Berserk Rampage
His vision flushed red, and his blood surged like boiling lava. A euphoric high flooded his veins, as if adrenaline were exploding through him.
"You little...!"
The whites of his eyes turning bloodshot signaled his plunge into berserk mode—a telltale effect that any player would hesitate to face head-on. Berserk's power was undeniable, but once it wore off, the backlash hit hard: every stat plummeted, making it standard practice to drag things out and hunt only after the timer expired.
But the dark knight didn't play that game. It had no time for games.
Pfshk!
Furious—or terrified—it charged anyway, only for Vulcan's blade to punch straight through its armor in that instant.
With his attack power tripled, Vulcan had already surpassed their defenses. His halved offense from before hadn't just recovered; it had spiked 1.5 times higher than baseline, amplified further by a stack of buffs.
Meanwhile, the enemy was crushed under Roona's radiance, barely able to muster its full strength. It might have prepped some countermeasures against holy power given its assault on the temple, but raw overwhelming force and offense left it flailing.
"Die!!"
Yet these bastards had some vicious fight in them. The dark knight with a blade through its heart clenched its sword anyway, embracing death to pin Vulcan in place and keep him from drawing his weapon free. In that window, another dark knight's sword thrust toward Vulcan's throat.
"?!"
Pfuk!
It stabbed true, but something was off. Vulcan had spotted the strike coming and improvised on the fly—the blade hadn't hit him. It sank into a mound of earth instead.
"Dazhi!"
That dirt pile dulled the sword's edge and hardened around it like glue.
"Wha?!"
Thud.
Like Excalibur jammed in legend's stone, the blade slammed into the ground. The sudden weight shift buckled the knight's stance.
"No weapon? Then die."
Pfshk!
Vulcan's follow-up plunged into the foe, now trapped unable to drop or wield its sword. It tried to grab the blade, but that trick wouldn't fly against a player. Unequipping to inventory and resummoning was basic gamer reflex.
Three dark knights down in a flash. Not top-tier elites among the raiders, but enough to rack up serious levels.
"Coming right to me, huh? Five this time?"
Vulcan's thirst lingered. Spotting five more dark knights charging in, he flashed a feral grin.
- Hurry. Time's almost up.
'Got it.'
Once the timer hit zero, he'd have to tank with raw durability. Better snag one more before then—and if they served themselves up, all the better.
Vulcan lunged without hesitation.
"Dazhi! Dazhi!"
Numerical disadvantage, but weaponizing the earth piles created chaos. Not just weighing down blades like before—they raised vision-blocking walls for confusion, shattered into shrapnel barrages, or let him launch himself like a cannonball alongside the debris. Endless tricks.
"Smash 'em all!!"
But simple parlor tricks and petty illusions could only last for so long against such overwhelming force. The knights, now truly enraged, began to unleash devastating aura blades—powerful Sword Qi-like skills—along with heavy, bone-shattering strikes that pulverized the very dirt beneath their feet into nothingness.
Even that fell into Vulcan's plan. Sustained aura toggling started at level 200. Meaning a split-second vulnerability right after activation.
Level-up chimes chirped incessantly. Vulcan tuned them out, a whirlwind of thrusts, slashes, blocks, and clashes—snuffing out dark knights one by one.
One, two, three... and four.
Their faces twisted in agony, black corpses staining the white snow gray. Vulcan exhaled sharply, watching slow-motion.
"Urk."
The boiling blood cools.
All stats reduced by 50% for 10 minutes.
Four. That was the limit. One-on-one, he might've timed it better, but multiples bred wasted motion. Delay snowballed; berserk ended, breath catching like a noose.
Berserk's frenzy lifted, body screaming under strain, exhaustion crashing in. He wanted one final swing, but his limbs weighed tons. Even if it connected, damage would suck.
Vulcan eyed the sword aimed at his heart.
"Gack."
No strength to twitch a finger—but his mouth worked fine. He belched right in the approaching knight's face.
Hoo. A smirk.
"Thanks for the meal."
Vmmm—Boom!!!
"?!"
-32,465 HP
HP has reached 0.
But the final dark knight's blade hadn't drained Vulcan's HP to zero. A black beam streaked from nowhere, exploding and hurling him aside.
'What the...?'
Tossed by the blast, Vulcan's eyes flew wide. He scanned frantically.
"No time! Secure it now!"
A bellow rang out; surrounding dark knights swarmed.
"Attack! Leave none alive!!"
Chaos erupted. The village alarm had summoned the lord and his knights—plus low-level grunts in numbers. Raiders grew frantic, blasting open the resealed underground for their goal.
Vulcan had been collateral.
'Then...!'
But contrary to their assumption, Vulcan lived. Indomitable triggered, restoring 1 HP and granting 3 seconds of invincibility. He bounced off the ground unscathed.
'Play dead.'
Stand and block? Nah. No point. He could chug pots and recover, but more and stronger foes than before swarmed to rescue Sharon. Odds sucked—especially mid-berserk hangover. Instant death.
So, feign death. No eyes on him anyway—flop prone, sip pots stealthily, assess.
No dumb heroics; item drops were a risk.
'Tiran can't join either.'
Only hope was Tiran, but she dueled a tough one. She'd shredded fodder early, but now their leader tied her up.
'Too late.'
Meanwhile, Sharon vaulted skyward. Shackles fully shattered—free.
Fallen Priest Sharon
Lv 350
'What level is that...?'
Weird—her level was higher than when subdued. Pumped iron in the interim? Muscles looked bulkier too, if memory served.
What the hell were they thinking? What did they do?
"Lord Roona, why show mercy even to this forsaken wretch?!"
But the real absurdity followed. Free Sharon glanced at struggling Tiran, then skyward, yelling.
Vulcan stared, but tears rolling down her cheeks froze him.
'Reformed? Seriously?'
This screamed partial redemption. Roona as berserk gym god among players? Didn't compute for Vulcan. Something unknown at play—he shook his head.
"!!"
Next instant, eyes locked with Sharon's. Busted, despite playing dead.
"Saintess, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. Let's go."
But Sharon ignored him. Mercy? Beneath notice? Urgent escape? Despite grudge for capture, she turned and bailed.
"Saintess?"
- Looks like she clawed a spot among those vermin.
Vulcan cocked his head at vanishing Sharon and knights, clueless for now. He scanned for spotters, plotting his move.
"Urk!"
Boom! Crash!!
Fight intensified. Tiran held, but no edge. Grunts fell to the high knight lord's prowess—wielding Vulcan's crimson longswords—and his men.
"Lady Tiran!"
"Catch!!"
Not all rosy. Numbers evened, but enemy leader too strong. Tiran's strikes blocked; counters staggered her. Punches flew relentlessly, but no solid hits. Attack power shortfall, like Vulcan's earlier.
Her holy hammer—sealed in enemy spell.
Priests hurled weapons desperately, but dark knights intercepted. Rare pickups? Feeble gear shattered on flex, foes exploiting gaps.
"I'll erase you at least!"
Prime chance to kill Tiran, future threat. Leader doubled down as minions prepped retreat.
"Damn."
Boom! Crash! Kablooey!!!
Monstrous power unleashed. Force Vulcan had never witnessed, even hampered by Roona's light.
Nearly 400. Wrapped in exotic gear unscratched by Tiran's fists.
'What now?'
Tiran in peril meant main quest failure—poof. Body still buzzing, Vulcan couldn't just lie there. Needed a play: get her a weapon, somehow.
'Weapon?'
Black Sorcerer ???
Lv 382
Her hammer sealed by another 300s shaman. Break the barrier or cripple the caster—but Vulcan lacked the oomph.
Lord? Maybe, but too far, low 300s—risky.
'But weapons? Plenty.'
One her strength and holy power could handle.
"Lady Tiran! Statue!"
Tiran flicked a glance mid-clash, grasping instantly.
"...!"
Kwang!
Paid for the glance with a hit—but deliberate. She raised guard, rode the impact backward in a skid.
"Won't escape!!"
Enemy pursued doggedly; chase on.
"Save Lady Tiran!"
"Block him!!"
Misread as flight? Priests flared holy barriers, buying precious seconds despite fragility.
"Raaagh!!"
They shredded fast, but time earned.
"Hnnngh!!!"
Sacrifices behind, Tiran reached the plaza under Roona's light. The statue wasn't mere hammer shape—it housed a Roona-infused weapon.
This would hold.
"Die!!"
But the hammer wouldn't budge. Item-locked? Roona rejecting? Even max flex failed.
Meanwhile, foe closed in, blade loaded for kill—eliminating the threat.
"Then...!"
Do-or-die. Hammer unyielding, Tiran improvised: yanked pillar and hammer.
"Eat this!!"
And smashed down.