The rapier wielder extended her hand toward Alan, her smile radiant—almost too perfect to refuse.
But Alan wasn't fooled. He had seen the calculation hidden behind her kindness. He couldn't fully trust her… not yet.
Still, survival demanded alliances. If she wanted to play this game strategically, then so could he.
He slowly reached out and took her hand.
"Only on one condition," he said quietly, his gaze steady despite the blood and tears on his face.
She blinked at him, clearly confused. "What do you mean?"
Alan's grip tightened slightly, his voice trembling as memories of Mr. White flashed through his mind. "Don't you dare die."
For a brief second, her expression softened.
"Don't worry about that," she replied calmly. "You should be more worried about yourself than me."
Then it hit him.
He had been fighting for far too long, forcing his body to ignore the damage, suppressing the pain through sheer rage alone. But now that the anger had settled—even slightly—everything came rushing back at once. It was as if his nervous system had finally sent an urgent signal to his brain.
"Ouch… ouch…" Alan muttered weakly.
His vision swayed. The battlefield blurred. His eyes struggled to focus as dizziness threatened to drag him down. And that was the moment it happened. Somewhere in the real world, a command had been executed.
Every single beast began turning in Alan's direction.
As if responding to a single command, the beasts shifted in unison. Their heads snapped toward Alan, glowing eyes narrowing before they lunged at full speed in his direction.
Some of the other players noticed the sudden change and took it as their chance. With the dogs no longer blocking their path, they dashed toward the cross standing atop the mountain, desperate to clear the phase.
But for the rapier wielder, retreat wasn't an option.
She was too close to Alan.
If the dogs were targeting him, then she was standing directly in their path as well—and they would cut her down without hesitation.
Her mind froze.
For a split second, a selfish thought crossed her heart—Run. Leave him behind. Use this distraction and escape while the beasts were focused on him. But before she could move, his voice cut through the chaos.
"I have a plan. Trust me," Alan said, forcing steadiness into his trembling tone. "There's a way to clear this phase. But it means they'll focus on me."
"Tell me… what's the big idea? I'm all ears," she said at once, waiting for him to speak.
Alan raised his hand and pointed toward a one-sided rock formation nearby. A wide hollow split through its center—large enough for a person to pass through.
"I'm heading to that rock over there," he said steadily. "The one with the hole. I'll run as fast as I can and pull all the dogs toward me—every single one."
He inhaled slowly, his voice far calmer than before.
"Once they're gathered and lined up… I want you to execute the three-two-five hit combo."
"What the hell is this combo you're talking about?" she snapped, growing impatient, fear coiling in her chest as the dogs drew ever closer.
"No time to explain. Start practicing while I act as the decoy," Alan said, gripping his blades tightly to steady himself.
Ignoring the sharp pain from his earlier injuries, he sprinted toward the rock.
Thistime… he thought, teeth gritted, I'll beat that bastard at his own game.
The dogs shifted instantly, snarling and charging straight at Alan, their barks echoing violently across the battlefield.
He dashed into the hollow of the rock, crouching low as he waited for them to arrive.
Of all the moments in his life, this was the one where he couldn't promise his own survival.
Comegetme, he thought, steeling himself for what was to come.
The dogs slammed against the hollow, snapping their jaws at the gaps in the rock, straining to reach Alan. The pressure was immense, their weight forcing cracks to spider across the walls.
Alan's stomach churned with unease, but he stayed poised, refusing to flinch.
"Alright, do it now!" he yelled to the rapier wielder, who still looked utterly confused. Three-two-five hit combo? What is he even talking about? she thought, her grip tightening on her blade as she prepared to follow his plan.
It's a sequence she has to execute perfectly… only then will the beasts break.
The dogs pressed harder and harder, some already clawing their way through the cracked rock walls. One slipped inside, then another, then another. Alan managed to kill a few, his blades flashing relentlessly, but more kept forcing their way through the chaotic crowd. Still, his fingers never loosened their grip on the swords, his resolve unshaken.
One of the dogs clamped down on his finger, and his Life Points dropped sharply.
[ LP: 2 ]
"Arghhh!" Alan gasped, stifling his scream as he continued stabbing wildly at the beasts. It was almost useless—the dog refused to let go.
With no other choice, he drove his own blade down, severing his left pinky finger, and immediately plunged it into the dog's core.
"Do it… QUICK! Strike the air with your blade… three times!" Alan screamed, urgency lacing every word.
The rapier wielder, watching him in the middle of such life-or-death chaos, raised her blade hesitantly, unsure of what to expect.
If I do nothing, he'll die. She thought, her eyes closed in fear.
She swung it through the air, her movements frantic, and suddenly the rapier began to glow a deep purple.
"What… what am I supposed to do now?!" she shouted, panicked, but Alan didn't answer—his voice was gone, swallowed by the chaos around them.
[LP: 1 ]
Alan's body trembled with exhaustion and pain, barely clinging to life. Bitten and bloodied, he leaned against the edge of the hollow, his vision swimming as the dogs tore through the cracked rock, closing in on him.
He had already accepted his fate. Slowly, he closed his eyes, bracing for the end.
Alan's knees buckled. His vision swam, a red haze creeping across the battlefield. Every heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud enough to drown out the growls, the snarls, the chaos around him.
I'm done… I can't…
His mind flickered with flashes—Mr. White's hand gripping his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his voice telling him survival isn't about right or wrong. The laughter of Michael Lee echoed from somewhere above, mocking him. Pain ripped through his body, sharp, fiery, relentless.
And yet… a single thought anchored him.
If I die now… it's over. All of it—every plan, every promise… gone.
Time slowed. Each breath felt like a lifetime. He could feel his blood pooling in his chest, warmth mixing with the icy numbness of fear. Muscles screamed, vision tunneled, and still, he clung to consciousness with the last shred of his mind.
Somewhere, a faint pulse of sound—his own heartbeat—reminded him that he was still alive. A tiny spark, a whisper of instinct. Not rage. Not fear. Survival.
His thoughts drifted, back to his mother and younger sister, then to a fragment of memory he had almost forgotten—his late father's words echoing in his mind: "This isn't the time to die. Live long… survive."
One more hit… and it's over. Alan thought.
But then, the dogs froze mid-air. Alan, expecting death any second, forced his eyes open—and saw them explode into glowing cubes, shooting upward into the sky.
Through his blurred vision, he could just make out the rapier wielder standing behind the shimmering fragments—but it wasn't enough to save him.
[ LP: 0 ]
The air thickened with tension as blood splattered across his body, warm and sticky from the relentless attacks of the dogs.