Gilk bared a savage grin, gripping the massive greatsword on his back with both hands.
His dark, heavy armor gleamed ominously under the moonlight.
"Come on, god of strategy," he growled, his voice rough and filled with bloodthirsty excitement. Behind him, the members of the Holy Dragon Alliance immediately let out low, beast-like roars, cheering on their leader.
Chen Mo didn't move.
He didn't even bother to take a sword-wielding stance, simply standing there quietly.
Gilk's brow furrowed. He felt disrespected, and a surge of anger rushed to his head.
"You're not drawing your sword?"
"No need, for you," Chen Mo's voice was flat, as if stating a pre-established fact.
"Arrogant!" Gilk's face instantly turned a purplish-red, the veins in his temples throbbing.
He roared, raising his greatsword high. It sliced through the night sky with a tearing shriek, powerfully cleaving down towards Chen Mo's head!
This strike was incredibly heavy and forceful, enough to split a wild boar in half.
The surrounding players instinctively gasped and retreated, fearing to be caught in the fierce sword wind.
However, the expected scene of blood and gore did not occur.
The next second, everyone's pupils constricted sharply.
Chen Mo still stood in place, not even raising an eyelid.
The heavy greatsword had solidly struck his shoulder.
There was no crisp clang of metal, only a dull, heart-stopping 'thud,' as if it had struck an unmovable divine iron.
A system notification popped up in Gilk's vision.
"You dealt 420 damage to player 'Chen Mo.'"
Immediately after, another line of data completely froze the muscles on his face.
"Player 'Chen Mo' automatically recovered 1200 HP."
Gilk's eyes widened, staring intently at the numbers, his mind a blank.
Four hundred twenty damage?
What a joke!
He was the level 62 leader of the Holy Dragon Alliance! With that strike, even a shield warrior of the same level would lose several thousand HP!
But on Chen Mo, the damage dealt wasn't even as much as his automatic HP recovery per second!
"This is impossible!" Crushed by reason, Gilk went mad, roaring as he swung his greatsword into a blur.
One strike! Two strikes! Three strikes!
"Dealt 480 damage."
"Dealt 511 damage."
"Dealt 499 damage."
Each strike accurately landed on Chen Mo, yet it was like giving the man a massage.
Chen Mo's HP bar never showed even the slightest visible fluctuation.
His "Automatic HP Recovery during Combat" proficiency had long since reached its peak, not to mention the insurmountable level suppression.
Chen Mo even yawned languidly.
"Had enough?" His tone carried a hint of boredom, as if he were about to fall asleep.
Gilk's attack abruptly stopped.
His hands trembled, the weight of the greatsword now felt like a thousand pounds, and cold sweat, mixed with terror, streamed down the scars on his cheeks.
He finally understood what kind of existence he had been challenging.
That wasn't a player.
That was a god walking upon the land of Aincrad.
"Now, it's my turn." Chen Mo slowly raised his right hand, splayed his fingers, and then gently clenched his fist.
He didn't even draw the Blade of Perseverance from his waist.
A fear originating from the depths of his soul seized Gilk. He wanted to flee, to turn around, to use a teleportation crystal, but his legs felt as if they were filled with lead, too heavy to move.
Chen Mo took a step forward.
That step seemed to crush all of Gilk's courage.
He threw a punch, slow and casual, appearing utterly harmless.
However, the moment that fist touched the heavy armor on Gilk's chest...
Boom—!
A loud bang, not the clash of metal, but the roar of air instantly compressed to its limit and then exploding!
The thick plate armor on Gilk's chest visibly caved inward, like tin foil struck by an invisible sledgehammer.
He himself shot out like a cannonball, feet leaving the ground, flying backward, tracing a desperate arc through the air.
Finally, he crashed heavily into the giant Christmas tree in the distance.
Crack!
The thick tree trunk instantly split into a spiderweb of cracks.
Gilk slid down the tree like a rag doll, his HP bar instantly emptied into the dangerous red zone, barely alive and unable to fight anymore.
The entire scene fell silent.
Hundreds of top players were now as if collectively petrified, their eyes wide, mouths slightly agape, yet unable to utter a sound.
The leader of the Holy Dragon Alliance, a core member of the Assault Team at level 62.
Defeated with one punch... and bare-handed?
"Mon...ster..." In the crowd, someone, their voice trembling and distorted, uttered these two words.
Chen Mo retracted his fist and casually clapped his hands, as if merely dusting off a bit of insignificant dirt.
He turned, meeting Argo's remarkably bright eyes.
The little cat's cheeks were flushed with excitement, her eyes sparkling with undisguised adoration and infatuation, as if stars were about to overflow.
"So cool!" She grabbed Chen Mo's trench coat sleeve and shook it vigorously, filled with girlish glee.
"You brute," Chen Mo looked at her, his gaze helpless, but his tone carried an indulgence he himself hadn't noticed.
Just then, the cracks on the trunk of the heavily damaged Christmas tree suddenly widened!
Rumble!
The entire giant tree crashed down amidst cries of alarm, raising a cloud of dust.
Amidst the swirling dust, a massive golden silhouette slowly rose from the ruins.
It was a behemoth over five meters tall, covered head to toe in exquisitely ornate golden armor, wearing a crown, and wielding a greatsword radiating divine light.
"Christmas Limited BOSS: Christmas Knight King - Nicholas"
"Level: 65"
"HP: 1,500,000 / 1,500,000"
The true Christmas present had arrived.