Illfang

~5000 words.

Ayanokouji Kiyotaka

At 12:30 on December 3, the first boss monster in Aincrad was finally challenged.

"Grruaaah!!"

Illfang's red eyes gleamed menacingly, raising its bone axe with a deafening roar. Leveraging my enhanced agility stat from equipping the Feathered Gale's Hood, I leapt out of the way of the crushing blow just in time. The axe struck the ground, the impact sending rubble and dust flying in all directions. At that moment, I pivoted my wrist sharply, adjusting my grip.

According to Argo's guidebook, Illfang would keep its leather shield and bone axe for most of the battle's duration. Although its attacks only consisted of basic slashes, the boss itself was quite agile despite its size.

[Sword Skill - Slant]

Fwish! My Anneal Blade swiftly grazed the boss' log-shaped arms before a neon streak of red appeared where my attack had landed. As expected, the boss' health bar barely cruised along, signifying that I'd barely scratched it. Still, it wasn't surprising; this boss was supposed to be beaten with an entire raid party, so naturally the developers scaled its total HP in consideration.

As Illfang let out another roar, I ducked beneath the arc of its massive bone axe, letting its razor-sharp edge slicing through the air above me. The beast's movements were predictable yet unnervingly swift for something so massive.

This battle, especially if one was attempting it solo like me, wasn't about rapid progress. It was more about endurance and timing—a lesson drilled into me time and again in the White Room.

Patience and observation always preceded action.

[Sword Skill - Horizontal]

My blade glowed briefly as it carved a lateral path across Illfang's thigh, leaving another streak of red. Another sliver of health lost; another increment closer to my goal.

The hit-and-run tactic wasn't groundbreaking—it was common sense against an enemy with an overwhelming attack radius. But for me, it was an opportunity to test variables like distance, reaction time, and stamina loss.

Illfang was simply just that—data to be analyzed.

But even knowing this, I couldn't rush. Miscalculation led to death. That was a truth I'd learned a long time ago.

As Illfang prepared another attack, raising its axe high above its head, I noted the subtle shifts in its movements. They were a fraction of a second slower. There were even slight hesitations before the follow-throughs. Was it fatigue? No, bosses didn't tire.

I suppose it is an adjustment in its attack algorithm. It was compensating for my increased evasion rate. Developers had programmed it to adapt, and in a sense, Illfang was learning as much as I was.

[Sword Skill - Linear]

The move connected and sent a ripple of red through Illfang's thick fur. Its health bar ticked downward again, but the effort felt infinitesimal compared to the looming threat of failure.

The boss arena was designed for battles like this—an open space to accommodate large raid parties, with no environmental hazards to exploit. I wondered briefly if this lack of complexity was intentional: a way for the developers to force players to rely solely on their own skill rather than external factors.

The thought was interrupted by Illfang's sudden charge. With a speed that belied its size, it closed the gap between us, swinging horizontally with its bone axe. The sheer force of the attack sent a gust of wind rushing past me as I dove to the side, letting my feet skid on the uneven ground.

I was starting to see the limits of my current approach. My agility gave me an edge, but without heavier damage-dealing skills or a stronger weapon, I was chipping away at an iceberg with a toothpick.

No. That's a poor analogy. Icebergs don't fight back.

The sound of rapid, uneven footsteps reached my ears. My peripheral vision caught Ruin Kobold Sentinels, rushing toward me with gleaming weapons.

I recalled the information from Argo's guidebook again. Three Sentinels spawn at the start of the fight, with three more arriving every time Illfang's health bar drops to a critical threshold. Their arrival was expected, yet that didn't make the situation any less precarious. Unlike typical monsters, the Sentinels weren't limited to basic slashes. They could use sword skills just like Kobold Troopers.

A feint with my sword drew the nearest Sentinel into attacking with a heavy overhead swing. I sidestepped, letting its momentum carry it forward, and capitalized with a quick [Sword Skill - Horizontal], slicing at its weak point: the neck. The neon streak marked the blow, and the Sentinel crumpled to the ground before fading into polygons.

One down.

[Sword Skill - Sonic Leap]

Using the sword skill, I lunged toward one of the remaining Sentinels. My blade pierced its shoulder, making it stagger, but I didn't stay to finish the job. The momentum carried me just far enough to break out of Illfang's immediate range.

The boss swung its axe, cleaving through the space where I'd stood moments before, catching both Sentinels in the process. The resulting knockback sent the two remaining kobolds sprawling, disintegrating them into blue polygons.

My experience bar surged rapidly as a notification confirming a significant increase in experience points. The total was almost staggering. Expected, I suppose, but staggering nonetheless.

Since the experience system is designed to scale with party size, this amount would be divided among members of a raid team. But fighting the boss solo meant every point went directly to me.

This decision carried both risks and rewards. The risk was quite obvious—no margin for error. A single mistake could cost my life. But the reward? That was equally as clear. The steady stream of loot and experience points meant my growth curve was accelerating far faster than anyone else's on this floor.

The Sentinels weren't ordinary monsters, either. Their loot tables were just as valuable as their experience yield. Argo had mentioned this in passing: the Sentinels often dropped crafting components for mid-tier gear, items that would otherwise require several smaller dungeon runs to collect.

As I continued to move, I mentally calculated the total Col I'd earned so far. It was enough to fund repairs for my equipment and invest in future upgrades.

With the Sentinels gone, I had more room to maneuver. But it wasn't a relief—Illfang was far more dangerous. Its attacks weren't as methodical as its minions' coordinated strikes, but the sheer power and reach of its bone axe meant one misstep could end me.

[Sword Skill - Vertical Arc]

Dashing forward, I brought my glowing blade down in a crescent-shaped slash. The skill carved into Illfang's shoulder, sending sparks and red streaks flying. Its health bar dipped a bit further as the boss let out another roar.

"Gruuahhhh!"

That's when I saw the massive head of the bone axe swinging toward me in a horizontal arc.

It was too fast.

I twisted sharply almost on pure instinct, aiming to perform a maneuver to leap backward to avoid a fatal strike. The axe grazed past me, but even with the dodge, the blunt edge of the axe clipped my torso.

The strike had caused my health bar to plunge from full to half in an instant.

Hmm... I have to be more careful.

The agility stat boost my hood provided was nothing short of exceptional, but my defense was paper-thin. The gear was meant to avoid damage entirely, not mitigate it. It was a risk I'd taken willingly because there was no alternative.

A fight like this wasn't designed for a solo player. But I didn't have the luxury of complaint.

Illfang charged, raising its axe again for another massive swing as I darted to the side. As the axe struck the ground, I used the moment of recovery to close the distance.

[Sword Skill - Sonic Leap]

My blade flashed as I aimed for Illfang's exposed side. The sword cleanly connected before I let the force propel me past the boss, landing just outside of its attack radius.

That last attack had fully depleted the last of its first health bar.

The crimson glow in its eyes intensified, and its frame seemed to ripple with newfound energy. At the same moment, three more Ruin Kobold Sentinels spawned from the shadows.

Before I could shift my attention to the incoming Sentinels, Illfang suddenly surged forward, closing the distance between us far faster than it had before. Its sheer speed caught me off guard.

It shouldn't be this fast.

I barely had time to react. The only thing I could do was raise my Anneal Blade, bracing for impact.

Clang!

The force of the collision was devastating. Illfang's bone axe smashed into my blade, sending me hurtling backward like a ragdoll. My health bar dipped further—now orange.

What just happened? Illfang's increased speed wasn't mentioned in Argo's guidebook.

I tried to recall the specifics. Her notes had been thorough—Illfang's attack patterns, weapon changes and reach, and even the timing of the Sentinels' spawns. There was no mention of the boss becoming faster as its health depleted.

Two possibilities. Either Argo overlooked this detail, or the developers changed Illfang's programming between the beta and the full release.

If this was a new development, then the fight had just become significantly harder. I'd assumed the hit-and-run tactics would remain viable as long as I stayed ahead of Illfang's attacks. But now, with its speed rivaling or even surpassing mine, that strategy was crumbling.

Illfang roared again, its massive axe carving through the air as it stomped toward me. The Ruin Kobold Sentinels weren't rushing in yet, seemingly waiting for the boss to weaken me further. Their coordination seemed to be designed to overwhelm players who thought they could brute-force their way through.

I steadied my stance, holding the Anneal Blade in front of me. My enhanced agility stat still gave me an edge, but I'd have to adjust my approach.

The boss lunged again. I sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the strike. Using the opening, I darted forward and activated a quick skill.

[Sword Skill - Horizontal]

The glowing blade sliced across Illfang's torso, leaving a streak of red and shaving off a sliver of its second health bar. I didn't stay to admire the hit. The boss roared and turned, swinging its axe in a wide arc. I threw myself to the ground as the blade narrowly missed my head. The maneuver left me vulnerable for a split second, but the boss didn't capitalize. Instead, it stepped back, recalibrating its stance.

So it is learning. Its aggression is tempered by calculated adjustments. If this pattern continues, I won't last long without taking risks.

From the corner of my eye, I saw the Sentinels creeping closer, forming a loose triangle around me.

If I let them close in together, I'll be boxed in.

Before the Sentinels could encircle me fully, I dashed toward the one closest to my right. Its sword glowed faintly—a cue for an incoming skill. I anticipated the trajectory and ducked beneath the wide slash, countering with a swift thrust to finish off one of them.

Then, as a follow up:

[Sword Skill - Sharp Nail]

The wide, sweeping strike caught the two remaining Sentinels as they moved in sync. My blade carved through the air in a radiant arc, leaving glowing trails of red across their torsos.

By the time I landed back in a ready stance, the polygons of their shattered forms were already dissolving into the air.

I exhaled sharply and turned back to illfang, who had paused its rampage just long enough to observe the skirmish. The boss tilted its massive head, as if it were registering my movements, before gripping its axe tightly and charging once again.

This time, I didn't wait for it to reach me. I dashed to the side, ducking low to the ground as the axe sliced through the air where I'd been standing. Afterward, I retaliated with a quick lunge, letting my blade slash through its torso.

The flight dragged on, eventually turning into a repetitive cycle of evading and attacking. It reminded me of a routine in the White Room where I was constantly tested for my endurance and focus. At some point, I began to see a general pattern in its attacks.

Though it goes without saying, the toll was starting to show. My stamina was draining faster than expected, and my health bar, though still intact, hovered just above the orange threshold.

Then, finally, it happened. I'd managed to clear its second health bar.

After several more minutes, I'd cleared its third health bar.

Illfang's roar reverberated through the lair as its last health bar dipped below the critical threshold. Its hulky figure paused as it transitioned into its final phase. In response, I quickly dashed forward, closing the distance.

It was a calculated risk. The transition to the last phase would leave it vulnerable for a brief moment. The talwar it was supposed to switch to would slow its attacks. Meaning, it was a window of opportunity.

It was dangerous, but at least it was predictable. I had already mapped out a counter strategy.

I streaked the glowing edge of my Anneal Blade toward its torso. But just before my blade connected, Illfang twisted its massive body, tossing aside its axe and shield. My strike missed by mere inches, and instead of the slower talwar I had anticipated, the boss pulled out a massive nodachi.

A Nodachi? That's not in Argo's guidebook.

The nodachi emitted an eerie gleam as Illfang gripped it with both hands, posture shifting into an aggressive stance. Before I could fully process the change, the sword began to glow, and Illfang leapt—no, bounded—into the air, its massive frame almost defying gravity as it rebounded off a nearby pillar.

It moved so fast that my eyes could barely track it. The boss was ricocheting between the pillars with impossible agility. And then it bolted towards me.

The shockwave rattled my bones, sending jagged shards skittering across the ground. I forced myself to my feet, ignoring the flashing red in my peripheral vision.

I will die if this goes on.

Adapt. Overcome. Adapt.

My health bar hovered in the corner of my vision—a flickering sliver of red. An indication of life about to end. Potentially.

Useless information.

I shut it out. Focus wasn't on survival.

It was winning.

Winning required precision, not instinct.

Illfang charged again. Nodachi raised high, weight perfectly distributed for a vertical cleave.

Too obvious. Its shoulders shifted—slight, but enough.

'A Feint,' I noticed.

'Left foot forward. Torque building in the hips. Mid-swing pivot incoming.'

I stepped back—not far, just enough to bait the strike.

As expected, Illfang twisted mid-swing, the blade carving horizontally in a brute, sweeping arc.

Calculated. Efficient.

It wasn't just swinging wildly as one would assume of a creature of this size and temperament. No, it understood range, angles, force.

I did too.

The blade hissed past my chest, close enough to cut air.

Perfect.

I hadn't dodged—I'd moved through the smallest available space, conserving energy while letting the attack pass.

As the glowing sword skill ended, I fell into the compendium of data I had collected from fighting Illfang so far.

Illfang's reaction time: 0.4 seconds from initial pivot to follow-through.

Distance between each strike: 3.2 meters when moving in this pattern.

Time between rebounds while using pillars: Shortening progressively. 0.7 seconds now.

Stamina depletion rising. It was barely visible, but I had noticed a slight delay in recovery posture. Fatigue wasn't visible as a quantitative figure like a health bar, but it was tangibly obvious in movement efficiency.

Illfang leapt back, preparing another rebound from the nearest pillar.

I tracked its trajectory, calculating angles.

Right leg extended further than left. Overcompensating for weight distribution. Nodachi would come down at a steeper angle.

I crouched as it launched, positioning my blade low. It would land with the blade descending vertically.

My path wasn't away—it was through Illfang.

The safest place during a vertical attack? Beneath the blade's arc before it completes descent and as soon as the sword skill reaches an unchangeable trajectory.

Illfang hit the pillar, its foot anchoring into the stone, nodachi already gleaming as it arced downward.

Exactly as predicted.

I lunged forward, sliding beneath its downward strike. My blade flashed upward. Not aiming for its torso—too much resistance.

Instead, I aimed for the wrist. Sever the tendon. Break the grip.

The nodachi jolted from its hand, clanging against the floor with an echoing thud.

I flinched slightly, the roar coming close to rupturing my ear drums, although I composed myself.

Its next move? Obvious. Close-range pummel strike.

I pivoted, dodging the incoming fist. Not fast enough. A glancing blow connected with my shoulder, pain radiating down my arm.

The health bar blinked again. It appeared in front of my eyes, but I swept it away.

Irrelevant. I am still alive.

Keep processing... adapt... adapt... I reminded myself.

Illfang retrieved its nodachi with its off hand.

Awkward but functional. Even a harmless animal when cornered can show its fangs.

The nodachi was gleaming again. Its grip faltered. Less force behind the swing. A weaker angle. The dominance of two-handed precision was slipping.

Once again, as the world slowed down, I observed it.

Left-hand dominance would adjust swing angle by 14 degrees. Force reduced by approximately 20%. Recovery time: 1.3 seconds post-strike.

I moved before Illfang even activated its sword skill.

Its blade came down—slower this time.

I rotated my body, letting the blade miss by inches.

My own strike was already in motion, Anneal Blade carving upward.

Think. Process. Do not go for the kill. Not yet. Too soon. Second best option?

Debilitate it.

I swung the Anneal Blade, letting the system pick up on my desired sequence.

Not a killing blow. A disabling one. Target: knee joint.

Metal met flesh. The joint cracked under my strike, and Illfang staggered, collapsing to one knee. Its movements were slowing, less efficient. More predictable.

"Hmm." I hummed out loud as my health screen blipped dangerously in my periphery.

The adaptation process had completed. It was time to end this.

I straightened, taking measured steps back. Illfang's body heaved, trying to stand.

It was obvious what its next move was going to be.

Desperation sinking in. It will lunge. High risk. High reward.

I raised my blade, prepared for the inevitable. One final exchange.

I stayed silent but I felt my heart whisper something exciting. Beating like a caged animal.

And it moved. Just as I knew it would.

Illfang shifted. Laboured breathing.

I could see the minute tremors in its legs, the way its posture leaned too far forward. Weight imbalance. Right knee damaged—internal structure compromised. Recovery speed: diminished.

It roared. Intimidation tactic. Meaningless. I wasn't listening. I was watching. Every twitch. Every subtle movement. It wasn't a monster anymore—it was a system of mechanics. A constantly modified code.

I am not sure if this is supposed to happen mid-battle, but the fighting patterns have shifted more than 3 times. Someone is actively changing the code. Which doesn't sound like something pre-planned. Since there are flaws.

Illfang steadied itself, gripping the nodachi in its left hand. Its posture betrayed its intent.

Shoulders squared. Elbows tight to the body. A charge. Fast, reckless. Desperation had set in. Desperate enemies make fatal mistakes.

I adjusted my stance, feet shoulder-width apart. Knees bent. Low, stable. My blade hovered in front of me, the tip steady, waiting.

My breathing slowed to a nigh stop. I could feel my pulse steadying, syncing with Illfang's movement.

One heartbeat. Two. Three. Then it moved.

Illfang lunged, its massive frame barrelling forward like an avalanche. The nodachi gleamed again, aimed for a downward cleave. Too slow. Too predictable. Its speed was compromised, the damage in its leg causing a fraction of a delay.

I sidestepped—not far, just enough. The nodachi crashed into the floor beside me, the stone shattering under its weight. Dust exploded outward and thin veins of cracks spiderwebbed in every direction.

The force of the impact caused it to stumble forward, momentum carrying it past me. My window had opened.

Target: chest. Path: direct.

I moved before Illfang could recover, pivoting on my back foot. My blade angled low; tip aimed at its centre. A single line.

The sword skill activated, and the tip of my Anneal Blade dug right into his chest.

The blade pierced through armoured flesh, sinking deep into its core. Resistance crunched against my grip, but I pressed harder, feeling the metal bite through bone. Illfang's roar turned into a strangled gasp.

Its health bar dropped fast—faster than I'd anticipated. The final chunk of red blinked out, leaving only a harrowing silence. Its nodachi slipped from its grip, clattering uselessly to the ground.

For a moment, it just stood there, frozen around my blade. Then it disintegrated. A heavy deluge of pixels burst outward in a breathtaking cascade, filling the air with the familiar chime of victory.

I exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain from my muscles. My health bar flickered again in the corner of my vision as I fell on my back. As I was about to look at the health bar, a small chunk of rock fell harmlessly on my head.

The health bar flickered, and the percentage went from 1% to 0.9%.

Hah...a dirt ball would've killed me just now.

The cold embrace of White Room's teachings and mindset were still active around me, hugging me tight. Its embrace was frigid, biting into my skin. But it was what helped me survive...again. Why do I feel so...begrudged over it?

The familiar chime of a system notification echoed in my ears.

[Congratulations! You have defeated Illfang the Kobold Lord.]

The message hovered in my view for a moment, and with it came the spoils of victory. Experience, points, col, and loot streamed into my inventory. These rewards would have been overwhelming under different circumstances.

"Hm?"

I glanced at the Last Attack Bonus notification hovering in my view. My eyes briefly scanned the item that had been awarded to me: the Coat of Midnight. Its description highlighted a unique effect—due to its dark color, the coat boosts the Hiding skill while equipped.

A good reward. Unexpected, but useful. Yet...

A part of me wanted to feel satisfaction. After all, I'd taken down a floor boss singlehandedly—an accomplishment that would have sent shockwaves through Aincrad once word got out. And yet, I couldn't summon a flicker of pride.

Instead, my mind wandered. To my childhood.

Adapt to your opponent. Exploit their weaknesses.

The formula hadn't changed since then. Illfang was just a collection of patterns and algorithms designed to push the limits of its challengers. It was stronger, faster, and more unpredictable than anything I'd faced in this game so far. But in the end, I simply viewed it as another puzzle.

My hand subconsciously tightened around the hilt of my sword. My health bar flashed red like a glaring warning—a single mistake could have ended everything.

I shouldn't have let my health drop that low. It was reckless. Even if I survived, that kind of gamble is unnecessary.

Still, there was no room for regret. What mattered now was that I succeeded. The difference between that and failure was razor-thin, but in the end, it was absolute.

The Coat of Midnight shimmered briefly before I equipped it. The dark fabric materialized around my shoulders, fitting right underneath my Feathered Gale's Hood.

It wasn't a weapon, but it was equally invaluable.

I turned toward the cavern as the remnants of the battlefield stretched before my eyes, the ground scarred from Illfang's attacks.

The last phase was a miscalculation.

The guidebook had been incomplete, and I'd relied on its information too heavily. Argo's notes were a valuable resource, but they were clearly not infallible.

In the end, I could only trust my own judgement.

***

Kirigaya Kazuto (Kirito)

The dim glow of torches flickered against the walls of the cavernous room as I stepped in alongside the raid group. Diavel, the self-proclaimed knight, rallied us up quickly.

"We're heading in," he declared. "If there's even the slightest chance the boss is still there or we can figure out what happened, we need to see for ourselves."

Like most others, my first assumption was that another raid party had somehow beaten us to the boss fight. Maybe one of the smaller groups had slipped in early to scoop up the loot and glory for themselves.

I glanced at Asuna, who stood silently beside me while her hood shadowed most of her face. She hadn't said a word since we'd entered the labyrinth, but I could tell she was just as curious as I was.

When we opened the towering double doors to the boss room, the sight that greeted us stole the breath from my lungs.

The room was eerily silent. Shattered remnants of stone pillars and scorches marked the ground. A battle had occurred here.

The boss had been defeated, but it wasn't by a party.

"Wait..." Asuna muttered, barely loud enough that anyone could hear. "Is... he alone?"

A lone figure wearing a sleek full-body cloak walked away from the center of the arena, where the fragments of Illfang's remains floated in the air, dissolving into nothingness. Their cloak, tattered at the edges, swayed as he walked.

It was one player. They did this... alone.

This wasn't possible. A single player had taken down the first-floor boss alone? It wasn't just reckless—it was insane. Even Asuna, standing just a step behind my shoulder, seemed stunned into silence.

The player stopped a mere few steps from the boss room's exit. Then slowly, they turned its head to face us.

For a moment, I couldn't see much. The shadows of the hood concealed their features, but as their head tilted slightly upward, the only thing visible were their golden eyes, glowing faintly in the dim light.

Their gaze was sharp, cold—like they had seen everything and cared for nothing.

"Took you all long enough."

It was the voice of a teenage boy.

And the words hung in the air like a challenge. For a moment, nobody moved. Instinctively, my fingers tightened around the hilt of my sword. He spoke as though we were late to a meeting rather than standing before the aftermath of what should have been an impossible feat.

Before anyone could respond, the hooded player turned and began walking away toward the exit.

"Hey, wait!" Diavel's voice cut through the silence. "Who are you—"

"A player."

The words carried no pride or arrogance, just pure factuality. As if that was all there was to it.

"Were you the one who cleared the boss?" Diavel questioned further.

The hooded player stopped but didn't turn around. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn't answer at all.

"Does it look like there's anyone else around?" he asked.

Diavel blinked, clearly taken aback. "But... why—no, how did you do it alone? And what about the loot distribution—"

The figure turned to us, tilting his head slightly. "I fought it alone. It is only natural that I keep the rewards."

His tone was so casual that it took a moment for the implications to sink in. Before Diavel could respond, another voice broke the tension.

"You selfish bastard!"

I glanced to my left, already recognizing the speaker: Kibaou. His face was red with anger as he stomped forward, pointing an accusatory finger at the lone player.

"You're one of those beta testers, ain't ya?! Cheatin' your way through the game while the rest of us bust our asses! You must've known some kind of secret to beat it solo!"

The accusation sparked whispers among the raid group. Other voices joined in, growing louder as prejudice began to boil over.

"That's right! Only a beta tester could pull something like this off!"

"He's hoarding the items! How are the rest of us supposed to survive without the drops from the boss fight?"

The hooded player didn't flinch under the barrage of accusations. Instead, he shifted his gaze toward Kibaou, making the room fall quiet once again.

"Beta tester? Cheater?" The figure's tone was flat, sounding disinterested. "If I were relying on beta knowledge, I'd be dead. This game has been changed. Illfang didn't use a talwar in its last phase—it used a nodachi. That's not in your precious guidebook, is it?"

"H-Huh?"

Kibaou stammered, probably searching for a retort, but the weight of the player's words had sunk in. I exchanged a glance with Asuna, whose expression seemed to mirror my own shock.

The claim was so matter-of-fact that I couldn't brush it off as bravado. And the evidence was right in front of us: Illfang's shattered nodachi, scattered on the battlefield.

'This game has been changed.'

If that was true—if Sword Art Online had been altered from the beta—then all the knowledge I'd accumulated in those two months before the official release was now unreliable. It was a potential trap.

I knew Aincrad's early floors better than most, from the locations of rare items to boss attack patterns.

But now... If Illfang's patterns had been altered, what else had changed?

Was it just the first-floor boss, or were there other hidden changes scattered across the game? The thought alone was dizzying.

A nodachi instead of a talwar. It seemed like such a small thing on the surface, but the implications were massive. Illfang's speed and attack patterns were likely tailored to that weapon, creating a fight that was completely different from what I—and, apparently, Argo—had expected.

If we'd gone in assuming the guidebook was gospel, we really could have suffered fatalities. I was sure everyone shared the same thought.

"Your eyes should be on whoever fed you that incomplete information. If it weren't for me, at least one of you could have died," the figure continued.

Concerned whispers began to circulate throughout the crowd of players. Kibaou, never one to let a grudge go, seized the moment.

"See?! This is what I'm talking about! These beta testers are screwing us over! First, they keep all the good stuff to themselves, and now they're feeding us lies!"

"That's enough," Diavel said firmly, trying to regain control. "We don't know enough to jump to conclusions—"

But the damage was already done. Among the crowd, resentment had already bubbled to the surface as players began to speculate. Even those who looked calm moments ago now looked uneasy, probably having their trust shaken.

This is bad. Argo is in danger.

The hooded player gave me a brief glance. Then, without another word, he turned and resumed walking toward the exit.

"Wait—" Diavel called again, but the figure didn't stop.

"Let him go," I muttered.

Diavel turned to me, confused, but I didn't elaborate. My eyes remained locked on the retreating figure.

His golden eyes lingered in my memory, glowing like embers in the void. They held something... unfathomable.

And it terrified me.