My stamina's critical, tears icon flashing. Sinon and Smith are likely the same.
"Hmph. My limit, it seems. It's up to you," Smith says, driving his scimitar into the king's chest before staggering away.
It's just me and Sinon. The Kobold King's HP is at 70% of the final bar. It's a coin toss if we can finish him.
But the great beastman king's spirit doesn't waver. Spilling blood and drool, he switches to precise, sword-like thrusts with the beam, synced with The Skull Reaper.
I kick Sinon clear of the onslaught. The exploding floor chips away at my HP. That's his plan—knowing he can't land direct hits, he's using collateral damage.
My HP falls below 30%. I hook my war pick into his chest wound, tearing it wider before retreating.
"Kicking me? No other way?" Sinon snaps.
"It saved you, didn't it?" I retort.
"I'm not thanking you."
Sinon's HP is low too—my kick wasn't fast enough to spare her the debris damage.
But the Kobold King's intelligence is uncanny, his gaze almost alive, brimming with ego and intent. A true lifeform. I can't deny it. That's why this moment, this fight, makes me feel alive.
"I'm the hunter. The taker. The devourer. By my blood, I won't lose. I can't lose!"
War pick in hand, I face the Kobold King. He roars, raising the beam high.
In a fleeting clash, amidst pelting debris, I dodge the beam's fatal strike, using it as a platform to climb. I drive my war pick into his left eye, tearing through.
The Skull Reaper's remaining scythe meets me, but on the king's shoulder, I parry, slipping my war pick between its bony segments.
"Farewell. Thanks for everything."
I bid my war pick goodbye. Triggering Impact Smash, a single-strike hammer skill, with the weapon lodged in The Skull Reaper's spine-like body.
Forcing a sword skill with a stuck weapon? The result is destruction. The war pick's handle snaps, shattering entirely, but it halves The Skull Reaper's body.
As dust swirls, Sinon, already airborne via a candelabra, seizes the moment. Her Lens Flow arrow skill, a spinning green-glowing shot, pierces The Skull Reaper's exposed wound, igniting it. The parasite burns away from the midsection.
But our limits hit. My vision blurs red, lungs crushed by exhaustion. Sinon stumbles, failing to land.
This should be the Kobold King's chance, but he can't attack.
A rain of arrows falls. Players encircle him from beyond the beam's reach, forming a wall.
Sinon and I knew. Behind us, victory was already set, independent of us. That's why we pushed ourselves to the brink.
"Worth the wait, Diavel," I mutter.
Δ Δ Δ
Three minutes. Too long, Diavel berates himself.
It took 180 seconds to rally survivors, restore calm, clear fodder enemies, and reform ranks. Those seconds were bought by just four players.
Raising Red Rose with a twist, Diavel silently mourns.
He feels the regrets of the fallen, the laments of those trapped in this game, lost before reaching this point. Even if it's his own delusion, he bears it.
The Kobold Lord's HP is below half a bar. His only weapon is the beam, but its one-hit-kill power is untouchable—none of the remaining players can close in.
Thus, the strategy: encircle and whittle him down with ranged attacks. But arrows will run dry first.
Yet, they're not out of options. This is a calculated choice, avoiding unnecessary risks.
A crimson light swirls around Red Rose, like a blooming rose.
"I'll win. Not just for me—for everyone. For my comrades who fought beside me. For all players!"
The crimson light intensifies, a storm converging into the sword. Without Diavel's STR investment, the raging blade would've slipped from his grasp.
His eyes meet the Kobold Lord's. Not the blank stare of an AI, but a living gaze, burning with emotion and will.
"I am Illfang, the Kobold Lord! King of the Kobolds! In death, I face forward and die—until my final moment!"
Fearless of the players' onslaught, the Kobold Lord charges, as if racing down a path to a glorious end. He breaks the encirclement, beam raised, embodying a king's unyielding pride.
Magnificent. Diavel respects the great beastman king. He comes to kill with all his might, a relic of a rotting past, yet true to this death game's brutal courtesy.
But Diavel won't accept this game. Red Rose, at the peak of its convergence, unleashes with its raging crimson light.
Red Rose's hidden ability: Overed Sword Skill, Red Tempest. It consumes the sword's durability and Diavel's stamina in one devastating strike.
A massive crimson blade of light erupts, shattering the floor as it clashes with the Kobold Lord's beam. The beam snaps, and the light cleaves through his rotting flesh.
Bisected vertically, Illfang, the Kobold Lord, smiles in satisfaction—a tribute to all warriors here, to the Blue Knight.
With that, he dissolves into a torrent of crimson-black light.
"Great beastman king, this time, it's my victory. Mine—and my comrades'."
As stamina depletion pulls him forward, Diavel clutches the fading crimson-black light, smiling.