The sky above turned a deep crimson hue, and then the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
From every corner of the death-ridden battlefield, across blood-drenched grass and shattered buildings, a single sound resonated like the echo of a god's voice.
> [ Hello, players. ]
The words dropped like boulders in the minds of the survivors—deep, aged, heavy with power and finality.
Yamino was standing at the edge of a ruined cliffside, his black-and-red cloak fluttering in the wind, his body still drenched with the dried blood of the thousands he had slaughtered in his ten-day rampage. His soul body pulsed faintly with grim energy, still burning from the last kill. But the moment the voice echoed, his expression stilled.
He wasn't the only one who looked up.
Across the fractured lands, from high ridges to cave dens, 200 remaining players stopped what they were doing and turned to the sky. Some huddled with allies, others stood alone. Many were heavily injured, worn from endless battles. A few still smiled, bloodthirsty in their solitude.
One seraphborn—his skin pale and eyes golden—sat lazily on a mountain of corpses. His wings were blackened and torn, but a wicked grin danced on his face. His fingers dripped with the fresh ichor of his enemies. He gazed up with interest.
The voice returned.
> [ The final round will now begin. All remaining 200 players, please take note. This is the endgame. ]
The air shimmered. Something invisible shifted—rules rewriting themselves in the air like code on a cosmic screen.
> [ In this round, there will be just five rules. ]
Silence followed. A beat passed, as though the universe itself waited.
> [ Rule One: You may take back one power that originally belonged to you. Choose carefully. ]
[ Rule Two: You can use that power as the foundation to develop new ones. ]
[ Rule Three: If you defeat another player, you will gain a temporary copy of their power until the game ends. ]
[ Rule Four: You cannot die for real during this round—death is temporary, and elimination is based only on failure to meet conditions. ]
[ Rule Five: You must form a pact with one of the descending weapons. Failure to make contact within one hour will result in instant elimination. ]
As the final rule echoed through the world, the red sky cracked open.
Like stars falling from the heavens, thousands of weapons began descending at terrifying speeds. Each one glowed with a unique aura. Some burned with fire. Some shimmered like ice. Others pulsed with corruption, death, or divine light.
Gloves that roared with beastly hunger. Swords humming with ancient runes. Spears of light and daggers of shadow. Shields forged from dragon scales. Bows carved from soulwood. Axes that howled in madness.
It was a storm of arsenals—gifts from the system, each awaiting a wielder.
---
Yamino's Choice
Yamino's body tensed the moment the first rule was spoken.
He didn't hesitate—he tried to reach for Solo King first, willing it back with a mental command so strong the ground beneath him cracked.
But nothing came.
Instead, the system replied coldly in his mind:
> [ Solo King is sealed. Cannot be selected. Please choose another. ]
His brows furrowed. But there was no time to hesitate.
> [ Sovereign of Beasts – Eligible. Do you accept? ]
He inhaled. "Yes."
The moment he confirmed it, a surge of wild, primal power returned to him, more feral than before. But it wasn't quite the same.
> [ Due to your current race (Shinigami), your skill 'Sovereign of Beasts' has evolved. ]
[ New Skill: Sovereign of Grim Beasts. ]
[ Class Type: Sovereign-Level ]
He staggered forward slightly as the power settled into his bones—this wasn't just about summoning or controlling beasts anymore. The beasts he would call now were born of death, stitched together by souls and grim energy, corrupted and strengthened by his Shinigami nature. They howled inside him, waiting for release.
At that moment, twenty weapons blazed down from the sky—aimed directly at him.
Most people were lucky if one or two came near.
But Yamino stood still, his hands open, his soul burning like a black sun.
Gloves of obsidian metal thudded at his feet. A bow, glistening with dark green veins, landed just a few meters away. A massive spear slammed into the earth and sent shockwaves in all directions. Dual swords hovered before him, then clanged into the ground in a perfect X. Pistols of refined deathsteel pulsed with red glyphs.
Each weapon bore the mark of a king—etched faintly with the same symbol that glowed on Yamino's back.
He stepped toward the weapons.
> [ Do you wish to form pacts with these weapons? Choose wisely—multiple pacts may split your soul's power. ]
Yamino's lips curled slightly.
"I'm not here to share. I'll take them all."
He extended his hand and touched the gloves first. They shimmered with beast essence.
> [ Pact formed: Grim Beast Gauntlets ]
One by one, he touched the rest—each weapon accepting him with no resistance. It was unnatural. As if they knew him already. As if they had been waiting for him.
> [ Pact formed: Grim Vein Bow ]
[ Pact formed: Phantom Spear of Erosion ]
[ Pact formed: Twin Deathblades – Left: Maw | Right: Howl ]
[ Pact formed: Reaper's Fang Pistols ]
> [ Warning: Forming more than five pacts will place strain on your soul. Continue? ]
He hesitated.
"No. Five is enough… for now."
The weapons hummed, then vanished into his soul-space—ready to be summoned at will.
---
Elsewhere
Across the battlefield, others were scrambling.
Some were weeping with joy as they regained long-lost skills. Others screamed in horror when no weapons approached them.
A few formed alliances on the spot, joining hands beneath the falling blades. Others killed those nearby just to get first contact.
The seraphborn on the corpse mountain was laughing, his golden eyes gleaming with madness.
"So the end begins," he whispered, spreading his decayed wings. "Let's see what kind of king you are, Reaper."
---
Yamino looked up.
His face was calm now. His soul had stopped pulsing. The wind grew still around him.
This wasn't rage. This wasn't madness.
It was clarity. Cold and final.
He spoke only four words.
"Let the hunt begin."