The metallic tang of blood filled the humid dusk air as the four original assassin adventurers lay motionless on the cavern pathway, their bodies riddled with crossbow bolts and heavy thrust wounds.
A few yards away, the gargantuan Tyrant Boark groaned softly. Its six-foot frame of grey, coarse fur and thick muscle shivered as the lethal dosage of poison coursed through its veins. Dragging its heavy torso along the dirt, the beast feebly crawled toward the dark mouth of its cave, leaving a dark trail of gore behind it.
Behind the cluster of jagged boulders overlooking the valley, Apex Squad crouched low, completely concealed by the gathering shadows.
Alister wiped sweat from his brow, his voice barely a whisper above the din below. "The zone is entirely compromised. Five distinct guilds, at least twenty active combatants."
Haina's fingers twitched against the wrapped handle of her Greatsword, her eyes narrowed. "If we jump in blind, we'll get pincered by the frontline tanks before the mages even lock onto us."
Xiao remained dead silent, her breath shallow as she peered through a gap in the stone, observing the cutthroat reality of C-Rank adventurers tearing each other apart.
Trevor adjusted the strap of his modular briefcase, his eyes glowing with a faint blue tint as his optic scanners calculated threat vectors, armor values, and spell cast times.
"Listen closely," Trevor murmured, his voice ice-cold and unhurried. "Here is the plan."
He leaned in, whispering a series of precise tactical directives to Alister, Haina, and Xiao. Each member listened with sharp attention, nodding in quick, silent comprehension as the multi-stage play was laid out.
Below them, the clearing exploded into chaos.
Pizzaro, the vanguard leader of the Legionnaires, raised his heavy tower shield just in time to catch a volley of black-feathered arrows from the Elven archer perched on a nearby branch.
"Flank that archer!" Pizzaro barked, driving his broadsword into the earth to anchor himself as his Shinobi teammate blurred through the brush, targeting the rival Human Mage under Knight Daniel's command.
BOOM!
A column of fire erupted in the center of the clearing as the Dwarf Mage completed a low-tier chanting ritual, scorching the earth and knocking three spear-wielding Elves off their feet. This story is hosted at NovelPing.
"Dwarven filth!" the Elven Mage hissed, raising his elderwood staff to weave a counter-hex. Before the incantation could launch, Hung Poi, the Martial Artist leader, closed the gap with explosive speed. His bare fists, wrapped in glowing qi-infused bandages, hammered into the Elven Mage's ribs with three lightning-fast strikes.
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"The boss belongs to the South District!" Hung Poi shouted, ducking beneath a sweeping broadsword strike from Knight Daniel.
Spells clashed in blinding flashes of blue and crimson, steel ground against steel, and shouts of agony echoed off the granite cliffs. Crossbow bolts zipped through the air while priests frantically cast low-grade healing wards on their bleeding vanguards. None of the five parties were paying attention to the dying monster anymore—they were locked in an endless loop of greedy, paranoid fighting, each trying to wipe out the others before making a claim on the kill.
Suddenly, a blur of motion cut straight through the dust and skirmish.
Ignoring the crossfire of magic missiles and flying daggers entirely, Trevor sprinted down the slope at maximum speed. With a sharp mechanical latching sound, his briefcase shifted into its Grappling Hook Mode.
PING!
A heavy steel cable shot out from the mechanism, embedding its reinforced piton deep into the high arch of the cave entrance, directly above the crawling Tyrant Boark.
"Pull burst," Trevor commanded coldly.
The internal winch engaged with a high-pitched whine, hauling Trevor off the ground and launching him through the air at violent speed. He rocketed directly over the heads of the clashing vanguards, bypassing the frontline brawl completely.
Mid-flight, as he reached the apex of his arc right above the dying beast, Trevor triggered a hard-braking winch lock. Compensating for the rotational G-force with his cybernetic stabilizing servos, he snapped his briefcase into its lethal Gunblade Mode. Read the latest chapters at novelping dot com.
With his left hand clamped securely into the beast's thick, coarse shoulder hide to anchor his weight against the velocity, his right arm swung the energy-reinforced blade in a brutal, physics-calculated arc.
CLANG—SLASH!
The edge sheared straight through the thick, grey hide and spinal column of the Tyrant Boark. Blood sprayed against the cavern wall as the massive, tusked head was severed cleanly from its shoulders. Releasing his anchor, Trevor caught the eighty-pound trophy by its thick hair, using his upward momentum to hurl the head deep into the pitch-black cavern behind him where it crashed out of sight.
The skirmish below instantly ground to a sudden, surreal halt.
"Holy shit... that bastard just snatched the boss head right off the ground!" screamed an archer from the backline.
Pizzaro sneered, adjusting the grip on his heavy broadsword as he glared up at the ledge. "You've got nerve, brat. Stealing a B-minus bounty right out from under five parties?"
"Hand over the trophy," the Elven Mage warned coldly, his staff crackling with raw arcana. "Or you won't survive the next five seconds."
The lead Dwarf Axeman spat on the dirt, raising his double-headed battleaxe. "Don't make this hard on yourself, boy. You're completely surrounded."
Hung Poi cracked his knuckles, his qi flaring along his forearms. "A lone wolf trying to play hero in the Boar Region? Hand it over before we tear you apart."
Knight Daniel stepped to the front, his longsword dripping with fresh blood. "Fuck off and give us that severed head, kid, if you want to leave this forest alive!"
Trevor stood tall on the ledge, his cybernetic eye gleaming with cold, absolute detachment as he rested the edge of his Gunblade against his shoulder. He wasn't stalling for a dramatic conversation; his optical HUD was already highlighting every single vital point, escape vector, and thermal signature in the clearing below.
"You want it?" Trevor's voice cut through the damp air, devoid of warmth. "Come and take it. None of you are walking out of this valley." end of chapter