In the dim-lit security room, a few watchers kept their eyes glued to the sprawling view of Hosh Arena. Monitors buzzed with static and light, streaming the chaos below — and the energy was as alive as ever.

  “OOHHH—JUG IS FLYING!!! WOAAAH!!” one of the casters shouted, nearly spilling his drink as he pointed at the screen. The match raged on, wild as always.

  A tall man, cloaked in an elegant black cape, stepped into the room. His boots clicked softly against the floor. He stopped behind the watchers, gaze fixed on the main screen.

  “Who are they?” he asked, voice calm, unreadable.

  “Valirion, boss,” one of the watchers answered without turning. “Six-times-worst team.”

  “More like seven times worse! Hahaha!” the other snorted.

  Both erupted in laughter, crude and amused. But the caped man remained silent.

  “Hmm… Impressive,” he finally murmured, eyes narrowing with interest.

  Another figure entered — a man with silver streaks in his hair — and came to stand beside him, watching the same feed. “A new one,” he said quietly, nodding toward the screen. “Female. Haven’t seen her before.”

  The room fell into silence as the two men observed, their expressions unreadable.

  Behind them, the staff continued to snicker and joke about Valirion, unaware — or uncaring — of what was building.

  In the arena, Gholsha charged down the clash lane, heavy hammer in hand. Minotaurs and goblins scattered under each crushing blow.

  But something felt off. He spotted Geralt sprawled across the dirt — headless, blood steaming.

  Bant was still in the forest, blindly loosing arrows at Ming’s ghostlike form.

  Without hesitation, Gholsha veered off-course and stomped toward her.

  “You won’t get away from us!” he roared, swinging his hammer straight down when suddenly Ming ducked at the last second.

  The hammer connected — right into Bant’s skull.

  The crowd went silent for half a second... then erupted. “FRIENDLY FIRE!!!” someone screamed.

  The rest of Hosh Arena joined in, roaring the chant in Jarta’s tongue like a tribal anthem.

  Drums pounded. Boots stomped. Voices rhymed in rhythm and fury.

  Ming calmly stood back up.

  She dusted her sleeve.

  “Just a small stick, it seems.” Then she raised her rifle and shot Gholsha in the head — a clean, silent end. He was froze. He watched the bodies of his teammates collapse around him. And then he, too, fell. Yet, Ming wandered off without a word.

  Around the middle lane, as the Valirion pushed, Hennah cast a burning spell on the creeps, and they caught fire.

  "Ah, I missed this fucking arena! Don't you think, Myke?!" she said.

  "Focus on the lane," Myke said dryly.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  "You're not cool, though. How about you, red hair?!"

  "I..." Ying hesitated.

  "GOOD—MEDUSA, FOUR O'CLOCK!!" Hennah shouted.

  Ying immediately flinched and swung her spear at a sudden spell attack from Jana Holfen. As soon as Ying saw her, her body suddenly shook.

  "W-what do I do, WHAT DO I DO!??" Ying was terrified, but she attacked Jana anyway.

  "Fascinating vanguard," Jana said, then shot another fireball at Ying. She dodged every single shot, rolling over as she went to stab Jana. Unfortunately, Jana grabbed it—and soon set her on fire.

  Ying screamed in agony. "AAAAAAAA!!!!"

  As Ying turned to ashes, Myke entered with his dagger chains, aiming directly at Jana's eyes—but she dodged.

  Suddenly, Gholsha ambushed and intervened Myke, and as he struck him, it wasn't him—just an illusion of glitches—as the real Myke grabbed Gholsha's hammer, pulled it down, and fired another dagger chain straight into Gholsha's chin.

  "A usual tactic of his," Jana scoffed—just before she was impaled by the same spear from Ying.

  "Wait... I—I thought..."

  "'Usual tactic,' right?" Ying said, with a small smile on her face.

  "MING!!" Myke shouted, and soon, two bullets landed on Jana and Gholsha's heads, wiping them out.

  Meanwhile, Ming didn't even look at them. She just lowered her head and searched for her missing parts.

  "Where is it?"

  She walked around the arena, into the forest, passing by the enemy's turret—even they were confused.

  Soon, she entered Sheilsh Hyshen's core base.

  Caster 1: "Look, LOOK!! MING JUST ENTERED CRIMSON'S BASE!!"

  Caster 2: "Oh, they're doomed. But hold up—she's not attacking it. She seems to be searching for something."

  Caster 1: "I know what it is. Zoom in on her rifle."

  Caster 2: "The rifle?"

  Caster 1: "Just zoom it, goddammit."

  Caster 2: (Looks at it closely) "Oh... my God."

  Caster 1: "Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, dwarves and elves—for the first time ever—Ming, who has never missed a shot... SHE MISSED HER SCREW!!!!"

  Ming was still wandering around the arena map, just searching for it. With every callout, she shot aimlessly, unfazed, and kept wandering.

  "Hey, Ming!" Jug called out as he rumbled with Gerald. She immediately shot without looking, replied to him, and walked away.

  "Uh... thanks?" Jug said, confused.

  As Jug marches on to the turret, Hennah lands on his back. "MARCH, SOFT HANDS!"

  "WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON MY BACK!?"

  "SILENT, JUGGY BOY! FHAGU SHOOOO!" and Jug flew directly to the clash-lane first turret. The crowd becomes more wild as they scream begins to be more deafening.

  "CAN YOU NOT, PLEASE?!"

  "NOPE, AS LONG IT'S EFFECTIVE TO ME!"

  Suddenly, as both of them push, an arrow penetrates to Hennah's head, and she fell off Jug's back. "Hennah!!" he said as Hennah's lifeless body land on the ground. Soon, he suddenly being carried by a gravity force and his skin starts to shattered. "YOU GOT TO BE KIDD-" and his body shattered and breaking down into a meat flesh by Jana Holfen.

  "Take that, haha." Bant appeared as he is the one who shoots. "Nice, Jane,"

  "Hmm, for now. Go march," Jana said.

  "My pleasure, Milady," and he push to Valirion's.

  Meanwhile, Ying and Myke were killing off minotaurs to collect more souls, denying all creeps marching to the turret.

  “Hey, Myke?” Ying suddenly asked.

  “Make it fast talk,” Myke replied.

  “Name?”

  “Full?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Myke Yarh,” he said as he pulled his dagger back from the minotaur’s mangled body. “Why now?”

  “Didn’t get your full name.”

  But before he could speak again, Gholsha smashed him into the ground, leaving nothing but broken flesh and bone.

  Ying’s eyes widened. Her arms began to shake. As Gerald rushed in to attack, a single gunshot pierced his skull—Ming’s.

  “Out of my way,” she said calmly, passing by both Gholsha and Ying.

  After Ming vanished into the distance, Gholsha lunged again—but this time, Ying struck first.

  She stabbed him in the neck—fast, instinctive.

  As Gholsha fell, Ying stumbled away, frantic.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck, where can I hide?!” she muttered. She found an abandoned camp and curled into a corner, trying to make herself small—unseen.

  “FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO…”

  The crowd was counting.

  Ying realized—the Awakening.

  Five minotaurs surrounded her. No way out. “Fuck…”

  That was her last word—

  One tore her leg off.

  Another ripped both arms.

  She screamed—

  —and then they crushed her, again, again, again.