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Screwllum stared blankly at the feed, his mechanical heart processing a wave of complex variables. He realized now that Hiroshi's panicked flight wasn't a loss of reason to survival instinct, but a cold, calculated move to turn his own perceived weakness into a lethal trap.
Yet, the risk was staggering. If the Sub-Stinging Insect had connected with its full impact, or if Hiroshi had mistimed his strike by even a fraction of a second, he would have met a regrettable end. To endure the physical trauma of being slammed into a wall and remain motionless to sell the ruse required not just strategy, but extraordinary courage and an iron will.
Mr. Hiroshi is barely twenty years old, yet he possesses a mindset that commands respect, Screwllum thought, his admiration deepening.
Inside the simulation, Hiroshi grunted as he pulled the scattered blade fragments back together. He used the Demon Blade Thousand Blades as a crutch, his knuckles white as he clutched his chest.
Cough, cough, cough.
He spat a trace of blood onto the white snow and gave a weak, bitter smile. The impact had clearly shifted his internal organs, but he considered it a fair trade for taking down a mutated predator. If I had fought it head-on, I'd be minced meat by now...
"Mr. Screwllum," Hiroshi's voice was thin, strained by pain. "Where... where next?"
Screwllum let out a heavy sigh through the comms. "You possess almost no combat capability now. If you encounter another elite, you will perish. Suggestion: exit the Simulated Universe now and re-enter with a refreshed body."
"Would everything start over?" Hiroshi asked.
"Affirmative. Your progress would reset to zero."
Hiroshi looked at the bloody snow beneath him. Resetting meant wasting more time while Herta remained in danger. Besides, he still had his trump card. "Mr. Screwllum, don't persuade me. I'm moving forward."
"Sigh... Very well."
Hiroshi advanced haltingly, leaning on his sword. Along the way, he encountered more roaming constructs. Fortunately, his luck held; he used short-range Teleportation to bypass patrols, slipping through the ruins like a ghost.
Watching the feed, Screwllum was baffled. A single Space Jump usually required immense energy and precise coordinate calculation, yet Hiroshi performed them as if they had no cooldown and no cost. Did Herta develop a Curio for him that bypasses the laws of spatial energy? Suddenly, the muffled sound of massive explosions echoed through the snowy air. Hiroshi froze, then felt a surge of adrenaline. In this simulated world, monsters didn't fight each other.
"Mr. Screwllum!"
"Yes, Hiroshi. If my sensors are correct, Herta is right there."
Hiroshi didn't wait for another word. He forgot his exhaustion and the ache in his ribs, moving on his "three legs" toward the source of the noise. Screwllum watched with a faint, digital smile; the moment Herta was involved, Hiroshi's caution vanished in favor of pure, desperate devotion.
He reached a flat, suburban area littered with the wreckage of buildings. In the distance, a tall, oppressive figure was leading a siege against a petite girl in a witch's outfit.
The leader was a Silvermane Lieutenant-type Rift monster, but with a horrifying twist—its lower body was that of a horse, and it glowed with a toxic fluorescent green light. It was a Stormbringer.
The Stormbringer led a swarm of wind-element minions in a coordinated assault. While Herta fended off the smaller birds, the centaur-like beast charged an arrow of concentrated wind, glowing with a sickly green light, preparing a lethal sneak attack on the weakened Herta.
Just as the arrow reached full charge, a torrential rain of purple blade fragments fell from the sky. They didn't just block the attack—they shredded the minions into dust and left countless shallow gashes across the Stormbringer's armored hide, forcing it to stagger back.
Herta turned, her cold expression softening as she saw Hiroshi approaching through the snow. She put her hands on her small hips and sighed with a triumphant smile.
"Whew... took you long enough."
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