Chapter 70 – The Black Knight, Kalt (3)

In the game, Kalt was strong.

Even though he was considered the weakest of the Masters, he was absurdly powerful.

Still… Kalt in his first phase was somewhat manageable.

His enormous health bar was an issue, but his attack patterns weren’t that hard to figure out. Of course, getting hit even once left you barely hanging on, but that wasn’t an issue for me.

For someone like me, a veteran of the game, that wasn’t a big deal.

A select few of us, the seasoned players, could defeat Kalt in his first phase.

Yes.

I could beat the first phase thousands, even tens of thousands of times.

In fact, I did it more times than I could count.

But the problem was the second phase.

Once Kalt’s health dropped to 20%, a cutscene would play.

Kalt would stab his sword into his own heart and call out to the goddess.

Then, the goddess would respond, granting him immense power in exchange for his remaining lifespan.

At that moment, Kalt would tear the sky open with a single gesture.

And from the torn sky, a black sun would appear.

That was the end of the cutscene, and the start of the second phase, where thousands of shadow tendrils would come rushing toward you.

There was nowhere to run.

You had to parry them all.

What about mages, you ask?

Those sneaky mages just had to die. Or they could try parrying with their staves.

In any case.

Up, left, right, right, diagonal up-right, down, underground, up again, diagonal down-left.

You had to memorize all of these directions.

It was like memorizing the periodic table or Pi to however many digits.

Yeah… if you memorized all of those hundreds of directions and somehow managed to navigate that hellish pattern…

That’s when the real nightmare began.

Shadows would blanket the area, and your health would start draining at 3% per second.

On top of that, Kalt and the shadows would slash at you with frame-perfect precision.

Sure, you could chug potions to manage your health, and use various invincibility moves and exploits to avoid his impossible attacks.

Because it was just a game, after all.

But the problem wasn’t Kalt’s attacks.

The biggest problem was…

None of your attacks would work.

Physical attacks, magic, even abilities imbued with divine power, and summoned creatures’ strikes—none of them would land.

That was the real issue.

It was already insane to dodge thousands of tendrils and a flurry of sword strikes just to reach Kalt, but…

Even after breaking through all of his patterns and getting up close to him, your attacks wouldn’t land.

That was what drove countless players to despair.

Some even joked that if the Apocalypse and Kalt fought, Kalt would win.

Eventually, a few players started questioning the developers.

Was it even possible to beat Kalt?

But no answer ever came.

It was the first time the developers hadn’t responded to a player’s question.

After that, one player posted a theory.

If Kalt could be killed, maybe there was an ending where the priestess didn’t die.

That theory resonated with many veteran players.

And so, dozens of us veterans, myself included, challenged Kalt again.

And then, just once.

Out of thousands of attempts, just once.

My character managed to chip away at Kalt’s health.

It was only by 1%, but… I had done it.

I replayed the recording over and over again.

Dozens of times.

Until, finally, I figured it out.

How to break through.

How to defeat Kalt in his second phase.

***

I deflected the swarm of tendrils rushing toward me and rolled out of the way.

Dozens of tendrils erupted from the ground where I had just stood.

I kept moving, closing the distance while parrying the tendrils with my greatsword.

Sometimes I used the greatsword to brace myself against the ground.

I twisted my body, surrounded by the blood aura, and pressed forward, even as I took hits.

I cut through flesh, broke bones, and kept advancing.

Even now, Carpeng’s lingering thoughts tried to consume me.

Each time, I barely held on by recalling the image of Rubia being trampled by Kalt.

I could hear the sound of my flesh tearing.

My sense of touch and hearing sharpened.

Blood mixed with my entrails gushed out.

My sense of taste returned.

The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth.

My sense of smell was triggered.

My blurred consciousness began to clear.

Forty meters left.

I unleashed my blood aura, resisting the shadows swirling around me.

I planted my feet on the ground, swinging my arm to deflect the oncoming shadows.

Thirty meters.

I used the rebound from my greatsword to accelerate.

My body bore the brunt of the blows.

I ripped and tore at the shadows, biting through them as I advanced.

Ten meters.

A tendril pierced my arm.

My movements were restricted.

I twisted and broke free.

I tore my flesh apart and charged forward.

Five meters.

Two more steps.

I honed my senses to their limit.

I erased all unnecessary information.

I erased the shadows rising from the ground.

I erased the tendrils raining down from above.

None of that mattered.

All I needed was Kalt’s information.

The skin beneath his flesh.

The muscles beneath the skin.

The veins.

His body, filled not with blood or magic, but with shadows.

I visualized it. I accepted it. I understood it.

I recalled the sensations from before.

The shadows writhed.

They flowed through his veins and spread through his body.

His heart contracted.

His muscles tensed.

His skin stretched.

His waist twisted.

His arm lifted.

And through that arm…

The shadows surged.

Right now.

I took the blow from the shadows with my body and swung my greatsword.

There was no force behind the strike.

It didn’t feel like I had cut anything.

I didn’t feel any resistance.

But.

Whoosh!

I had cut him.

In that fleeting moment when Kalt’s shadow-formed body solidified.

The one and only moment when an attack could land—a 0.2-second window—I cut through it.

Blood gushed from Kalt’s waist.

My thirst remained unquenched.

Kalt’s face twisted in shock.

A smirk curled my lips.

And between that smirk…

Blood spurted out.

Blood gushed out of me, so much that my body seemed like it would wither away.

But Carpeng’s thoughts didn’t let me die.

It fueled the blood aura, using my blood as nourishment.

The blood aura held my collapsing body together.

I stood again.

I cut through the tendrils, parried them, and dodged.

I widened the distance.

Then I closed it again.

I dodged and charged forward.

And I slashed.

Blood droplets hung in the air.

Was it mine?

Or Kalt’s?

Since my thirst wasn’t yet quenched, some of it had to be Kalt’s.

That made two.

Just eighteen more, and…

I would win.

I parried the shadows and sliced through the tendrils that swarmed me from all sides.

More wounds appeared on my body.

The blood aura around me grew thicker.

I didn’t know what would happen to my body once the thirst was sated.

Whether I’d die or live.

Whether it would hurt or not.

I didn’t care anymore.

I had stopped thinking about it.

I had given up on worrying.

Whether I won or lost…

I was going to die either way.

So I simply accepted it.

I stood.

I moved forward.

It wasn’t out of some heroic desire to save Charlotte and Yuria.

I wasn’t driven by a sense of justice to save the world or kill an evil villain.

I just…

I just wanted to beat the opponent in front of me.

The one I had never been able to defeat in eight years.

I wanted to win.

I wanted to succeed where no one else had.

For the first time.

Maybe Carpeng’s thoughts had driven me mad.

But I didn’t care.

If I could just defeat him.

If I could kill him.

If I could change the ending of this story with my own hands.

I didn’t care how many times I broke.

Even if it took tens of thousands of attempts.

“I-It’s impossible!”

Kalt’s shout rang out.

The shadows that had covered the sky poured down on me.

They fell like rain, a storm of death.

Each drop filled with murderous intent.

I ignored them.

Holes were punched through my body.

I kept going.

My fingers were shattered into pieces.

Thick blood aura replaced my hands.

And I slashed.

That made eight.

Just twelve more.

“How dare you… You, who is lower than a beast! You think you can stand on par with her?!”

A deafening sound, like the crack of thunder, ripped through my eardrums as I was sent flying through the air.

I flew dozens of meters before slamming into the ground.

I stood up immediately.

My staggering body was held together by the blood aura.

It moved in my place.

In exchange for my blood, it kept me going.

It tried to devour my consciousness, my very existence.

I lifted my fingers.

And stabbed them into my ears.

I didn’t need to hear.

It was a distraction.

I flicked off the blood from my fingers and gripped my greatsword.

I dashed forward again, weaving through the gaps in the shadows, following the optimal path as I swung my greatsword.

There could be no room for error—not even the slightest delay.

Even a momentary pause, even a glancing blow, and the thousands of shadows would consume me completely.

I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t falter.

I twisted my body, swinging and slashing relentlessly.

I carved out space around me, each strike like a full moon slicing through the dark.

I planted my feet firmly, raised my arms, and swung again.

I stepped forward, cutting through the onslaught of shadows rushing toward me.

I couldn’t allow myself to rest—I had to keep going, clinging to life with every breath.

When my greatsword wasn’t enough, I unleashed the blood aura like a weapon.

When the blood aura wasn’t enough, I raised my hands to block.

When my hands weren’t enough, I used my teeth.

And when even my teeth failed me, I threw my entire body into the fray, scattering drops of blood to keep the shadows at bay.

I blocked them.

I broke through them.

I endured them.

Finally, I reached Kalt again.

And then, I slashed.

Once. Twice. Over and over again.

Kalt’s face twisted in agony, a mask of frustration.

The shadows around him thickened, growing darker and more oppressive.

The blood aura around me slowed, feeling heavier, denser.

My body grew sluggish.

I tore at my own skin, ripping it open with my nails.

Blood gushed from the wound, and the blood aura flared up again, surging with renewed strength.

My body felt lighter.

And I slashed again.

Only five more times.

I could see the end.

The final moment was near.

But my mind was clouding.

I wanted to see Rubia.

I wanted to collapse into her arms, breathe in her scent, and drift off to sleep.

When the end comes…

Will Rubia hold me?

I hope she’ll see me win.

I hope I can smile, victorious.

And then we’ll talk about the little things.

What to do tomorrow.

What to eat.

How she’ll scold me for putting myself in danger again.

I wanted those simple, happy thoughts about tomorrow to become a reality.

So let’s go.

Let’s finish this and save Rubia.

With an unbearable weight on my shoulders, I forced my legs to move.

I dodged the shadows, slashed through them, and pressed forward, cutting my way through.

Step by step.

And then, I lifted my battered arm once more.

I slashed at Kalt.

In that instant—

My right arm was severed.

I dropped my greatsword.

My senses were shutting down.

I couldn’t perceive anything.

I no longer felt the burning thirst that had driven me.

Just one more strike.

If I could land just one more blow.

Even with a broken fingernail.

Even with my teeth.

Even with a shard of bone.

If I could just hit him one last time…

An indescribable pain shattered my mind.

It froze my body.

It stopped my thoughts cold.

It whispered the seductive pull of surrender.

It demanded that I give in to death.

No.

No.

Please.

Please, just once more.

Move.

Move forward.

Stab Kalt in the heart.

Kill him.

Save Rubia.

Endure the pain.

No matter how much it hurts, you can bear it.

You’ve come this far.

I took a step.

My body collapsed.

I fell to the ground.

I braced myself with my remaining arm, but I couldn’t hold myself up.

I crumbled.

I tried to push myself up with my elbow, then my shoulder.

I dragged myself forward, sinking my teeth into the ground, pulling myself onward.

My teeth cracked and fell out.

But I kept crawling.

I moved forward with my gums, my jaw, my forehead.

The sharp pain shredded my body, piercing through every inch of me.

I was at my limit.

I could go no further.

The skin on my neck twisted.

At that moment, something stirred beneath the ground—

Something that felt like a tree root.

It rose up, wrapping around me, lifting me off the ground.

A surge of warmth.

It heated my cold, broken body.

A comforting energy held me together.

I reached out with my remaining hand, desperately searching for something.

A calloused hand, rough and worn, reached out and placed something in my grip.

It wasn’t my greatsword.

It wasn’t a branch.

It was an old, simple, shabby sword.

A one-handed blade.

But it was the sword that once sliced through the world.

The roots holding me upright seemed to breathe life into me.

The warmth held death at bay.

That gentle energy lifted my arm.

I smiled faintly.

And I swung the sword.