Chapter 97: Unwilling 

"I'm betting on Shadow to land the final strike."

"Are you kidding me? Is the Black Crescent a joke to you?"

"That's the Great Assassin from Shadow we're talking about… Do you know what kind of strength comes with that hidden class?"

"Hah. It's now I truly believe the players of Blackroot City are brain-dead. What's the current duration?"

"It's nighttime."

"Oh… Then it's over. Bolt101 is the Night Assassin of the Black Crescent Guild."

"His strength isn't even a notch beneath the Great Assassin."

"Tch. This Ancestor is really down on his luck. He's going to lose most of his gear—mark my words."

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"Those old bags sure do act fast," Rina murmured, a sly smirk tugging her lips as she observed the chaotic battlefield. But before she could relish the scene, her hand trembled.

A sharp pain shot through her wrist.

Her pupils dilated.

"What?" she gasped, her voice breaking as she felt her spellbound weakening. The icy grip she had on the battlefield was starting to unravel.

In panic, she began chanting a new incantation.

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"You should leave the kill for me," Bolt101 muttered coldly, channeling his energy into the jagged edge of his dagger.

"The boy humiliated me first," Striker growled, energy surging through his blade. "I have no choice but to cleanse my shame."

NECRO SLASH!

ELECTRO STAB!

Two deadly skills pierced forward in perfect sync. Their attacks tore through the air, crashing into Malik—who had been struggling fiercely, caught like a beast in an ice trap, unable to move a muscle.

-5000! -6000! -7000! -8000!

A cascade of damage numbers flooded the sky above him. His HP dropped like a crumbling tower—4%, 3%, 2%, then 1%...

His health bar was now nothing but a sliver of red.

Less than 100 HP left.

And the storm hadn't stopped yet.

"I can't die here… Not like this. Not in his hands. Not again!"

"I'M UNWILLING!"

"Fool…" Zurich smirked. "Just accept your death."

But then—

His expression twisted.

"What the hell?!"

"Unbelievable," Rina gasped. She stumbled back, blood spurting from her lips. "He… he broke through my spell!"

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[System Alert: Due to the immense rage surging through Player 'Man Like Malik', the skill 'Berserk' has been forcefully activated. All stats shall be doubled for 10 minutes.]

[System Alert: Due to the Forbidden Scroll still being in effect, Player 'Man Like Malik' shall only return to normal state for 2 minutes.]

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Notifications blasted across every player's screen.

Malik's HP—full.

The aura pouring out of his body was no longer human. It surged in wild, untamed waves, so violent that even Bolt101 and Striker faltered, their instincts screaming one word—death.

"The rumors were true… He really has a Berserk skill."

"He's an Ancestor. He's truly an Ancestor."

"Even miracles bend the knee before him."

"But all Berserk skills have a backlash... He can't maintain that for long."

"We just need to hold back for two minutes."

"EVERYONE—ATTACK!"

"He's been fighting for too long! He must be running on fumes!"

"YES—KILL!"

A wave of players surged forth, raining attacks down like a storm of vengeance.

But Malik?

He didn't flinch.

His eyes were locked on Striker—sharp, cold, murderous. Bolt101, behind him, may as well have not existed.

"What kind of grudge does Shadow have with this boy?" a spectator muttered.

"I won't die," Malik said, his voice trembling with rage. "Not until you pay what you owe me."

Suddenly, the Crimson Set Equipment on his body pulsed—an ominous red glow seeping from the seams. The Bloodcleaver in his grip began to hum—a haunting dirge that made every player's skin crawl.

[System Alert: 'Crimson Drain' is now in effect. Do you want to activate it?]

"Yes," Malik roared.

The Bloodcleaver levitated, hovering high above his head.

"That's the epic weapon!" one player shouted.

"Why's he letting go of it?!"

CRIMSON DOMAIN!

Necro Slash!

Flame Slash!

Electro Stab!

Glacial Flurry!

A hurricane of elemental destruction descended upon the battlefield.

Players screamed as the devastating combo of attacks scorched, froze, stabbed, and shattered them. Those too weak to withstand it vanished instantly—HP bars flattened, gear dropped.

This… was Bloodcleaver's second skill—drain and store incoming damage, then release it all at once in a cataclysmic burst.

Bolt101 narrowly escaped, using Stealth to evade the worst of it—only losing 30% HP.

But Striker wasn't so lucky.

80% gone.

He stood stunned, barely upright, staring wide-eyed at Malik, who was charging straight for him.

"Brother Striker, I'm coming!"

Zurich, seeing the battle shift drastically, dashed forward with his Flame Swordsman blade.

Malik clashed head-on.

Their weapons met.

Flames engulfed the sword as it knocked Malik's Corrosive Dagger from his grasp.

FLAME FURY!

Zurich's fiery blade stabbed straight through Malik's chest.

Flames clung to his body, corroding flesh and armor alike. His HP dipped rapidly.

"Iron Monkey Stance!"

Malik roared, reducing the damage by half. He followed up with a brutal punch—only for a chain to wrap around his arm.

Then—thunk!

An arrow hit his leg.

"Support the Guild Leader!"

"Obsidian Dynasty will claim the kill!"

Long-ranged attacks rained like hail.

Malik's defense was on cooldown.

He tried activating Stealth—but couldn't move.

[Red Priestess has cast Immobilization. You are unable to move or use any skills for 1 minute.]

"Dammit…" Malik growled, struggling against the magical bindings.

And just then—

The Rage of GoreBrinbare ended.

His stats plummeted.

His muscles weakened.

His aura—dimmed.

"He's vulnerable!"

"He's done for! This is our chance!"

"Wait! Don't go in close—he has a summoning ring!"

"Elementalists, do it now!"

A magic array expanded beneath Malik.

Chains bound his arms, then his legs.

"Kyrogh's Hammer…" Malik muttered, summoning the enormous weapon from his inventory. Gritting his teeth, he pushed through the immobilization using sheer will.

With a roar, he smashed the chains with a single swing.

Infernal Rending Strike!

The chains shattered.

Malik dashed forward—only to stop in his tracks.

He was surrounded.

Seven Tier 2 Elementalists.

Each one had their staff trained on him from within a glowing magic array.

Another array opened in the sky.

Pillars of Fire.

Burning. Crashing. Descending.

"Dammit… I didn't get my revenge… I can't die here. Not like this."

He reached into his bag, yanked out a Teleportation Scroll, and tore it.

[System Alert: The Blackroot Forest is locked down by a Tier 2 Anti-Teleportation Scroll. Spatial movement disabled.]

[System Alert: Tier 2 Barrier Spell active. Player cannot exit the 200*200 radius.]

"Shit!" Malik cursed, slamming his hammer into the ground.

"You're not escaping," Zurich said coldly. "You're going to die here."

Malik's eyes burned. He drew out all three remaining scrolls he'd bought from the City Lord's Manor—and tore them all at once.

Players gasped.

Was this it?

Another miracle?

But—nothing happened.

"Now DIE!"

HELL ESCALATION!

The Elementalists screamed in unison.

The array opened.

Pillars of fire rained down like the wrath of heaven.

Malik looked up.

His eyes narrowed.

He raised his hammer—and poured every drop of spiritual energy into it. Flames roared from the weapon.

"What is he doing…?"

"He's trying to fight fire… with fire?!"

INFERNAL HAMMER STRIKE!

With a mighty cry, Malik hurled the hammer skyward.

The moment it struck the falling flames—

BOOOOM!!

A colossal explosion erupted.

The shockwave shattered even the Tier 2 barrier meant to contain the aftermath. Flames engulfed everything.

Trees, rocks, even players standing too close were incinerated by the backlash.

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And when the light faded...

There was nothing.

No sign of Malik.

No corpse.

No equipment.

No Bloodcleaver.

No System Notification. 

Only silence.

The Ancestor… had vanished.