Suddenly, a bright yellow laser beam blasted from the tree line, striking him and piercing straight through his Air Barrier—right into his heart.
Moments later, a group of Archmages and Archknights stepped out from the shadows—elite forces of immense power, brought by Rywes to turn the tide.
Beside the line of Archmages and Archknights stood the other players—those who had respawned and returned to the battlefield, ready to come to aid.
The Flora Enchanter collapsed to the ground, a smoking hole burned clean through his chest.
[BOSS DEFEATED]
"Finally!" someone shouted.
Cheers broke across the clearing as the players jumped and celebrated. After all the struggle, the victory felt earned—sweet and satisfying.
"We did it!" Yor grinned, raising his hand for a high-five, which Ludwig slapped with a proud grin.
Then, without warning, Ludwig broke into a little dance—waving his arms and swinging his hips in a way that made him look more like a wiggling eel than a person.
"Your help is greatly appreciated, Rywes. The kingdom has been searching for this slippery fugitive for a long time. He was a traitor—an Archmage who fell in love with a lizard woman and ended up siding with their kind," said an Archknight.
Everybody looked visibly terrified now—it wasn't just a mental reaction anymore.
Ludwig's face gave off an exaggerated is that even possible?! expression.
"Turns out none of our guesses were right about why he did it." Yor muttered.
"No, no—you're the one who helped us. I should be the one thanking you. We couldn't have brought him down without the kingdom's elite forces."
Rywes extended her hand to the Archknight, her eyes burning with quiet intensity, her voice calm and steady.
The Archknight nodded and shook her hand firmly.
A short while later, they dragged the Flora Enchanter's body away and left the clearing behind.
"Surprise!" Winter suddenly appeared in front of them—no broom this time. She wasn't flying or floating, just standing there. Her size had changed—now human-like, around 5'4"—but everything else was the same. Same look, same presence, just in a smaller frame.
"Wohhh!!!"
Ludwig shouted, completely stunned.
"My crush became cuter! Now that you're smaller, I feel like I actually have a chance!"
From Winter's perspective, he looked like an overexcited dog greeting an owner he hadn't seen in millennia. She frowned.
Yuck.
Yor couldn't hide the secondhand embarrassment. He took a step back and vanished into the crowd with a swift swoosh.
Winter muted him with a flick of her finger—his mouth kept moving, but no sound came out.
"Alright! Let's continue, shall we?"
"First off, congratulations on defeating your first boss in a seven-star region—and in just one try, too! You cleared it in an impressive 1 hour and 46 minutes!" Winter clapped, and the crowd followed with cheers and applause for themselves.
"Also, I've got to say, bringing Archmages and Archknights? Smart move. That's what they say—work smart, not hard!" She gave an approving nod, clearly impressed.
"In other parts of this region, some raid parties are still struggling with their tests. But you guys? You're the first to finish—and I have to say, even the gods might be applauding right now."
"Because of that, your efforts will be rewarded."
Winter snapped her fingers, and with a soft flash of light, small treasure chests thudded to the ground in front of each player.
There was a moment of stunned silence—then the crowd erupted.
Players cheered, some raising their fists, others immediately diving for their rewards. A few even jumped in place, eyes wide with excitement.
Yor reached into the chest and felt a rough, metallic object.
Ludwig, meanwhile, had already retrieved an Amulet of Mereon the Tireless.
The amulet hung from a worn leather cord, rough to the touch but solid. At the center sat a pale, oval-shaped gem—small, no bigger than a coin. It wasn't perfect; a little cloudy, like frosted glass. But in the dark, it gave off a soft, steady glow—like something was living inside it.
Yor pulled out his sword. It was sleek and lighter than it looked, easy to handle. The blade was matte black, and down the middle ran a red-orange zigzag line.
This sword looks like it came straight out of an anime.
There were no fancy engravings or ornaments—just clean edges. The grip was wrapped in dark red cloth, slightly worn but firm, offering just enough texture to keep his hold steady.
Everyone was thrilled with their rewards—smiles spread quickly, a few cheers broke out.
Rywes placed the bow across her open palms. The bow looked like it wasn't forged, but a natural extension of some deep-sea creature. Its curves were smooth and flowing, and the grip was wrapped in dark, fish-like scales,
"Alright, the best part is saved for last!"
Winter winked and flashed a peace sign.
The crowd murmured, trading glances and whispers. Everyone was tense, eyes fixed on Winter, watching her with growing anticipation.
"The time has come—the gods have decided!" Winter announced, her voice brimming with excitement.
"They call it The Benediction: the sacred act of divine selection and blessing."
"After the World Event, the gods will start picking players to align with—the ones they think are worthy of carrying a piece of their power."
"If you're chosen, you get a blessing… and a mark shows up on your back—a unique symbol tied to that god. Some players might get picked by more than one god, but it's not all glory. The more marks you have, the more you owe. Every god expects something in return."
The crowd started murmuring. Someone near the front raised a hand, brow furrowed.
"What kind of offerings?"
Winter shrugged and flashed a smile.
"It changes all the time. That's why you have to check in with the church every day—there's one in every city. Skip your offerings too often, and poof—your powers start slipping away." She wiggled her fingers with a little flourish, then grinned.
"The Benediction won't happen in this realm, but in the realm of the gods." She snapped her fingers, and her broom appeared in a shimmer of light.
"Without further ado, I will now teleport you."
"Oh, here we go again," Yor muttered, his posture sagging as if the strength drained from his spine.
Seriously?!!
"Ready yourselves to stand beneath their divine presence!" she declared, thrusting her palm forward.
The forest clearing around them began to blur and recede, as if reality itself was being pushed out of existence.
Yor glanced around as the scenery warped—the colors of the forest bled into deep purples, like paint swirling in water. The world twisted, and with it, his thoughts and senses. He's so dizzy and disoriented that he can't tell if it's his body that's failing, his mind that's spinning, or both—they're all mixing together.
He dropped to his knees, coughing as nausea hit him hard. Spittle hit the smooth marble floor beneath him, now solid and gleaming where soft earth had just been.
The world reformed around them into a vast, temple-like space—an arena of divine scale.
Overhead stretched a colossal ceiling, painted with intricate symbols and glowing patterns. At its center loomed a giant, unblinking eye, set within a massive star with thirteen long arms radiating outward. Each arm ended in a distinct insignia—one for every god—forming a celestial map of power and authority. The entire ceiling seemed alive, humming with a sacred, watchful presence.
Beneath each insignia stood a towering statue, each one depicting a different god in awe-inspiring detail. They sat enthroned in a perfect circle around the arena, their expressions frozen in eternal judgment or calm dominion—twelve divine effigies watching from their rightful place, as if presiding over whatever trial or gathering was to come.