The jungle smelled of burning metal.
Elian ducked under a steam-powered punch that shattered the rock behind him. He was drenched in sweat, his chest heaving like a bellows.
Garrick was tough. Not skilled, not smart, but tough. His armor was a fortress. But even fortresses crumble under acid.
"Stop moving!" Garrick roared, swinging wild.
Elian saw it. The acid from the vial he had smashed earlier had finally eaten through the joint of Garrick's right knee. The red steel was bubbling, soft as clay.
"Done," Elian wheezed.
He didn't dodge this time. He stepped in.
[Skill: Heavy Smash.]
Elian swung The Reaper's Edge with everything he had left. The blade didn't aim for the head; it aimed for the compromised knee.
CRUNCH-HISSS.
The blade sheared through the softened metal and severed the leg.
Garrick screamed—a sound that silenced the entire jungle sector—and collapsed.
Elian didn't hesitate. He spun the greatsword and drove it down into the Guild Master's chest plate.
[Kill Confirmed.]
[Points Acquired: +50 (Guild Master Bonus).]
Elian yanked the sword out and slumped against a tree, gasping for air. His vision was swimming.
Stamina: 12/120.
"Boss!"
"He killed the Guild Master!"
The bushes rustled. Thirteen players emerged. It was the rest of the Iron Fists, including Darius and the others Elian had humiliated at the tower entrance. They had regrouped, weapons drawn, surrounding the exhausted Drifter.
Elian looked at them. His hands were shaking from fatigue. He could barely lift his sword.
But he didn't flinch. He bared his teeth in a bloody grin.
"Come," Elian rasped, his eyes hazy but burning with killing intent. "All of you."
The Iron Fists hesitated. They saw a demon. But they also saw a demon running on fumes.
"He's almost dead!" Darius shouted, pointing his spear. "Rush him!"
Before the first man could take a step, a blur of golden light landed between Elian and the mob.
THUD.
A tall swordsman stood there, his sword resting casually on his shoulder.
"That's a lot of people for one guy," Valen said, his voice cheerful but his eyes sharp.
Behind him, Seraphina and Jax emerged from the trees. They had rushed toward the signal, expecting a monster. They hadn't expected to see Elian single-handedly dismantling a top guild. They had watched the end of the fight in stunned silence, shocked to their bones.
"Valen," Seraphina urged, looking at Elian's trembling legs. "Help him."
Valen turned to Elian and smiled. That same, stupid, heroic smile that Elian had seen a thousand times in his past life.
"Maybe we could help a hand?" Valen asked casually. "Right, Elian?"
Elian froze.
The sound of it... it was like a dagger to the heart. In the past, Valen had said those exact words before saving Elian from a dungeon trap.
Elian lowered his head.
"Fate really does work strange in every way possible," he murmured to himself.
"Huh?" Valen asked, confused.
Elian's head snapped up. The nostalgia vanished, replaced by a desperate anger. He couldn't let them get involved. If they helped him, the Iron Fists would target them too. They would die because of him. Again.
"No," Elian shouted, stepping away from Valen. "And not in this timeline will that happen!"
"Elian?"
"I can do this on my own!" Elian snarled, shoving Valen's shoulder with his weak hand. "Move! This is my problem!"
He tried to push past Valen to fight the thirteen men alone, to draw their aggro away from his friends.
But before he could take a step, a soft, white light enveloped him.
[High-Heal Received.]
[Stamina Restored: 50%]
[HP Restored: 100%]
Elian stopped. The pain in his muscles vanished. The haze in his eyes cleared.
He looked back. Seraphina had her staff raised, her face flushed with anger and worry.
"At least accept this!" she shouted, her voice trembling but fierce. "Stop trying to do everything alone!"
Elian stood there, the golden light of the spell fading into his skin. He felt the mana. It was familiar. Gentle.
He looked at Seraphina. For a second, the cold "Ghost of Floor 10" disappeared. He looked like a tired boy.
"Thanks," Elian said softly, a genuine, small smile breaking through his mask. "It's warm."
Seraphina blinked. Her anger evaporated, and she looked down, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red. "O-oh. Well. Good."
Elian turned back to the Iron Fists.
He wasn't tired anymore.
He rolled his shoulders. He gripped The Reaper's Edge. The black blade seemed to hum, sensing its master's renewed energy.
"Darius," Elian said.
Darius dropped his spear. He saw the look in Elian's eyes. It wasn't the look of a cornered animal anymore. It was the look of an executioner who just clocked in for overtime.
"Run!" Darius screamed.
It was too late.
Elian moved. With his stamina restored, he was a blur of violence.
He didn't just fight them; he annihilated them.
SLASH. Two rogues fell.
CRASH. The paladin's shield shattered.
THUD. Darius was sent flying into a tree, unconscious before he hit the bark.
It took less than a minute. Thirteen players. Zero survivors.
[Kill Streak: 14]
[Points Updated.]
When the dust settled, Elian stood alone in the center of the clearing, surrounded by the digital particles of the defeated players.
[Time's Up.]
[Elimination Round Over.]
[Block C Results:]
1. Elian (Points: 240)
2. Valen
3. Jax
...
Elian sheathed his sword. He didn't look back at Valen or Seraphina. He couldn't.
"See you in the finals," he whispered, as the teleportation light consumed him.