Arthur felt it the moment they stepped into the boss room. The air itself thickened, humming with an unnatural charge, as if the very walls were alive with mana. His breath came slower, his muscles tensed instinctively. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to be ready.
Across the massive cavern, seated upon a throne of jagged stone, was the monster. It slouched lazily, its massive, green-skinned form illuminated by the torches burning with an eerie blue flame. It was grotesquely large—twice the size of any man, its muscles knotted and gnarled like the roots of an ancient tree. Long, yellowed tusks jutted from its lower jaw, and its bloodshot eyes, brimming with a twisted intelligence, locked onto them with sickening amusement.
It stared at them much like a child would when given new toys.
Resting against the throne, its weapon gleamed—a greatsword, jagged and brutal, its blackened steel crusted with dried blood.
"Shit," Officer Reftia muttered under her breath, fingers twitching toward her daggers. "It's a Goblin Chief."
Arthur exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders. "I mean," he mused, gripping his spear tighter, "one enemy isn't too bad. Should be easy, right?"
The Goblin Chief's head cocked slightly, as if considering his words. Then, it grinned.
The roar that followed shook the cavern, a deafening, guttural command that rattled Arthur's bones. The shadows around them shifted—no, they moved.
Hundreds of goblins flooded in from every crevice, every tunnel. Not the feeble, scrappy creatures Arthur had fought before. These things were monsters—each one standing as tall as a man, their sinewy muscles flexing beneath scarred and battle-worn skin. Their jagged teeth clacked together in anticipation, rusted weapons gripped with white-knuckled intensity.
Arthur swallowed.
"You just had to open your damn mouth," Reftia groaned.
"Fuck me…" Arthur exhaled, shifting into a stance. "I need some of what they're eating."
'Mana surge.'
Mana surged through his veins, a violent flood of power that burned through his limbs, searing away exhaustion. His vision sharpened, the world slowing into crystal-clear detail. Every twitch of movement, every flicker of breath from the approaching horde—he could see it all.
And then, the massacre began.
Arthur flowed through the horde like a living inferno, his spear carving a path of searing death. Each movement was instinct, honed and sharpened by battle. A parry, a thrust—four arcs of fire followed in its wake, burning everything in its path. The technique he had invented against the Direwolves now found its name. Fireclaw.
'Strangely fitting.'
A goblin lunged at him with a jagged axe. He twisted, letting the blow sail past before driving his spear through its throat. Fire surged from the wound, consuming the creature from the inside out. Another enemy came from behind. Arthur spun, his spear a whirling blaze, slicing through flesh and bone as though they were paper.
He didn't stop. He couldn't stop.
The rhythm of war took hold. Dodge. Strike. Parry. Kill. Every move seamless, an extension of his body. A goblin roared, charging with a rusted sword raised high. Instead of striking, Arthur threw out his free hand—flames erupted from his palm, setting the creature alight just as he rammed into it with his full weight. The burning goblin crashed into its kin, the fire spreading, their shrieks piercing the cavern like a twisted symphony of agony.
Still, they came.
Arthur welcomed them.
His grin widened as he dodged and struck with growing ferocity. He was winning. He was strong enough. He could—
A shadow loomed over him.
His instincts screamed.
Arthur barely rolled aside before a massive greatsword slammed into the earth where he stood. The cavern trembled. Rock splintered beneath the force. A lesser warrior would have been obliterated.
The Goblin Chief had finally entered the fray.
Arthur's heart pounded as he looked up. The beast was closer now, its monstrous form even more terrifying at such a distance. Bloodshot eyes locked onto him with cold fury, and the Chief wrenched its blade free from the cratered ground with terrifying ease.
No hesitation. No fear. He'd seen death too many times now to stutter in front of it. Arthur moved.
'Shooting Star.'
His spear ignited with scarlet flames, the heat so intense that the metal itself began to liquefy. The air warped around him, his body vibrating from the sheer force of the power coursing through him. Then—
Boom.
Arthur became a streak of fire, a meteor tearing through the battlefield.
The Goblin Chief barely had time to react before Arthur's spear tore through its midsection. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the cavern, the force so great that the nearest goblins were thrown back, their bodies crushed against the jagged rock.
Arthur reappeared two meters away, gasping, his limbs trembling as exhaustion hit him like a crashing wave.
He dropped to his knees, struggling to breathe. His vision blurred. His body screamed in protest. 'Too much. Too fast.'
But it worked.
Through his hazy sight, he saw the Goblin Chief stagger. Blood—thick and black—poured from the gaping wound splitting its torso. It gurgled, swaying on its feet, then fell to its knees.
Arthur's heart pounded as realization sank in.
He had done it. He had killed a boss monster.
He grinned through ragged breaths. Victory.
But then—
The Goblin Chief chuckled.
Arthur's blood ran cold.
The Goblin Chief turned to face Arthur, its bloodshot eyes burning with a seething, unnatural hate. A deep, ominous hum filled the cavern as a sickly purple glow pulsed from its body, intensifying with each passing second.
Arthur's breath hitched. 'Is it going to self-destruct?'
The goblins around them froze. Every single one. Their snarls silenced, their movements stilled. The sudden halt in battle left both Arthur and Officer Reftia disoriented. Then—
The goblins began to glow.
The same malevolent purple light bled from their bodies, spreading like a plague. Their limbs convulsed, muscles bulging, bones cracking as their flesh stretched and warped.
And then—the Goblin Chief crumbled into dust.
Arthur's heart pounded. 'Did it fail?'
No. Of course not.
He wasn't that lucky.
The moment the last remnants of the chief disintegrated, the goblins howled in unison. Their bodies shifted, growing grotesquely larger, sinew stretching over their bulging frames. Their eyes, once dim, now burned with a bloodthirsty gleam.
Arthur's stomach dropped.
"Fuck."
A colossal goblin lunged at him. He barely rolled away, hitting the ground hard as claws raked the space where he had just stood. He scrambled to his feet, raising his spear—only to watch in horror as it crumbled into dust in his hands.
His mind screamed. Ikaris! He had to summon it—but hesitation froze him. 'What if Officer Reftia sees? What if she realizes what I really am?'
That single flicker of doubt cost him.
Pain exploded through him.
Blood sprayed across the cavern floor.
Arthur staggered, his mind barely processing the gory reality—his right arm was gone. A mangled stump remained where flesh and bone had been moments before.
A scream tore from his throat, raw and primal.
Another shadow loomed.
Too slow.
The next blow came like a guillotine.
Cold steel carved through his thigh, cleaving his left leg clean off. He crashed onto the stone with a sickening thud, blood pooling beneath him in a growing crimson lake.
His vision blurred. His body shook violently from blood loss.
Arthur turned his head, desperate, searching for Reftia—someone—to save him.
But she was too busy fighting for her own survival.
His fingers twitched. His body wouldn't move. He was too weak. Too slow. Too fucking pathetic.
'So this is how I die, huh? What a shit fucking death.'
Then—
A notification flickered into his vision.
[Sun's Concept is evolving...]
[Healing Blood has now become Regenerative Blood...]
Hope flared—only to be ripped away.
[Error!]
[Insufficient Mana for Regenerative Blood]
Arthur choked on a breath.
'No. No. No. Fuck! Not now!'
Another notification appeared.
[Hade's Will is evolving...]
[New Ability – Possession Unlocked]
[1 Soul Found]
Arthur's vision wavered. His body was dying. His mind was crumbling.
A final prompt.
[Do you accept?]
[ Y / N ]
His hand twitched in the blood-soaked dirt.
His lips curled in a defiant snarl. If he was going to die, might as well go with a bang.
"Yes."
Power surged through him—raw, violent, absolute. His body, broken and bleeding, felt suddenly whole. The sensation was intoxicating, a flood of overwhelming mana and something else—something darker.
Then, the final notification blinked.
[Error...]
[User's Ego is currently fragile.]
[User's Ego is being corrupted...]
Arthur's mind started cracking. He grit his teeth trying to stop it, but it was too late.
His mind shattered.
….............
Officer Reftia moved like a phantom, her daggers slicing through the air in blurs of steel and death. Every step was calculated, every strike precise.
She reached out with her mind affinity, twisting the emotions of the goblins around her. They had grown stronger—grotesquely stronger—but they were still beasts. Their minds had not evolved. That meant they were still privy to her control.
She wove her influence into them, sowing hesitation, whispering doubt into their primitive thoughts. 'Hesitation buys time. And time is what I need.'
Arthur…
He couldn't survive this. Whatever he had done to the boss, it was clear it wasn't something he could repeat.
Reftia's body blurred forward, mana surging through her legs, propelling her past the lumbering monsters. She weaved between their wild swings, one goal in mind—get to Arthur.
'I should never have let him fight alone.'
Then she saw him.
And she froze.
Arthur stood in the carnage, still fighting.
But it wasn't Arthur.
That person, with Arthur's black hair and dark eyes—it wasn't him.
A thick, oppressive aura bled from his body, coating the battlefield in an unnatural darkness. A killing intent so raw, so refined, that it made her stomach lurch. His eyes—void of warmth, void of hesitation—held the cold, detached precision of a man who had butchered for a lifetime.
He wasn't fighting.
He was executing.
His movements were perfect. Too perfect. Arthur was talented, yes, but still learning. He was nowhere near this level. Yet now—
Now, he wove through the battlefield with a master's grace, every strike delivered with bone-crushing, flesh-ripping efficiency.
And the weapon in his hands—
It was monstrous.
A deep crimson blade, pulsing with malevolence, halfway between a sword and a spear. The shaft was as long as a spear, yet the curved blade extended nearly the length of a full sword. A glaive. A weapon meant for nothing less than wholesale slaughter.
But the worst part—
The thing standing behind him.
The dark mana roiled unnaturally around his body, and within its depths, she saw it. A looming, skeletal figure coiled around Arthur, its spine twisting and rising from his back. A hollowed skull leered from the darkness, empty sockets gazing into the void. And in its clawed hands—
Strings. Bloodied threads pierced into Arthur's limbs, embedding themselves deep into his flesh, controlling him.
A puppet.
The realization sent an involuntary shudder down Reftia's spine.
This… This was wrong.
Arthur moved like he had always fought this way. Not like a man who had discovered a new ability—but like a warrior who had lived and breathed it for years. It felt like, in this cavern, it was Arthur who was the boss monster, and the goblins were his prey.
"What the hell?" Reftia whispered, a chill creeping into her bones.
Was he possessed?
She stretched out with her affinity, reaching into Arthur's mind, trying to find him—
Agony.
A blinding force shoved her out violently, like a thousand claws raking across her consciousness.
She stumbled back, gasping, hands flying to her temples as her mind reeled from the backlash.
And then—
A flash. A name.
Her breath hitched.
'Who the hell is James Skelter?'