then I turned and ran for it.

Another cultist got in my way but I didn't stop to cut him down, tackling him with my shoulder and carrying him all the way to where Coum was stumbling around. I crushed the cultist into the wall and heard him let out a gasp as his innards were literally squeezed out of him on impact. Without stopping, I took my sword and stabbed him once, twice and three times –Heart, Lung and Stomach– and stared straight at Coum.

"You no not–" He began.

I kicked him in the knee and it bent backwards.

The mage cried out in pain, falling to the ground.

I stepped on the knee.

"Keep talking." I whispered.

But he couldn't. He just screamed as I ground my heel on the broken bone, his body alternating between rigid and livid. It looked like he was having a stroke.

The man who had tortured me. The [Player] who had taught me how to be a real [Player].

The one who 'broke me in' so to speak.

He looked so small.

Half a man.

Brain-damage. Barely surviving. How many spells had he cast? Three? Four? And he was wheezing for breath?

He looked to me, eyes half-dead.

I didn't want him to be out of it. Only precious few seconds left. Not even that. I woke him up by pinning him to the floorboards with my sword through his shoulder.

"Anything to say for yourself?" I asked him. I wanted to torture him longer. Draw this out somehow.

"I–" He gasped out.

I heard footsteps.

A flick of the wrist.

And [Snow Scream] exited his shoulder…

…and slit his throat.

His eyes froze, locked in a perpetual stare.

Another flick of my wrist.

And the vial attached to his brain shattered.

I saw the pulse of life in them. Pink, soft things. Throbbing with blood.

Reversing the grip on my sword…

…I stabbed downwards.

Blood splattered.

I thought I'd feel something. Satisfaction. Happiness.

…And I did.

It felt good.

No. Not just good.

It felt amazing.

The finality to a blood feud. My only regret was that it was in the middle of this damned battle. If it was anywhere else, we could have danced all night.

...Coum had fucked me up. Badly.

Not just that though.

He'd given me strength. A strength of the mind that other [Players] couldn't comprehend. That people, born into a time of peace, could never attain without sacrificing their humanity.

I felt strong. And I was strong.

Of that, I was sure.

Delas stood only a few yards away. His daggers in hand. "You fucking monster." He panted.

It wasn't just him.

The ones who had been locked in melee. Tanya. Astelion. Zenom, Arrosh and Skaris. Arione, Clover and Lety plus the dozens of remaining auxiliary forces had seen what happened. Somehow, through the tides of battle, the positions had shifted.

"He got through that. By himself. And killed their main mage." Maria Akka Xalud spat blood, wiping her mouth with the metal gauntlets. "He's right. That's a fucking monster." She crossed her arms. "We're not getting the Navigator if he's here."

Zenom had strategically placed us so that we were between them and Fluporuin –the Captain's wheel.

Lety didn't say anything. But her eyes never left me.

Arione's eyes were flat. Calculating.

And my voice came out in a snarl, barely recognizable.

Barely human.

"You're next." I snarled.

Metal shifted as Skaris, Zenom and Arrosh appeared at my sides.

"...Fight around Slaveborn. He's the strongest card we have right now." Zenom said. "Protect his flank and back. Support him with everything you have."

"That wasssss obviousssss! Do not pressssume to order me." Skaris snapped but the corner of my eye saw his spear face out from the opposite side.

"...I've been watching the Young Crow long before your leaves turned orange; Human and Beastman. I will be be the one to decide how to sharpen the Sword Saint's sword."

"...Sword Saint?" Zenom frowned but the orc didn't answer.

Arrosh took a knee, holding his sword sideways. A stance I'd never seen before, but he was facing Arione. My guess was that he had learned something about Arione's party during his time with them, and this stance was in response to it.

My [Hearing] caught bits of Arione's self-muttering.

"...Magic immunity. Buffs. Attack, Defense and Speed."

Shit. Kyrian told me before that with great mana control could theorize what was happening in an Adventurer's body by focusing mana into their eyes. Of course the fucking elf Mage could do the same.

Then–

"Temporary truce?" Delas said.

He wasn't looking at me.

He said it to Arione.

Arione's eyes shone. Anger? Satisfaction? Something else?

But before he could answer, Fluporuin screamed out something we'd all been forgetting.

"...FALLING! FALLING AGAIN! BRACE YOURSELVES!"

And like a great weight that was on the verge of tipping over…

Everything began to fall.

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