There was no doubt—this was another possibility.

A world where the K.G.C.C ruled supreme, cloaked in darkness.

Not only did they hold the Armorless Union in their grasp, they commanded every single knight of the arena. In Kazimierz, no one could challenge them. They were the absolute masters.

Huang Tianhou barely avoided a cleaving strike from the Foam Knight, cold sweat breaking out across his back. Dynasty had sparred with the Foam Knight before. Back then, they had fought him to a supposed stalemate. The team had even been smug about it—boasting that their strength had grown so much that not even a Tier-1 gatekeeping knight could best them.

Now? It was obvious the knight had been holding back. One hundred percent.

The Foam Knight’s gaze was steady. He didn’t care if he was wounded. What he wanted was to kill every single one of them, here and now.

“Heeheehee… Little brother, you’re looking tired.”

The Verdant Knight twirled a weapon none of the pros had ever seen before. Huang Tianhou, having played Swordmaster, recognized it instantly—a chain blade.

A weapon that demanded insane combat mastery to wield. Every time the bladed segments spun out, even the Defenders bracing in front of her were forced to retreat. Her pressure was overwhelming.

Bang!

A chill shot through Huang Tianhou’s body. He was locked on—like death itself had set its eyes on him. In all his time playing Arknights Online, he had never felt so powerless. His strength meant nothing. The killing intent pressed down like a physical weight.

“Watch out!”

Before Cheng could finish his warning, the Foam Knight’s blade came down like a straight line from heaven, while the Verdant Knight vaulted into the air, her chain blade whirling.

“The hell is this mechanic? Run, run!”

The Foam Knight’s slash ripped downward just as the Verdant Knight unleashed a rain of steel across the entire arena. Huang Tianhou, caught near his clustered teammates, was cut down instantly. The sword wave rippled outward, annihilating six more. The few players scrambling for the edge were yanked into the air by chain blades—already dead before they hit the ground.

Medic! HP zero in midair. I’m done.

Even the so-called unkillable players couldn’t cosplay his way out of this one. Cheng and Uzi both dropped on the spot, their health bars wiped clean.

When the eight opened their eyes again, they were back at the Blood Rain Colosseum. The two bosses, Foam and Verdant, stood motionless in the distance—like twin gatekeepers—since no aggro had been triggered.

“…Ah, hell.”

Huang Tianhou’s face darkened. He had expected difficulty. But not this.

Never mind the tank-shattering executions. Their two heavy defenders had popped mitigation fast enough. The real problem was parsing these bosses’ special attacks and mechanics. Last round, they had managed to chip the knights down to about ninety percent HP. They had even dodged some of the early mechanics, albeit clumsily.

But…

“We can’t afford to lose anyone.”

Cheng’s quiet words drew everyone’s gaze. Huang Tianhou nodded.

“Exactly. This isn’t like the old 24-man Zero raid. Back then you could afford deaths in earlier phases—lose a bit of DPS, no big deal. But this… this is different.”

He drew a sharp breath.

“In this Desperate Battle, every single body matters. No exceptions. Just now, the Foam Knight’s sword wave—it was clearly a shared-damage mechanic. Only six people were in range behind me, so the split failed. Instant wipe. This dungeon isn’t just about reading mechanics. You have to keep full output too. That’s what makes it brutal.”

—

“This is way too unreasonable.”

Uzi was seething. He had been too slow earlier, missing the damage split and getting one-shot. Him—the sniper. His class required agility and reflexes, yet he had been the last one to move.

Cheng shot him a glance. He knew the truth: Uzi had tunnel-visioned on his DPS, only reacting when Verdant left the arena. Huang Tianhou had noticed too—he was certain of it. But this was only their first pull. If Uzi repeated the mistake, their captain would call him out directly.

“I can already imagine the other teams crying their eyes out right now.”

Cheng folded his arms with a smirk. Watching others suffer was sometimes the best way to lift your own spirits. As vice-captain, it was his job to keep morale up.

“Let’s keep at it. Later, we’ll check the forums—see what MMO Today in Japan’s dug up.”

Huang Tianhou drew his blade again, eyes grim.

Round two.

—

Players everywhere were crying out.

This dungeon was just too damn hard.

Forget about mechanics—could eight people really clear this B-level raid at all?

On the very first night after most players obtained their dungeon crystals, the forums exploded. Post after post was filled with complaints: squads being crushed, ground into the dirt by the Foam Knight and the Verdant Knight. Some players even developed what they jokingly called “raid depression syndrome”—the moment they entered, the sheer killing intent radiating from the two knights nearly scared them half to death.

“Wait, isn’t this over-tuned? Eight people, all capped at level 30, with gear scaled down to average baseline. We’ve got no advantage at all!”

“Too hard. Our team only managed to reach 85% progression. The 85% mechanic is brutal—we’ve been stuck for a whole week.”

“Bruh, don’t you dare humble-brag. Our group made it to 92%, then our healer rotation collapsed and we’ve been wiping for three days straight.”

“…”

The forums were a mess of disbelief and despair. Some posters already had dungeon crystals, others hadn’t gotten one yet, but the uproar felt like something out of version 2.0’s launch days.

It didn’t take long for people to realize—this raid was different.

Not the kind you cleared in a few weeks with enough persistence.

Eight players, capped at level 30, with no gear edge. Victory depended solely on judgment, reflexes, and team coordination. A raid like this could only be described as hardcore among the hardcore.

Some players gave up on progression altogether. Why bother? they thought. If even the pro teams hadn’t cleared it yet, there was no way casual groups could. And pros weren’t showing their faces around Lungmen at all—they had to be locked in progression attempts 24/7. If they were silent, what hope did anyone else have?

After all, not everyone had cleared Type-Zero Midnight Rain Knights the first time around. And now here came a Desperate Battle difficulty—significantly harder. Plenty of players simply cracked.

The community quickly settled on waiting for strategy videos from the guide-making groups. That had become the standard approach.

But even the guide groups weren’t looking too good. They had pieced together a few mechanics, but it was obvious: Foam Knight and Verdant Knight together were only Phase One. Two whole weeks had passed, and they hadn’t even pushed the bosses to 30%. Progress was crawling. No one knew how far the pro teams had gotten.

Not that asking would help. Pro squads would never share their findings. For a raid group, this was a tough project. For a pro team, it was a golden opportunity to make a name for themselves. Sharing progress? Out of the question.

“This isn’t a dungeon you clear in the short term.”

That sentiment echoed across the forums.

—

Felix, watching all this, was quietly surprised.

As an NPC, he naturally couldn’t enter a dungeon crystal. But seeing the players cry out in despair like this was a first. Not even the hardest raids of his previous life had provoked complaints to this degree.

Could it really be that difficult this time…?

Still, he had no time to dwell on it. By June, he had been recuperating and sharpening his edge. With dedicated training—and frequent solo trips outside Lungmen to grind monsters and weapon proficiency—he had made significant progress.

His twinblade mastery had reached Intermediate Twinblade Lv.5 (650/1000), while his lance proficiency climbed all the way to Intermediate Lance Lv.10 (70/10000).

Compared to two months ago, the difference was night and day. His weapon training speed easily surpassed that of players, and with Emperor’s intelligence network, he always knew the best monster hotspots. Charging in alone and cutting them down had honed his craft more than anything else. In truth, perhaps he was the real endgame “boss player.”

Now, he was planning his next move.

Kazdel.

A name that alone could make the boldest tremble.

He intended to go there to strike a deal with Babel Tower.

To be honest, what he coveted most was their medical division. His plan was to negotiate for two trustworthy doctors or researchers to bring back.

Of course, venturing into Kazdel was dangerous. By Felix’s estimation, the Lightbearers’s current strength could only fight elite Sarkaz mercenary groups to a draw. In short—still not enough. More training was needed.

Who should I bring with me…?

He frowned in thought, not noticing Margaret quietly walking up beside him.

“Brother Felix.”

“…What is it? Ah, Margaret.”

As per his request, Margaret called him Brother in private. When others were around, it was always Boss. Felix gave the girl—entrusted to him by the Nearl family—a gentle, attentive look.

“Did something happen?”

“Shining and Liz came to Lungmen to see me. They want to buy some herbs, but they can’t find a reliable supplier…”

Margaret looked hesitant. As just a regular employee, this wasn’t something she should be troubling her boss with. But her relationship with Felix went beyond that, so she said it anyway.

“Those two Sarkaz? That’s no problem. I’ll have Loughshinny help you make the arrangements.”

Felix smiled. “Where are they now? I’d like to meet them.”

“Eh? Really?”

Margaret’s eyes widened in surprise—and, secretly, delight. These were her friends. If Brother Felix got along with them, she would be happy too. …And judging by his calm demeanor, he clearly wasn’t going there to start a fight, right?

She sneaked a glance at him. Felix sighed and ruffled her hair. “What are you imagining?”

Margaret’s face flushed pink. She coughed lightly and muttered, “I’ll take you there.”

“Alright.”

Most of Margaret’s movements kept her around Lungmen’s outskirts, sometimes even near the edge of Kazdel. That was where she often met with her two friends, Shining and Liz—wandering Sarkaz doctors, who spent much of their time gathering herbs. Occasionally, Margaret even joined them.

From what Margaret told him of their behavior and character, Felix concluded they bore her no ill will. He didn’t interfere. After all, he saw Margaret as something like a younger sister. He had accepted the Nearl family’s trust, and he wasn’t about to break it… besides, he wasn’t looking to get chopped in half by her uncle.

They took the metro into the central district, then followed Margaret into a nondescript little inn. These sorts of places rarely asked for identification—making them the perfect refuge for people who wanted their identities hidden.

Inside one of the rooms, Felix found Shining seated by the bed. Lying asleep atop it was Liz, Margaret’s other friend.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Shining.”

Margaret stepped aside and gestured to Felix. “We’ve met before, but let me properly introduce him. This is my guardian, the founder of Tomorrow’s Development—Felix Shawn Lanshem. Out in the field, his codename is Pioneer.”

“An honor. It’s good to see you again.”

Shining smiled warmly as she stood, her eyes meeting Felix’s steady, calm gaze. She extended a hand.

“Please, just call me Shining, Mr. Felix.”

“The honor’s mine. I’m glad to see you again as well. And thank you for looking after Margaret.”

“…Hmph.”

Margaret puffed her cheeks. It wasn’t like she always needed looking after.

Shining chuckled softly. “Margaret’s helped me a great deal. I’m truly grateful for her company—as a friend.”

“Is that so? Then I may need to trouble you with her again in the future.”

The three of them sat around the small table. Margaret laid out the current situation with herb suppliers, and Shining once more expressed her thanks to Felix.

“I only wonder… what could I possibly do to repay such a favor?”

She meant it sincerely. For someone to ignore race and extend their hand to her—it moved her more than she could say. Whatever was within her power, she would repay.

“Well… I want to take a trip to Kazdel. Would you guide me?”

“…Ah?”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep