Anvil didn't use his warhammer.
He planted it in the mirror beside him.
The handle was embedded three inches into the floor.
A-rank pride wouldn't allow him to use his primary weapon against a C-rank boss.
He raised his arms.
Golden energy fields condensed on his forearms and fists.
The light illuminated the black space.
The shadows of the five people around him were stretched long.
Anvil pushed off with his legs.
A muffled thud echoed from the mirrored floor.
He charged at the Watcher.
First punch.
Straight to the chest armor.
Bang.
A deafening explosion reverberated in Room 80.
A dark red energy layer flickered on the armor's surface, absorbing most of the impact.
The Watcher's metal boots slid backward half a meter across the ground.
Leaving a white trail.
Anvil's jaw tightened.
He had used seventy percent of his strength in that punch.
The Watcher moved.
The greatsword was drawn.
A sweeping attack.
Time flow rate 0.5x.
To the other five members of the raiding party, the greatsword's trajectory completely vanished.
Only a dark red afterimage remained, slicing through the air.
The anvil's spine slammed downwards.
He crouched, shattering the mirror beneath his feet.
The greatsword grazed the top of his helmet.
Severing the helmet's communication antenna.
The greatsword didn't pause.
Continuing forward.
The B-rank Shadow Assassin standing directly behind the anvil was drawing his sword.
The sword was drawn an inch.
The blade sliced through the leather armor at his waist.
Severing his spine.
Severing the cloak at his back.
No blood splattered.
A semi-transparent notification popped up on the management panel.
[Challenger's health is zero.]
[Forced teleportation protocol triggered.] The Shadow Assassin's body transformed into a white light.
Disappeared from the spot.
One strike.
A B-rank.
The remaining four remained rooted to the spot.
No one took another step forward.
Anvil stood up.
The golden energy field expanded violently.
The light was blinding.
He no longer held back.
His fists, leaving afterimages, focused their attack on the Watcher's head.
First punch.
The Watcher's head tilted two centimeters to the left.
The force of the punch grazed the visor.
Second punch.
Tilted to the right.
Third punch.
He leaned back.
Fourth punch.
Anvil's right fist, accompanied by a sonic boom, slammed into the center of the visor.
The Watcher raised his left hand.
Fingers spread.
Bang.
The dark red metal glove caught the golden fist.
The shockwave exploded outwards from the two of them.
The mirror beneath their feet dented extensively.
Cracks spread outwards.
The shockwave knocked over a C-rank mage standing ten meters away.
The B-rank archer was forced back three steps.
The Anvil's charge came to an abrupt halt.
He forcefully pulled his right arm back.
Unmoved.
The dark red glove held his fist firmly.
The Watcher's dark red eyes stared directly at him.
Then.
The Watcher released its greatsword.
The hilt slammed to the ground.
With a crisp crack.
Its right hand clenched into a fist.
It pulled back.
Dark red energy gathered on the fist.
The trajectory of the energy flow.
The posture of muscle exertion.
The frequency of the air vibration.
Perfectly consistent with the Anvil's attack.
On the management panel.
The Watcher's adaptation counter jumped.
From 1.
To 2.
The dark red fist slammed out.
The Anvil raised its left arm to block.
At the moment of contact, the crisp sound of breaking bones echoed in the empty room.
The golden energy field shattered.
The light faded.
It wasn't just replication.
It was transcendence.
A-rank power is one hundred.
The Watcher's power, plus the mass bonus from the dungeon core, is one hundred and twenty.
Anvil's feet left the ground.
He was sent flying backward.
He traversed ten meters in mid-air.
His back slammed heavily against the mirror.
Crack.
A large, spiderweb-like crack appeared on the black floor.
Anvil lay in the center of the crack.
His left arm was folded at an unnatural, twisted angle.
Broken bone spurs pierced his skin.
Blood flowed.
Four people remained.
Three B-rank, one C-rank.
They stared at Anvil on the ground.
That was their captain.
An A-rank heavy armored warrior.
In the past three years, they had witnessed Anvil single-handedly tear apart a B-rank mutant.
He had seen him withstand the attack of a C-rank dungeon boss without flinching.
Now, he lay on the shattered mirror.
His left arm was broken.
He glanced again at the Watcher standing there.
The Watcher's armor was unscathed.
His dark red eyes glowed in the darkness.
The C-rank mage's staff lay on the ground.
The wooden handle struck the mirror, producing a hollow echo.
He didn't bend down to pick it up.
His legs trembled.
His trousers dripped water.
The water spread across the black mirror.
The B-rank archer's fingers gripped the bowstring.
He couldn't draw it.
The bowstring dug into his leather gloves.
His fingers were stiff.
Time flowed at 0.5x.
The air became extremely viscous.
Each breath required twice the effort.
The Watcher didn't pursue.
It bent down.
And picked up the greatsword.
He reinserted the mirror.
Hands clasped on the hilt.
He stood up straight.
Returning to his initial stance.
It didn't pursue the fleeing ones.
It was the Watcher.
It only guarded the door of this tower.
The Anvil used his remaining right hand to push himself up.
His chest heaved violently.
He didn't look at the Watcher again.
He didn't reach for the warhammer stuck in the distance.
He turned.
"Retreat." The five ran towards the door they had come from.
The time remnant effect took effect.
Even after leaving room 80, their movement speed was still suppressed by twenty percent.
Stumbling.
Rolling and crawling.
Twenty-three minutes.
Allen stood before the ice wall of the bunker, watching the five dots on the screen move away from the edge of the red-hook zone.
The management panel displayed the settlement data.
[Defense successful.]
[BP acquired: 18,000.] Single settlement limit.
The six people's fear levels pushed the system's benefits to their maximum.
The network of the three dungeons was operational.
Although the BP output from Coffin Fortress and Rust Tide was low, it steadily flowed into the main account.
The underground three-dimensional coordinate system of the Red Hook District flashed in his mind.
Energy channels between the three nodes had been established.
If he wanted, he could instantly teleport the monsters from Coffin Fortress to Brooklyn Ruins.
But he didn't do that.
The Warden didn't need help.
Allen brought up the blueprint interface.
He invested the 18,000 BP that had just been deposited into the Warden's enhancement options.
[Boss Unit Enhancement: Abyss Warden]
[Cost: 15,000 BP]
[Enhancement Item: Increased base attribute growth cap.]
[Enhancement Complete.] The Warden's panel data flickered.
The adaptation counter was no longer the only growth path.
Its base margin for error had increased.
Allen opened the DeepRift forum.
Logged in.
Architect_00.
Posted.
No title.
Body: "Someone tried to break into Brooklyn Ruins and destroy the Heart of the Underground tonight. They failed. The Watcher sent them home."
"To anyone else who's thinking about it: I won't chase you. But my Watcher doesn't sleep."
Click send.
Thirty seconds.
Comments surpass 500.
New IDs keep flooding in.
"Brooklyn Ruins attacked? Who did it?"
"Didn't GWA just issue a rejection notice? Did someone force their way in?"
"What does 'sent them home' mean? Are they all wiped out?"
"I live on the edge of Red Hook District, and I just saw five people running out of the warehouse district. One of them was wearing heavy armor, and his left arm was broken. That's Black Serpent's Anvil!"
This comment quickly rose to the top.
"Anvil? An A-rank led a team to demolish a C-rank dungeon, got his hand broken, and ran out?"
"What kind of monster is The Watcher? A C-rank boss one-shots an A-rank?"
"That's impossible! An A-rank fighting a C-rank is a numerical crushing defeat, how could they possibly lose!"
"Upstairs, have you ever seen a dungeon operator who can post about this? Architect_00 can't be judged by common sense."
"Black Serpent has really messed up this time. How will Victor Stone react?"
"How else can he react? The guild's face has been slapped."
Allen didn't look at the comments section.
He closed the forum interface.
A red envelope icon popped up in the upper right corner of the management panel.
Private message.
Sender: VictorStone_Official.
Verification ID: S-rank Awakener · Black Serpent Guild Leader.
The only verified account on the entire network.
He clicked on it.
Only one sentence.
"Not even A-rank? Interesting. I'll come myself."
Allen stared at the line of text on the screen.
His gaze shifted to the internal surveillance grid on the left.
Room 80.
The Abyss Watcher stood in the darkness.
Bottom of the panel.
Adaptation Counter: 2.
It had learned Lina's Shadowstep Sidestep.
It had learned Guts's Frontal Hammer Strike.
It had learned Anvil's Energy Punch.
But Victor Stone was S-rank.
The numerical gap between S-rank and A-rank was greater than the combined gap between A-rank and D-rank.
How many adaptations would the Watcher need to withstand an S-rank?
There was no data to support it; it couldn't be calculated.
But with each reset.
With each resurrection from death.
The Watcher would etch the method that killed it into its core.
It would become stronger.
It only needed to be defeated a sufficient number of times.
While Victor Stone.
only needed to lose once.
"Let him come." Allen's fingertips tapped on the ice wall of the bunker.
"Let him die a hundred times."