There was no time to mourn or rejoice over Veriant's death. His son, Jack, was already overpowering the two Unlocked fighting him—his father's murder only fueling his resolve.
Truth be told, the King's Envoy seemed strangely unfazed by the death of his own father.
Elion was helping Farha deal with the remaining knights. They weren't as strong as the one he'd slain earlier, but he was already injured and losing a lot of blood. The battle wasn't clearly won.
He stood back-to-back with the Mute Demon, the two working together in a clumsy style. Neither was used to team battles, but with Elion's ability, he could anticipate her moves and merge his own, removing the need for communication.
Her warhammer flashed as he ducked, his blade aimed at the knee joint. The horned knight couldn't block both strikes and was taken down.
Another opponent—his face hidden behind a helmet—swung his blade toward Farha's neck. Elion blocked it with the edge of his sword. The mute girl seized the moment and swung her hammer at the man's ribs. He tumbled back, gasping for air.
The knight was clearly out of the fight for now. More pressing targets awaited them—but Farha lunged at his broken body, pure murderous glee burning in her eyes.
Elion might have been able to stop her, but there wasn't any real reason to. Still, the sight of her slamming her heavy warhammer into the man's helmet was sickening. Blood pooled inside the visor as his body went still.
The young cook gritted his teeth. There was clearly something deeper behind her actions, something he didn't understand yet—but he'd have to ask later, since another sword was already flying toward his head.
He blocked the strike, but his parry was awkward, letting the blade slide and cut his cheek. He kicked the knight back, making him stumble, then lunged forward and drove his sword between the helmet and breastplate.
[You have slain a Locked Soul]
[Soul Integrity: 75%]
Huh. This one gave less Soul Integrity even though he was categorized the same as the first knight I killed.
The euphoric feeling returned—though to a lesser degree. It really did feel like some kind of drug. He just hoped its addictive nature wouldn't cloud his judgment.
Farha took care of another knight, her hammer's head phasing through the void and reappearing half a meter ahead—surprising the man and cracking his helmet with violent force. At this point, most opponents were either incapacitated or dead. Well—mostly dead, seeing Farha's antics.
Speaking of which, she was panting, breath heavy, but her gaze didn't waver. It was locked on the last remaining fight—against Jack. Eshrod and Lumos had done well to hold him off, but they were clearly at their limits.
From what Elion could gauge, a King's Envoy was roughly equivalent in physical prowess to a Second Finger. The gap between First and Second Finger was massive—so even five against one wasn't a guaranteed win. At least Jack didn't seem to possess any ability, or if he did, he hadn't shown it.
Even with Elion's ability, it was hard to determine his true power.
We need to retreat.
But that meant someone would likely die. The dilemma was eerily similar to when he and Farha had fled the faceless Class III—only this time, more lives were on the line.
Jack grunted as he deflected a strike from Lumos. The runes on the sorcerer's arm glowed a deep blue, the ink swirling around his palm and attempting to latch onto the King's Envoy's dark armor—futilely.
Farha pulled her sniper rifle from the void, trying to offer cover.
How can we take him down?!
Elion's mind raced, imagining multiple scenarios that could lead to survival—or even victory. None felt convincing enough to act on.
Eshrod thrust her blade into Jack's blind spot, hoping to pierce his enchanted armor. The greatsword slid harmlessly off the black alloy. The King's Envoy had predicted it, using the Gremlin's imbalance to slam his elbow into her ribs. The impact sent her crashing to the ground, leaving cracks in the stone floor.
Any other newly Unlocked would've died. Not Eshrod. Still, she was in bad shape—ribs shattered, blood bubbling at her lips.
She was out of the fight.
Elion cursed silently and rushed to drag her away before a fatal blow could be dealt.
Lumos picked up the slack, engaging Jack in a swirl of ink, while the roar of Farha's rifle split the air.
The King's Envoy's reaction time was insane—he raised his armored forearm and deflected the bullet aimed at his face. It bounced off, barely scratching the black alloy.
Elion had pulled Eshrod to safety. She slumped against a support beam, head lolling as she coughed dramatically.
"Go… leave me behind… I'm sorry things couldn't work out between us," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"What the hell are you talking about?!"
The Gremlin chuckled, strained and bleeding from the mouth.
"Sorry. I always wanted to have an epic last stand," she said with a crooked smile. "No, really. If you leave me here to die, I'll crawl out of my grave to kill you."
"Guess I'll have to burn your body then," Elion replied, not even sure why he was entertaining this lunacy.
She laughed again, pulled him close, and whispered something in his ear.
Right! Why hadn't I thought of that?
Elion looked toward the fight, then back at Eshrod, and nodded.
"Don't die," she said as he turned, tightening his grip on his sword.
There was a way to beat him—a way everyone could make it out alive.
The man wasn't wearing a helmet. Either a foolish aesthetic choice, or because he hadn't expected a real challenge. Regardless, it was a glaring weak spot. Elion had considered it already, but Jack's strength and experience made it practically impossible to exploit—unless…
"Kel!" Elion shouted.
The fire-wielding imp looked at him and nodded. Lumos understood too, stepping back and creating space. The sorcerer looked battered—blood soaking his borrowed robes, his long beard trimmed short by a blade.
Jack stood in the middle of the room, ready to lunge. His breathing was steady, his posture perfect. Time was not on their side.
Nothing new.
Kellta unleashed a torrent of crimson flames, engulfing the black-armored knight. His figure blurred within the blazing inferno. Elion recoiled, the heat burning his lungs.
The King's Envoy didn't flinch. Even that wasn't enough to bring him down—and Kellta was quickly draining her power.
But the flames weren't meant to take him down. It was about creating one perfect window.
"A little to the left," Elion said, gently adjusting Farha's rifle.
He had run back to her while commanding the torrent. Jack walked slowly through the fire, Terminator style. He was completely unfazed, ready to finish them off.
"Now!" Elion shouted.
A figure of chromatic strings stepped from the fire just as Farha pulled the trigger. There was no hesitation in her wine-red eyes.
It was a long shot—literally and figuratively. If this didn't kill him, there was no backup plan.
Jack raised his arm, seemingly blocking the shot—much to Elion's dismay.
Kellta slumped forward, drained of strength, her mutilated hand leaving a crimson trail on the ground.
Strangely, Jack stopped moving.
Elion squinted. There was no new damage on the gauntlet.
"I…" His voice came hoarse and confused—it was the first thing he'd said. And the last.
No one moved. Lumos held his wounds. Farha kept her sights on Jack. Elion stared, quietly praying this was the end.
The King's Envoy's hand dropped, revealing a gaping hole where his left eye should've been. Blood streamed down his face. Oddly, his skull hadn't exploded—even though the shot was strong enough to pierce a Class III's spine.
Jack's expression shifted from pain and horror to confusion.
A bullet was currently lodged in his skull, yet he was still standing upright.
He took a step forward like a puppet with frayed strings, sword dragging behind him. His one remaining eye was locked on Farha, murderous rage in his gaze, but there was no focus behind it. The next step was clumsier, like he'd forgotten how to walk—but he wasn't slower. He lunged, sword raised high, aiming for the Mute Demon's neck.
She stepped back, no time to reload, tossing her rifle—it vanished into the void.
Elion broke from his daze, raising his sword. Jack's defenses were failing. The bullet had scrambled his brain, yet he kept fighting.
How?! That shouldn't be possible.
Jack dodged Elion's strike, earning a shallow cut on the neck.
He stepped back, barely staying upright, and pointed his sword at the young cook. It glowed with a dangerous golden hue. Elion's gut screamed:
Don't get hit!
Farha struck from behind, hammer slamming into the dark armored knight's back. He staggered, missing his strike. Lumos leapt, both hands clenched, markings on his arms blazing blue. His fists came down behind Jack's head.
The King's Envoy finally collapsed.
Whatever held him together finally snapped—the accumulated brain damage had done its work.