The stone knight still stood there...silent, unmoving, as though it were part of the terrain itself, not a living being.
Its dull gray shell swallowed every blow raining down upon it without a trace, without the slightest reaction.
It felt as though the entire outside world had been cut off at the edge of that heavy armor… as if within it lay a void, utterly isolated, a silent realm where no motion could penetrate.
The space around it grew suffocating. Every clash of weapon against its body only deepened the silence.
These were not the sounds of battle, but of helplessness, of an unspoken fear. The tension rose with every heartbeat, like a hiccup of dread that refused to be stifled.
But it was the silence, stretched far too long, that truly sent chills crawling down their spines.
The others stood scattered across the battlefield. No one spoke, but their eyes… flicked to one another, then locked on the creature before them.
…And in those gazes, everything was said. Something was wrong, subtly, silently wrong. Like a thin scratch on the surface of reality that everyone could feel, but none dared touch.
The monster did not resemble anything they had known, read about, or ever encountered.
For those who had reached this depth of the tower, facing monsters was nothing new.
But this creature, standing there like a ghost draped in stone, soundless and mindless, made everything they thought they knew about this game feel brittle and useless.
They were all survivors, warriors who had braved countless dangers to get here.
Not everyone had the resolve to survive the paths that led out of the Starting Town, to endure battles that stretched on for hours, and still remain sane by the time they descended to this no-return zone.
They were an assembly of experienced fighters, people who could coordinate with strangers, who could read a monster's movements to predict its patterns, to strike at its weak points.
They had taken down raging beasts the size of wild boars, fought humanoid creatures like the Kobolds that bore intelligence and battle instincts, and stood against colossal golems that could smash entire hallways with a single swing.
And they had overcome it all.
But this creature… it was an absence.
No name. No data. No attack pattern. No one knew what it would do. It wasn't mentioned in any manual or guide anyone had ever read.
Its stone armor didn't even look like a deliberate design, more like a rushed, unstable idea someone, perhaps a programmer, had thrown into the game and forgotten in a cold basement, waiting for some unfortunate soul to stumble upon it.
That feeling—that this was something that should not exist, that it didn't belong to the system they had gradually come to understand—that was what silenced them.
Not fear in the usual sense, but unease mixed with confusion… as if they were staring into a flaw in the very structure of the world.
They couldn't take their eyes off it. They didn't dare let their minds wander even for a moment.
Instinct...the survival instinct of those familiar with the fragile line between life and death, whispered to them: if even one person dropped their guard, even for a breath, it would strike again…
…like when it suddenly pierced the dual-wielding fighter through the chest in a single blink…
A quiet dread spread like cold fog, slowly corroding the fighting spirit of those who stood there.
Diavel felt it all too clearly. The silence was no longer a tactic....it was becoming paralysis.
The once-confident eyes around him now looked hesitant, burdened, as if weighed down by a veil no one could lift.
He clenched his teeth, jaw tightening for a moment as if to stop his mind from slipping into that same abyss.
No. Someone has to break this deadlock.
Diavel's deep blue eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade. He studied the strange creature carefully: its thick armor covering every inch, eyes scanning the faint seams between plates.
And then his gaze stopped.
A fissure.
Wide. Deep. Running from the center of the chest down to the lower abdomen, like a crack burrowing into the core of the beast.
Without allowing himself to hesitate, Diavel stepped out from the line of fighters. His footsteps were swift but measured, not hurried, as though each one had been pre-calculated.
Every motion carried a calm, focused aura as if his very presence was compressing the space around him.
When only a few paces separated him from the creature, his voice rang out clear in the heavy air:
"Aim for the cracks in its armor!" he shouted, pointing at the monster's chest. "That could be its weak point."
He paused briefly....just a beat, just a breath, but everyone could sense the internal struggle between logic and instinct. Then he continued, voice lower, firmer:
"Pair up in twos. Alternate attacks and keep your distance. I don't know how it'll react… but if we just stand here, we're all going to die."
His words weren't entirely certain...but that honesty gave them weight.
It wasn't a cold command from someone who knew no fear, it was a call to action from someone who had grown used to staring fear in the face and moving past it.
Under Diavel's clear and resolute voice, the air frozen like cracked glass, began to shift.
No one spoke, but each person started to move instinctively, as if that voice had struck a deep survival chord buried within them.
Yuna glanced at Ren briefly, then quickly stepped beside Nautilus. They exchanged no words, but both tightened their grip on their weapons at the same time.
Across from them, Lind nodded toward Shivata. The two of them stepped out of the main formation, their eyes locked with an uncanny synchronicity.
A swordsman in heavy silver armor paired off with a pink-haired spear wielder, and their steps were unwavering, even as their eyes remained fixed on the monster.
Ren felt himself being pushed to the sidelines, a faint sense of isolation creeping into his chest, until he realized someone was standing quietly by his side. Chest, a silent but dependable player, nodded at him in a wordless gesture of reassurance.
And then, like a breeze brushing past his vision, a figure dashed forward.
The girl with the Tachi moved like a streak of motion across an unfinished painting—a vivid stroke amid the gloom.
No one told her to act, but it was that very silence that made her steps all the more decisive.
She followed Diavel closely, who still held the vanguard position. He gave a slight nod upon sensing her presence, then, without a moment of hesitation, lowered the raised shield to the ground, revealing his solid frame behind it.
The sword in his hand rose high above his head, its blade catching the light with a faint, surreal radiance.
And then… steel flashed.
The blade tore through the air, slamming down onto the cracked chest of the stone knight, slicing through its armor as if rending open the very fabric of space.
The sound echoed like thunder in the heart of a mountain heavy, sharp, as if even the world itself had to recoil.
Ren froze in place. He exhaled sharply, a chill running down his spine as his eyes locked onto the spot where the sword had struck.
Then… a damage number appeared. Not large. But real. Not an illusion.
A thin sliver of HP dropped from the monster's already incomplete crimson health bar, breaking off like a chunk of stone crumbling from a cliff face.
For the first time since the battle began, they saw blood. Or rather, hope.
But that very strike, that rare moment when hope managed to flicker to life, was what awakened the monster from its statue-like stillness.
No warning. No roar. No gathering light. No stance to signal an attack. The Golem Sentinel moved.
As if its massive body simply slid through space, weightless, silent, and merciless.
Its colossal stone greatsword swung in a cold, deadly arc, so swift and precise that it was hard to believe such a hulking creature could deliver a blow like that.
The strike came down like a stroke of fate, aimed directly at Diavel and the girl with the Tachi beside him.
Diavel stiffened, his eyes widening in a split-second of horror, then, battle instinct kicked in, forcing him to raise his shield in front of himself. But....
The impact landed like lightning crashing through his mind. The force was beyond comprehension.
The shield shook violently, and the arm holding it felt as if a shockwave had exploded from within.
He could feel every nerve screaming, searing, then going numb, as if the arm no longer belonged to his body.
Air compressed into a muffled boom.
Diavel was flung backward, skidding across the ground, his body curling from the stabbing pain. Had it not been for a lightning-fast slash from the girl beside him, redirecting the monster's strike by cutting into the hilt of its greatsword to weaken the blow, he would have been slammed straight into the stone wall behind him.
Even so, the strike was devastating. Diavel's vision blurred for a moment as he watched his HP bar drop—not by a few segments, but more than half.
The calming green hue shifted to yellow, then began to blink, an alarming, cold warning signal.
The girl hadn't fared much better. Even with her unreal reaction speed, she couldn't completely avoid the devastating shockwave.
Her slender form staggered back two steps. Her lips pressed tightly together, but she made no sound. Her HP plummeted as well, falling into the same danger zone as Diavel's.
For a moment, the two of them became the center of the battlefield, a center steeped in instability and the stench of death, where one second too late… and everything would have ended.