Chapter 114: Golden Fortune City XX
The system text washed across every player’s HUD, and for the first time since the horn had sounded, the tide shifted.
Health bars surged upward. Broken stances steadied. Panic slowed, replaced by a spark—hope.
The Legion did not falter, but the players did not crumble this time. They braced, healed, and raised their weapons again.
"Buff aura... from the slime?!"
"No, no—don’t question it. Just fight!" a Guardian roared, slamming his shield into a husk and driving it back with newfound strength.
The Rune Sniper’s arrows now gleamed with Puddle’s light, piercing through helm-slits and pinning husks to the ground. The Frost Dancer’s movements became even sharper, her veil of ice scattering enemies in showers of frozen shards.
Then came the counterstrikes.
A Warlock threw out [Chains of Despair], spectral links biting into a shield wall, binding them just long enough for a Berserker’s [Skull Splitter] to crash down, scattering armor like kindling. A Monk surged through the gap with [Sevenfold Palm], each strike glowing brighter beneath Halo’s radiance, each hit cracking bone and shattering skulls.
The plaza became a whirlwind of class skills unleashed in their true form, no longer defensive, no longer desperate—offensive, furious, burning bright against the night of the Undying.
But the Commander was not idle.
He raised his molten greatsword skyward. Chains lashed outward in a storm, embedding into husks and shadows alike. The obsidian knight bellowed:
"RISE AS ONE."
The chains snapped taut. Husks screamed—not in death, but in ascension. Their bodies warped, bone and iron fusing tighter, pale flames burning hotter. Their shields melded into their arms, their blades elongated into jagged cleavers.
[ Elite Legionnaire Born ]
"They evolve?!" a healer screamed as her spell fizzled against one of the newly formed elites.
The Commander’s health bar ticked upward, the molten cracks across his armor sealing.
[ Boss HP +5% ]
"He’s healing off their ascension—damn it, if we don’t stop this—!"
Rhys didn’t wait for the end of the sentence. He shot forward, blade flashing with [Water Blade] infused with Puddle’s aura. His strike cleaved through an elite’s shield-arm, water pressure detonating it into fragments.
The Commander’s helm turned toward him, molten light flaring. Their eyes—if there were eyes—met.
Rhys’ words were a whisper, but carried across the battlefield.
"You won’t rise again."
Behind him, Puddle rippled once more. Its radiance condensed into smaller motes that drifted down over the frontline like falling stars. Wherever they landed, players found strength beyond their limits. A Guardian stood against three elites alone, his shield glowing brighter than ever. A Priestess raised a new [Circle of Benediction], and this time, even the Commander’s aura could not break it instantly.
The Legion’s chant faltered again. Not stopped. But staggered.
"PRESS HIM!" shouted the Rune Sniper, voice cracking.
"NOW!"
The entire raid surged. Skills blazed across the plaza, fire, frost, steel, and shadow converging on the Commander’s form.
And yet—above the din, the obsidian knight’s molten cracks widened again. His greatsword lifted, heavier, brighter, as though a miniature sun had been trapped inside its jagged core.
Rhys narrowed his eyes. The next swing wouldn’t just cleave players. It would end the city itself.
And Puddle pulsed at his side like a second heart, ready to answer.
The Commander’s blade blazed, its molten veins screaming with pressure. The cobblestones beneath him warped, fissures spilling fire as if the city itself rebelled against his presence.
[ Boss Ultimate: Cataclysm Brand – Charging ]
The system text rang in everyone’s vision. Panic spiked. If that swing landed, there would be no plaza left—only ash.
But the raid didn’t scatter. Not this time.
"ALL DPS—BURST NOW!" the Rune Sniper howled, already leaping to another rooftop. His bow ignited with runes stacked upon runes, the glow burning his own arms raw. He didn’t care. He pulled back until his bowstring screamed and let loose [Heavenpiercer Volley]. Arrows of pure starlight rained down, carving into the Legion’s ranks and sinking into the Commander’s cracks, each one detonating with runic force.
A Vanguard Knight answered with a roar. "[Titan’s Wrath]!" His body swelled with molten armor, his greatshield the size of a wall. He slammed into an elite, pinning it back even as chains coiled around him. He didn’t budge—his shield held, his stance unshaken, holding the left flank alone.
The Frost Dancer vaulted skyward. She spun once, twice, and her blades fractured into dozens of mirrored shards of herself. "[Glacial Mirage]!" they cried in unison, diving into the husks like a storm of falling stars. The plaza lit in bursts of cold, ice carving swathes through the horde.
On the right flank, a Summoner screamed and drove her staff into the earth. "[Eidolon of Ashes]!" A colossal phoenix of burning cinders erupted upward, wings spreading wide. With a screech, it dove across the plaza, its trail igniting husks and blasting through three elites before bursting in a bloom of scarlet flame.
The Warlock grinned despite his bleeding mouth, his voice cracking as he roared incantations faster than his body could handle. "[Soul Rift]!" he shouted, tearing open a gash in reality itself. The shadows of fallen husks were ripped from the ground and devoured into the void, weakening the Legion’s chant.
Every player was pushing their limits, burning cooldowns, emptying reserves.
And at the center of it—Rhys.
He sprinted forward, blade glowing with the tri-elemental resonance of his bond. [Swift Cut] chained into [Vertical Slash], arcs of light-and-shadow-wreathed water cutting into the Commander’s armor. Each strike was answered with a ripple of Puddle’s power—light falling stars reinforcing him, dark tendrils slowing the Commander’s movements, water pressure detonating against molten plate.
Still—the obsidian knight raised the greatsword higher, its light reaching a blinding crescendo. The air itself began to collapse inward, pulled toward the blade.
Rhys skidded to a halt, teeth clenched. He could feel it—the Commander was about to unleash something no shield could block, no heal could outpace.
"Puddle." His voice was low, sharp.
The slime pulsed, its radiant core expanding like a second sun. Then—
[ Soul Fusion Initiated ]
Light, shadow, and water wrapped around Rhys in a crown of swirling force. His blade warped, edges lined with liquid starlight, his armor flaring with Puddle’s aura. His heartbeat doubled—his and Puddle’s, one rhythm.
Together, they surged.
"[Arc Surge Slash]!" Rhys roared, his blade cleaving forward in a lightning-fast arc. Compressed mana burst outward, the slash splitting the ground and tearing across the Commander’s torso.
The Rune Sniper’s arrows detonated in tandem. The Frost Dancer’s ice mirrors shattered, freezing the elites that tried to block the path. The Phoenix’s aftershock scorched the chains crawling across the plaza.
For the first time—the obsidian knight staggered back a full step.
[ Boss HP –15% ]
The health bar ticked down. Slowly. Painfully. But visibly.
The greatsword still burned. Still rising. The ultimate wasn’t canceled.
And every player knew—they had seconds left before it came down.
The plaza trembled as the Commander’s greatsword reached its zenith, a miniature sun bleeding molten light across the city.
[ Cataclysm Brand – 80% Charged ]
The system’s warning pulsed red. Time was running out.
"KEEP HITTING!" the Rune Sniper screamed, his voice cracking from strain as his bowstring split his fingers bloody. Another volley of radiant arrows fell, burning cracks deeper into the knight’s armor.
The Frost Dancer landed, spinning into a blur. "[Lotus Requiem]!" Her final skill bloomed in a spiral of ice petals, each petal exploding on contact, slowing the Legion elites desperately trying to cover their master.
The Summoner collapsed to her knees, veins glowing ember-red. Her phoenix dissolved into ash, which swirled upward again—not as a bird this time, but as a storm. "[Ashfall Tempest]!" she cried, her last summon devouring her health with each second it raged. Ash and fire rained like a second sky, choking the battlefield in crimson.
The Warlock’s voice broke mid-cast, blood spilling down his chin. Still he forced another incantation. "...[Damnation Nova]!" Shadows flared outward, wrapping the husks in chains of their own despair before detonating them in bursts of black flame.
Every player burned the last of their reserves. Cooldowns went red. Potions were gone. What remained was will.
And still—the Commander’s sword continued to rise.
[ Cataclysm Brand – 95% Charged ]
The obsidian knight roared, a thousand echoes in one, molten cracks spilling fire across the plaza. "ALL FALL TO THE MARCH."
Rhys’ chest heaved, the fusion surging hotter. His blade quivered in his grip, Puddle’s energy flooding his veins until it felt like his body would burst. His vision blurred with light and shadow overlapping.
"Rhys," Puddle’s voice echoed in his mind, calm amidst the chaos. "If we strike together—everything we have—"
"I know," Rhys whispered. His eyes locked on the Commander. The entire raid, the city, their survival hinged on one swing.
He dug his boots into the stone, crouched low, and let his aura expand—water, light, and darkness spiraling into a maelstrom. The Ruinous Darkness Blade pulsed, runes flaring alive, resonating with Puddle’s core.
[ Soul Resonance – Maximum Output ]
The HUD flickered for every player nearby, a warning they couldn’t even comprehend.
"Now!" Rhys roared, voice carrying above the chant, above the fire, above death itself.
He launched forward, the world blurring.
"[Aetherion Break]!"