As the final word left his lips, a powerful gust of wind burst forth from the magic circle with a deep boom, howling with the voices of the forest—sharp cries of birds, deep growls, and feral roars—blending into a wild, deafening chorus.
In the nick of time, Yor and Ludwig dove behind a nearby boulder, just barely making it into cover as the blast swept through.
Others were hurled backward, their bodies flung through the air like leaves in a storm. Trees groaned and snapped as their roots were torn from the ground. Branches were torn away, and dirt flew everywhere as the wind swept through the forest, leaving it looking like the aftermath of a tsunami.
Yor and Ludwig heard a low grunt—like someone in pain.
They whipped their heads to the side and spotted the orange-haired guy lying beside them, curled up on the ground but completely unscathed.
"I'm hurt," the orange-haired guy growled, lying on his side with a dramatic wince.
"Dude it's not possible to feel pain here," said Yor.
Ludwig blinked, then quickly reached over and rolled him onto his back, checking for wounds or any signs of damage.
"You're not even injured," Ludwig said, frowning.
He paused as a health bar blinked into view above the guy's head—still full.
"No, my stomach hurts..." he groaned.
"I gotta go to the toilet. Goodbye."
He raised his hand in front of him, fingers spread wide—then swiped it downward in one smooth motion. A translucent rectangular window appeared in front of him, glowing faintly. He tapped the logout button, and his body began to glow. Slowly, he faded into small lights—like fireflies drifting into the air—before vanishing completely.
Ludwig sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead, clearly annoyed. "Bro..." he muttered under his breath.
"I wonder how many of us are still alive," Yor said quietly.
"After all that shit? I'm guessing just the two of us," Ludwig answered.
"Do we have a plan?" he added, turning his eyes to Yor.
Yor turned to him, eyes steady and sharp, holding the silence for a moment before answering.
--
The Flora Enchanter was intently looking around to see if there are still survivors.
Yor broke from cover, sprinting around the edge of the clearing as fast as he could to draw the Flora Enchanter's attention. As the Enchanter turned toward the movement.
The Flora Enchanter tilted his head, amused, as if considering how futile this little player was. A short, mocking laugh escaped his lips.
Yor skidded to a stop and pointed straight at him.
"Give me your best shot!"
The Enchanter grinned—and in an instant, vanished from sight.
Before Yor could react, a sharp blow struck the back of his head. His vision blurred as 150 HP vanished from his health bar.
He stumbled forward, now left with just 50 HP—but the Enchanter still hadn't cast a spell.
With a blur of motion, the Enchanter reappeared across the clearing, laughing.
"Ohh! That's hilarious! Watch your back—I might just do it again!"
He vanished once more and dashed toward Yor—but this time, Yor rolled aside just in time, avoiding the strike.
"Oh, good job," the Enchanter said, smirking. "How about this?"
He disappeared again—then reappeared directly behind Yor and swept his legs out from under him. Yor's knees buckled, and he crashed to the ground, elbows and head slamming down as ashes scattered from the impact.
Another hit—his HP dropped to just 3.
The Enchanter leaned in, inspecting him with a curious smile.
"Oh... you don't bleed."
He looked around the battlefield.
"You people just turn to ashes. Is that why I haven't seen any bodies?"
He stood tall, a glint of excitement in his eyes.
"Anyway, you asked for my best shot. Fair enough. But I should warn you... it's going to hurt."
He thrust his staff forward. A glowing emerald magic circle spun into existence, humming with energy. He aimed it point-blank at Yor, who was lying on the ground.
"Juraia!"
At that moment, Ludwig broke from cover and drew a dagger from his baldric. He spun it once in his hand before locking onto his target—
and remembered what Yor had told him behind the boulder:
Don't miss, i trust you.
The dagger zipped through the air, its point glinting in the sun as it sliced through the wind, aimed toward the boss's nape.
"Grant me the strength to—"
The incantation was cut short as the dagger struck.
Blood splattered to the ground, cutting 1,000 HP from the boss's total of 6,000. The dagger had hit a vital spot. Immediately after, a wave of dizziness washed over him.
Staggering back, the boss quickly brought up his Air Barrier. He planted his staff into the ground with his right hand and raised his left to cast a healing spell. A soft glow wrapped around him as his HP climbed back up to 500, and the bleeding came to a stop.
"I never thought you'd figure out my Air Barrier."
"It was easy," Yor said, pushing himself up from the ground. He looked worn and beaten—his clothes were ripped, caked with dust. "The Air Barrier is powerful, but it comes with a catch."
He brushed the dirt off his shoulder, eyes locked on the Flora Enchanter.
"You can only use it when you're not attacking."
The Flora Enchanter let out a low chuckle, lifting his chin with a look of pure disdain.
"Impressive," he said coldly. "But knowing one of my many spells doesn't put you at an advantage. I'm stronger in every aspect. Against the two of you, this will feel like stepping on ants."
With a flick of his wrist, the ground beneath Yor and Ludwig cracked open. Vines burst forth, twisting upward like snakes. In seconds, they coiled around their legs, then their waists, slithering higher, tightening with every breath. The more they struggled, the more the vines constricted, wrapping around them like living chains.
The Enchanter's smile widened as he watched them squirm.
"If you hadn't interrupted my link with Azakkin, he would've self-destructed once he was weak. But no—you're the reason I lost that connection."
But then, suddenly—
A powerful presence stirred from behind the trees. The air grew heavy, like a storm about to hit. The wind picked up, rustling the trees and tugging at his robe and hair. His smile faded as the atmosphere suddenly changed.
Without warning, a bright yellow laser beam blasted from the tree line, striking him and piercing straight through his Air Barrier—right into his heart. Moments later, a group of Archmages and Archknights stepped out from the shadows—elite forces of immense power, brought by Rywes to turn the tide.
Beside the line of Archmages and Archknights stood the other players—those who had respawned and returned to the battlefield, ready to come to aid.
The Flora Enchanter collapsed to the ground, a smoking hole burned clean through his chest.
[BOSS DEFEATED]
"Finally!" someone shouted.
Cheers erupted across the clearing as the players jumped and celebrated. After all the struggle, the victory felt earned—sweet and satisfying.
"We did it!" Yor grinned, raising his hand for a high-five, which Ludwig slapped with a proud grin.
Then, without warning, Ludwig broke into a little dance—waving his arms and swinging his hips in a way that made him look more like a wiggling eel than a person.
"Your help is greatly appreciated, Rywes. The kingdom has been searching for this slippery fugitive for a long time. He was a traitor—an Archmage who fell in love with a lizard woman and ended up siding with their kind," said an Archknight.
Everybody looked visibly terrified now—it wasn't just a mental reaction anymore.
Ludwig's face gave off an exaggerated is that even possible?! expression.
"Turns out none of our guesses were right about why he did it." Yor muttered.
"No, no—you're the one who helped us. I should be the one thanking you. We couldn't have brought him down without the kingdom's elite forces."
Rywes extended her hand to the Archknight, her eyes burning with quiet intensity, her voice calm and steady.
The Archknight nodded and shook her hand firmly.
A short while later, they dragged the Flora Enchanter's body away and left the clearing behind.
"Surprise!" Winter suddenly appeared in front of them—no broom this time. She wasn't flying or floating, just standing there. Her size had changed—now human-like, around 5'4"—but everything else was the same. Same look, same presence, just in a smaller frame.
"Wohhh!!!"
Ludwig shouted, completely stunned.
"My crush became cuter! Now that you're smaller, I feel like I actually have a chance!"
From Winter's perspective, he looked like an overexcited dog begging for a treat.
Yor couldn't hide the secondhand embarrassment. He stepped back and disappeared into the crowd.
Winter muted him with a flick of her finger—his mouth kept moving, but no sound came out.
"Alright! Let's continue, shall we? First off, congratulations on defeating your first boss in a seven-star region—and in just one try, too! You cleared it in an impressive 1 hour and 46 minutes!" Winter clapped, and the crowd followed with cheers and applause for themselves.
"Also, I've got to say, bringing Archmages and Archknights? Smart move. That's what they say—work smart, not hard!" She gave an approving nod, clearly impressed.
"In other parts of this region, some raid parties are still struggling with their bosses. But you guys? You're the first to finish—and I have to say, even the gods might be applauding right now."
"Because of that, your efforts will be rewarded."
Winter snapped her fingers, and with a soft flash of light, small treasure chests thudded to the ground in front of each player.
There was a moment of stunned silence—then the crowd erupted.
Players cheered, some raising their fists, others immediately diving for their rewards. A few even jumped in place, eyes wide with excitement.
Yor reached into the chest and felt a rough, metallic object.
Ludwig, meanwhile, had already retrieved an Amulet of Mereon the Tireless.
The amulet hangs from a dark leather cord, strong and slightly worn from use. At the center is a smooth, white gemstone, shaped like an oval and about the size of a small coin. The gem is slightly cloudy, almost like frosted glass, and it gives off a soft glow in the dark.
Yor pulled out a sword. It was sleek and surprisingly light. Its blade was matte black, with a subtle red-orange line running down the center like a glowing vein. There were no fancy engravings or ornaments—just clean edges. The grip was wrapped in dark red cloth, slightly worn but firm, offering just enough texture to keep his hold steady.
Everyone was thrilled with their rewards—smiles spread quickly, a few cheers broke out.
Rywes placed the bow across her open palms. It was crafted from dark, polished wood—light and well-balanced, made for fast, precise shots. Intricate carvings ran along the grip—detailed, but not overdone—giving the weapon a clean, well-made look. The string was thin but tough, built to handle tension and snap back with speed.
"Alright, the best part is saved for last!"
Winter winked and flashed a peace sign.
The crowd murmured, whispering to each other—nervous, tense, watching Winter with growing anticipation.
"The time has come—the gods have decided!" Winter announced, her voice brimming with excitement.
"They call it The Benediction: the sacred act of divine selection and blessing."
"After watching your performance in the World Event, the gods will choose which players to align with—those worthy of carrying a fragment of their power. With that choice comes a blessing, and a mark appears on your back: a glowing insignia etched with the god's symbol. A player may be chosen by more than one god, but the more marks you bear, the more offerings you'll owe. Each god expects to be honored."
The crowd started murmuring. Someone near the front raised a hand, brow furrowed.
"What kind of offerings?"
Winter shrugged and flashed a smile.
"It changes all the time. That's why you have to check in with the church every day—there's one in every city. Skip your offerings too often, and poof—your powers start slipping away." She wiggled her fingers with a little flourish, then grinned.
"The Benediction won't happen in this realm, but in the realm of the gods." She snapped her fingers, and her broom appeared in a shimmer of light.
"Without further ado, I will now teleport you."
"Oh, here we go again," Yor muttered, his posture sagging as if the strength drained from his spine.
"Ready yourselves to stand beneath their divine presence!" she declared, thrusting her palm forward.
The forest clearing around them began to blur and recede, as if reality itself was being pushed out of existence.
Yor glanced around as the scenery warped—the colors of the forest bled into deep purples, like paint swirling in water. The world twisted, and with it, his thoughts and senses. He's so dizzy and disoriented that he can't tell if it's his body that's failing, his mind that's spinning, or both—they're all mixing together.
He dropped to his knees, coughing as nausea hit him hard. Spittle hit the smooth marble floor beneath him, now solid and gleaming where soft earth had just been.
The world reformed around them into a vast, temple-like space—an arena of divine scale.
Overhead stretched a colossal ceiling, painted with intricate symbols and glowing patterns. At its center loomed a giant, unblinking eye, set within a massive star with thirteen long arms radiating outward. Each arm ended in a distinct insignia—one for every god—forming a celestial map of power and authority. The entire ceiling seemed alive, humming with a sacred, watchful presence.
Beneath each insignia stood a towering statue, each one depicting a different god in awe-inspiring detail. They sat enthroned in a perfect circle around the arena, their expressions frozen in eternal judgment or calm dominion—twelve divine effigies watching from their rightful place, as if presiding over whatever trial or gathering was to come.