CHARGE!
CHARGE!
The duo charged at each other… One radiating an aura that could burn the world to ashes, the other exuding a presence that screamed liberation—an aura that could free the world from its shackles.
When these two clashed…
Metal vs. Iron.
The Greatsword versus the Iron Fist… The sound that rang out was something that could burst eardrums. Even from a distance, the watching team flinched. Yet their eyes stayed fixed—widened with amazement and brimming with anticipation. Right before them was a Boss-level battle, one straight out of legends.
At first, Malik was at an advantage.
Then the Infernal Feral King.
One mistake, and Malik would've lost his life. But with grit and madness, he turned the tide—forcing the Infernal Feral King to unleash half of his true power.
"Boss is too powerful."
"He has truly broadened my horizon."
"I just want to be like him."
"He's truly… a Man like Malik."
"Brother Isiaka… just what miraculous encounter did you go through?"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
That was the only sound they heard as the two beings clashed head-on. Sparks erupted like miniature suns—bursts of fire dancing through the air as both moved faster than the eyes of any ordinary player could follow.
The tension was suffocating.
The air seemed to pulse as the fight dragged on. Malik slipped into stealth once again, but Gorthok was ready. The towering figure swung his sword with practiced menace, and seven arcs of flaming light shot out in different directions.
Though Malik was invisible, he wasn't invulnerable.
He ducked beneath the first arc. Rolled past the second. But then they came again—relentless, unforgiving. The third arc clipped him, and the force threw him out of stealth.
In that instant, Gorthok appeared above him like a devil descending from the heavens, his Greatsword completely engulfed in fire.
INFERNAL SLASH!
A blazing inferno, the size of a building, came crashing down.
Malik activated the skill on his boots just in time—his agility soaring by 30% as he barely evaded the attack, the edge of the flames licking at his skin. Even so, he lost over 15% of his HP.
He landed, panting.
40% HP.
Gorthok stood at 45%.
But Malik noticed something. After unleashing an AoE skill, the boss became vulnerable—slightly weakened for a few seconds.
That was all he needed.
With the boots still active, Malik leapt high into the air. He channeled all his remaining spiritual energy into his fist, initiating the cultivation technique he had just learned.
"RENDING CLAW STRIKE!"
Four black arcs, shaped like a deadly 'X' and each nearly two meters thick, descended with savage force.
Gorthok was sent flying—launched through the sky like a falling star. He crashed into the lake of lava, the impact throwing waves of molten rock in every direction. Damage notifications flared like fireworks above his head.
His HP finally settled at 35% as he emerged from the lava, his entire body glowing with sparks of fury. The Greatsword had vanished from his hands. He now stood barehanded, his eyes locked on Malik—who stood panting, barely able to lift his arms.
SE: 40/1000
His spiritual energy was almost gone.
If it hit zero, he'd be nothing more than a walking corpse.
"I never thought I'd see the day… when a human would force me to use 70% of my power." Gorthok's voice was low but heavy, as if each word weighed a ton. "You're qualified. You've earned the right to enter the Feral Temple… even to seek the legacy of the Feral God. If your opponent hadn't been me—his direct knight—you'd have already won."
Fire began condensing in his hand as he lifted his arm.
"There were others—humans before you. They challenged me… but only the weaker version. Not a single one of them pushed me past 40% before they died. But you… Man like Malik… You would've defeated them. So why don't you go fight the weaker me?"
Malik's jaw clenched.
"I just thought… the stronger the boss, the higher the grade of the monster core."
Gorthok's expression twisted, a cruel smile on his lips. "You want my monster core? That's interesting, Man like Malik. But unfortunately…"
His voice dropped, full of malice.
"…The price is your soul."
In an instant, Gorthok hurled two massive fireballs, each the size of a car.
Malik sprinted, only to realize too late—the boots' boost had worn off during their conversation.
"Shit… I've been tricked."
With no time to think, he poured his last spiritual energy into his legs, barely dodging one fireball. The second wasn't as kind—it slammed into him, the explosion launching him deep into the ground. His HP hung dangerously low at 25%, and his spiritual energy was completely gone.
He couldn't move.
He lay in a crater, body screaming in pain, while Gorthok advanced step by step—condensing yet another fireball in his hand.
"You know… since the trial of the Feral God was initiated, most Hunters passed with an average grade. The top? Still untouched. And not even you, Man like Malik, will succeed in clearing it."
The words cut deep.
Malik's face twisted into a visible frown, blood streaming down every inch of his skin. His gear was in ruins. The legguards and armguards had been reduced to ash. Even the Feral pants were gone, incinerated. Only the Feral shirt remained intact—a gift from the Alpha Feral Horned Wolf. It alone still clung to his battered body.
Desperate, Malik yanked open his inventory. He scanned for anything—anything—a forgotten weapon, some overlooked equipment… But nothing useful surfaced.
"You know…" Gorthok's voice came again, calm and sinister. "If you give up now and go challenge the weaker me… I'll let you win easily."
The frown on Malik's face deepened.
Weak.
He was calling him weak.
He was weak—that's why the girl he loved had been taken.
He was weak—that's why he became a nobody in FUO.
He was weak—that's why he got reset to Level 0 and dumped in Beginner's Town.
He was weak—that's why he couldn't save Qing'er.
The rage in his chest boiled over.
Malik yanked out a Feral Rage Potion and drank it.
Then another.
And another.
And another.
His hands shook as he emptied potion after potion into his body, like a man possessed. Rage clouded his judgment, drowned out the pain. He didn't care anymore. His heart pounded like a war drum, shaking his very soul.
"It's time to die," Gorthok bellowed as he hurled the two massive fireballs toward Malik's direction.
They struck.
They exploded.
But then—
Ding!
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