The Kobold King: "This is despair? No, no—this is mercy."
Skills
Might: Allows two-handed weapons to be wielded with one hand, though the weapon's category remains unchanged.
Weapon Slot Expansion 2: Increases the number of equippable weapons. Cannot be acquired without first obtaining Weapon Slot Expansion.
Taste: Enables the user to discern the name and details of consumed food items. Higher proficiency reveals more information, even for rare items.
Items
Garm Clan Handaxe: A handaxe bestowed only upon high-ranking warriors of the noble Garm wolfmen among beastkin. Infused with the power of lightning, its weight belies its deceptively modest appearance, a testament to its storied achievements.
Dwarf's Staff: A staff given to students of Sandriana's prestigious magical academy. Lacking special abilities, it's crafted for basic spellcasting. Though inexpensive, it's a storied item wielded by many great mages who studied in that land.
Viscous Honey: Honey gathered by killer bees, rich and delectable. Its taste, however, robs people of reason, intoxicating them. Long ago, a king, enthralled by this honey, descended into madness and brought his kingdom to ruin.
Grizzly is dead. I killed him. As his remnants shatter into crimson-black light, I watch impassively, then break into a sprint, leaving Sinon behind. To save her, I burned through stamina with a reckless combo of Rabbit Dash and Grind Bear—two sword skills that pushed me to the edge of collapse. My stamina's in the red, but if I don't give everything now, annihilation awaits. My death awaits.
The Kobold King must have seen through my plan. Gone is his leisurely spectator mode; with no one left to stand in his way, he moves to slaughter us all.
"Not so fast," a voice cuts through. "I can't let you interfere with him."
Smith steps in front of the Kobold King, jamming the muzzle of his reloaded rifle into the festering wound on the beast's abdomen. A deafening shot erupts, tearing through rotting flesh.
The Kobold King roars in agony, but before The Skull Reaper—the parasitic horror fused to his back—can strike Smith, a blur of crimson streaks up the king's spine. It's Eagle Eye, the last survivor of ZOO, his trademark brimmed hat unmistakable. Wielding a curved sword in his right hand and a rapier in his left, he unleashes a terrifying flurry of strikes, confounding both the Kobold King and The Skull Reaper. Seizing the moment, Smith slashes with his scimitar, then snipes the camera-like laser emitters of approaching ball-shaped robots with pinpoint accuracy, barely aiming.
Smith read my intentions and chose to buy time against the Kobold King—the best move in this chaos. And Eagle Eye, fearless in his assault, deserves my respect.
Another player shatters into crimson-black light. A coward who fled to the boss room's edge, only to be swarmed by ball robots and obliterated in a hail of lasers. His screams echo as I charge toward another player, one wielding a battle axe like mine, barely holding off three others.
"Don't come near me! Stay back!" he shrieks, spitting in terror. He must've seen Grizzly's fate.
"Relax," I mutter. "Your HP's fine. You won't die from limb loss." Ducking under his wild axe swing, I slice through his left elbow, severing the forearm.
He's STR-focused, no doubt—still swinging that battle axe one-handed with ease. He brings it down, but I parry with a horizontal strike, redirecting its path. A trick I learned from Dark Rider. As his axe embeds in the floor, I cleave his right arm at the shoulder.
"Three left," I count.
Meanwhile, Smith and Eagle Eye wage war against the Kobold King. But the king's aggro is fixed on me. No amount of hate management changes that.
The Kobold King slices a candelabra and hurls it my way. I brake hard, dodging the direct hit, but the debris scatters like shrapnel, slamming into me. My HP drops by a tenth—manageable.
Next, I face two parasitized players: one with a sword and shield, the other a tank with a greatshield and spear. Shields mean nothing; they're puppets, moving on auto-attack. Predictable.
I deflect the tank's spear with my battle axe, then twist to dodge the sword-wielder's strike. But they're learning—or maybe their fear's overriding the parasite's control. The sword-wielder's kick sends my axe flying.
He smirks, thinking he's won. "Don't grin like you're the enemy," I growl. "You're just a puppet."
"No use, though."
Catching my airborne axe with a reverse grip, I duck low and sever the sword-wielder's right ankle with a single swing. Fumble Catch—a system-exploiting skill pioneered by that guy in SAO. A weapon dropped in combat enters a fumble state, disarming the user, but if caught mid-air within three seconds, it's as if it never left your hand. A gamble, but it works in DBO too.
I kick the fallen sword-wielder, then circle behind the sluggish tank, slicing off his shield-bearing wrist. He screams, thrusting his spear wildly. I slip inside his guard, land an elbow strike to stagger him, and hack off his remaining arm at the elbow. Neutralized.
The sword-wielder's HP was already low. As someone rushes with a hemostatic bandage, limb-loss damage claims him, and he shatters into crimson-black light.
"One left."
The Kobold King swings a steel beam, trying to pin Eagle Eye, who dodges with agility rivaling The Flash. His curved sword parries The Skull Reaper's scythe-like forelimbs, matching that guy's reflexes. Smith, unbelievably, uses the ball robots as stepping stones, fighting in three dimensions like I did against Dark Rider, pumping bullets into the Kobold King's head.
Sinon, fresh from recovery, dives into close-quarters combat—a death sentence for archers—landing every arrow into the Kobold King's right wrist. The cumulative damage forces him to drop his talwar.
The final parasitized player looms over Diavel, who's frozen, staring at the spot where Dire Wolf fell. A two-handed sword is raised, ready to end him.
Not on my watch. With Rabbit Dash, I close the distance, deflect the killing blow, and grab the player's throat, slamming him to the ground.
"Guh!?" he croaks, like a crushed frog.
I pin him with a foot to his chest, severing both elbows. That's the last one. Pulling a hemostatic bandage from my inventory, I toss it to Rayfox, who glares at me as she approaches.
"You monster! You killed two of them!" she cries.
"Shut it. I didn't have a better plan. Deal with it." I turn to Diavel. "Hey, Diavel."
His hollow gaze meets mine. The strength, the sharp intellect, the charismatic smile—they're gone. If this is your true face, I've got nothing to say. No judgment, no lecture.
Just one thing.
"I'll wait for you. Catch up."
You'll rise again. You're not like me—a worthless bastard. You're the knight everyone admires, the hero they want to fight beside.