System Reminder: You've killed a red player.
<< +500,000 SQP >>
"For you to take down the Red Assassin so effortlessly... you're definitely not as simple as you look," said one of the Red Players, both hands gripping a pair of curved sabers with a sharp gleam in his eyes.
Malik pouted, staggering slightly as if the ground itself was trying to leave him behind. "What were you thinking, exactly? That someone like me would be... simple?" His voice was thick with mockery and wine, eyes half-lidded with a tipsy haze.
System Warning: Due to the unstable condition of the body, the refining process keeps failing. The toxic substance is starting to take effect.
"Of course you're not simple," the Red Player chuckled grimly. "So why don't you tell me your name—so I can remember the name of the expert I'll be killing with my saber today?"
"My name...?" Malik slurred, leaning back further as though balancing on a ledge only he could see. "Now why in the world would I do that? I'm famous, y'know. Especially in Black Moon Kingdom. Got a bounty on my head and everything. Can't just go handing out my name to strangers—I don't trust you guys."
The Red Player's brows twitched.
'A bounty on his head... he sounds drunk out of his mind. This is going to be easy.'
"You must really be someone then," another Red Player chimed in. "Where exactly are you from?"
"Green Leaf Town..." Malik began, but then his face twisted.
"Hugh—!"
Without warning, he threw up, eyes rolling slightly as his body staggered forward like a puppet with half-cut strings.
"This is it. Our chance..."
The red players didn't even need to speak aloud; the same bloodthirsty thought ran through every one of their minds as they surrounded Malik like wolves sensing a limping deer.
His eyes fluttered, his knees bent slightly, the wine jar in his hand almost slipped from his fingers—but in the nick of time, he snapped back and caught it. With a quick twist, he uncapped it and raised it to his lips, guzzling it down like a parched traveler at a desert spring.
"Bastard! I'll make you acknowledge our presence!" barked a Tier 0 player, activating [Charge] as he shot toward Malik with a bloodthirsty roar.
Just as he got in range, his sword lashed out like a silver flash, aimed directly at Malik's neck—
But with a motion as lazy as a drunken yawn, Malik lifted his dagger and blocked the strike without even turning his head.
"Wha—?!"
The Red Player's confidence cracked. He pulled back and came at Malik from another angle, switching tactics. But before he could land a second strike, Malik's dagger shot forward, plunging through the air and directly into his stomach.
A heartbeat later, his HP hit zero.
His body slumped, then dissolved into glimmering fragments, leaving his loot behind.
System Reminder: You've killed a red player.
<< +500,000 SQP >>
"Hm? What are these shinies?" Malik muttered with a lopsided grin, nudging the dropped loot with the tip of his boot. "Are they for me?"
His casual tone, drunken as it was, hit the Red Players like a hammer. The sight of a second instant kill made their morale take a steep nosedive. Even Ember Sword, the group's confident leader, couldn't help but narrow his eyes with a hint of dread.
"He's drunk, or poisoned—or both," Ember Sword whispered to a nearby Tier 1 player. "Red Assassin said he drank three jars of undiluted wine. If we rush him all at once, we can bring him down."
The dual-saber wielder nodded grimly. "I was thinking the same thing."
He raised his blades toward Malik and shouted, "Listen up, troops! We own Blackroot City! That treasure over there is ours! Let's take it back!"
"YAH YAY!"
Their morale surged once more as they charged Malik from all sides, red names and killing intent lighting up the battlefield like wildfire.
A magic array flared to life beneath Malik's feet—an immobilization spell cast by a Red Mage using a Tier 1 scroll. Malik froze in place, the array locking him for ten whole seconds.
"Melee attack—NOW!" the saber-wielder roared.
Swordsmen and berserkers pounced, unleashing their strongest skills. Damage numbers exploded above Malik's head as if he were a training dummy—
But the man didn't flinch. Not even when the wine kept sloshing into his mouth with each savage blow.
"Damn! His defense is too high! Rangers!" the saber wielder shouted.
A flurry of arrows whistled in from all directions.
-1000
-1200
-900
-1000
Malik's HP rapidly dropped. Within seconds, it was down to just 20%.
Suddenly, a Tier 1 Berserker leapt into the air, raising his flaming greatsword.
"FIRE SLASH!"
Blazing flames erupted along the blade's length as it came crashing down on Malik's head like a divine hammer. It slammed into his body, heating up his insides and dealing 15% HP damage. Malik staggered backward, the jar finally empty.
He stared at it with pure heartbreak in his eyes.
"Oh no... my sweet wine..." he whimpered.
Even the Red Players were confused.
"What kind of reaction is that?"
"Enough with the drama. It's time to die," snarled the Berserker, activating [Charge] and closing the gap in an instant. His greatsword shot forward, aimed to impale Malik right through the stomach.
But Malik wasn't even paying attention.
His eyes locked onto something in the sky—a jar spinning in mid-air.
"My sweet wine!"
Without a second thought, Malik jumped, catching the jar like a child catching a falling balloon. In doing so, he unknowingly dodged the fatal strike from the Berserker.
He twisted open the new jar, completely ignoring the battlefield, and started drinking again like nothing else mattered.
A Red Archer, frustrated and furious, let loose an arrow that punctured the jar mid-gulp, shattering it before Malik could finish.
The precious wine spilled onto the ground like liquid gold.
"My wine... my wine... my wine..." Malik murmured, staring at the puddle with soul-crushing sadness. His voice was the cry of a man whose heart had been shattered, not by blades, but by loss.
"Now, DIE!" roared the Berserker again, using [Charge] once more. He appeared before Malik, greatsword raised high—then brought it crashing down on his neck.
CLANG!
Malik raised a single hand—and caught the blade with his bare palm.
The strike stopped cold.
The Berserker's eyes bulged.
'What the hell? I—I can't move. His face... Why does he look like that now?!'
Malik's face was twisted in fury. No longer drunk, no longer dizzy. His gaze alone could freeze blood. The air around him thickened, suffocating.
System Alert: Your rage has hastened the refining process. The toxic substance has been nullified. Poison resistance increased by 10%.
Due to your love of drinking wine, you've earned the title: [Drunken Master].
Effect: When equipped, boosts all stats by 50% while in a drunken state.
Note: Only two titles can be equipped at once.
Equip title?
"Yes," Malik said through clenched teeth.
Instantly, his HP leapt from 5% back to 50%, a surge of vitality flooding his veins.
Before the stunned players could react, Malik's fist clenched—
—and like thunder falling from the heavens, it smashed into the Berserker's head.
BOOM!
The Berserker exploded into glowing fragments, leaving behind only his loot as the battlefield fell into a stunned silence.
Malik stood in the center, jar pieces at his feet, fire in his eyes.
And the Red Players?
They had just awakened the Drunken Master.