Chapter 77 - The Drunken Storm
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<<+500,000 SQP>>
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System Reminder: You're now Level 39
<<400,000/6,000,000 SQP>>
Malik leveled up just as the bodies of a dozen Red players hit the ground. Their cries hadn't even faded when his HP surged back to full, his energy reigniting like a flame doused in fresh oil. He felt untouchable, high on battle, high on blood, and above all, high on wine. He grinned like a lunatic as he bolted after the next wave of enemies.
Blades swung. Arrows flew. Fireballs crackled through the air.
But none could land a decisive blow.
He moved like chaos itself—staggering here, slipping there, tumbling like a man possessed. His feet were clumsy, unpredictable, and most times, he tripped and crashed headfirst into the dirt. Yet despite his messy movements and laughable footwork, not a single player managed to kill him.
Little did they know—this was no weakness.
This was the cursed elegance of the Drunken Master. A title that weaponized his intoxicated state, turning what looked like foolish stumbles into a dance of death. Every missed attack by his enemies only invited another fatal blow in return.
"We can't defeat this guy! He's a damn monster!" one of the Red players screamed.
"What kind of player is this?! We need to get the hell out of here!"
"Ember Sword, what have you brought upon us?!"
"You want to escape?!" Malik's voice rang out like thunder as he skidded to a halt, fingers glowing with condensed spiritual energy. "How can I allow you to flee with my sweet, succulent SQP? Killing you guys gives more Spiritual Qi Points than monsters. Not my fault you all taste better."
His fingers sliced through the air.
Infernal Rending Strike!
Five massive, fiery-black claw marks erupted across the sky like the wrath of a demon god. They descended with violent majesty upon the escaping Red players, rending the battlefield as screams erupted. Most were instantly annihilated. The few survivors fled like rats.
System Reminder: You're now Level 40
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"Wow. This is so awesome," Malik muttered, eyes glinting with feverish light. He bent down, snatching up loot like a famished beggar finally discovering a banquet. "Not only did I level up twice, but I earned contribution points from players. Actual people. Had I known earlier, I would've slaughtered every last one."
He rose with a sigh, turning to leave—but paused.
A presence. Hidden. Watching.
His gaze flicked to the shadowy corner of a crumbled building.
"Will you scram the fuck out, or do I have to come drag your ass myself?"
A chuckle came from the shadows before a large man stepped forward, his wide grin framed by a thick beard and a bottle of wine gripped in his right hand.
"Brother Expert... To think I'd get discovered by you."
Malik's eyes narrowed.
"You were at the restaurant."
"Definitely, Brother Expert. Name's Goliath. I thought those three jars of wine wouldn't reach you, so I brought two more. Sadly, that Red player smashed one before you could even taste it. I'm here to offer you the last one."
Without a shred of hesitation, Malik reached out and took the wine. He was already plotting how to swipe it if Goliath had been stingy. He quickly stuffed the bottle into his inventory like a thief guarding stolen treasure.
"You're a Berserker, right?" Malik asked, glancing at his build.
Goliath nodded proudly.
Malik didn't hesitate. He rummaged through his loot and pulled out a massive greatsword—nearly identical to what one of the Red players had wielded, but its gleam and aura were several notches above.
"Take this. It's yours."
Goliath's eyes lit up like the sun.
"I-I can't accept this! I don't want any compensation, Brother Expert. I just want to be friends with you."
"What are you even saying?" Malik laughed. "We're already friends, Goliath. From today on, we'll drink the finest wine together. This isn't compensation—you've given me the most precious gift in this world. It's only natural I gift you something in return."
He pulled out another piece—fine gold-ranked armor, crafted with intricate engravings, boosting both defense and attack speed.
"In fact, take this too. Gear up, Brother."
Just like that, Malik gifted Goliath a fine gold-rank greatsword, two tiers above Goliath's current weapon, and armor fit for a frontline juggernaut.
"Now... let's go drink."
Malik couldn't help but smile seeing the glow in Goliath's eyes. The man was already undergoing a transformation. Though he was only Level 38 and Tier 1, with this gear, Goliath now had the appearance of a proper beast. His entire demeanor changed.
"Brother, didn't you earn contribution points from killing the Red players? Let me take you to the Lord's Manor to exchange them for items."
"That's true... Guess wine will have to wait." Malik chuckled. "Lead the way, Brother Goliath."
Goliath bowed his head slightly, overwhelmed by Malik's generosity. He couldn't wrap his head around it.
"Did he love wine that much...? Or is he just crazy? How can he casually give me weapons this powerful?"
As they walked side by side, Malik stretched lazily and glanced at the horizon. "Is the place far? Maybe we should race there."
A glance at the time showed it was 6:24 in-game, which translated to midnight in the real world. That meant there were six hours left before nightfall in God's Realm. After eating the B-rank nutrient field and resting in the new cabin, Malik felt like a man reborn. His stamina was overflowing, and the comfort of the virtual bed had almost been too real.
Still, one thing lingered at the back of his mind—class tomorrow. Carita had warned him not to miss it.
He needed to be careful. As tempting as it was to dive deeper into the game, real-world consequences loomed like a ticking bomb.
Ping!
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<<+3,000 Reputation Points>>
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"Equip it," Malik said with a grin as he walked alongside Goliath.
The title of a noble... I wonder what kind of privileges come with that.