Chapter 45: THE KING THAT SHOULD NOT BE FOUGHT

Chapter 45 — “THE KING THAT SHOULD NOT BE FOUGHT”

Blood soaked the earth.

Not splattered.

Soaked.

Twenty bodies lay scattered across the forest clearing—some twisted at impossible angles, some crushed so flat they barely looked human anymore. Others were torn apart so violently that armor and flesh were indistinguishable.

Academy robes hung in shreds.Weapons lay snapped, bent, useless.Eyes stared upward, frozen in expressions that would never change.

No screams remained.

Only silence.

And footprints.

Massive.Deep.Indifferent.

THE KING-TIER MONSTER

It stood at the center of the carnage.

A giant ape-like monster, easily over ten meters tall, its body layered with ancient muscle so dense it looked carved rather than grown. Its skin was blackened and rough, closer to stone than flesh, scarred by battles long forgotten.

Completely bald.

Its skull was smooth and misshapen, veins bulging across it like twisted roots clawing under the skin. Its arms dragged slightly as it moved—not from weakness, but from sheer weight.

Each step cracked the ground.

Its eyes were small.

Empty.

Not intelligent.

Not cruel.

Just mad.

A King-tier monster.

One that had gone berserk.

One that should never have been here.

The ground shook.

Once.

Twice.

Then—

The trees ahead collapsed inward.

Not pushed.

Not blasted.

Just… folded.

The ape stepped through the shattered forest, dust clinging to its massive frame. It stopped when it saw them.

Chen Wulian stared.

Then—somehow—he laughed.

“…That thing’s bald.”

No one reacted.

“…A bald ape,” he added weakly, forcing the grin to stay.

Still nothing.

Chen swallowed, humor cracking at the edges.

“…Yeah. Thought so.”

Long Hao didn’t look away from the monster.

Not once.

Behind them, Ling Yifan lay half-conscious, chest wrapped in blood-soaked cloth. Every breath was shallow, painful, and slow—as if his body was negotiating with itself about whether to continue.

“…Chen,” Ling Yifan rasped.”…This isn’t… funny…”

Chen’s grin faded completely.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly.”I know.”

Inside Long Hao’s mind—

The Eclipse System did not whisper.

It screamed.

[WARNING.][ENTITY CLASSIFICATION: KING-TIER — BERSERK VARIANT.][THREAT LEVEL: BEYOND CURRENT HOST PARAMETERS.][SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: EXTREMELY LOW.][RECOMMENDED ACTION: IMMEDIATE EVASION.]

Long Hao clenched his fists.

“…Evasion isn’t possible.”

The system paused.

Then—

[WARNING ACKNOWLEDGED.][HOST HAS ENTERED IRREVERSIBLE COMBAT SCENARIO.]

Cold spread through his veins.

Not fear.

Finality.

Ouyang Xue’er looked at Bai Qianlan.

“…We can’t win.”

Her voice didn’t shake.

That was worse.

Bai Qianlan nodded once.

“…I know.”

They didn’t argue.

They didn’t hesitate.

Both crushed their distress crystals at the same time.

Red light shot into the sky.

A flare that screamed defeat.

Everyone knew what it meant.

Help would come.

Eventually.

Not now.

Not in time.

Chen raised his voice.

Not loud.

Just clear.

“LISTEN UP.”

Everyone looked at him.

“We’re not winning this,” he said plainly.”But we are not dying today.”

He pointed backward.

“Protect Ling Yifan. Protect the injured.”

Then he stepped forward.

His legs shook.

Blood dripped steadily from his fingers.

“We buy time.”

Bai Qianlan moved instantly, positioning herself in front of the wounded. Illusions rose—not flashy, not aggressive—just thick, layered, desperate barriers meant to slow something that shouldn’t be slowed.

Ouyang Xue’er stood beside her, frost spreading outward, thin cracks already forming under the pressure.

Long Hao walked past them.

To the front.

Alone.

The Eclipse System responded.

Not gently.

Seals shattered.

Void surged.

Light twisted.

For the first time—

Long Hao stopped holding back.

The air screamed.

The ground collapsed beneath his feet.

He struck.

A blow that would have erased an Epic-tier monster. A blow that would have shattered a Dragon-tier’s skull.

BOOOOOOOOOOM—!!!

The forest exploded outward.

Trees flattened for hundreds of meters.

The shockwave tore through the clearing like a natural disaster.

Dust rose so thick it blotted out the sky.

No one breathed.

No one moved.

Then—

The dust cleared.

The King-tier ape stood there.

Unmoved.

Unhurt.

Only a thin scratch crossed its chest.

The monster looked down at Long Hao.

Not angry.

Confused.

Then—

It roared.

The sound ruptured the ground.

Bai’s illusions shattered instantly.

Ouyang’s frost cracked and fell apart.

Chen was thrown backward, skidding across the dirt.

Ling Yifan coughed blood.

“…We’re…””…outclassed…”

Long Hao’s heart sank.

“…So this is it.”

For the first time since awakening—

He understood.

The world was still far too vast.

And he was still far too small.

The King-tier monster took a step forward.

Slow.

Certain.

Like death that didn’t need to hurry.

Chen forced himself upright, bones screaming.

“…Hey,” he muttered, wiping blood from his mouth.”…At least it’s honest.”

No one laughed.

The ape raised its arm.

The air itself bent under the weight.

There was no strategy left.

No hidden move.

No miracle waiting.

Only time.

And not enough of it.

The system spoke one last time.

[FINAL ASSESSMENT:]

[OUTCOME: UNFAVORABLE.]

The monster began to move.

And this time—

There was no answer.

[Chapter ENDS]

SIDE POV — INSTRUCTORS’ EMERGENCY RESPONSE

They arrived too late.

The moment the spatial distortion settled, three instructors descended into the clearing—barriers flaring instinctively, killing intent suppressed but ready.

Then they saw it.

The bodies.

All twenty.

No defensive formation left.No retreat path.No survivors.

One of the instructors—a middle-aged man with silver-threaded hair—froze mid-step.

“…Impossible.”

Another instructor knelt immediately, hand hovering over a student’s neck, then another.

Nothing.

No pulse.

No residual life force.

Only lingering King-tier pressure, thick enough to make breathing uncomfortable.

The youngest instructor swallowed hard.

“…They didn’t even have time to scatter.”

The senior instructor clenched his jaw.

“This wasn’t a battle,” he said quietly.”This was an execution.”

His gaze swept the clearing, stopping at the massive footprints embedded deep into the stone beneath the soil.

King-tier.

Berserk.

On a freshman trial island.

“…Who authorized this island without a suppression field?” the younger instructor snapped.

No one answered.

Because they all knew.

No one had.

The senior instructor activated his communicator, his voice sharp, stripped of all ceremony.

“Emergency escalation. Repeat—emergency escalation.”“King-tier entity confirmed. Berserk variant.”“Freshman casualties confirmed: total wipeout.”“This is no longer a trial scenario.”

Static answered for half a second.

Then a controlled, colder voice responded.

“Understood. Lock down the island. Mobilize upper authority.”

The instructor looked once more at the fallen students.

“…We’re already too late.”

The youngest instructor whispered,

“…What about the other teams?”

The senior instructor turned toward the forest.

Where the pressure was moving.

“…If it reaches another group,” he said grimly,”…we’ll be counting bodies instead of teams.”

He keyed the communicator again, urgency bleeding through his discipline.

“Notify the Vice Dean immediately.””Authorize direct intervention.””Suspend the trial.”

His eyes hardened.

“Before this turns into a massacre.”

Far away—

The ground trembled again.

And the instructors knew—

The King-tier monster was still hunting.

[SIDE POV ENDS]

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