The wasteland was silent until dawn. My companions stirred, weary but determined. We marched toward the Demon King's castle, but shadows moved around us.
Suddenly, the ground shook. Eight directions erupted with demon warriors—nearly 10,000 soldiers, led by eight commanders. Their armor gleamed, their eyes burned with hatred.
Fear rippled through my companions.
I raised my voice, words guided by Narrate. "If we face this challenge and succeed, we will reach Legend Level—a power that takes seventy years of training. Many die upon reaching it. But today, we will be proud. We will overcome."
Alovent and Bange shouted back, "Even without your speech, we will survive!"
The battle began.
- Bange unleashed Living Dead. His body became a curse—any who touched him died instantly. A thousand demons fell, but the skill drained his mana. He collapsed, fainted.
- Alovent activated Ten Seconds Immortal, cutting down two thousand demons before his strength gave out. He too fell unconscious.
- Sanot conjured his Magical Machine Gun, a torrent of elemental blasts. Three thousand demons perished, but his mana drained to nothing. He collapsed.
- Clever roared, entering Mad Bloody Berserker. His strikes were wild, unstoppable. Four thousand demons fell beneath his fury. But exhaustion consumed him, and he fainted.
The battlefield was littered with corpses. My companions lay unconscious, drained of power.
I stood alone.
I tried to use Holy Recover, my new skill. Its light surged, healing my wounds, restoring my strength. But it did not touch them. I realized with dread: Holy Recover works only on me. I cannot save them.
The eight commanders stepped forward, their presence suffocating.
The First Commander sneered. "By your face, I see your intent. You mean to kill the Demon King. Let us make a deal."
The Second Commander growled. "You must face us one by one."
The Third Commander added, "Defeat us, and you may challenge the Elite Four."
The Fourth Commander smirked. "If you win, you will gain EXP enough to reach High Level."
The Fifth Commander raised his blade. "Be honored. Few ever face us."
The Sixth Commander's voice was cold. "We are stronger than the warriors you just slaughtered."
The Seventh Commander spat. "We are not cowards. We fight one-on-one, not in groups."
The Eighth Commander stepped closer. "So, Hero… will you accept our offer? Or will you die here, with your companions lying in vain?"
I clenched my sword. My mask pulsed faintly, the catastrophe whispering in my mind. This is the trial. This is the path.
I looked at my fallen companions. Despite their betrayal, despite their selfishness, they had fought. They had killed thousands. They had bought me time.
I raised my voice. "I accept. One by one, I will face you. And when I am done, I will face the Demon King himself."
The commanders laughed, their voices echoing across the wasteland.
"Then prepare, Hero," the First Commander said. "Your trial begins now."
The battlefield grew silent. My companions lay unconscious, the wasteland littered with corpses. The eight commanders stood ready, each stronger than the last.
I tightened my grip on the Real Holy Sword. My mask glowed, whispering catastrophe.
This is the path of no return. If I win, I will reach legend. If I lose, I will die. But I am the Hero. I will fight.
Thus begins Dransart's duel against the Eight Commanders—one by one, a trial of strength, wisdom, and catastrophe. The path to the Demon King lies beyond.