"Satisfy is really messing with us," one player muttered, frustration evident in their voice.
The others nodded in agreement, exhausted and demoralized.
[ All groups have failed the raid ]
[ The gates now will open and Players will now raid the Demon King ]
[ There is now only one Gold Medal and it will belong to the player who will deal most damage to Demon King ]
[ However there will be no Gold Medal if all Players were to be annihilated ]
[ Best of Luck, Players ]
System notification rang as they looked at Grid.
"You can fix our equipment right?" One asked as Grid nodded, but before he could say anything...
[ Goddess Rebeca have blessed everyone ]
[ All Players are now at peak condition whether in terms of Skills or Equipment ]
"Well, it's settled then," Zibal stood up as he looked at the others. "Let's get this raid done."
"Though... I think Satisfy just wants to show us how terrifying hell really is," he added with a sigh, stretching his stiff muscles before refocusing on the task ahead.
"How powerful do you think the Demon King is?" Yura asked.
Grid shrugged. "Most likely stronger than the Four Heavenly Kings combined… but we have an advantage now. It's no longer just four teams—it's 221 players against one boss."
"And only top players remain, so it should be easier… somewhat," Hurent said.
"As if," he scoffed at his own words.
"We can't say anything for sure," Bondre added. "We thought the same thing about the Heavenly Kings, but we lost."
"Yeah, but we were divided then," Bubat said. "Maybe now that we're all together, we actually have a chance."
The players nodded in agreement, determination rekindled in their eyes as they turned toward the looming Demon Castle in the distance.
The Demon Castle stood like a monolith of despair, its towering spires piercing the darkened sky. Unlike the elaborate castles of human kingdoms, this fortress was a manifestation of fear itself—a warped structure of jagged black stone, pulsating as if it were alive. The very air around it was thick with malevolence, making even the most seasoned warriors feel a chill deep in their bones.
The ground was frozen, covered in an eerie frost that did not melt despite the lack of snow. The temperature dropped drastically as they neared the entrance, their breath visible in the cold air. It wasn't a natural cold—it was the cold of death, the type that sapped warmth from the soul rather than the body.
And then, at the center of the throne room, a shadow shifted.
A beast-like man sat casually upon a throne of twisted obsidian, one leg crossed over the other. His pitch-black horns curled like those of an ancient demon, and his crimson eyes glowed with an eerie amusement. His very presence commanded authority, sending a wave of pressure that made even the top rankers instinctively brace themselves.
His long, clawed fingers drummed against the armrest, each tap echoing like a death knell in the suffocating silence. His muscular frame, clad in deep obsidian armor, exuded an aura of raw dominance—the power of someone who had never once lost a battle.
His gaze slowly swept across the assembled 221 players, lips curling into a smirk.
"You're finally here," he said, voice smooth yet carrying an edge of mockery. "I've been waiting."
"I almost fell asleep, you know," the Demon King said, his voice laced with amusement. He stretched lazily on his throne before smirking at the gathered players. "Hmm… but your numbers are a bit too much. My Heavenly Kings have already played their part, so why not reduce your numbers a little?"
He paused, as if contemplating the thought—though in reality, Blade was simply reading from the scripted lines given to him.
Snap.
With a simple flick of his fingers, four figures emerged from the darkness, stepping forward with an aura of overwhelming menace.
They were three vampires and a lich—a collection of some of the most feared beings in existence.– A notorious vampire noble, his pale face carrying an air of arrogance.
Elfin Stone
Latina
Tiramet
Mumud the Lich
The players stood frozen, dumbstruck by the sudden escalation.
But then, amidst the tension, one of them suddenly shouted and pointed at a particular sculpture.
It was a statue of Piaro, still disguised in his Demonic Sword King form. At first glance, it appeared to be an intimidating piece of art, but that wasn't what caused the player's outburst.
"I just… learned a skill?!" he exclaimed in shock.
The surrounding players turned to him in confusion, only for a few more to gasp as they too received system notifications.
[You have acquired a skill after observing the sculpture of Demonic Sword King : Blade of Resentment.]
At first, only a handful of players realized what was happening. But as the information spread like wildfire, chaos erupted.
"Wait… you're saying we get skills just by looking at these statues?!"
"Damn it! Where are the other ones?! Look around!!"
The room suddenly turned into a frenzy of movement as players ran toward the various sculptures displayed around the hall. Those who had already figured it out were desperately searching for more before others could claim them.
And soon, they discovered the truth—
There were four special sculptures, each granting a skill, but only to the first ten players who gazed upon them.
Piaro (Demonic Sword King)
Berserker King Max
Hellflower Swordsman
Fallen Knight Benz
Each sculpture granted a unique skill based on the respective Heavenly King. However, with over 200 players present, the slots filled up within moments, leaving the rest frustrated and cursing their slow reaction.
"Damn it! I missed out!"
"This is bullshit! There should've been more slots!"
"Shit, I was too focused on the enemies…!"
Meanwhile, those who had successfully obtained a skill stood in stunned silence, reading their notifications. What kind of abilities had they just received?
"Did you all like it?" Blade, still in his Demon King form, spoke with a lazy smirk.
"It's called 'Embedding Emotion into Sculptures.'" He stretched his arms as if bored. "I'm pretty sure only 40 lucky ones managed to truly understand the emotions behind those sculptures and gain a skill."
The players who had obtained a skill gripped their weapons tightly, still processing their unexpected rewards. But before anyone could celebrate, Blade's next words sent a chill down their spines.
"But too bad…" His smile widened, his crimson eyes glinting with amusement.
"None of you will leave here alive to even use them."
A heavy silence filled the hall.
And then—
Boom!
A sudden explosion of pressure erupted from Blade as the ground beneath him cracked.
*******
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