Chapter 58: The Hundred-Man Slayer

It is difficult for anyone to clearly say which side was the ultimate victor in the Battle of Dark Cloud Fortress. If one were to judge solely by the results at the time, the nearly thirty thousand troops of the Farvey Continent Allied Forces fought until the last moment, sacrificing almost their entire army to pin down the vastly superior forces of the Apocalypse Empire within the fortress. This gave the entire continental alliance a precious respite, allowing them to organize a deep defensive line. The “Star Knights”—an elite force arriving via large-scale teleportation magic—swept the enemy from the fortress and pursued the vanguard of the Apocalypse Empire for three days and nights, achieving results so brilliant that the entire continent was left in awe.

From a numerical standpoint alone, there is no doubt that the continental alliance won this battle.

However, despite the temporary advantage gained on the local front, with the full advance of the Apocalypse Empire’s main army, the alliance was forced to abandon the northeastern region—including Dark Cloud Fortress and four other strategic strongholds—just seven days later, withdrawing their defenses across the line. Thus, Emperor Darlenthil of the Apocalypse Empire claimed nearly two-fifths of the Farvey Continent with hardly any effort, instantly creating a continental landscape of two powers—“Empire” and “Alliance”—locked in rivalry and standing side by side.

The glorious battlefield that once claimed the blood and lives of heroes thus easily became a trophy in the enemy’s hands. From a higher strategic perspective, no matter how dazzling the achievements, nothing could mask this immense shame. Our adversary had every reason to boast that they, in fact, were the true victors of the battle.

What was somewhat surprising was that, after such a brutal conflict, the war did not escalate in a domino effect, drowning the continent in a sea of blood. Both sides seemed to have sensed the enemy’s tenacity and valor in this fierce clash, and neither dared to rashly reopen hostilities. Farvey Continent thus entered a rare period of tranquility. Apart from minor skirmishes in certain regions, the continent could still be described as peaceful.

Regardless of how false this war-shadowed peace was, or how oppressive the undercurrents beneath its calm surface might be, for those who had once fought life-and-death battles and managed to survive, they had every reason to stand leisurely under the sun, letting the bright spring light chase away the shadows of war and enjoy, if only temporarily, this rare calm.

“Have you heard…” Longbow Sunshot flipped a “Rock Arm Salamander” over with a staff, then cast a “Life Siphon” spell at its head, draining it dry into a shriveled specimen, before turning to us and saying, “…the folks on the Empire side are really unhappy with the result of the merged-server battle. They say we used the invincibility of the Paladins as a turtle tactic, calling us cheats.”

“That’s utter nonsense!” Bull Million exploded in rage, cursing loudly. “Paladins have low damage output, weak healing magic, lousy solo capability—can’t even kill a bug on their own, only relying on invincibility. Turtle tactic? Let’s see them try being turtles for once!”

He swung his Tauren Paladin’s pillar, and a “Razorclaw Swift Drake” let out a miserable cry, instantly falling with blood streaming from its head, proving with its fate that Bull Million’s “can’t even kill a bug” was, in fact, a false modesty.

In the battle at Dark Cloud Fortress, we managed to protect Colonel Rayleigh’s life within the mission time thanks to the heroic sacrifice of six Paladins. Though the battle had long ended and the situation was settled, the resulting arguments had not ceased.

The Apocalypse Empire’s people were dissatisfied, believing the Paladins’ “Holy Light Protection” to be the Supreme God Darimos’s excessive favoritism toward the intelligent life of Farvey Continent. Due to religious beliefs, residents of the Withered Lands could not become Paladins devoted to the Supreme God, and could only turn into Fallen Knights worshipping death and destruction, thus losing the protection of the Supreme God and the ability to use “Holy Light Protection.”

Before “Holy Light Protection” was broken, the spellcaster Paladin could not be harmed, so people called this spell “Invincibility.” The Empire folks thought relying on “Invincibility” to survive the last seconds of the mission was entirely unworthy of a knight’s combat spirit—a shameless “turtle” tactic with no honor.

Such claims were, of course, absurd. We had all witnessed those six Paladins’ courageous resolve and selfless spirit in battle—they were the most devout and loyal followers of the Supreme God. These six had become heroes of that battle, and admiration for them spread through our words and hearts. At our urging, the Church of Saint Darimos publicly recognized their great deeds, awarding them the title “Knights among Knights” and corresponding rewards.

Bull Million, one of the six “Knights among Knights,” was soon invited to the Saint Frederick Grand Temple in Holy City Fresheat to receive his honors and rewards. The Supreme God’s grace was generous; after a hefty cash reward, Bull Million received a prize that nearly drove him mad with joy: a solid, heavy obsidian pillar. Such odd “special weapons” could never be found in weapon shops, and we had never seen any monster wandering wild with a tree stump, so from level one until now, Bull Million had always used his original level-one wooden stake as his weapon. No matter how cool it looked, as a killing tool its attack power was severely limited.

This obsidian pillar had astonishing attributes: +125 attack, with a chance for crushing, stunning, and knockback effects; +50 defense and over 400 health, and obsidian’s magical properties increased Bull Million’s magic recovery speed by 5 per second.

Of course, such a massive stone weapon had its flaws: its weight reduced the attack frequency to once every 2.3 seconds. Luckily, Bull Million carried a magic crystal, “Kaplan’s Swift Heart,” which greatly compensated for his slow attack speed.

To honor the bravery and devotion of the six Paladins, the church engraved each gift with their names, marking the reward’s honor and uniqueness. Bull Million, with his tongue-twisting name as long as a scripture, forced the church craftsmen to practice micro-carving on the pillar. Fortunately, his choice of weapon was large enough; though the name was densely carved, not a single letter was missed. Had he chosen a smaller item—say, a pendant—even the Pope might have fainted from the effort of fitting his entire name.

A huge stone with one’s name carved on it—this always struck me as ominous, as if Bull Million was lugging his own tombstone onto the battlefield, making me worry for his future.

Yet Bull Million himself seemed oblivious to the unlucky omen. He proudly showed off the pillar to everyone he met.

“The war’s over. Let them say whatever they want…” I retrieved a rainbow vulture tail feather from a corpse, tossed it into my magic satchel, and comforted Bull Million. “…brooding here won’t help. There will be plenty of chances to show them real strength.”

“Exactly! Let’s show them what we’re made of!” Bull Million puffed his chest proudly, then hesitated before adding, “If we can’t beat them, I’ll go to their newbie village and kill their low-level characters!”

He nodded in earnest, actually considering how to carry out this inglorious plan.

Suddenly, I felt that the Empire’s accusations against Paladins weren’t entirely slander—at least for the one beside me, they were quite apt.

“I heard something else…” Longbow Sunshot spoke mysteriously—who knew where he got all his gossip. “The kill statistics for the merged-server battle have been released. First place is an Alliance Warrior, with about one hundred fifty-five or one hundred sixty kills. Second place didn’t even reach his leftover count…”

“Blowing smoke, are you? The battlefield lagged so badly and he still killed over a hundred? I fought for my life and only got twenty-something…” Bull Million scoffed at Sunshot’s rumor, adding, “…and then got killed over forty times…”

“Who’d make up nonsense just to tease you…” Longbow Sunshot tugged Bull Million’s tauren tail in jest. “…I didn’t believe it at first either. If it were an assassin sneaking around, maybe, but how could a Warrior kill so many with just melee? And the craziest part is, he didn’t die once. People suspected bugs or hacks, but the GM confirmed none were used during the battle.”

“Such results without hacks? Ask the GM if he believes it himself. In China, even poker games have hacks. If GMs are reliable, cows can climb trees. Tell me, what’s this guy’s name?” Bull Million’s face twisted in disdain.

“No one knows. He’s very low-key, never revealed his name.” Longbow Sunshot shook his head.

“Hmm, definitely suspicious. Either he’s the game company boss’s illegitimate son, or the GM’s secret lover. What normal player hides their ID?”

“Not necessarily. Maybe such a master really exists? You know, when the woods are big enough, you find all kinds of birds…” Sunshot was clearly a skeptic.

“Bah, if the woods are big enough, it’s not just birds, there are bird-men too!” Bull Million spit with indignation, his nostrils flaring like chimneys as he theatrically blasted a cloud of hot air.

He seemed quite pleased with his quip, and he and Sunshot broke into mischievous laughter.

“So… Geoffrey Ritz, what do you think?” After laughing, Sunshot turned to me. “…Without hacks, could a Warrior really achieve a hundred kills?”

“Uh… well… It wasn’t me… How would I know…” My heart skipped, cheeks flushed, and I stammered awkwardly.

“I know it wasn’t you…” My flustered reaction caught Sunshot’s eye, and he teased loudly: “…Look at you! If we weren’t friends, I’d suspect you were the killer—how funny, you just happen to be a Warrior too.”

“Really, it wasn’t me…” I scratched my head anxiously.

“Ah, Razorclaw Swift Drake—just one more for my quest!” Sunshot shouted and charged.

“Hey, that one’s mine! I still need three more…” Bull Million hefted his obsidian pillar and rushed after the startled drake.

Luckily, the drake appeared just then, saving me from the awkward situation. The rumor about the “hundred-kill Warrior” was true, and he hadn’t used hacks or bugs as Sunshot and Bull Million suspected (though I wasn’t entirely sure what those were). No one knew the details better than I did, for a reason my friends never imagined:

—That guy was me!

Yes, during that battle, I alone killed one hundred sixty-two Empire soldiers, including over seventy airborne fighters. When I saw the number, I was stunned—even in the frenzy of combat, no one counts their kills; after ending one life, you only focus your bloody gaze on the next unlucky foe. For me then, the number meant nothing—the only thing that mattered was defeating the enemy before me.

After the battle, I too received a letter from the Holy City. The religious leaders closest to the Supreme God wrote to commend my outstanding achievements, granting me the honorary title “Divine Punisher” and inviting me to Saint Frederick Grand Temple for a reward.

Upon receiving the invitation, I hesitated for a long time—by then, I realized how different my actions were from others. In battle, the omnipresent curse of “lag” had no effect on me; that advantage was the real reason my kill count dwarfed even the second-place warrior, whose total wasn’t even half mine. I knew if others learned I was the battlefield maniac who fought one against a hundred, I’d forever face strange looks, endless questions, and scrutiny. Sooner or later, I’d slip up and expose my special identity, becoming a monster in their eyes.

For a time, I wanted to forsake the honor, hide my name, and live a simple, obscure life.

But the lingering human greed and pettiness changed my mind. On a dark, moonless night, I went alone to Holy City Fresheat, circled the Grand Temple three times to ensure no one saw me, then sneaked inside to find the guard on duty. I felt nothing like a triumphant hero, but more like a thief, coming to steal an honor that perhaps was never truly mine.

Inside the temple, I was graciously received by Archbishop Ferrero—a vigorous, kindly elder who, without his red robe of honor and faith, would be indistinguishable from a loving grandfather. He first asked if I wished to reveal my name, a humane question so unexpected I was momentarily stunned. Without hesitation, I chose to hide my name, earning the archbishop’s praise and genuine approval for my modesty and humility—praise that made me blush.

He then personally handed me a tray with two hundred gold coins, and allowed me to choose one of three divinely blessed magical items.

I did not pick the magical war blade, though I most desired it. It was too exquisitely ornate, with a triple-pointed blade and a hilt inlaid with mithril, radiating rainbow brilliance—a clear sign it wasn’t acquired by ordinary means like leveling up or skinning chickens. I didn’t want its eye-catching appearance to bring trouble, nor to invent a lie for its origins, so I reluctantly turned it down.

For the same reason, I also passed up the unusual armor. In the end, I chose the stylish but not overly flashy black battle boots—the “Wind Spirit’s Footprints.”

The moment I held them, I knew I’d picked an extraordinary magical item: a pair of boots inlaid with heavy metal plates, granting an extra sixty defense, yet so light in hand I could barely feel them.

Besides defense, the boots gave me three hundred health, thirty-two agility, sixty-three strength, and a five percent movement speed bonus. More than that, the boots were blessed by Darimos’s favored, the guardian of travelers and messengers, the god of wind and speed, Dubisys—permanently granting a “Heroic Blink” skill that consumed no battle energy. This meant I could, like mages, use a directional movement technique, but unlike them, after “Heroic Blink,” my first strike would always be a critical hit.

This was meant to encourage warriors to attack bravely—launching a surprise assault from an unexpected distance, inflicting a devastating critical, and seizing the initiative. But upon seeing the skill, my mind immediately plotted how to use it to run away from fights. It was clear, for all its name, “Heroic Blink” would not be used for any heroics on my part.

Most astonishingly, the boots not only had superb attributes, but would continue to evolve as I leveled up. Every five levels, their bonuses would increase, with the possibility of new skills emerging. This was my first encounter with such a uniquely powerful item; though not world-shattering like legendary artifacts, they were already a rare treasure.

After donning the “Wind Spirit’s Footprints,” my greed and curiosity stirred, making me wonder about the attributes of the blade and the armor. Honestly, I felt regret—perhaps the other rewards were better, I thought to myself.

This was a foolish remorse born of desire, one I knew I’d never shake. No matter what I chose, I’d always regret it later—unless I knew from the outset exactly what consequences my choice would bring.

But then, there’d be no choice at all.

Such is life: we can only make our decisions in ignorance, and then validate them through action.

Looking back, we sometimes waver, hesitate, doubt our choices. “If only I had done this or that…” Many fall into such speculation, but ultimately lose the chance to prove their guesses, forced to walk the single road laid beneath their feet.

“Hurrah, I’ve killed enough drakes—quest complete!” Longbow Sunshot crowed triumphantly.

“Damn dwarf, you cheated! I’d already beaten it to a sliver of health and you sniped it with a ranged attack!” Bull Million raged.

“What’s the rush? You only need three more—I’ll help you finish the quest…” The Dwarven Priest, now a Devout, patted Bull Million’s tauren thigh—well, that’s all he could reach—in comfort.

“Get your hand off there…” Bull Million seethed.

“Oh? Sorry, it wasn’t on purpose…” Longbow Sunshot grinned sheepishly, then called to me: “…Geoffrey Ritz, how’s your quest going? What are you missing?”

His shout brought me out of my reverie. I shook off my thoughts, checked my quest log, and replied while walking, “Almost done—just need two more salamander hearts.”

As I walked, I made sure to slow my pace, concealing the speed boost granted by my new boots…