[POV: Kaelen – Global Rank 4, Leader of the 'Order of Heaven' Alliance]
"One more minute! Hold the formation! One minute until maintenance and this monster will be forced to log out!"
My voice was hoarse, my throat feeling as if it were burning from the impact of dust and the residue of magical explosions. Around me, what was once the beautiful meadows of Aethelgard had turned into a mechanical hell. The ground vibrated, not from an earthquake, but because of the thousands of swords plunged into the earth, emitting unstable energy resonances.
We were the Great Order Alliance. Three thousand max-level players, equipped with Mythical-class items, gathered for only one purpose: to stop one man.
One man who had destroyed the game's economy, slaughtered thousands of beginners, and possessed a negative credit score so low that the game's security system had begun to glitch.
"He's moving!" shouted a Paladin in the front line.
I looked up. There, hovering gracefully above a pile of countless corpses, stood a man. His white robes fluttered in the wind of the apocalypse, looking so holy and clean, in stark contrast to the pool of blood beneath him.
Mikhael.
His name meant 'He who resembles God.' A sickening joke.
He held no weapon. His arms were simply crossed over his chest with an expression of boredom that was utterly demeaning. Behind his back, the air warped and cracked, forming countless golden ripples. Like thousands of divine eyes watching us hungrily.
"Kaelen," his voice was soft, yet it echoed directly into my auditory system. "You talk about justice as if these numbers above my head are sins. In reality, this is a collection."
"Shut up, you psychopath!" I roared, activating my ultimate Arcana skill. "Finish him! Dragon's Breath Barrage!"
Thousands of projectile spells, fire dragons, and light arrows streaked toward Mikhael. The sky was blotted out by our attack. Logically, no player could survive this combined assault.
However, Mikhael merely flicked his finger.
Clink.
The sound of clashing metal rang out simultaneously. From the golden ripples behind him, thousands of weapons shot out. They weren't just swords. I recognized them.
"That's... the Frostmourne belonging to the North Guild Leader?" my voice trembled. "And the Sky-Piercer of the 10th-ranked knight? How is it possible...?"
Every weapon he fired was a unique item he had looted from the players he had killed. And even more terrifying, those weapons were fired with the velocity of high-level magic projectiles.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Our attack wasn't just halted; it was brutally annihilated. Those swords pierced through our magic shields as if they were thin paper. I saw our best Healer split in two by a flying giant axe, followed by a fire explosion that scorched the rear lines.
This wasn't a battle. It was systematic slaughter.
"Why... why isn't the damage going through?!" screamed a mage beside me as he saw the number '0' appearing continuously above Mikhael's head.
"It's a side effect of his negative credit score," I whispered, my hands shaking. "The system views him as an Error. He's no longer a player... he's a World Calamity."
I saw Mikhael reach his hand into the air. A golden ripple far larger than the others opened right above his head. A sword hilt engraved with a weeping angel slowly emerged. The mana pressure it released made gravity in the area feel as if it had doubled.
"Time for purification," Mikhael said quietly.
My User Interface (UI) suddenly flashed bright red.
[WARNING: TARGET CREDIT SCORE TOO LOW - DATA INTEGRITY THREATENED]
[SYSTEM FAILURE DETECTED... INITIATING EMERGENCY MAINTENANCE]
That was the last thing I saw before the giant sword slammed into the earth, turning everything into an agonizingly pure white.
[POV: Mikhael]
Quiet.
Silence is my favorite melody. After the noisy shouts of those self-righteous 'heroes' vanished, there was only the sound of the wind whistling through the ruins of shattered data.
I lowered my hand, letting the sword Aura of Eden return to my treasury. In front of me, there was no more Great Order Alliance. Only scorched earth, erased from the game map.
I looked at the corner of my vision. The maintenance countdown timer blinked slowly.
00:00:03
"Boring," I muttered.
I had reached the peak. No player dared to challenge me without trembling. There were no more challenges left in this digital world. I had spent years breaking this system, slaughtering thousands of players just to see how far the game developers would let me go. And the answer was a negative credit score that defied programming logic.
00:00:02
Usually, during maintenance, my consciousness would disconnect, and I would return to my lonely apartment, sipping cold coffee while waiting for the server to reopen to start a new chaos.
00:00:01
I closed my eyes, preparing for the familiar darkness.
00:00:00
...
A long time passed.
The silence felt too long. And... this smell?
I opened my eyes. The first thing I realized was that I wasn't in my gaming chair. I was still standing. My white robes were still fluttering, but the wind hitting them felt... different. This wasn't just a vibration simulation on a haptic suit. This wind carried the scent of damp earth, the fragrance of wildflowers, and the thick, metallic tang of blood. A smell that shouldn't be reproducible by any VR technology.
I looked down. My hands were still clad in gold silk gloves. I clenched them. My muscles felt real. The weight of my cloak felt heavy on my shoulders.
Then, a voice echoed. Not the flat tone of a mechanical system, but a voice that felt as if it originated from the very foundations of the world.
[Entity 'Mikhael' Detected.]
[Credit Score: -9,999,999,999 (Absolute Evil)]
[Status: Connecting to New Reality...]
I looked up and found myself standing on a giant stone altar inside a vast cathedral. In front of me, dozens of people in white robes knelt with deathly pale faces. Some held trembling magic staves, while others vomited blood at the mere sight of me.
An old man with a gold crown on his head stepped forward, his legs shaking so violently that he fell to his knees.
"O... O Hero of Prophecy..." his voice choked. "We have summoned you to save us from the coming apocalypse..."
I stared at him flatly. I could feel the Vault of Malice behind me—thousands of my looted weapons were still neatly stored there, ready to be unleashed. I could also feel my credit score. In this world, it wasn't just a negative number. It was an aura of darkness so thick that it made the light inside the cathedral dim as if in fear.
Savior? Hero?
I pulled a short sword from a golden ripple that appeared beside me and twirled it between my fingers.
"It seems there was a technical error in your summoning," I said with a thin smile—the kind of smile that usually made players on the old server choose to delete their accounts rather than continue the fight.
"I am not the solution to your apocalypse."
I stepped down from the altar, my mana pressure crushing the marble floor with every step.
"I am the apocalypse itself."