The three Bosses charged forward, weapons drawn and fury in their eyes. But before they could strike, their heads dropped to the ground in unison clean, silent, final.
There was no trace of magic, no flash of light. Just a single, brutal slash. Raw, overwhelming power.
The Fangra slowly looked behind them. What they saw made even their blood run cold.
Standing amidst the carnage, sword still humming from the force of the blow, was Allen their greatest threat.
And he wasn't even trying yet.
"So you must be The Fangra," Allen said with a smirk, casually flicking the blood from his blade. "You guys are pretty popular especially after that goo you handed over to the guild."
Allen stepped forward, eyes sharp, voice calm.
"Was that supposed to be a threat? Or just bad housekeeping?" said Cinister
"I just wanted to see your level of course" Allen said
"Alright" Cinister said as he put his hand up and casted [Pyroclasm] "let's see you survive this hot shot"
As Cinister raised his hand to cast a blur of motion, a surge of power
It was already too late.
With blinding speeds Cinister's hand was gone
Allen stood a few feet away, perfectly still, holding the severed limb like it was a misplaced tool.
"You're right-handed, right?" he said with a smirk, casually tossing the arm aside like trash.
Cinister's breathing hitched. His body screamed in pain, but his mind his mind couldn't even process what happened.
His knees buckled and he dropped to his knees
Allen's eyes met his calm, cold, precise.
"I'd start practicing with your left."
Everyone stood frozen.
What they'd just witnessed didn't feel real. Cinister, one of the fastest casters alive, had lost his arm before he could finish a single incantation.
And Allen didn't even look at our direction.
A few stepped forward, unsure whether to help Cinister or just stare in disbelief.
Allen looked at them, his voice calm almost casual.
"Next time," he said, turning his back to them, "just run."
No one moved.
Because they knew the truth now the same truth that Cinister had just learned the hard way:
When figthing Allen, the only outcome is defeat.
Allen quickly went to the 9th floor where his teammates waited for him
"Cinister! Are you okay?!" Alya shouted, rushing to his side.
Cinister winced, still kneeling. "Yeah… just confused. And overwhelmed."
Brayden stepped closer, eyes wide. "Your arm is gone, man."
Without a word, Cinister raised his remaining hand and cast [Ashen Veil] the semi-sphere appeard around me. Slowly, tendrils of shimmering ash began knitting tissue and bone back together, like watching a statue rebuild itself in reverse.
"There," Cinister said through gritted teeth. "That should do it. But it's not a good idea to move it around too much."
George blinked. "That spell heals?"
Cinister managed a weak grin. "Only if you don't mind the pain. And the smell."
"We should head to the 9th floor since it's still opened" said Ragna
"Yeah" they all said in unision.
As they stepped onto the 9th floor, a heavy silence met them.
The battlefield was already cleared scorch marks on the walls, monster corpses neatly piled or completely disintegrated. Not a soul in sight.
Allen's group had been here.
And they were long gone.
"Quick," Ragna said, scanning the perimeter. "If we find the exit now, maybe we can skip straight to the 10th floor before they close it!"
"No," Cinister said calmly. "We need to rest."
The group turned to him, confused.
"Right now," Cinister continued, voice flat but certain, "no one here can fight Allen. Not even if we jump him"
The truth hung in the air, heavier than the floor's oppressive magic.
No one argued.
They knew he was right.
"We need to think of a plan to win the next friendly battle" Cinister explained
"Yeah but what is even the battle about" Ragna said
"Well, on the 7th floor," Cinister began, "while I was at the department store, I asked around. It's some kind of base-protection game."
"Huh?" Alya blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"
Cinister adjusted his coat and continued, "We pick a spot to set up our base. Then we have to defend it… while destroying everyone else's."
A brief silence fell over the group as the realization sank in.
"Sounds like chaos," Ragna muttered.
"Well done."
A new voice cut through the tension smooth, calm, and unfamiliar.
They all spun around.
Behind Cinister stood a tall figure draped in black and silver, eyes glinting like steel in the dim light.
"Jarvis?!" Cinister exclaimed, stepping back in shock.
"Yup, you have the right idea of asking the 7th floor's people, but let me clarify what the reward is," Jarvis spoke clearly. "You all seem to think it's a way to eliminate players from the tower, but it's quite the opposite. See, after the 10th floor, we exit the Troposphere."
"What!" Cinister and Ragna exclaimed.
The others were confused. "Um, Cinister, what is the Troposphere?" said Micheal.
"Really, you don't know? Whatever. It's basically a layer in the sky, and the Troposphere is the only one that has sustainable oxygen. But if we're about to exit it, that means we shouldn't be breathing at all," Cinister explained.
"Correct. But let me introduce you to Benny," said Jarvis.
He stepped aside, revealing a lean, calm-looking figure standing behind him. A faint breeze stirred around his feet, as if the wind itself followed him.
"Hello," the man said with a polite smile. "My name is Benny. My Nexus is SwiftGale. I'm one of the people selected to fill 20 floors with breathable air."
The group exchanged uneasy looks.
Benny continued, unbothered. "Without me, you'd already be suffocating."
"That's creepy," Micheal said.
Benny chuckled. "I'm just kidding, mostly. But hey, it's good to have someone with SwiftGale in your party. If there's ever an emergency say, the oxygen suddenly vanishes you won't die. Probably."
He smiled again, casual and confident.
The group stared at him, unsure whether to laugh or worry.
Cinister exhaled slowly. "Great. So we're trusting our lungs to a guy with wind powers and a sense of humor."
"Better than trusting them to vacuum," Benny replied with a wink.
"I guess you're right," Cinister said.
"Anyway, the prize for the game is a shiny stone and the ability to use them," said Jarvis.
"Like this one." Cinister shows the shiny stone he got on floor 8.
"Oh, you already have one? Count yourself lucky," Jarvis said with a knowing smile. "These stones unlock your true potential. See, they grant different passive abilities, and the possibilities are endless."
"Endless?" George asked, eyes wide.
"Yup," Jarvis nodded. "There's a massive variety. If I had to guess, probably in the millions. That's because every passive is unique to the type of person who holds the stone."
He paused, letting the weight of that sink in.
"So, no two people are alike. Your abilities evolve with you. Anyway, that's from me, so goodbye, and good luck with Allen."
Jarvis and Benny leave the group.
Editor's note – Sorry for the late chapter, I was busy with some stuff, but here's a quick segment
Cinister before he learned what the rock was for
"Can I cook it?" Cinister thought to himself. He started cooking, but it wouldn't budge.
"Maybe it's a huge toothpick. No, maybe it's a form of a ball from a sport, or maybe something like a goo," Cinister said.
He throws it at Ragna. "Did you get a status effect?" Cinister asked.
"Nah," Ragna replied.
"Another dud," Cinister said.