Chapter 30 : A Gamble

Just as Arthur thought that—

As if summoned by the thought—

Another arrow came flying.

This one was brighter.

More powerful.

The shaft vibrated violently, mana spiraling around its tip like a miniature cyclone. The air ahead of it compressed visibly, creating a distorted ripple that split dust particles apart.

The sound it made wasn’t just a whistle.

It screamed.

Arthur felt it before he saw it.

Instinct moved him.

He dropped low, bending at the knees instead of the waist.

The arrow sliced past his ear—

Too close.

A burning line opened along the outer edge of his ear. A lock of hair was severed cleanly, drifting down in slow motion.

BOOM!

The projectile detonated against a distant wall.

Stone shattered.

Fragments rained down like shrapnel.

The shockwave rippled through the street.

Arthur’s ears rang faintly.

"Let’s deal with him first," Arthur murmured under his breath.

His gaze locked onto Arlo.

The archer’s stance was wide and stable. He had already drawn another arrow. Calm fingers. Efficient motion. No wasted movement.

He was the bigger threat.

"It’s a gamble... but I hope it works."

Without warning—

Arthur dashed straight toward Arlo.

He didn’t hesitate.

He didn’t glance back.

He committed fully.

Ignoring Marco completely.

"Arlo! Be careful! He’s coming for you!" Marco shouted as he pivoted and gave chase.

Arthur accelerated.

His footwork changed instantly—from defensive retreat to explosive forward pressure. He zigzagged unpredictably, using broken pillars and chunks of fallen masonry as partial cover.

Arlo began firing rapidly.

One arrow.

Two.

Three.

Each one glowing faintly green.

Mana howled as the arrows cut through the air in staggered patterns, some aimed at his legs, others at his chest, forcing him to adjust his height and rhythm constantly.

Arthur weaved between them.

A graze across his forearm.

Another arrow skimmed his ribs, slicing fabric and skin.

A third pierced shallowly into his thigh—

Pain flared hot and immediate.

But the Voidmorph Carapace reacted again.

Black armor surged around the wound like liquid night, hardening just as the arrow penetrated deeper. The shaft snapped under the sudden reinforcement, deflecting away with a metallic crack.

Warm blood ran down his leg.

Arthur knew that if he stopped, only death awaited him.

It mixed with sweat.

His boots left faint red prints behind him.

Arlo gritted his teeth and altered his firing angle, aiming not where Arthur was—but where he would be.

A veteran’s instinct.

Suddenly—

A dagger flashed in Arthur’s vision.

Marco appeared in front of him in a blur.

He had cut across the battlefield instead of chasing directly, predicting the interception point.

A smart move.

"Do you think only you have skills?" Marco sneered.

He didn’t attack wildly this time.

He attacked precisely.

A feint toward the shoulder.

Arthur raised his sword—

Too soon.

Marco twisted his wrist mid-motion, converting the strike into a low thrust aimed at the liver.

Arthur barely shifted in time, the blade grazing across reinforced black armor that flared and then faded.

Sparks danced between them.

Marco clicked his tongue and pressed in aggressively.

Short, lethal thrusts.

No wasted motion.

Dagger flashing left—

Right—

Upward—

Arthur blocked two.

Barely deflected a third.

The fourth carved a shallow cut across his side.

Pain bloomed.

Marco smirked.

He stepped in tighter, reducing space so the sword became cumbersome.

Close-quarters.

His specialty.

Arthur’s mind raced.

He couldn’t outskill Marco with the blade.

But he didn’t need to.

At the last second—

Arthur threw his sword onto the ground.

The blade clattered loudly against stone.

For a split second—

Marco’s brain stalled.

Why would he discard his weapon?

Arthur stepped inside the dagger’s optimal range.

Too close for a proper thrust.

He twisted his torso sharply, letting the dagger scrape along his side rather than pierce deeply—

And drove his elbow straight into Marco’s face.

BAM!

The sound was sickening.

Arthur felt Marco’s nose breaking beneath his elbow.

Bone cracked.

Marco’s nose shattered instantly.

Blood exploded outward in a red spray, droplets catching the crimson dungeon light like scattered rubies.

Marco staggered back, vision swimming.

Arthur didn’t let him breathe.

He shifted his stance fluidly.

Left foot forward.

Hands up.

One sharp jab to the jaw.

The impact snapped Marco’s head sideways.

Another to the temple—

Precise.

Snapping.

Then a brutal uppercut fueled with every ounce of strength he had left.

Arthur rotated from the ground up.

An explosion of kinetic force.

Marco’s head snapped back violently.

Teeth flew.

Blood misted the air.

His dagger slipped from his fingers, clattering uselessly across the stone.

He collapsed to one knee, barely conscious.

But Arthur wasn’t done.

He grabbed Marco’s collar—

Drove a knee into his face.

Once.

Twice.

On the third strike—

Marco went limp.

Arlo froze in disbelief.

All of it had happened in just a few seconds.

"He... he beat Marco?"

Panic overtook him.

He fired again.

Rapid.

Desperate.

Three arrows in quick succession.

One struck Arthur square in the back—

The Voidmorph Carapace erupted again, black plating expanding across his spine in jagged patterns. The arrow splintered on impact.

Another pierced into his shoulder before reinforcement hardened around it, preventing deeper penetration.

A third struck his calf.

Arthur felt it immediately.

A cold burn spreading through his veins.

The poison was spreading. The only thing holding it back from completely overtaking him was the Voidmorph Carapace.

His heartbeat stuttered slightly.

His vision flickered for half a second.

The artifact responded again—

Dark energy coiling around his bloodstream like a suppressive net, slowing the toxin’s advance.

But it wasn’t stopping it completely.

Mana drained steadily.

His breaths grew heavier.

Arlo stepped backward, trembling, drawing another arrow.

Arthur turned slowly.

Blood streaked down his arms.

Black armor flickered and faded in patches.

His eyes burned.

I need to finish this fast.

Marco, barely conscious, suddenly lunged forward with a final desperate surge of will.

He grabbed Arthur’s legs tightly.

"What are you waiting for?!" Marco screamed through blood. "Shoot!"

Arlo snapped out of his shock.

He kicked another arrow forward from his quiver, nocked it instantly, and pulled the string back to its limit.

Mana condensed violently at the arrowhead.

"DIE, YOU BASTARD!"

The arrow shot forward.

It screamed through the air.

Arthur’s voice dropped to a whisper.

"Blink."

Space distorted.

His position swapped with Marco.

The arrow pierced straight through Marco’s chest.

A wet, heavy sound.

Warm blood burst outward.

Mana dissipated into nothing.

Arlo’s bow slipped from his hand.

Marco’s body stood frozen for one second—

Eyes wide.

Mouth open.

Then collapsed.

Thud.

Silence.

Arlo stared in horror.

"Impossible... impossible..."

"We got played... by an F-ranker..."

He began laughing hollowly.

Arthur picked up his sword slowly.

Each step toward Arlo was steady.

Measured.

His body hurt.

Poison still burned faintly inside him.

Blood dripped from his arms onto the stone.

He placed the blade gently against Arlo’s throat.

The edge pressed just enough to draw a thin red line.

"Give me the antidote now," Arthur said calmly. "Or die, and I’ll take it from your corpse."

Arlo collapsed to his knees.

"I-I’ll give it to you! Please spare me!"

He pulled a small vial from his ring with shaking hands.

"And I’ll tell you everything! Jordan ordered us to kill you! He’s planning something for Isabella too!"

Arthur took the vial.

Drank it.

The liquid was bitter.

Warmth spread through his veins.

The poison’s burn faded gradually.

His breathing stabilized.

He exhaled deeply.

"Wow... I really thought I was done for a second."

He looked down at Arlo.

"Thanks for the confession, Senior."

Arlo pleaded, "Please... spare me..."

Arthur’s eyes turned cold.

Completely empty.

"Sorry. I’m not that nice."

His sword flashed.

One arm fell.

One leg followed.

Arlo’s scream tore through the ruined street, raw and broken.

Blood poured across the cracked stone.

"Why are you crying?" Arthur asked calmly. "You’ve killed before, haven’t you?"

He tilted his head.

"Based on blood loss... I’d say you have about five minutes."

Arlo screamed curses at him.

Arthur looked bored.

"Or I can speed things up."

He picked up a rock.

Threw it toward the remaining mutated hyena, which was still tearing flesh from Atlas’s corpse.

The rock struck its skull.

The beast lifted its blood-covered head.

Its yellow eyes locked onto Arlo.

The scent of fresh blood filled the air.

The hyena growled low.

Then charged.

Arthur turned and started walking away.

Behind him—

"HELP ME!"

Screams.

Wet tearing sounds.

Crunching bone.

Arthur did not look back.

"No hard feelings," he muttered quietly.

"If I had lost, it would’ve been me."

"And you would’ve enjoyed watching me get eaten alive."

He continued walking toward the large building in the distance.

The same direction where he had last seen Jordan and Isabella.

The crimson sky flickered faintly above.

Mana drifted through the air like embers.

Arthur’s footsteps echoed steadily in the silence.

"The pieces are in place," he murmured.

His eyes sharpened once more.

"Now let’s see who comes out on top."

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A/N:

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