Chapter 86 – Taking Action
Varthos groaned in pain where he lay, coughing blood with every breath. His crimson armor, once majestic and gleaming with infernal runes, was now cracked and leaking corrupted energy, his health bar clinging to a sliver of red. His glaive was nowhere to be found—scattered across the battlefield during the fierce onslaught.
Malik's boots thudded against the scarred earth as he approached, slow and deliberate, his shadow long and heavy over the fallen tyrant.
"You… bastard…" Varthos gasped, his voice ragged, eyes wide with disbelief. "How… how did you—?"
He didn't get to finish.
A hum filled the air, low and ominous, as Malik's right hand tightened into a fist—and then, from within his grip, a colossal weapon materialized. A black-silver war hammer, its surface pulsing with jagged crimson veins, carved from the corrupted essence of Kyrogh's legacy. The moment it appeared, the ground trembled softly as though even the land feared the power it held.
Malik spun it once with a grunt, the hammerhead leaving trails of spiritual energy in the air like flaming serpents.
"I'll kill you with what belonged to your friend," Malik said coldly, lifting the weapon above his head. His aura surged like a vortex, wrapping his body in invisible threads of pressure. "Hopefully, your Bloodcleaver will be more useful to my team than you ever were."
The veins in the hammer glowed brighter as Malik channeled his spiritual energy deep into the weapon. The runes on its surface began to spin, screaming out as if awakening to their true purpose. Red wind whirled around him, stirring dust and ash into the sky like a miniature storm.
Varthos's eyes widened in horror. "No—!"
INFERNAL SLASH!
Malik roared, his voice echoing across the battlefield like the judgment of a wrathful god. The hammer descended like a meteor, trailing a blazing arc of dark-red energy. It wasn't just a strike—it was a verdict.
BOOOOOOM!!!
The impact was cataclysmic.
The hammer slammed into Varthos's skull with a thundering explosion that shook the ruins of Blackroot City. A massive crater erupted from the force, sending debris flying in every direction. The shockwave split the cracked ground further, a red fissure expanding from the impact point like the veins of a dying heart.
Varthos didn't even scream.
His body was vaporized on impact. There was no resistance. No final blow exchange. No cinematic last stand. The moment Malik's hammer struck, all of Varthos's remaining HP evaporated, and his massive frame burst into brilliant crimson particles, scattered into the wind like cursed dust returning to the void.
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The entire battlefield fell silent.
Then—ding! ding! ding!—system notifications began to cascade like rain.
Everyone's experience bars jumped.
Young Star gasped. "Level 41…"
"White Emperor, Level 42." He murmured in awe.
"Trust, Level 41…"
"Goliath, Level 42!" he shouted.
"Angel Michael just hit 43!" Young Star added, eyes wide.
[System Reminder: You are now Level 46.]
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[Quest Rewards: +50,000 Contribution Points to each participant, +10,000 Reputation Points each, and +2 Levels]
[You've killed the Betrayer of Blackroot City and purged the evil from its roots. Your rank in Blackroot City has risen to 3-Star Noble.]
[You've earned the Crimson Command Emblem. You are now in control of the Crimson Vault. Take the emblem to the City Lord for official recognition.]
Malik exhaled slowly, allowing the hammer to vanish back into the system's storage as he turned to the scattered loot beside Varthos's remains. Glowing orbs, shimmering items, gold piles, and a single blood-stained relic floated in place—the [Bloodcleaver].
The rest of the team jogged over, their faces equal parts shock and reverence.
"We… really did it," Trust muttered, his eyes scanning the loot in disbelief.
Goliath dropped to his knees. "That monster… He's really gone…"
They turned toward Malik with silent understanding and began to gather the loot they found around the battlefield. When they made to offer them to Malik, he raised a hand and shook his head.
"Any loot you managed to grab belongs to you," Malik said firmly. "Besides, the City Lord's Manor will now offer exchange items for CP. You can spend those contribution points wisely. You've earned it."
"Don't be so polite, Boss. Without you, none of this would've happened."
"I'm truly grateful for following you, Brother." Goliath's voice cracked as tears slipped down his cheeks.
"Help me clear the area. I need to visit the City Lord's Manor. I'll be back soon."
"Yes, Boss!" they chorused.
Malik gave a curt nod and turned, walking away through the cracked ruins, the cold wind slapping on his bare chest.
[System Reminder: Rage of Gorebrinbare has ended and all your stats has been halved for thirty minutes.]
Malik felt his body got extremely weak as he continued moving when he heard the sounds of notification.
Ping!
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He didn't hesitate. "Yes."
Might as well capitalize on the moment—others would find out soon enough. Better they heard his name directly.
....
Blackroot Regional System: Player Man like Malik has defeated the Betrayer of Blackroot City and cleansed its corruption. He has been awarded +10,000 Reputation Points and earned access to one exclusive item from the City Lord's Manor.
Blackroot Regional System: Player Man like Malik has defeated the Betrayer of Blackroot City and cleansed its corruption. He has been awarded +10,000 Reputation Points and earned access to one exclusive item from the City Lord's Manor.
Blackroot Regional System: Player Man like Malik has defeated the Betrayer of Blackroot City and cleansed its corruption. He has been awarded +10,000 Reputation Points and earned access to one exclusive item from the City Lord's Manor.
....
The triple ping echoed across the region like the tolling of a bell—and hearts shook.
"Player Man like Malik?"
"Didn't he just learn an S-rank skill three hours ago?!"
"He solo'd a field boss then, and now… what the hell is this guy?! Is he even human?"
"Is Man like Malik playing the same God's Realm as us?!"
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[Obsidian Dynasty – Guild Hall]
"Guild Leader, have you heard the latest news?"
A hulking Level 60 Berserker marched into the opulent room. Sitting by a white crystal lamp was a woman—a Level 45 Cleric wrapped in holy silver robes.
Guild Leader Zurich, a tall man with blade-scarred cheeks and an aura that oozed danger, stood silently.
"I've heard… this Man like Malik."
"Are the rumors true?" the Berserker asked.
The Cleric raised her eyes, voice calm but firm. "Eighty percent true. There's no sign of Red Players left in Blackroot. From the latest visuals, it seems Malik purged them all."
"What about Varthos?"
The Cleric inhaled. "There's a seventy percent chance Malik killed him himself."
Zurich's pupils constricted.
Silence. Then the sound of a table cracking as he clenched his fists.
"We're in deep shit… very deep. We need to eliminate that guy—now. Prepare my trip to the Black Crescent City. We need to take action."
"Consider it done, Guild Leader Zurich," the Cleric replied with a low bow.