Chapter 77: Victory

Words : 1039 Updated : Sep 21st, 2025

But the moment that pressure hits him, his spell fizzles. His heart pounds erratically. His breath catches in his throat. "W-What...?" The soldiers don't even realize what they are doing. They are not strong enough to manifest the Finger of the Death God skill yet. But their combined focus, their singular intent to kill, is enough to project its presence. They feel it. Something vast. Something watching. The adventurers on the ladders hesitate. The mage stumbles backward. The defenders... grin. They lunge forward, cutting down the enemies, knocking ladders over, sending adventurers to their deaths. The mage, shaking, tries to cast again. But now— A soldier drops from the wall above. He lands behind him, sword already swinging. The mage barely registers the attack before his head is severed from his shoulders. His body drops. The battle rages on, but the tide is turning. The adventurers feel it. This is no ordinary army. And they are losing. The battle rages on for an hour. The clash of steel, the screams of the dying, and the thunder of spells fill the battlefield. The once-confident adventurers are losing. Their morale is crumbling like the corpses piling around them. They were supposed to be the hunters. They were supposed to be the stronger ones. Yet now, their bodies shake. Their hands tremble. They have never fought something like this. The soldiers—no, the monsters turned warriors—move with unnatural unity. Their presence, their killing intent, their very existence on the battlefield exerts a crushing pressure. It's as if they are no longer individuals. They are one. And the adventurers are breaking. Derek gasps for breath, his arms aching, bleeding. His once-pristine armor is now cracked and soaked in his own blood. Nyssara is injured too—cuts along her exoskeleton, black ichor dripping from wounds—but she stands firm. Her eight crimson eyes glow in the dim light. Derek grits his teeth. He refuses to die here. "Not bad, monster..." he mutters, wiping the blood from his lips. "But I ain't going down yet." Nyssara tilts her head, amused. "You're already dead. You just don't realize it yet." She moves. Derek barely raises his axe before her blade-legs pierce through his shoulder. "AGH—!" He stumbles back, his body screaming in agony. But Nyssara doesn't stop. She lunges, claws flashing. Derek swings wildly, desperate, but Nyssara ducks beneath the strike, her leg sweeping out. CRACK! Derek's knee snaps. He collapses, screaming. Nyssara looms over him, her blade-legs dripping with his blood. "You're finished," she whispers. Derek's vision blurs. He looks up at the sky, his breath ragged. He lost. The battlefield is nearly silent now. The adventurers have fallen. Their strongest warriors—**Derek, Marik, Joran, Gavin—**all dead. The defenders stand tall, wounded but victorious. Meanwhile, across the battlefield, the final duel rages. Sorin and Grath stand amidst the bodies of the fallen. The battlefield around them is chaos—fire, steel, and blood—but in this moment, nothing else exists. Only the two of them. Grath grips his greatsword tightly. Blood drips from a deep gash in his thigh, but his eyes burn with determination. He sneers at Sorin, who stands before him, dagger in hand, her form barely swaying despite her wounds. Her blackened armor is torn, revealing deep lacerations across her arms and stomach. Blood stains the fabric, but her slitted eyes remain cold and focused. "I wanted you to become my slaves, but I didn't think you would be this strong," Grath says, rolling his shoulders. "But this ends now." Sorin doesn't respond. She simply adjusts her stance, her dagger gleaming ominously under the battlefield's fading light. Grath exhales sharply and activates his strongest skill. "Executioner's Judgement!" A crimson aura explodes around him, his greatsword radiating a deathly glow. The sheer force of the skill warps the air around him, sending a shockwave through the battlefield. The ground cracks beneath his feet. Sorin tenses. Grath surges forward, his sword swinging in an arc meant to cleave her in two. She dodges—barely. The blade cuts through empty space, but the sheer force tears into her side. Blood bursts from the wound. "Gh—!" Sorin staggers, gritting her teeth. Grath doesn't give her a moment to recover. He pivots, slamming his armored fist into her stomach. THUD! The impact sends her flying, her body crashing against the corpse-ridden ground. Coughing, Sorin pushes herself up, her dagger still clutched in her trembling hand. Her vision blurs for a moment, but she forces herself to focus. She won't die here. "Stay down, monster," Grath growls, walking toward her, his greatsword raised for the final strike. Sorin's grip tightens around her dagger. Not yet. Grath swings. And in that split second—Sorin moves. Faster than she ever has before. Her dagger hums, the runes along its edge glowing a deep crimson. "Death Requiem." The dagger's Tier 4 skill. A shadowy mist erupts from the blade, wrapping around Grath like a reaper's embrace. "What—?!" Grath's eyes widen. His body locks in place for a mere instant. But that's all Sorin needs. She twists, her dagger flashing forward. SHNK. The blade plunges into Grath's throat. His breath catches. His greatsword falls from his grip, clattering to the ground. His hands reach up, grasping at the dagger buried in his flesh, as if refusing to believe it. His legs wobble. His lips part, blood spilling out. "You..." he rasps, his voice a horrified whisper. "How do you... have two... Tier 4 skills...?" Sorin leans in close, her golden eyes staring into his fading ones. "You humans always underestimate us." With a final push, she twists the dagger. Grath gurgles. Then— His body collapses. Dead. Sorin stands over him, breathing heavily, her dagger dripping with his blood. The final battle is over. And the monsters have won. For a moment, silence hangs over the battlefield. Then— "Sir Grath is dead!" The panicked scream cuts through the chaos like a blade. An adventurer stumbles back, his face pale with terror as he watches Grath's lifeless body collapse onto the blood-soaked ground. His voice cracks as he repeats, "Sir Grath is dead! He's really dead!"

Chapter 77: Victory

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