Chapter 393
Chapter 393
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 393
Chapter Title: Ranking War - Preliminaries (5)
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[Mission 3 has ended. Rankings will be determined based on the status obtained so far. If no status was obtained or the same status was obtained, rankings will be decided by contribution points or the number of hunting badges acquired. Ties may occur in this case.]
[Only the top 1,000 will participate in the main ranking war.]
[Grading in progress.]
“......What? Already?”
“Insane. It's not even been an hour since the last mission started!”
“Crazy. Isn't this a bug? It was supposed to be 12 hours! I haven't even gotten a status yet!”
The sudden announcement plunged everyone into chaos. They’d been told to claim the highest status within 12 hours—what the hell was this bolt from the blue?
Had the 12-hour limit been a trick from the start? Why pull something like that?
While everyone stood dumbfounded, rejecting reality, someone piped up.
“Wait, didn’t we hear an explosion from the city earlier?”
“Yeah, but.... What was that? Did someone go berserk in the city and get the NPCs to reject all visitors or something?”
The hypothesis was only half right.
Someone had indeed gone berserk in the city—but on a far grander scale.
Regicide.
And someone had claimed the throne for himself.
No need to say who: Rokan.
Instead of offering up contribution points for a handout status from the king, he’d personally dragged the king down and crowned himself. Could there be a higher status than that?
That was why the system had deemed further mission progress pointless and terminated it early.
The players were baffled, but if they thought about it, the outcome was perfectly fair.
Only Rokan knew the full story.
The cameras, busy tracking players out hunting in the fields, had missed his movements entirely—capturing only the end result.
The live audience and viewers outside the game were left speechless, while the devs despaired at their carefully crafted content going off the rails.
In the face of this absurd result, only Rokan laughed.
[Ranking War - Preliminaries. Final results announced.]
[Current overall ranking: 1st place]
[Preliminary results will influence the main ranking war bracket.]
[Places 1 through 10 receive seeds and will begin competing on day 2.]
[Congratulations.]
As expected, the results from the three-mission prelims were put to use in drawing up the bracket.
Rokan, as rank 1, secured a seed and a bye straight into the one-on-one matches midway through.
He figured the outcome would be the same no matter who he fought, but saving time wasn’t a bad reward.
Flash.
Just as that thought crossed his mind, the prelims wrapped up, and he was teleported back to the starting field.
“Wooooooooah!”
The cheers of the spectators packing the Colosseum greeted Rokan.
The others were still clueless, trembling in rage over the rankings handed down to them.
“The tournament starts tomorrow, right?”
A few who’d pieced together that all this chaos stemmed from Rokan shot him glares, but he couldn’t care less. As if a lion would fear a few glaring rabbits.
‘If you’re pissed, then come at me.’
Rokan straightened his back and strode out of the Colosseum with his head held high.
‘Of course, they’d have to win the tournament and climb up first.’
Sure, some might have gripes, but none could actually tail him. Unless they cracked the top 10, they had a grueling tournament ahead.
‘This just got interesting.’
And one amusing detail: places 2 through 10 were all from Rokan’s own group.
The final mission had been a wash for everyone, and while they hadn’t scored extra points in the first, their second-mission haul had narrowly edged them higher.
Word was, most other groups had picked hard difficulty, with only a handful opting for hell.
Even those who’d chosen hell had some full wipes, while the survivors had gone all-in on defending the guardian tower from the midway point onward just to scrape by into the final mission.
So in that short time frame—with just a single wave—Rokan’s group clearing inferno hell had made their points stand out.
In the end, only a handful had truly contributed by properly hunting inferno monsters and landing critical hits.
‘Climb up here if you can.’
Rokan flashed a wicked grin at the ‘Apostles,’ lost in despair or seething with fury.
Whoever the opponent, he could probably charge in and smash them flat—but this was a chance to size up the Apostles’ abilities.
Their powers might be special, but once exposed, could they stay dominant? Even without Rokan himself, counters were bound to emerge.
He logged off with the stern, impassive expression of a proctor overseeing an exam, then sprawled on the sofa to watch the tournament.
***
With so many entrants, matches ran simultaneously across the board. Spectators and viewers could pick their preferred matchups, with big-name clashes getting commentary while others flew by unnoticed.
Rokan’s interests were predictably narrow.
The Apostles and each nation’s top representatives.
But even that intrigue didn’t last.
Cheryshev—the guy who’d ambushed Rokan early on only to get pummeled—made an appearance and piqued some curiosity, but he got thoroughly dismantled by one of the Apostles soon after. From there, it was just predictable scraps.
As expected, the Apostles and national reps unveiled the skills they’d been hiding and stockpiling, each trying to outshine the rest.
“Yawn. Nothing impressive.”
It all felt pretty underwhelming to Rokan, though.
Of course, these were chump-change fights that wouldn’t even reach the finals—let alone the round of 32—so it’d be unfair to judge their full strength on this.
They each had some trump card tucked away, no doubt. But sitting there watching wasn’t going to coax those out.
This was a waste of time.
He felt zero sense of danger, and any highlights worth seeing would end up as video clips circulating anyway. After a short break, Rokan logged back into The Lord.
Turning his back on the noisy arena, he returned to the heavens.
“Guess that just leaves Blue and Gold.”
He resumed tracking the whereabouts of the two dragons that would complete his Dragon Killer quest—and boost his levels to boot.
But it wasn’t easy.
True to form as a water dragon, the Blue had coiled up in the ocean depths, while the Gold’s habitat wasn’t even clearly known.
“Not simple. Maybe just storm the Vampire Lord’s castle?”
On top of that, his body hadn’t fully stabilized yet—a single dragon breath could spell trouble.
He could cover with Tetra Elemental, but what if...?
He’d even toyed with shelving the Dragon Killer quest and grinding levels via a revenge war on the vampires.
But that wouldn’t fly. The timing sucked for starting a war, and he was short on time anyway.
The ranking war kicked off for him tomorrow, didn’t it?
If the vampires turned his territory into a wasteland while he was competing, that’d be a headache.
And yet, he couldn’t ditch the ranking war—not with a full level-up reward on the line.
The rank 1 title itself was whatever, but passing up the prize? No way. He reconsidered.
“Time to consult an expert, after all.”
No matter how hard he racked his brain solo, no easy Blue Dragon hunt came to mind, nor any spot where the Gold might lair.
So Rokan paid a long-overdue visit to Gaokan.
The guy had already slain all seven dragon types and cleared the Dragon Killer quest—surely he had some answers?
Rokan posed the question with high hopes.
“Blue Dragon? Tricky bastard. Doesn’t just handle water—it’s damn good with lightning too. You get soaked, then zapped... Ugh, gives me the shivers just thinking about it. Oh, right—攻略法? Hmm, not really. If I had to say, drag it out of the water? Or snag a young one.”
“Hmm.”
Not a very satisfying answer.
He was a dragon-hunting expert, sure, but dragons were a race with no glaring weaknesses—so no real useful tips.
“For Gold Dragon, they usually hang around strong ley lines. Or more precisely, mana nexuses? That’s why they get mixed up with Yellow Dragons, but once you fight, it’s night and day. No real element—just raw mana—so you slug it out till one pops.”
Same story for Gold Dragon intel. He got a hint about ley lines or mana nexuses, but pinpointing a location? No dice.
“Thanks. You’re looking good.”
“Me? Haha, doing alright. Hurry up and climb already. At this rate, I might hit ‘God’ status before you make Majesty Master. If you get there soon.... go easy on me, heh heh heh!”
Leaving Gaokan to his jokes to the end, Rokan resumed scouring the heavens.
He aggressively gathered direct info and hints on Blue and Gold Dragons.
For Blue, he’d already pinned down one’s location—but per Gaokan, maybe there was an easier mark out there?
In the meantime, a day passed, bringing the next.
“Damn, cutting it close.”
[Body Stabilization: 12 hours 25 minutes]
Unfortunately, full stabilization needed a bit more time.
Meanwhile, yesterday’s tournament had whittled the survivors down to just 64 including himself—so no way it’d finish before today’s matches.
Small fry who didn’t even warrant Song of Ice or Fire, though.
“Maybe usable by semis.”
He had no urge to show his full hand, but if things went well, he could pull off some flashy plays tomorrow.
Just semis and finals scheduled then.
They could’ve wrapped today time-wise, but the devs dragged it out a day to squeeze in more filler.
“Such a hassle. Just herd ‘em all up, leave a few, done. Or let me fight 1vAll.”
The auction deadline loomed, making him antsy, but no helping it. He’d have to drop foes as fast as possible.
Body itching to hunt dragons or monster hordes after wrapping this up, he tamped it down and awaited his turn.
[Teleporting to arena in 5 seconds. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.]
Flash.
“Wooooooooah!”
Rokan’s entrance filled the stands with massive cheers.
The floor and walls brimmed with indestructible objects prepped by the devs, while special shields enclosed the dome like a barrier—just in case combat spillover hit the crowd.
It shrank the players’ movement space, true—but it also stopped endless kiting, so it was understandable.
“Hmm.”
Rokan casually lifted his head to eye his opponent.
[Soul Knight Dohun][Lv 381]
No need for Eyes that Pierce All Things—the guy’s title and name popped up automatically, set for the audience.
Rokan’s info was displayed similarly, though his level stayed hidden thanks to privacy settings.
‘Level 381. Not bad.’
Rokan gave a fairly positive assessment.
“Match begins in 5 seconds. Both players, prepare. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! Fight!”
“Fluidization!”
But that was it. Not even an Apostle, and he thought he could hang?
The opponent triggered a skill right at the start, shifting into an intangible form. Like a ghost, he ignored normal attacks entirely and lunged at Rokan.
The plan: stay ethereal, then briefly solidify on strikes to deal damage.
Without prepping holy water on his weapon or an elemental enchant, you’d get steamrolled.
Rokan remained stone-faced, arms crossed, lips barely moving.
“Nightmare.”
Neiiigh!
“Soul strik—Gahk!”
No need for Rokan to lift a finger.
The Nightmare summoned and lashed out with a rear kick straight to Dohun’s chest.
Boom! Crash.
Fluidization? Useless here—with the great demon of nightmares and illusions present.
Soul clashed against soul, then Dohun slammed into an unbreakable wall and crumpled in a heap.
The Nightmare closed in with savage bucks and tosses.
“Guh—ack? S-skills...!”
As the Nightmare’s eerie purple eyes gleamed, Dohun’s soul skills were sealed.
Overpowered by a higher existence, he couldn’t resist losing his abilities.
And so the first match of the round of 64 went to Rokan—or rather, the mysterious dark horse no one could identify.