Game’s Dogma

The aura was weak but distinctly present. Tripurity became one with the sword, as if his body was the blade and the sword was the sharp tip.

The sword cut down from above. The moment it did, the fifty or so metres between them was gone in the blink of an eye—Tripurity was standing right before Drako Yau.

Drako Yau had no idea how he did it, assuming it was a skill but not entirely so. Perhaps it was a combination of a skill and internal powers from a cultivation style, similar to how Tigeroar had infused Roar of the Forest Tiger’s powers into the Warrior skill, Growl. This sort of technique was undoubtedly the most terrifying to deal with.

This strike could threaten Drako Yau’s life. This strike was worthy of him responding with full strength. As the wooden sword descended, he swung his spear in retaliation while his yin-yang symbol trembled violently.

Dakki staggered backwards to the edge of the stairs, her vision blinded by a sea of flames. All she witnessed was that sparks erupted all over and devoured everything the moment Mask crossed his spear against Tripurity’s sword.

The sparks vanished as quickly as they appeared. Everything seemed like an illusion that had never taken place. Mask remained standing with his spear framed above his head, with two burnt streaks on the ground and a heap of ash ahead of him.

The streaks ended at where Tripurity sprawled on the ground with a pale face, and all that remained of his sword was its hilt. His sword wasn’t anything special, being only a Level 35 epic weapon that morphed into a wooden sword due to his Art of Sword Manipulation. However, it was now gone forever, unlike Drako Yau’s armour which only broke partially from Chau Yu’s purple blast. The heap of ash marked its demise.

“Mask, you are indeed strong. Much stronger than anyone can imagine.”

Contrary to his pale face, Tripurity’s eyes glowed like stars in the dark night. He proved to himself that his path was the right one with that strike. The opponent was merely stronger this time around.

Drako Yau hung his spear onto his back and headed to the centre of the platform to accept the next trial, followed by Dakki who rushed up the stairs. Before he entered the trial, he said, “I respect your strike, so I went all out.”

“Thank you,” Tripurity replied as he saw off the two into their trial.

Although he lost, he didn’t lose sight of himself. Mask was far beyond his reach from the start, so he was mentally prepared for the outcome. Still, a flash of fear flickered in his eyes.

While he didn’t know what Mask had done, he still sensed that Mask’s power was one that withered everything with extremely destructive forces. Destroying his sword wasn’t Mask’s intention; it was merely the inevitable, one that even Mask couldn’t control. Restraining the forces from killing him was the best Mask could’ve done already.

This game is truly mysterious and interesting, Tripurity thought.

Finally, the system granted its benevolence to Drako Yau and teleported him to the seventh floor. He stared at the stairs leading upwards and came to a halt. 

Curious, Dakki asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s up there. Not Handsome Scholar and Chau Yu either.”

A dense killing intent wafted down the stairs like toxic fumes. Neither Chau Yu nor Handsome Scholar could give off such an intense killing intent that almost materialised into physical form.

“Looks like the person isn’t friendly. Wait here.”

Drako Yau readied his spear; the person had noticed his presence just as he did. A fat figure came into sight when he reached the end of the stairs.

“Great, I was afraid you’d skip floors and planned on waiting for you on the ninth floor. Didn’t think we’d meet here.”

Drako Yau had never met this person. Who’s fatter, this guy or Fatty the Castellan?

“You know me?”

“The entire West knows you.” The fat guy’s voice brought a frown to Drako Yau’s face. The voice made the surrounding killing intent vibrate, and that made him rather uncomfortable.

“You’re the nemesis our Divine King speaks of.” The fat guy’s eyes squinted into a thin line. “However, I shall be the one who judges whether you are qualified to fight our Divine King.”

He unsheathed a butcher knife from behind. Drako Yau stayed silent; he reckoned what the man was on about judging from his words. The so-called “Divine King” was likely the blonde man he had fought before.

Nemesis, is it? A befitting title.

The fat guy pointed at the ID above his head. “I am Butcherer, one of the Four Generals of the West. You are only qualified to challenge the Three Gods if you defeat me.”

“No one has the right to grant me qualifications or anything. Whoever stands before me is my enemy.”

“A bold statement,” Butcherer nodded as his voice thundered across the platform. “I am Butcherer, so I am good at butchering. Be careful.”

A butcher was naturally good at butchering—even humans, as they were just like pigs to him.

As the god race’s elder had mentioned, only five Holy Grounds existed in the Warring Wastelands. However, no matter which Holy Ground the players reached, they’d encounter the same elder who repeated the same dialogue and granted the same quest. Everyone was sent to the two closest Demonic Towers.

Drako Yau and the others were fortunate enough to have entered the Demonic Tower far earlier than most players, turning the quest into a race to the top. Butcherer also arrived at the same Demonic Tower thanks to the coordinates Fenny had sent him.

Things weren’t as fortunate at the other tower. The guarding beastmen were nowhere to be seen—because they were all dead. Instead, a sea of players defended the tower in their stead.

A chaotic brawl ensued. Fighting took place around the tower with glows of white flashing non-stop. Thousands of players, with the numbers still on the rise, were engaged in the battle, and familiar faces were present all over the place. Phoenyx, Goemon, Godmage, Zephyrwolf… all major forces of the three Eastern cities gathered before the tower. However, they were fighting for the same cause for once.

Their common enemy was the army of the West. As they struggled in a bitter battle to hold off the enemy, they were completely baffled by their enemy’s strength. Things were in utter chaos among players from the East because they each fought on their own without any commanding organisation. On the other hand, the West mobilised like a trained army and deployed various tactics in the battle.

Another striking advantage the West had was their levels. Even the weakest among them were at Level 42, with the top players already at Level 45. The vast difference in levels allowed them to obliterate the forces from the East; they were in a completely different league!

Thankfully, many players from the East had entered the Demonic Tower already, so their sole objective was to defend the tower entrance, which simplified things a lot for them.

All of a sudden, the sounds of battle subsided. Noticing that the Western players ceased their offence, the Eastern players gladly retreated to the tower and accepted the temporary ceasefire; they were already close to reaching their limits in the despairing battle.

A no man’s land emerged around the tower. Gathered near the tower was a force of blue IDs that were in tatters, while a sea of red IDs surrounded them like a bloody sea.

The sea of blood divided to open a path, on which two people slowly walked down.

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