At the center of the arena stood a woman draped in a long black cloak. Only the lower half of her face and her bare feet—pale as porcelain—were visible.

The entire group stood on guard, half facing the Witch, the other half glaring at the impostor, who had returned to his true form after a gruesome display of bone rearrangement.

When wolf ears sprouted from his black hair, some participants recognized him as Clara Domínguez’s NPC, confirming the pattern of each digital member of the Phantom Seekers taking roles within the test. That meant the Witch was none other than Clara’s second and most powerful servant—one who, during livestreams, had demonstrated a devastatingly diverse skillset.

“Your quest ends here, healers,” the impostor announced with a nasty grin, his theatrical intonation confirming he was following a script. “The Swamp Witch is the most powerful being in this entire land. You might have escaped if you had double your current forces. But in this sorry state? Could you even last five minutes?”

“What should we do, Edward?” a healer urged.

“Let’s gang up on the impostor first!” another suggested. “Before the Witch shows her hand!”

“A small group can handle the impostor, but the Witch could attack our backs any moment. Let’s prioritize her first!”

But Edward had other worries. 

The impostor was accompanying Nicholas Laflamme… Did Nick know? He threw a cautious glance at the necromancer, who had his back turned. I refuse to believe someone would deliberately bring a living trap with them… unless he’s confident he’ll win.

“Fucking bastard…”

“So what are your orders, Ed?” Nicholas asked. “Seems we’re in your hands now.”

“You and your bunch confront the Witch… And I’d like to have a talk with you once this is done.”

“I don’t usually have tea with men, but bring me to a good steakhouse and I’m all ears,” Nicholas replied with a smirk before strolling forward, silently commanding his undead minions to take the vanguard.

Edward clicked his tongue and spun around. “NPCs, protect your Guild Master! The rest, you know what to do! Let’s bring this bastard down!”

“I’d love to see you try!” Fabio laughed. “It’s time to show them hell, Swamp Witch! Release your brethren!”

Everyone felt a chill down their spines. The team assigned to defeat Fabio shot a quick glance at the still-silent woman in the battlefield’s center.

She would make her move any moment now.

Finally, whispers emerged from her lips: “I’m all alone… Bound to this place… Enslaved forever by these stinking ponds and rotting trees… All alone…”

As she muttered, Nicholas ordered every undead under his command into position. Then came the tinkling of chains from the rocky ceiling, where multiple silhouettes descended via unseen mechanisms. At first, Nicholas thought they were hanging bodies—a horrific preview of their fate—but the chains displayed dozens of wooden mannequins, reminding both Nicholas and Maude of their previous battle.

The dolls began moving erratically, as if just noticing they were hanging by their necks. Their spasms were violent and eerie, simulating excruciating agony. The constant rattling of wood created a symphony of impending doom.

The Witch continued her script: “Welcome to my chamber, mortals… I can’t—I cannot let you escape. You’re destined to become my puppets, you fools… Puppets, huh? How fucking ironic. As I was saying… You’ll be forced to do my bidding… You—What the hell am I even doing? Forced to take on this ridiculous act. What am I? A toy? A doll to play with? Curse it. Curse it all. Curse all of you for being part of this charade… But especially—” The Witch tore off her hood, revealing a heavenly-sculpted face and straight platinum hair underneath. She then yelled: “—CURSE YOU, CLARA, FOR MAKING ME DO THIS SHIT, YOU BITCH!”

A pair of black horns were now on full display, cementing her status as Final Boss—though always present, they helped establish her role even further.

The chains above reacted to her distressed voice, releasing every single wooden doll. They fell with heavy thuds, standing immediately after, rattling their limbs like war cries.

Maude moved closer to Nicholas. “What’s the plan, big guy?” But she got no response. “Hey, Nick! Are you listening to—”

She cut herself short, finally noticing Nicholas’s entranced expression.

He stood there, staring at the Witch with wide eyes and mouth agape.

He looked shocked.

Genuinely petrified.

Unmistakably rendered speechless even after Maude shook him by the arms.

“Goddammit, Nick!” Maude hissed, glaring at her fellow undead. “I just hope these things retaliate automatically.” She turned to the other conscious user. “Oliver! Keep this asshole safe. Although it pains me to say it, we need him.”

“Y-Yes, leave it to me,” Oliver replied softly.

The dolls charged forward as the Witch extended her hand toward the users. “Kill them all! It’d be hilarious if this test ends without a winner!” She suddenly jerked her head to one side, as if someone had screamed in her ear. “Oh, shut up! Unlike the rest of the cast, I can actually mute you! There! No more bitching in my head! Now watch as I render this event completely pointless!”

Maude fired first, carving a hole in the closest doll. The other undead followed suit—one using martial arts, another casting a basic fire spell.

“Hey, watch what you’re saying, little sis!” The slime acting as the Guild Master yelled from his position. “These swell guys have given everything for this test!”

The Witch shrieked, “W-What’s with that ‘little sis’ thing?!”

“I was coded way before you, so…!”

“THAT DOES IT—PROFESSOR FORM!” A massive, elongated, black, lustrous arachnid leg crawled out from under her robe and fell heavily to the ground, followed by seven more. As they raised her in altitude, her rear grew in mass, forming an enormous round abdomen. Discarding her robe, she revealed that only her torso, arms, and head retained human resemblance. “Now taste this: Dark Conjuring, Ariadne’s Anti Aid!“

She channeled mana, creating multiple ethereal threads spreading from her core through her dolls, then the undead vanguard, and finally everyone else, interconnecting every single fighter except the impostor.

Maude saw the golden thread pierce her abdomen and exit her back. “What the hell is this thing? It doesn’t hurt.” She then watched as the doll before her reformed its chest, its health bar back to green. “Oh, great. This one can regenerate.”

A sudden piercing cry caught her attention—one of the healers at the back fell to his knees, HP bar dropping abruptly.

“What happened to you?!” a teammate cried.

What the…?

Maude turned to her side, where the other undead were fighting. A doll fell to its knees as it burned in flames and another was beheaded by a swift Monk technique. None of them rose to their feet again.

The doll targeting her pounced on her once more, but she countered by bashing its head with her shotgun handle, forcing it back. A visible crack in the doll’s head sealed itself within seconds, which was followed by a groan from someone in the backlines.

“What’s happening?! I just healed you!” someone screamed behind her.

Maude glanced at the magical thread. So that’s what’s happening. But not every doll is causing this. How do I fight without hurting the others then?

She gritted her teeth before turning around. “Hey, Monk! Help me restrain this one without killing it! I’ll be right back!” Without waiting for confirmation the undead understood, she rushed to the other side, where the fight against Fabio was not going well.

The NPC moved swiftly, dodging every attack and spell while maintaining a boxing stance with his guard up. It did not take long for him to effortlessly break someone’s arm with a punch.

“Heal him!” Edward ordered, taking the injured’s place. “What kind of test is this?! We’re healers, not combatants!”

“Let us help!” the Guild Master yelled from a distance. “Let Clara and Anastasia handle him!”

“NO!” Edward snapped. “If something happens to you, all this hardship goes to waste!”

“Let me take care of him then!” Maude cried, dashing toward Edward while Fabio seemed content giving them brief respite. “Let’s swap fights! I’m not suited to fight the dolls.”

Edward studied the undead’s face, wondering if this was another of Nicholas’s tricks, and was about to refuse, but Maude grabbed his arm. “I may be under Nick’s spell, but I’m fully conscious! I just made a deal with him!”

Her tone convinced Edward, though he narrowed his eyes. “You should rather say you made a deal with the devil.”

“I know he’s a moron, but there’s no time. Listen—some dolls are connected to you guys. If you hurt the doll, one of you takes damage.”

Edward glanced at the inexplicably injured healer and nodded. “Fine. I’ll buy it. But can you really take this one? He’s quite the fighter.”

Maude smirked. “I eat close-quarter fighters for breakfa—”

“Maude!” Oliver called from afar. When she looked, he was engaged with a doll blocking his way. “I tried to stop him but—!” He pointed toward the stage’s center.

In the distance, Maude found Nicholas strolling toward the Witch, alone. “That fool! Can’t he stop causing trouble for five minutes?!”

But as soon as she tried stepping forward, Fabio threw a punch she barely dodged.

“You’re my new opponent, aren’t you?” Fabio said. “Let’s dance then.”

Edward seized this opportunity to gesture at his group and retreat.

Meanwhile, Nicholas climbed the stairs toward the central arena. One step after another, until he stood eye to eye with the Witch.

“Look who decided to die first!” the Witch sneered, raising an arachnid leg and launching its claw like a projectile.

The blade connected with Nicholas’s chest. He nearly tumbled backward but regained balance and continued forward. Moments later, the claw disappeared, coinciding with a hole suddenly forming in one of his undead minions.

The Witch snarled and threw another missile, which pierced its target before vanishing again. This time, Maude felt a stabbing sensation in her metallic chest but barely took damage.

Unimpressed, the Witch prepared to launch a spell. “Don’t get near me, you stupid—!” But stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening at what unfolded. 

Nicholas was kneeling before her in knightly fashion.

He spoke softly: “Your lamentations have not gone unheard, fair lady, and I am moved to offer my services. I am Nicholas Laflamme, a humble wanderer and professional problem-solver. May I have the honor of knowing your name?”

At first, the Witch thought this was a strategy for a surprise attack, but when he raised his head and met her eyes, she recognized this man was… being serious?

She found herself compelled to answer. “I’m… I’m Dylak…” she said in a tiny voice. “Wait… what? What’s all this?”

“Dylak,” Nicholas repeated reverently, as if savoring each syllable. “A name as enchanting as the lady who bears it—the most radiant vision I’ve ever had the fortune to witness…”

Outside the battlefield, at the stadium, Alan Warden and Clara Domínguez let out a simultaneous: “EHHHHHH?!”

As for Miss Nebuline, she burst into laughter while Amelia Laflamme was rendered unable to move or even think.

Meanwhile, the stream’s chat was filled with a rush of comments, ranging from shock to excitement.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep