My heart sank as the last instruction echoed in my skull.
"Murder is permitted."
I whispered the words to myself, testing their weight. So this was the level we had to sink to. Was this what it took to become an adventurer? To kill strangers for a strip of silver?
I looked down. A ribbon was tied to my arm. I hadn't noticed it appear. None of my senses had detected it—not even the heightened awareness Draka had promised after the ritual. The same senses that could track a deer through the Black Forest. And I hadn't felt a thing.
The ship had gone silent. Not the peaceful kind of silence. The kind that crawls under your skin and settles in your bones. The lizardman's words echoed again: Some of you may die.
He hadn't been warning us.
He'd been stating facts.
So I needed someone else's ribbon to pass. Two ribbons total—mine and one more. Simple math. Horrifying execution.
Then the smell hit.
Blood. Fresh and hot.
Screams followed. Metal clashing against metal. I whipped my head left. A mage and a woman with rabbit ears were locked in combat, lightning arcing from the mage's fingertips. Warriors brawled across the deck. Tanks bashed shields and swung weapons meant to crush, not cut.
I turned forward just in time to see a man charging at me, spear leveled.
My body moved before my mind caught up. The claymore slid from my back into my hands. I stepped into his strike and parried—sparks erupting where metal met metal.
I backpedaled, one hand touching the deck for balance. He didn't stop. Blue Lumin blazed from his spear tip as he pressed the attack.
Left. Right. Up. Down. I dodged, weaved, felt the energy humming off each thrust. He was fast. Precise. Experienced.
Then he raised his spear for an overhead strike.
There. An opening.
I brought my blade up and cut—not at him, but at the air between us.
AIR SLASH.
The crescent of compressed wind caught him square in the chest. He flew backward, trailing blood, disappearing into the chaos of the crowd.
I followed.
Weaving through fighting pairs, ducking under wild swings, leaping over bodies already still. My heart hammered against my ribs. The Black Forest had been terrifying, but this? This was something else. Something personal. These weren't monsters. They were people. People who wanted the same thing I did.
People who would kill me for it.
A chill shot down my spine. I stopped dead.
An axe buried itself in the deck where I'd been standing.
"Tch. Missed." A deep voice rumbled behind me. "Well, there's always another chance."
The man wrenched his massive axe from the splintered wood. He stood nearly as tall as me—built like a powerlifter, thick and solid. Heavy plate armor covered every inch of him. A bronze helmet hid his face completely, only thin slits revealing the eyes behind them.
"So you're taking this killing thing seriously." I tightened my grip on my claymore.
"I failed last year, boy." He hefted the axe onto his shoulder. "Not failing again."
A veteran. And from the look of him, a Tank. Borik had been easy—dead already, controlled by a cursed stone. But this man was alive. Experienced. My pulse thundered in my ears. Sweat trickled down my temple.
He swung for my head.
I countered.
The impact sent a shockwave ripping across the deck. My arms screamed. It felt like holding back gravity itself—concentrated, crushing weight focused entirely on me.
He pulled back, amusement coloring his voice. "You blocked. Impressive." He tilted his helmet. "For that, you earn the honor of knowing my name. I am Dell of Zendorium. And this is your final battle."
I didn't wait. I darted sideways, using footwork. Tanks were slow. If I could just—
BOOM.
My body crashed through the ship's wall.
I landed hard on a wooden table, shattering it. Plates and mugs exploded around me. The dining hall. Long benches. Flickering lanterns. The smell of old food and spilled ale.
The pain was immense—but fading faster than it should. My body was already adapting, the Berserker's gift kicking in. I pushed myself up.
Dell stepped through the ruined wall, debris crunching under his boots. Other adventurers scattered at the sight of him, their own fights forgotten.
"So you survived." He sounded almost pleased.
I gasped for air. "How... how are you that fast?"
"Tanks aren't slow, boy." He hefted his axe. "We're patient."
I studied him. Heavy armor. Massive weapon. But he'd closed the distance in a blink. I hadn't even processed the movement before I was flying through a wall.
"Why me?" I asked, buying time. "There are weaker rookies. Why target me?"
Dell chuckled. "You're the in-between. Not weak. Not strong. But I sense potential in you. The kind that creates rivals." The amusement faded from his voice. "I'm not in the mood to compete with you in five years."
I understood.
He wasn't just fighting for a ribbon.
He was eliminating future threats.
I raised my claymore, pointing it at him. Both hands on the hilt. "Then let's see if you can kill me."
BOOM.
Louder this time. Faster.
I'd exploded forward—Screaming Boar, the technique Draka had drilled into me. Lumin concentrated in my legs, released in a single explosive burst.
Dell stumbled to one knee.
He looked up, his dented armor smoking. "Drakvan technique." Respect in his voice. "Your master taught you well."
I settled back into my stance, chest heaving. "He called it Screaming Boar. Lumin in the legs, then—"
"I know what it is." Dell rose slowly. "I've seen it before. Never expected a rookie to use it."
Kora's voice echoed in my mind.
Live.
"I'm not dying today, Dell." The words came out steady. Certain. "One of us leaves this world. It won't be me."
I threw three Air Slashes in rapid succession. Crescent blades screamed toward him—
And shattered against a blue Lumin shield.
He was already moving.
But this time, I was ready.
I dodged left. His axe carved through a table instead of me. Wood exploded, momentarily blocking his vision.
His helmet. Bronze. Weaker than the rest of his armor. If I could hit it directly—
SCREAMING BOAR.
I launched myself again.
His shield flared. My blade stopped dead.
He'd blocked. Again.
I leaped back, landing on another row of tables. My lungs burned. My arms trembled. Minutes. It had only been minutes, and I was already draining.
Dell laughed. Genuine amusement. "I love watching the young ones burn through their stamina. You think you're invincible. You think a few techniques will carry you." He shook his head. "It's been five minutes, boy. And you're already fading."
He wasn't wrong.
I scanned the room. Tables. Chairs. A doorway in the back—the kitchen. Too narrow for his bulk. If I could get in there, buy myself breathing room, think—
I attacked.
Blade raised, I leaped at him.
He swung.
Our weapons collided.
His strength overwhelmed mine. Like a rhino meeting an elephant. I felt my feet leave the deck—
And I flew backward. Through the kitchen doorway. Exactly where I wanted to go.
I crashed into metal counters, pots clanging around me. Pain flared—but I was laughing.
"It worked!" I gasped. "My plan actually worked!"
The kitchen was chaos. Overturned furniture. Scattered utensils. The rich smell of chicken stew bubbling in a massive pot.
Perfect.
I could use the pot. Distract him. Air Slash to the helmet. Screaming Boar to finish. Foolproof.
A chill crawled down my spine.
Every instinct screamed.
I turned.
Dell stood in the kitchen doorway. His massive frame blocked the light. His helmet tilted slightly, those slitted eyes fixed on me.
His voice dropped to a menacing whisper.
"You think you're a genius, boy?"
My blood froze.
"Shit..."