While the Centaur Clan and human Professionals at the Gloomy Jungle were locked in a fierce, brutal battle, a critical event was unfolding at the distant Undead Mountain Instance.
A flash of searing white light illuminated the Instance entrance, and a mature woman in the tattered robes of a Priest appeared. She was Lyra. She let out a long, unsteady breath, her gaze—now sharp and focused—sparkling with an emotion that transcended mere excitement: a reverent awe for sheer power.
She had just solo-cleared the Hard Instance of the Undead Mountain.
The reason for her shock was the Frost Prison Mage profession. The class was not merely an upgrade; it was a fundamental redefinition of what a Professional could be. She quickly checked her status panel, which now displayed Level 2. The terrifying Tier-breaking coefficient associated with her new Profession had transformed her stats, pushing her raw numbers and spell potency into a realm she hadn't dared to imagine.
Her previous Level 10 Priest life felt like a distant, embarrassing memory—a support role whose entire skillset was eclipsed by a single spell from the Frost Prison Mage. The two Professions were, quite literally, from different planes of existence.
Her heart surged with gratitude and fierce, immediate loyalty to Paradise and to the enigmatic "boss" who had granted her this power. She knew the group was shrouded in secrecy, but its actions were indisputable.
She was about to compose herself to attempt the Hell Instance—a dungeon she had always feared—when angry voices reached her ears.
"I heard the Gloomy Jungle is already in a full-scale fight! These Centaur Clan members are simply too much!"
Lyra paused, frowning. Nearby human youths were discussing the escalating war, their eyes flashing with fury. She quickly pieced together the situation: the Centaurs had followed the news of Vincent's actions to the Gloomy Jungle, and a full-scale regional conflict had broken out. The news had traveled to this remote area through a web of friends in Long Reach City.
A hint of profound, unsettling worry crept into her heart. She was now a member of Paradise, and the "boss" was at the center of this maelstrom. She pulled out her phone, intending to call, but saw several missed calls and, finally, a message. The boss knew she had been in an Instance.
The text was short, direct, and chillingly clear: "After coming out of the Instance, check if there are any Centaur Clan nearby. If not... you can act. Hell first. Just leave directly after finishing—Boss."
Lyra's eyes snapped to the speedrun records. The Undead Mountain Hell Instance record was currently held by a Centaur team, taking one hour and thirty-odd minutes. No human had ever successfully solo-cleared it, or even attempted it at Tier 1.
She felt the cold, destructive power of the Frost Prison Mage coursing through her. Could she do it alone? The strategic value of clearing a Centaur-held Hell Instance immediately after her boss triggered a regional war would be monumental. It would be a blow to Centaur morale and a massive, unexpected resource gain for Paradise.
She squared her shoulders, her final hesitation burned away by a cold resolve. She quickly replied: "Received."
She walked into the glowing vortex.
[Do you choose to enter 'Undead Mountain · Hell'?] [Friendly reminder: This Instance is extremely difficult. Your team is not full, and the average level has not reached 10. Do you wish to start the challenge?]
Lyra took a deep breath, her eyes blazing with the blue light of condensed ice magic. She chose to enter. With a final, blinding flash of white light, the first Frost Prison Mage began her solo attempt at the Hell Instance, a new front in the war opened by the assassins' blade.
At the same time, Vincent and Thalia, still perfectly invisible, had reached the periphery of the Sky Serpent Secret Realm.
The Secret Realm entrance was a monumental sight: a huge, pulsating, light-red energy vortex that shimmered against the sky, appearing utterly magical and terrifying. Surrounding it was a busy, sprawling supply town, a logistical hub bustling with activity. The vast majority of the inhabitants were Centaur Clan, moving with a casual air of ownership and dominance. The few human Professionals present were high-Tier—mostly Tier 2 or above—but were forced to remain strictly low-key, guarding the minimal resource extraction allowed under the truce. They endured the Centaurs' constant, provocative stares, adhering to a doctrine of absolute non-engagement that often left the Centaurs bored and frustrated.
The uneasy atmosphere, however, was about to shatter.
Suddenly, a small, highly agitated group of Centaur Clan warriors, their eyes blood-red and bulging with raw grief, rushed into the market square. They were clearly searching for a target for their pain. Spotting a team of human Professionals near a healing station, the grief-stricken Centaurs charged.
The leader, a massive Tier 2 Warrior named Hawk, roared, his grief transforming into indiscriminate, blinding fury. He brought his heavy battle-axe down in a massive, unprovoked chop aimed directly at a human Professional's head.
The human, a Tier 2 Guardian, reacted just in time, instantly summoning a rune-inscribed shield. BOOM! The clang of steel on enchantment was deafening. Both health bars lit up; the Centaur's attack, fueled by rage, bypassed a huge portion of the human's defense, causing the Guardian's health to plummet dangerously.
The human team exploded in shock. "What in the Ancestors' name are you doing?!" they screamed, summoning their weapons defensively.
The surrounding Centaurs, confused by the sudden, localized violence, paused. "Hawk?... What is this madness?"
Hawk's next words ripped through the square, stopping all tactical thought. His voice was a raw, heartbreaking shriek of pure vengeance. "Humans killed my Tier 0 Professional! My daughter, my poor Celia, was just slaughtered by their assassin! SLAUGHTERED!"
Another Centaur rushed forward, tears streaming down his face as he screamed his own loss: "And my poor Gray! My son is dead! I'M GOING TO KILL EVERY LAST HUMAN I SEE!"
The shock in the town dissolved instantly into collective, tribal rage. The Centaurs didn't need proof; they had the casus doloris—the justification of pain. "Humans, how dare you break the truce and strike our children!"
"You're asking for death!"
The floodgates of suppressed hatred opened. The initial attackers, joined by dozens of local Centaur guards, stopped seeing "Professionals" and started seeing only the hated "Humans." They dropped their defensive caution and directly launched a devastating, all-out assault.
"Brother?" Thalia's face had drained of color, her previous excitement replaced by alarm at the indiscriminate savagery.
A chilling coldness hardened in Vincent's eyes. The cost of deterrence had begun. Unable to reach Paradise, the Centaurs were now savagely venting their rage on easy, accessible human targets. The battle began without warning. The human Professionals, having adhered to the "low-key" rules for too long, were immediately overwhelmed by the sheer speed and fury of the Centaur rush. In a blink, several of the Tier 2 humans were at critical health, their entire team seconds away from annihilation.
Just at this critical, desperate moment, salvation arrived in the form of a tactical thunderclap.
A massive contingency of human Professionals, numbering well over a hundred, rushed out from a hidden staging area, surging into the Secret Realm town like an organized tidal wave. They moved not like mere individuals, but like a cohesive military unit—a planned intervention.
The leader of this force, a towering figure known as the Commander of the Borderguard, possessed a presence that instantly demanded silence. He roared, his voice amplified by an explosive Skill: "DARE TO KILL OUR HUMANS?! YOU ARE ASKING FOR DEATH!"
He executed a powerful, horizontal sweep with his immense greatsword, instantly unleashing a wave of pure, devastating blade energy that tore across the square. The attack slammed into the cluster of attacking Centaurs. Every Centaur within the radius took catastrophic damage—a uniform, brutal blow of more than -10000 on their heads. The Centaur father Hawk, along with several other warriors, instantly reached critical health, their charge dissolving into stunned, staggered confusion.
This sudden, overwhelming display of force stopped the Centaur frenzy cold. Their minds violently snapped back from blind rage to survival.
"Whoever makes another move will die!" the Commander thundered, fixing the Centaurs with an executioner's gaze.
Intimidated by his overwhelming Tier 3 aura, the Centaurs involuntarily retreated several steps, unable to follow their suicidal bloodlust. The besieged human Professionals rushed toward the Commander's formation. Along the way, dedicated Healers enveloped them in blankets of rapid green light, restoring their health and neutralizing the immediate damage.
The Centaur forces stared blankly at the scene—their attack stopped, their casualties mounting, and their targets suddenly supported by a major relief force.
A Centaur leader finally managed to articulate the central question, his voice cracking with indignant fury. "Humans! Do you want to start a war?!"
The human Commander laughed, a dry, cold, terrible sound that cut through the silence.
"Start a war?" he countered, tilting his head just enough to convey utter, pitiless contempt. "Unprovoked pursuit and killing of our Professional talent, openly besieging our forces in a public Instance, and now—now you attack random civilian teams near a neutral zone in an act of barbaric, indiscriminate retaliation?"
He leveled his massive blade at the stunned Centaur crowd.
"Haven't you, the Centaur Clan, already chosen to start one?"
The final sentence, delivered with absolute strategic conviction, silenced the Centaur forces completely. They stood frozen, suddenly realizing that their uncontrolled, emotional retaliation had gifted the human side the perfect, unassailable political justification—the casus belli—for any war they chose to wage. They had lost the moral high ground and their strategic advantage in one blinding flash of rage. Vincent's deterrence strategy was complete.