Burn the Boats
Sink or swim, it had to be a three-DPS comp. No exceptions.
A few hits on the boss called Techsecular were all it took to be sure.
Twenty levels of difference, and the thing was disgustingly tanky. Just how much level scaling had this thing been handed?
One other thing had become painfully clear: a greatsword was going to have a miserable time against Techsecular.
Why? Because Techsecular's single greatest trait—and its greatest strength—was speed.
It was hauling around a greatsword the size of its own body, and yet the speed of those swings could rival a one-handed sword. Thinking about it again, it was honestly absurd.
A greatsword didn't make the game outright impossible, of course. But from where I stood, having to pick the fight apart carefully and never take a hit, a greatsword character was an option with far too much DPS loss.
So what I needed right now was someone whose attack speed was high enough to keep the DPS loss within reason, and who could still put out respectable damage on top of it.
Sure, Raider was a game you could enjoy to the fullest even on four-stars, and every character I'd used to take down the closed-beta bosses—aside from the protagonist—had been a four-star too.
Even so, if I wanted to close even a fraction of a twenty-level gap, picking a five-star was the most sensible choice. And if that five-star happened to be fully maxed, with a five-star weapon to match, all the better.
Which meant leaning hard on Yurie, the only fully maxed character on my account, was a choice without a single strange thing about it. Even so…
"…Is this really the right call?"
In a game where parrying exists, was fielding a damage dealer with no parry actually the right call? The moment I blew the First Clear because of it, that would be an all-time ugly look. Honestly, the odds of a latecomer like me taking a First Clear weren't that high to begin with. Wouldn't I be better off gunning for the we lost, but we fought well ending?
…Regrets, huh.
"…Fine. Since it's come to this."
I shot Yurie straight up to the level cap.
Then I went into the shop. I pulled in one long breath, let it out, and covered the screen.
Eighteen hundred dollars vanished in an instant.
What I got in exchange was enough currency for roughly a thousand pulls.
If I was going to burn the boats, I was going to burn them properly—so there would never be a second trip to the shop. So I wouldn't waste time bouncing back and forth between the shop and the gacha.
Which meant one thing.
"I'm maxing Tequiel."
I was winning this. No matter what.
Weak, and yet strong.
Techsecular thought so as it swung its sword.
Measured against Techsecular, the invader's momentum was infinitely weak. And the invader truly was weak. Their sword strikes caught on dragon scale and failed to deal any real damage—no different from striking a boulder with an egg. Techsecular could afford to take as many clean hits as it pleased.
The invader, however, could not afford a single one.
The armor they wore was nothing like Techsecular's scales. And Techsecular's sword was so sharp, so overwhelming, that comparing it to the invader's was almost embarrassing. A clean hit on the invader would become a fatal wound on the spot.
Even in a situation this overwhelmingly favorable, Techsecular did not let its guard down.
That insect-like breed was something that had to be exterminated to the last. An insect that had trespassed into the Sanctuary had to be exterminated even more thoroughly.
Yes. Techsecular had not let its guard down.
Which was precisely why the invader still holding out beneath that ferocious assault was proof that the invader was strong.
Techsecular was a storm. A storm that swallowed everything.
The invader wedged into the gaps of that storm. Where there was no gap, they made one, and slipped through.
It doesn't connect.
These should have been attacks seen for the very first time. The enemy dismantled them as if they had already known.
It's being eaten away.
Little by little, Techsecular's life was shaved down.
But it did not grow impatient. Techsecular was a single keen sword.
A blade honed and tempered across uncountable time came swinging down.
Swiftness
Single Flash
The distance to the invader snapped shut in an instant—and in the next instant, it opened again.
It turned its head at once.
Because it had not felt the sensation of a cut landing.
And Techsecular confirmed that the insect's weapon had changed. It knew perfectly well what that weapon was.
A bow.
Of all the arms of war, the weapon that boasted the most superior range.
But aiming while thrashing about so wildly just to open distance was far more difficult. And if the target itself was moving, the aim grew harder still.
In the end, the invader had grown anxious and made a mistake. They had been pounding on an unbreakable wall all this time; if anything, it was only natural.
It closed the distance again. Unlike before, there seemed to be an opening.
It gathered strength into its arm to swing the sword.
And then—
A sharp pain struck its face.
Yeah, a bow really does burn through your concentration. My eyes and my head were throbbing a little.
But watching a fully maxed character keep putting out damage this clean, I was starting to like it a bit—
"…I almost let maxed-out stats seduce me for a second there."
I swapped to Tequiel on the spot. …A maxed character's finish really was something else, wasn't it? How to put it. Like the invisible aura was different?
There's a reason the whales all sprint for max dupes, you know?
Tequiel—brought to full max with another three hundred pulls poured in—swung her blades.
And———
The word defeat flickered before its eyes.
A reality it had never even considered was gradually taking shape.
Techsecular—a single sword, once endlessly keen—was beginning, little by little, to dull.
Every time it allowed the invader's attack through, the pain swallowing its entire body grew worse. Even so, it endured that pain and moved.
It must not collapse.
It must not fall.
It had to kill. It had no choice but to kill. Kill, and protect the Sanctuary.
It had to swing the sword———
Its arm would not move.
Its legs would not move.
In that moment, the dragon understood.
That it had been defeated.
It had to admit it. The caliber of their martial skill was on another level. That one was a being who had touched the pinnacle of the martial way. To seek a contest of swords against an invader who had reached that pinnacle—this outcome was, in a sense, only natural.
Even so, it could not accept it.
And so it wrung out every last scrap of strength.
With everything it had, it brought forth the final strike of its life.
The sky was cleaved.
But the invader was still moving, sword in hand. Closing the distance, charging in to drive that sword into its throat.
Seeing that, the dragon looked down at its own sword.
Die as a swordsman?
Or abandon a Ruler's pride, and cling to life?
Or else……
In a fraction of a moment, the choice was finished.
The dragon let go of its greatsword.
Even if it meant abandoning a swordsman's pride, there was something that had to be protected.
And so the Ruler abandoned a swordsman's pride. Abandoned its dream. Abandoned its future.
In exchange, the dragon gained only one thing.
The landscape of the Sanctuary warped.
So that the Ruler might pour out the whole of its power.
A girl stood on a wide-open plain. A cool wind brushed past her cheek and went on.
A dragon walked across that wide-open plain. Every time the cool wind grazed its scales, cracks ran through them.
The girl looked at the dragon. She looked at the opponent she had been intent on killing until just a moment ago.
It was riddled with openings. One light tap, and it looked ready to collapse where it stood. Her reason insisted she cut the enemy's throat, and quickly.
But at the same time her instinct was screaming. Open the distance. Something was coming.
The girl took instinct's side.
The dragon had abandoned a swordsman's pride. Abandoned its dream. Abandoned its future.
In exchange, the dragon gained only one thing.
Its true form.
The dragon, restored to its true form, roared.