Ch. 004: The Bluff King
"Ahhh fuck, Reinhardt!!!"
Kahrdan's name fell on deaf ears again.
Where was his pawn when it was needed?
The night itself seemed to press in around him.
Shadows.
The wolves drew closer, their presence forming shadows of palpable weight in the air.
Yes, they were faster than him—terrifyingly so—but though he was easy prey… The dire wolves halted the instant he showed less interest in escape.
A seemingly better fate than those torn instantly.
Their toxic saliva leaked onto the ground.
'Fuuuu.'
Exhaling, Dssal attempted to calm himself.
It was man and wolf facing themselves. And if being critical, at least he was in a better start than some others.
He wasn't actively being attacked nor frozen in fear.
A cold burst of wind blew his bangs, he readied himself.
In his peripheral vision he saw more humans and heard them scream.
Dssal frantically looked around. It was exactly as he thought.
Heads crushed beneath jaws, blood splattering.
'...Fuu thinks they are aggressive monsters.'
He desperately needed information if not, it was certain he'd join those people who were casually being eaten alive.
'But at least they are also social predators bound by a strict hierarchy.'
Convergence.
In memory.
This tribe in pantheon all served the moon god as fearful subordinates at best.
Hence, the cruel division in ranks amongst them.
Even in meals, they were bound to regulations, for they all feared death. Each rank was required to obey—the implication being if someone lower gained a remotely bigger share, the higher-ranked would eat the gluttonous wolf for amendments.
Nevertheless, the information around the end was mostly hypothesised.
He never wrote the lore for such wolves, as they aren't that relevant in Lily.
He was just being meticulous, able to pick small hints from the original gameplay and their reactions to him to make a theory.
Why else would they stall before tearing him apart? Now that they'd cornered him, they were bound—yes, either that, or he must've held something over them.
Dssal, trying to curb his trembling, thanked his luck being a creator was very handy in this judgment.
Fear.
He knew the major reasons regardless of form.
Maybe they mistook the enemy for someone untouchable by them, like Kahrdan…
Or leisure prey.
They were simply waiting. Waiting for an older wolf to arrive and take the first bite.
Dssal took deep huffs.
His gaze darted across the clearing again. No surprise—he really was caged in by them.
They appeared in three tight rings—twelve wolves in total, four in each circle—coming together to form a flawless trap. A formation designed to erase every chance of escape.
Dssal avoided staring; their appearance wasn't soft on the eyes.
Each dire wolf loomed, ironically the size of a horse.
And he wasn't given any time, every ten seconds or so they closed in, their blood-red eyes glinting under the pale moonlight. Muscles rippled beneath coarse black fur. Fangs glistened—sharp enough to tear through steel. Their very existence pressed down on him, suffocating, crushing the will of the faint-hearted.
Dssal was very much disturbed. He was basically just a mortal.
However, a rather special one.
He took one last deep breath and somehow regulated his breathing, even Dssal seemed unaffected outwardly.
Totally even to himself, he felt a sensation. Of exhilaration
Was it courage? Dssal didn't believe so.
Perhaps it was a form of courage mirroring cowardice with better posture.
"…Elven Sovereign Insight."
However, that would be delved into another day.
Dssal's vision flickered. For a heartbeat, his irises shimmered like molten crimson glass.
He still urgently needed to find something useful.
Ting!
---
Three identical black-plated windows overlapped, streaming data.
---
[Status Window]
Name: N/A
Title: Pack Leader
Race: Dire Wolf
Age: 70 (Every 25 years, a monster ages with decent arcane control; it corresponds to one human Arcane Bearer's level.)
Trait: Instinctual Predator
Physical Attributes:
Strength: 45
Agility: 53
Vitality: 28
Endurance: 49
Intelligence: 15
Tier: Common
Mystic Attributes: N/A
Stat Overview:
A Common-tier dire wolf of the Moonlight Clan. Prefers preying on the weak, but still eyes the strong basically.
---
His eyes dimmed back to silver, feeling the drawback effects as his arcana dropped by one. Only two points remained—a brutal reminder of his weakness.
He couldn't sustain the spell for more than three seconds. But three seconds were enough.
He wasn't stupid enough to doubt.
He'd confirmed it: even the weakest among them truly held the strength of a Level 2 Bearer.
That is… even the weakest dire wolf present was at least three times stronger than him.
"Shit."
Dssal's body struggled to maintain posture.
Instinct said to run.
According to the original gameplay, this entire scene had been nothing but background noise—barely even mentioned. Of course, people also ran, only to die. After all, the protagonist of Pantheon only appeared in the second tutorial round. So all the players who spawned here before? Fodder. Disposable corpses for atmosphere.
And now, he was one of them.
Hopeless.
"…Ha… ha-ha-ha."
So this is it.
Yeah right.
Dssal's expression darkened once again.
The dire wolves stirred.
As they clocked in only five meters away.
One in particular—the one he had probed earlier, aged seventy and slightly larger than the rest—padded forward as if determined he was the most fitting. Its claws tore furrows into the dirt with every step. The others remained still, growls rumbling low in their chests, vibrating through his bones.
They looked hungry.
White steam curled from their breath in the frigid night air.
"!!!"
That wolf was the highest-ranked, he could tell any second now… they would all lash out.
Dssal precisely analyzed more of their demeanor. This particular wolf held authority in the others' eyes and eyed the strong.
In this situation, it was evident there were no normal choices left.
But Dssal's brain wasn't really normal either.
There might still be a slim way left to survive.
Infamous as a suicidal gamble.
"For survival. Yes, survival."
I'll do it.
Unfortunately, "it"—the plan—was nothing clever.
He basically bet his life on lying his way out. He was good at acting, wasn't he?
On the old game forums, rumors once surrounded a hidden interaction where the protagonist apparently swindled a pride of lion kings when cornered by nothing but shameless bluffing. He'd injured the leader, then pretended to be something untouchable. And somehow, he was left alone.
Birthing the quote.
'A hidden beauty of desperation—it makes even lies feel divine.'
If he could formulate it perfectly—
'I can still make it out alive."
It was probably just a rumor without much substance, only it increasingly made a lot more sense to the current Dssal.
He didn't care for all its holes in logic.
His way must be correct.
In his eyes, it was possible enough—the only setback was whether the gamble was in its best circumstance, as it relied on the monsters' intelligence being correctly judged.
Their intelligence couldn't be too high or too low—maybe just enough to hesitate.
Honestly, if Dssal wasn't biased, he wouldn't believe this would work—if generous, maybe he would say it held a one percent chance.
But screw probabilities—any percent is miles better than zero!
Dssal licked his cracked lips, tasting his own blood. His voice shook as he whispered to himself:
"…I'll just have to scam the wolves now."
Step.
Step.
Step.
As if he were born fraudulent, although his legs felt like lead, he forced them forward.
Powerfully.
Step.
With every step into the moonlit clearing, twelve pairs of crimson eyes followed him, yet he kept his expression steady.
Dssal "confidently" made his way closer and closer until only five meters separated him from the leader.
Arriving at a distance close enough to smell its horrid breath.
Dssal looked the beast straight in the eye… and activated his Sovereign Insight once more.
Consequently, his Arcana warped violently—his eyes glowed like molten fire.
Dssal raised his hand toward the wolf's head.
Ignoring the numerous wolf shadows lurking.
[Elven Sovereign Insight: Unique Attribute Edition of Another's Potential]
[Dire Wolf Vitality Stat Potential -20 points]
A smile was etched at his lips.
The dire wolf leader staggered.
Suddenly, it felt its vitality drain.
As Dssal used his Elven Insight not to elevate, but to reduce the poor wolf's vitality stat potential.
Originally, the spell was only used to edit one's potential upward. However, Dssal had forced it downward—crippling the wolf's vitality entirely.
Even though the wolf still stood… It seemed evident the spell might've worked given that it started foaming.
'Ho? I'm such a lucky bastard. The bluff's actually taking hold. …'
Dssal wore the widest of grins, of course, sure that didn't remove the fact he'd obviously used all his Arcana with that spell.
But he could live with that.
He actively hoped it would be enough to convince them he was invincible.
Possibly not, and he dies. But if it did—
His resolve to lie fluently enough that reality hesitates to correct you might have been the key to his overall survival.
As notwithstanding that even if it did…
What about the other eyes from before?
Dssal knew he might still be in inevitable death trouble only the 0.1 percent survives.
HOW TO USE A WORLD'S APOCALYPSE
> > Kahrdan
But it turned out different for others.
Across the clearing, over a hundred meters beyond Dssal's encirclement, the ground was drenched in blood and burnt fur.
Yes, not humans fell, but the wolves.
The imposing Kahrdan Reinhardt stands fiery amidst the chaos, his blade carving arcs of flame through the darkness.
As the only active protector of his cowardly race.
Kahrdan couldn't even sheathe his sword once.
He was the only human engaged in combat, although over two hundred Level 1 Bearers stood behind him—
Why?
Well, if put simply, they'd all be dead weight.
He couldn't afford to waste stamina.
After the Star Guide's speech, hundreds of Ordinary Stage (Level 2) dire wolves surged from the western ridge, their howls blotting out the night. Humans originally weren't possibly their opponents. But with him now, human survival seemed possible.
Hence, subconsciously, the remaining gathered around him—leaving Kahrdan with the task of cutting down many more wolves than before.
And he did.
Swishing. Craxth. Slazzh.
What are numbers to absolute power?
Blood sprayed into the air.
In mere minutes, thousands of headless wolves' bodies stacked on themselves before they could even think to approach the survivors.
Each stroke of his sword added to the tally.
Wolves' heads splitting like wheat beneath a flaming scythe, every motion painting the battlefield in scarlet fire.
Compared to that storm, Dssal's dozen wolves seemed like nothing—a mere speck of dust swallowed in a hurricane.
Kahrdan fought the real monsters.
Clang. Swoosh.
And yet—dust or not—Dssal struggled to survive there, the situation displayed how helpless the average of men were.
//Hellfire Sword Codex//
'Unknown Swordplay.'
Kahrdan repeatedly sliced and diced.
A single swing of the sword could make one hallucinate six-foot representations of lions.
Kahrdan fought in graceful savagery.
Stabbing heads and outright beheading.
More and more blood sprayed into the air, painting his garment red.
Forcing the act of him wiping his blade clean more often.
"What are you doing, man? Prioritize the nobles first—we mean a lot!"
Yet the humans were the most pathetic during crises. The majority of his issues weren't from the wolves but stemmed from the spoilt incels behind him.
How useless of them—to have pride in such a slaughter, even barking orders.
"No, not just nobles—prioritize the men, we're all the same!"
"Huh? What about us girls? I promise I will be satisfactory for you later!"
'What's with all this?'
Kahrdan found his slayer-swing ratio reducing, now needing two for what had been one, but without blaming anyone, he gritted his teeth and continued butchering.
'A father has to protect his children after all.'
He knew exactly his inefficiency was coming from these dead weights, but he remained too stubborn to hate.
"Yes, the father finds himself in an unideal situation. Whatever shall I do?" he muttered.
His flames roared higher.
'Cut off for me, son.'
Plum.
'Maybe all that should discourage them.'
Seeing the last wolf within twenty meters fall, for the first time since he'd started, Kahrdan sheathed his sword, taking a second to catch his breath.
Too bad—he barely got the chance to. At that exact moment, as his sheath clicked, a terrifying howl split the battlefield, forcing Kahrdan's plans to lay waste.
Kahrdan felt it too.
It came a deeper, calmer, and more chilling howl than the rest.
A thunderous note that silenced even the tide of wolves.
His eyes widened in disbelief it wasn't that he'd killed so many seconds' worth of wolves that he was left without anyone brazen enough to approach within twenty meters.
It was that the lot had simply given way.
As from the far ridge, something enormous emerged.
A Dire Wolf General.
Its body dwarfed the others, towering like a nightmare clothed in electricity, golden eyes burning with savage intelligence.
Kahrdan's grip on his blade tightened. A grin tugged at his face as he felt fatigue catching up to him.
"Oh... that must be the beta boss. It emerges after all, eh?"
HOW TO USE A WORLD'S APOCALYPSE
(END OF CHAPTER FOUR)