The battle on the outer ring had come to an end.
The dim glow of lingering combat effects faded away, swallowed by the darkness blanketing the camp.
The acrid scent of smoke and scorched metal still clung to the air, a grim reminder of the massacre that had just unfolded.
Most of the Forest Elf warriors here had been wiped out by the combined assault of the two guilds.
Their slender bodies lay sprawled across the damp earth, shattering into fragments of crimson data mixed with shimmering silver dust.
Ren panted heavily, sweat streaking across his dirt-stained cheeks, his sword trembling faintly from the relentless strikes he had unleashed.
He had just helped a nearby group of players finish off the last few stragglers, cutting them down before they could launch a desperate counterattack. The interface before his eyes flashed with EXP notifications, but Ren barely paid attention.
Because now, every gaze was drawn to a single point, the very heart of the camp, where the clash of steel still roared like thunder.
There, the ground had been ripped and scarred beyond recognition. Stone pillars lay shattered, craters carved deep by blade auras marred the battlefield, and clouds of dust coiled beneath the pale gray moonlight.
Two figures collided like blazing stars, every strike igniting bursts of dazzling sparks that made the very air tremble.
On one side stood the Forest Elf Knight, silver armor gleaming under the night, his sword arcs graceful yet laced with lethal intent.
Opposing him was the Dark Elf warrior, clad in black armor tinged with violet, long hair whipping with every fierce movement, the colossal blade in her hands like a fragment of shadow seeking to devour all light.
The duel of the two strongest, this was the true climax of the war, unfolding before their very eyes.
Why only two? Aizen had long withdrawn from the battlefield, surrendering the bloodstained stage lights to Kizmel, whose eyes still blazed with an unquenchable fire of vengeance.
He stood at the edge of the carnage, beneath the charred remains of trees, hand clenched around his sword's hilt, yet unmoving.
Not out of fear...but as though he understood this battle belonged to her alone. A battle of honor. A debt no one else could repay.
Before him, the fierce clash between the Dark Elf knight and her foe surged toward its end.
Their forms were twin shadows wreathed in flame, locked in a storm of steel, their bodies scarred and bleeding from countless wounds. Even though the blood was no more than scarlet pixels, it painted a tragic mural against the night.
Falconer, the Forest Elf knight was being pushed back. The gleaming metallic wings adorning his back had lost their luster, each once-pristine feather shattering and drifting down like shards of broken glass before dissolving midair.
Every breath he took stretched an eternity, while Kizmel, though exhausted, gripped her sword as if pouring every last fragment of life into its edge.
At last, she gathered all her remaining strength into a sweeping horizontal strike. The blade erupted in light, drenched in a deep violet radiance so thick it seemed to drag the night down upon the earth.
Her sword carved a cruel arc through the darkness, followed by the chilling screech of shattering steel.
Two objects spun high into the air, Falconer's severed left arm, still twitching in its final instant, and the broken halves of his sundered blade.
Blood burst into scarlet pixels, scattering like shards of stained glass beneath the infernal glow, before vanishing into nothingness.
Falconer collapsed to his knees, legs trembling as if all strength had been drained away.
His wide, wild eyes locked on the fragment of his blade clattering to the ground with a piercing clang, the death knell of his fate.
Kizmel exhaled slowly, her expression an icy mask, her figure a war goddess cast in stone against the inferno raging behind her.
She twisted her wrist with elegant precision, pressing her glowing blade against his throat.
"Now…" her voice dipped, cold as the night wind sweeping across the bloodstained field, "do you have any last words before you die?"
The Forest Elf knight hunched in the ashen dirt, surrounded by blazing tents, the fire reflected in his eyes like a private hell.
His right hand still clutched the broken hilt, crimson dripping to the cold, cracked earth before shattering like glass blossoms.
"No… no… no…" the hoarse whisper slipped from his lips, swelling into a guttural roar of despair, "Impossible!"
His teeth ground until blood seeped through, his once-cunning face now twisted, warped like a beast driven into a corner.
"I… I will never… lose to wretches like you!" he howled toward the crimson-stained heavens, voice ragged, splintered, a creature raging against fate in futile defiance.
"DAMN YOU AHHHHHHHHH!"
"And Kibaou…", At that moment, from the distance, the remaining players converged upon the smoldering ruins of the camp. Every eye bore witness to Falconer's downfall.
Lind stepped forward, his voice heavy. "Do you think… the Elves… are all like them?"
Kibaou sat slumped on the charred earth, eyes lifting to the smoke-stained sky. He turned his head slightly, bloodshot eyes glinting faintly. "Huh? Like… what do you mean?"
"I mean…" Lind hesitated, his gaze wavering as though he himself could scarcely believe what he was about to say. "These NPCs… do they have real intelligence? Real emotions? Didn't you see? They act… too much like humans."
The words fell into a silence thick as ash. Only the crackle of fire and the soft collapse of burning timbers broke the stillness.
Kibaou frowned and spat on the ground. "They're just lines of code. So what if the AI's more advanced? It's just there to trick us."
"Trick us?" This time, the reply didn't come from Lind, but from someone else.
Ren.
He stepped out from the crowd of players, his sapphire-blue eyes reflecting the glow of the flames.
His gaze swept past Kibaou, then lingered on Lind, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips, a smile with an unreadable meaning.
"So… you're only realizing that now?"
Lind's brows furrowed slightly. "What do you mean by that?"
Ren shrugged, his voice slow, savoring each word. "There are things humans always believe to be fake… until they start to hurt...just like the real thing."
Kibaou's eyes sank a little, while Lind kept staring at Ren, saying nothing.
In the distance, the wind howled through the scorched treetops, carrying embers spiraling into the night sky. And for that fleeting moment, no one could be certain, what was a person, what was a character, what was just an illusion.
"You guys sure are gutsy, though." Ren finally spoke again, his tone flat as still water but with a trace of mockery. His eyes drifted over each of them, slowly, as if weighing something.
"Attacking other players without even sending a duel request…"
He tilted his head, pointing at the names floating above them. "Look. Beautiful, isn't it? Bright yellow all the way. Lucky for you, it doesn't matter too much. Just means a few areas in town will be off-limits."
The faces of the remaining players froze all at once, as if someone had splashed them with cold water.
It wasn't until now that they noticed the yellow hue marking their names. Both leaders could only slap their foreheads and let out a helpless sigh.
"But… who are you, anyway?" Lind finally spoke up, his eyes fixed on Ren. For an instant, he felt a faint sense of familiarity, as though he'd seen this person somewhere before...but the harder he tried to grasp it, the further it slipped away.
A circle of curious eyes locked onto Ren. The air grew heavy.
"Who else could it be? Ren, obviously. You guys blind or something?" A familiar voice rang out from behind, making everyone jump. Kirito had appeared out of nowhere.
Suspicious looks darted between Kirito and Ren. A few players began whispering among themselves, trying to piece together fragments of scattered information.
Ren glanced at them all, the corner of his lips curling in a lazy smirk. "Don't look at me like you've just run into some rare monster."
Some of them looked like they wanted to say more, but the thought quickly evaporated.
In their minds still lingered a distorted image, that Ren had to be some imposing figure, exuding strength, or at least radiating that cold, seasoned aura of an experienced player.
After all, he had shown flawless skill during the desperate battle with the first-floor boss.
But reality… was nothing like what they imagined.
And then…
"Shut that filthy, disgusting mouth of yours."
The whole group jerked their heads to the side.
Falconer had collapsed to one knee on the cold stone ground, his entire body trembling. His head pressed low against the dirt as if clinging to his last breath, his remaining arm straining to raise a small dagger high above his head, a desperate reflex.
Opposite him, Kizmel stood tall, her gaze dark as a frozen lake.
The razor edge of her blade pointed straight at his throat, her voice dropping low, carrying a chill of merciless contempt:
"After everything you've done… you still dare to open your mouth and beg for mercy?"
Ren stood silent, eyes following their every move. He didn't truly understand the customs or the code of the Elves.
But just by looking into the raging fire burning in Kizmel's deep violet eyes, he could guess that Falconer's act was far from a simple plea for his life.
Surrender, perhaps, was not survival to them… but a disgrace worse than death.
His eyes flicked to Falconer's remaining arm, quivering under the gnawing pain, the tiny dagger gleaming in his grip, thickening the air with desperation.
But when Ren looked back at Kizmel's proud stance, he knew the ending would not change.
Because that man had not only betrayed trust… he was the one who stole her sister's life, along with countless comrades of the dark kin. Forgiving him… would be a betrayal to every soul that had fallen.