There is no room for mistakes in battle.
The golem had now shed its rugged outer shell, revealing a radiant core, like remnants of molten lava trapped within cold stone.
Each of its movements distorted the air, every strike was a miniature explosion, powerful enough to launch anyone nearby into the air.
A single misstep could send a player flying, skidding dozens of meters with a near-empty red health bar.
The sound of metal scraping against stone echoed like a death knell across the battlefield.
Ren darted left to dodge a sweeping punch, his blade only managing to graze a small crack on the golem's leg. It dealt almost no damage. He gritted his teeth. Too hard...
On the other side, the silver-armored swordsman slid through the gap between two mountain-splitting swings, then dashed forward with a heavy slash to the golem's side.
But the boss barely reacted. It whipped around and slammed its entire arm into the ground. A loud boom followed. Dust and debris clouded all vision.
"Move!" Diavel's voice rang out like a battlefield command. Instantly, the group on the left scattered with a precision born from a hundred drills.
At the same moment, a girl in a cloak gripped her tachi tightly, slipping into the shadows behind the golem and delivering a deep slash that made the core in its back flare brilliantly.
"We're heating it up," the lancer with the high ponytail gasped, gripping her weapon tight. "If we let it keep glowing like this, it's going to explode."
No confirmation was needed. Everyone could feel it clearly: with each passing minute, the boss became more dangerous.
Its body trembled as if about to burst, pulses of light radiating from the core like the heartbeat of an enraged monster.
The players began breaking into smaller units, taking turns attacking and defending.
One group would bait the attacks, another would wait for openings, cooperating without words. When one player fell, another would immediately step in to cover. When someone tired, someone else would guard their retreat to heal.
Ren had lost count of how many times he had narrowly escaped being crushed. Every reaction now was pure instinct.
Sweat dripped from his forehead, mixing with dust and pixelated blood on his face. His hands trembled with every sword swing, but his eyes stayed focused. He couldn't stop.
Every chunk of the golem's health cost dozens of panting breaths, hundreds of wounds.
No one could maintain a cool or composed demeanor anymore. They were fighting with everything they had, not for victory, but for survival.
And then, only one final HP bar remained.
The golem roared, slamming both feet into the ground with force greater than ever before.
Stones rained from the ceiling. Cracks spread like underground lightning across the floor. This was the final phase.
"We end it...RIGHT NOW!" Diavel shouted, his voice reverberating amid the tremors.
Ren charged in behind him, swept up in the rising tide of combat. No one backed down. There was no retreat.
Only one last chance.
All of them were ignited by the same flame... the will to survive.
The golem threw back its head and bellowed, one massive arm raised as if to strike down the sky itself.
In that moment, everyone moved at once, like cogs in a massive machine, synchronized by instinct and trust.
The lancer leapt first, her bronze spear tracing a faint arc through the air before piercing the glowing core in the monster's chest.
A powerful impact caused the core to blaze like a heart being pierced.
Immediately, the silver-armored swordsman dashed right, slashing across the golem's knee joint.
A heavy crack rang out. Part of its leg split, sending the creature stumbling backward.
"NOW!!" Diavel roared, lunging forward at breakneck speed. His sword, glowing with a one-handed sword skill, carved a powerful arc from the monster's shoulder to hip.
Ren didn't have time to think. He followed, his legs ready to shatter from the tremors, but he didn't stop.
As he neared, Ren gathered all his strength, activating a fully charged combo skill, a trio of rapid slashes, slicing across the golem's back where the glowing red core flickered through the cracks.
Just as Ren pulled back, the cloaked girl emerged from the shadows. Silent. Unannounced.
A single, deep stroke, precise and cold as fate. Her tachi carved into the final crack, right where the golem's heart convulsed in chaos.
A sharp, crystalline shatter rang out.
The boss let out its final roar, a scream of stone torn from life. Its massive frame froze. All movement ceased.
Then slowly, it collapsed, like a mountain falling, causing the entire arena to tremble once more. Debris shot upward like stardust, settling onto the ground with a breath of relief.
No more tremors. No more cries. Only the ragged breathing of those who survived.
Ren dropped to his knees, both hands on the ground, breath burning like fire. He was exhausted...
A moment of silence spread out. Everyone stood there, gasping for air, eyes hollow from fatigue, but within those eyes flickered something hard to name: survival.
The clattering of falling debris finally ceased.
The battlefield fell silent.
But not their hearts.
A few ragged breaths broke the stillness. The survivors began checking their wounds, some slumping onto the ground without care for appearances.
Sweat, blood, and the scent of earth and stone mingled, soaking the air with the acrid taste of survival.
"Gotta admit," Lind, tall and lean, let out a laugh between staggered breaths, "if it weren't for Diavel, we'd all be corpses by now."
"Yeah, having a real commander makes all the difference," another chimed in, nodding as he wiped his blade. "Your leadership was spot-on."
Ren stood not far away, hands still dusted with soil.
His eyes scanned the others, the players who had risked everything to hold back the boss, those he had fought alongside… not a single one of them was mentioned. Not one name. Not a single word of praise.
Only one name repeated again and again: Diavel.
No thanks. No recognition.
Something clenched in Ren's chest. It wasn't about the missed glory.
It was about the way they ignored every effort that didn't come from their own ranks, as if a person's worth was measured solely by their place among the elite.
"What about the others?" Ren spoke, his voice low and dry, each word cutting into the arrogant silence like a blade. "The ones who held the boss before you arrived? The ones who fought beside you just now... don't they deserve to be acknowledged too?"
The air froze.
Lind turned his head, lips curling like he'd just heard something ridiculous. "If they were that good, why didn't they finish the fight before we got here?"
He shrugged, smiling with a hint of scorn. "Everyone fights. But leading a victory, that's what people remember."
A jab, straight to the face.
Diavel frowned slightly but didn't stop Lind. He turned to Ren, his gaze trying to soften the blow, yet his tone remained calm and composed.
"We all fought," Diavel said. "What matters is the result, not who did what."
It sounded reasonable. But it was terrifyingly cold.
Ren said nothing. He looked down at his hands, still bearing cuts from the battle. The blood had dried into crusted lines.
The feeling of being unseen, unrecognized, it didn't sting like a wound, but it burned deeper.
Behind him, Yuna clutched the hem of her cloak tightly. Her eyes trembled at Lind's words, then drifted to Ren, then to the others, all those who cared only for glory, for the spotlight of victory, forgetting those who had held the line from the shadows.
She bit her lip. Part of her wanted to shout, to step forward, to grab Ren's hand and tell him he wasn't wrong. That she felt the unfairness too. That the thanks, they should have included him.
But… she didn't move.
Something held her back. Not fear.
But doubt in herself.
Would her words even matter to them?
If she spoke up… would anyone listen? Or would they just see her as another weakling who survived by luck?
She was used to being left behind. And this time, she feared she'd be left behind again, if she chose to stand with the wrong person.
Nautilus stood still, his eyes like a quiet lake just disturbed by a stone. His hand rested on his sword's hilt, as if grounding himself against the storm inside.
He looked at Ren, that upright, lonely figure, wounded yet unbending.
He understood. Painfully well.
He had seen that same look before, in his own home. At the dinner table, when his father looked at him in silence, never saying a word, no matter how hard he tried to prove himself.
The gaze of someone quietly cast aside, not because they failed, but because others chose to pretend they didn't exist.
He wanted to say something. To walk to Ren, lay a hand on his shoulder, and tell him he wasn't alone.
But then… his eyes passed over Yuna.
She was still standing there. Not leaving, but not stepping forward either.
And that alone chilled Nautilus to the core.
He knew that if he walked toward Ren now, it meant standing in a place where Yuna didn't stand.
And in his heart, that was more terrifying than betraying his own feelings.
He stepped back, closed his eyes.
Silent.
A heavy silence fell over the three of them, those who had once walked out of the root maze together, fought wild boars, shared knowing glances in battle...
Now each with their own direction, their own uncertainty.
No one dared be the first to reach out anymore.
Meanwhile, Diavel had already turned away, speaking with his key members, sketching out the plan for the next mission.
Lind kept grinning, as if everything had gone exactly the way he wanted. As if this battle was a stage, and he had claimed the lead role.
And Ren…
He didn't sigh. He didn't speak. Nor did he hurry his steps.
He simply turned around, quietly walking out of the circle of people, like a shadow dissolving as the spotlight faded.
Not out of anger. Not out of pain.
But because… he understood now.
They didn't need him to disappear.
They just needed him to not disturb their spotlight.
That feeling...not rejection, but quiet exclusion, sank into every step he took.