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Chapter 89 - Chapter 89 Hirano's Death

Jia Shuai's premonition quickly became reality.

A white silhouette gradually coalesced beneath the streetlight at the far end of the corner. It was a wolf of exceptionally pure white fur, its neck ruff and tail flamed crimson like fire. A patch of fine red fur between its eyes resembled a vermilion bindi on a maiden's forehead – beautiful, yet undeniably elegant.

Yet this beautiful creature sent a chill crawling up the spines of everyone present.

The white wolf was simply enormous.

The waist-high walls lining the street barely reached its knees. When it occasionally lifted its head, its slender snout nearly brushed against the eaves of the three-meter-tall buildings flanking the road.

"Mutated creature?... No! It's a bossified Shiri Aijisu!" a quick-thinking player shouted, recognizing that no ordinary mutant could exert such terrifying pressure on Illusion Realm players.

Shiri Aijisu?

Jia Shuai's pupils contracted sharply. Of course. Because of the constant white puppy "Jike" in the original story, her boss form is this giant white wolf...

The wolf moved.

Its powerful limbs propelled it forward like the wind. It covered the hundred-meter distance in an instant. Players with slower reflexes, especially those Constitution-focused, barely registered a white blur before the colossal, oppressive form slammed into their ranks.

"Shit! It's targeting HIRANO Kotaro! Protect Hirano!" someone yelled.

The warning was almost unnecessary. The moment the wolf charged, the faster, Perception-focused players opened fire.

But the giant white wolf possessed not only incredible speed but formidable defense. Its snow-white pelt seemed to deflect most bullets. Only the concussive force of point-blank shotgun blasts caused any noticeable blunt trauma damage.

"Damn it! This wolf's hide is too tough! Regular guns are useless! Suppressing fire with assault rifles now! What the hell are you saving them for, breeding stock?!" leaders bellowed angrily amidst the chaos.

Finally, several players reluctantly drew assault rifles of various makes. They began firing in controlled bursts or three-round salvos, their reluctance palpable.

Their hesitation wasn't unfounded. Assault rifles were notorious point sinks.

F-class Ammo Costs: Pistol rounds: 5 points; Assault Rifle rounds: 10 points; Shotgun shells: 15 points; Magnum rounds: 50 points; Standard Sniper rounds: 200 points; Specialized Sniper rounds: variable. While the per-round cost for assault rifle ammo seemed low—even cheaper than shotgun shells—the sheer rate of fire was the killer. A standard magazine could be emptied in under two seconds on full auto. A single low-intensity skirmish could easily cost hundreds of points, let alone earn any profit.

Muzzle flashes erupted from several rifles. Blood bloomed across the wolf's pristine white coat like macabre flowers. Though the bullets didn't penetrate deeply, lodging in muscle, the sheer volume was telling. Even a swarm of ants could bring down an elephant.

The white wolf yelped in pain, its crimson eyes blazing with fury. Abruptly, it abandoned its charge towards the heavily guarded Hirano Kotaro. Instead, it surged through the hail of bullets straight towards the nearest player wielding an assault rifle.

"Ah! No—! Help me!" The player panicked, forgetting to switch weapons in his terror. He held the trigger down until the rifle clicked empty in under a second. The wolf's jaws snapped shut, ripping away half his shoulder before flinging the spurting corpse into the crowd.

"Quick! Any tanks?! Someone grab aggro on this boss!" a voice shrieked from the fray.

Two Constitution-focused players hastily drew shields and weapons, steeling themselves as they rushed forward. They circled the wolf, which was still savaging another assault rifle user, shouting and banging their shields desperately trying to draw its attention.

But the Illusion Realm wasn't a video game. There was no magical "taunt" skill. A monster wouldn't ignore easy prey just because someone yelled at it while encased in metal. A true main tank held the line through positioning, body blocking, and disrupting the enemy's movements to create safe openings for damage dealers—not relying on non-existent "aggro" mechanics.

The white wolf utterly ignored the two clattering nuisances. It lunged again through the gunfire, pouncing on another assault rifle user. Its massive jaws clamped down on the player's head, crushing it like candy.

Two dead in moments. The remaining players wielding assault rifles almost universally stowed their weapons instantly. They had no desire to be the monster's next target.

Freed from the suppressive fire, the white wolf became a whirlwind of death. It tore through the remaining players, left and right, leaving a trail of mangled bodies and grievously wounded in its wake. Only a dozen or so shallow wounds marred its own hide.

"Is this the true power of this Illusion's final boss?" Jia Shuai thought, his hands trembling violently around his pistol as he watched the blood-soaked beast ignore the remaining players. The sheer ferocity made him realize just how incredibly lucky he'd been to encounter Zombie Siege as his first Illusion.

SLAM!

Half a corpse landed at Jia Shuai's feet with a wet thud. Warm blood splattered across his face, shocking him back to reality.

Seven or eight mangled bodies already littered the ground around the white wolf. The surviving players, faces drained of color, were backing away in terrified unison. No one dared step forward.

BANG!

A single gunshot cracked from the rear. A small blossom of blood erupted just above the white wolf's eye.

Hirano Kotaro!

The overweight otaku had grabbed an assault rifle dropped by a fallen player. In the brief moment the wolf relaxed its guard, he'd fired a near-perfect shot.

But even a natural marksman struggled with an unfamiliar weapon. His instinctive adjustment was almost enough—but not quite. The bullet missed the eye, striking the thick bone of the brow ridge instead.

ROOOOAR!

A white streak blurred forward. Hirano Kotaro never got a chance to fire a second shot. A dinner-plate-sized paw slammed into his chest, claws tearing through soft fat and muscle.

"Saya-sempai... I wonder if she made it home..." The thought flickered through his fading consciousness.

His head slumped forward. His old-fashioned, thick-rimmed glasses slid from his nose and shattered into a spiderweb of cracks on the hard ground.

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