Chapter 185: Chapter 185 – Turn and Fight

The air around us was thick with dust, ragged gasps, and the sharp scent of fear. The thunderous rumble of over a hundred Rabid Roosters behind us was like the accelerating drums of death.

“Someone has to do something!” yelled a contestant in GOTE Academy’s olive green uniform, his face slick with sweat and grime. “We can’t keep running like this! They’re faster than us over distance!”

My mind raced. I glanced back, estimating the numbers. Roughly a hundred. Maybe more. But I also surveyed the group now clustered around me—thirty-one contestants, faces etched with panic, anger, and exhaustion, but also… potential.

Thirty-one Awakeners, mostly Rank A, some Rank B. That was not an insignificant force. Until now, they’d been fighting alone and scattered. But if they could cooperate…

“I have a plan,” I said, my voice cutting clearly through the stomping feet and monster roars.

“A PLAN?!” shrieked the blue-haired contestant, his face full of disbelief. “What kind of plan? To get us killed faster? This is all your fault, you bastard!”

“Yeah, what’s your plan?” asked another, his voice dripping with skepticism. “It better get us out of this, since you started it!”

“If your plan doesn’t get us out of this situation, you should just shut up!” added a red-haired woman from Lockfield Academy, her eyes blazing.

“Listen first,” I cut in. “We can’t keep running. Look at our condition.”

I pointed around. Several contestants already looked pale, their breathing shallow, their knees trembling. “Our stamina is limited. Theirs isn’t. They’ll chase us until we drop one by one, and the system will extract us.”

“So what are you proposing?” asked the GOTE contestant from earlier, his voice still tense but with a note of curiosity.

“We turn around,” I stated simply. “We attack.”

A brief silence. Then…

“ARE YOU INSANE?!” several voices yelled in unison.

“Over a hundred Rank A and B chickens, plus one Rank S! You want us to commit suicide?!”

But amidst the protests, a different voice emerged. A short woman with wavy black hair cut short and sharp eyes, wearing Drakefield’s charcoal black uniform, stepped forward.

“That… is not a bad plan,” she said, her tone flat yet firm.

All eyes turned to her. She shrugged. “He’s right. Running isn’t an option. We’re getting tired. Every minute we run, we lose stamina, they get closer. Better to use our remaining strength to fight, on ground we choose, with preparation.”

“But… how?” asked a young contestant, his voice trembling. “Even if we pool our strength, that Rank S monster… we can’t defeat it.”

All their eyes returned to me. That was the core question.

“The zone boss,” I began, making sure every word sounded confident. “The Giant Rabid Rooster. I’ll deal with it.”

A heavier silence fell. Even the Drakefield woman raised an eyebrow.

“Just you? Alone?” asked the burly man, skeptical.

“Yes.”

“And how will you do that? You’ve thrown your sword at its body multiple times. It didn’t work!”

“I can sever its head,” I answered, though I wasn’t entirely sure myself. But I had to make them believe. “But I need you all to cover me. Hold back its horde. Give me the space and time to focus on the boss.”

I looked at the Drakefield woman. “You. What’s your name?”

“Raven,” she answered shortly.

“Raven. Can you coordinate them? Split into groups, some holding the front, some attacking from the sides, some guarding the rear?”

Raven glanced at me, then looked at the other still-doubting contestants. She nodded. “I can. If they’ll listen.”

“You hear that?”

I looked around, meeting each pair of still-fearful, uncertain eyes. “This is a tournament. We’re here to fight, not run. Every monster you kill is points for your academy. And if we work together, we can clear this entire zone.”

In some eyes, fear began to shift into glimmers of resolve.

“But… if we lose…” whispered one contestant.

“If we lose, the system extracts us. Same as if we keep running, exhaust ourselves, and get taken down by these chickens,” I explained.

The contestants exchanged glances. Rapid whispers. Raven looked at them, then nodded at me. “They agree.”

“Good,” I took a deep breath. “Raven, organize them. Form ranks. Defenders in front—those with shield abilities, enhancements, or long-range weapons. Those with wide-area attacks, ready to thin the horde. The rest, guard the flanks and rear, make sure nothing slips through.”

Raven immediately moved, her authoritative voice cutting through the last doubts. “You and your group to the front! GOTE and you with defensive abilities, make a barrier! You to the left flank, attack with precision! The rest follow me on the right, hit fast and fall back!”

The previously disorganized group began to move, following her commands with a sudden alignment of survival instinct. They might not fully trust each other, but they trusted structure, a plan.

I looked towards the end of the street, where the shadow of the Giant Rooster was beginning to appear, surrounded by a sea of thirsty red eyes.

Under Raven’s firm direction, the thirty contestants had formed a rough but effective defensive formation. At the front, contestants with defensive abilities—the burly man from Atlas Academy projecting a shimmering yellow energy shield, a group summoning stone walls from the cracked earth, a woman emitting a translucent blue barrier—stood in a line, a living wall.

“Hold! Don’t let them break through!” Raven yelled from the right flank, where she led a fast-attack group. She already held a pair of short, dark-aura gleaming axes.

The first wave of Rabid Roosters—about twenty—slammed into the defense. The sounds of impact, scraping claws, and shouts filled the air. Energy shields vibrated, stone walls cracked, but they held. For now.

“Wide-area attackers, NOW!” Raven commanded.

From behind the defensive line, a group of contestants—likely from element-specializing academies—unleashed their attacks. Fireballs, pillars of ice, lightning spears, and shards of sharp stone rained down on the roosters trying to breach. Small explosions erupted, instantly killing some Rank B roosters and wounding the Rank As.

Meanwhile, I wasn’t idle. I stood slightly behind but still on the front line, my gaze fixed on one target: the king.

The Giant Rabid Rooster paused, watching its minions being held back. Its four eyes blinked, as if processing this new situation. Then, its tooth-filled maw gaped open, releasing a roar that made the ground tremble.

ROOOOAAARRKKK!!!

It stomped forward, crushing some of its own Rank A roosters in the process, intending to charge directly into our defensive line. That would destroy everything.

“Not so fast,” I growled.

[Mindrender] was already back in my hand after my last throw. I swung my arm back, then hurled it again with all the strength in my body.

The sword shot forth, embedding itself right between two of the Giant Rooster’s eyes, at the base of its beak.

THWACK!

SKREEEEEEEE!!!!

Unbelievable pain. The Giant Rooster halted its advance, its head thrown back by the impact. Black blood gushed. And most importantly—its attention was now fully on me.

Its blazing red eyes, filled with pure hatred, locked onto me. It forgot the defensive line, forgot its minions fighting. For it now, there was only one target: me, the one who had wounded it repeatedly.

“Good,” I whispered. “Come here, big chicken.”

I turned and started to run, but this time not away. I ran along the side of the battle, drawing it away from the main group. I wanted it focused on me while the others handled the horde.

The plan worked. With a roar of fury, the Giant Rooster changed direction, following me. Its pillar-like legs crushed anything in its path—wrecked cars, building debris, even some Rank A roosters that didn’t dodge in time.

“Cover him!” a man yelled in my direction, swinging his axe at a Rank A rooster’s neck. “We’ll handle the rest!”

I gave a sharp nod, keeping up my run. But I didn’t run too fast. I maintained distance, ensuring the Giant Rooster kept following but couldn’t get close enough to attack effectively. I made sudden turns, forcing it into awkward course changes, fueling its frustration.

Behind me, the battle between the thirty contestants and the eighty or so remaining Rabid Roosters intensified. Shouts of command, monster roars, and the sounds of ability explosions echoed. They were cooperating—defensive groups rotating as one tired, attackers focusing fire on wounded monsters, flanking groups like Raven’s launching quick strikes and retreating.

Meanwhile, I led the Giant Rabid Rooster to a more open area—a shattered parking lot surrounded by ruined buildings.

I stopped in the middle of the lot and turned. The Giant Rooster halted about fifty meters away, its breath coming out in plumes of black smoke from its maw. All four eyes fixed on me with boiling hatred.

“Okay, big chicken,” I said, summoning [Mindrender]. I gripped it tightly. Now, time to face it directly. No more running. I had to defeat it.

The Giant Rooster raised one massive leg, then stomped it down.

BOOM!

A shockwave spread, cracking the ground. Then, with surprising speed for its size, it charged.

The true one-on-one battle had just begun.

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