Chapter 110 (Book 3 Chapter 38) (Patreon)

Author's Note:

Forgot to mention this in the last chapter, but Auto-Translate actually makes it easier for people to understand each other when speaking underwater, which is why they can communicate so easily. I'll add that detail in when doing a revision.

You may now return to your previously-scheduled boss fight.

--

513 Piercing Damage Negated!

Rob pinwheeled backwards as the Merfolk King's trident bounced off of his head. Not A Scratch had nullified the damage, but as the Skill's description so clearly laid out: 'physics still apply'. Getting hit by the King's trident throw was like being pushed back by the impact of an anti-tank rifle.

I THOUGHT YOU SAID HE WAS GOING TO KEEP ME ALIVE! Rob struggled to arrest his motion as his vision began to spin as much as his body was. A TRIDENT THROUGH THE BRAIN SEEMS SLIGHTLY COUNTERINTUITIVE.

<IT WAS AN ESTIMATE!> Diplomacy's core paled as if the blood had drained from their nonexistent face. <OH FU- LOOK OUT!>

Sure enough, the King's Gravemaker Trident – without any apparent prompting from the man himself – stopped its momentum and turned on a dime before shooting towards Rob again. Curses spilling from his lips, Rob activated Bulk Up, the Anklet of Moderate Brawn, and Power Slash just in time to meet the trident head-on with a desperate horizontal swing. A rough crack rang out as the trident was sent off-course once more, shattering Rob's longsword into a dozen pieces for its trouble. He was barely able to summon a second longsword from Spatial Storage to reflect the trident's next attack, his blade breaking apart just as easily as the last. Rob used the brief moment of respite to cast Identity, speed reading like he was cramming for a final exam, his grimace deepening with every passing moment.

Name: Gravemaker Trident
Description: An aptly-named Enchanted trident that, once thrown, hunts its quarry until they've drawn their last breath. Presumably, it's theoretically possible to flee the Trident until the weapon's mana reserves run dry, but no case of this occurring has ever been witnessed.

Fan-fucking-tastic. Rob simultaneously produced longsword #3 and cast Step of the Wind before retreating backwards at full speed. He only had so many weapons in stock – couldn't afford to waste them all against an Enchanted Item that never stopped attacking. The trident pursued after him like a heat-seeking missile, seeming just a tad bit slower than his swimming speed, but not slow enough to give Rob any leeway. If he relaxed, it would be on him in an instant. Rob carefully circled around in order to stay close to the battlefield, mind racing as he observed how the others were faring.

He grimaced at what he saw. In the fifteen or so seconds since the trident started chasing him, everyone else had descended into a chaotic brawl. Keira was closest to the Merfolk King, and as she raised her greatsword in defense, the King punched the blade's flat side with a mighty blow that sent a minor shockwave rippling outward. She spun around, eyes wide and defenses open, as the King's arm shot forward like a snake lunging for her neck.

The monarch reared back an instant before his fingers closed around unprotected flesh, dodging Zamira's sword strike by a fraction of an inch. She attacked thrice more in rapid succession, her form blurring in an indistinct haze of silver and steel as Living Blade boosted her Dexterity to dizzying heights. Its effect was breathtaking, but the Merfolk King dodged every attack with razor-sharp precision, letting her sword come within a hairsbreadth of his body in order to minimize wasted movement.

Orn'tol's sneak attack proved just as ineffective. He fired off a Temporal Freeze arrow directly at the melee, hoping to catch the Merfolk King while he was distracted. It didn't end up being much of a sneak attack; the King's eyes flickered towards the arrow halfway before it reached him. As Keira approached from behind, King Cyraeneus kicked her into the distance and used the momentum to vault forward at Zamira. In one motion, he grabbed the Bladesoul's arm, then whirled around and threw her into the Temporal Freeze arrow's path as it passed by where he'd been a mere second earlier. The arrow shattered as it connected with Zamira, her movements came to a complete halt as she momentarily froze in time.

Meyneth and Faelynn tried taking advantage of his temporary distraction – and failed, the King blowing them away with successive torrents of water that sent them flying. Rather than pursuing either of them, he barreled towards the back line where Malika and Orn'tol were situated a previously-safe distance away. The siblings panicked and retreated as quickly as they could, firing arrows and icicles that the King avoided almost lazily. One of Orn'tol's arrows split off into four, curving towards the King as they homed in on him from all sides. None came close to finding their mark. Faelynn cast Step of the Wind and went to intercept him, moving faster than she'd been able to before Awakening her Class, but it still wasn't enough to match the King's blinding speed. He evaded her claws without breaking stride and immediately sent the Fiend tumbling back with a brutal gut punch that left her reeling.

Rob changed course, heading towards Orn'tol and Malika, but the angle wasn't right, and he paid for his attempt when a chunk of flesh was ripped from his waist a moment after. He sucked in air through his teeth and swam forward, uncaring of the injury or the trident, Orn'tol and Malika were-

Schlorp.

Rob gasped, then coughed, blood spurting from his mouth as the trident dug deeper into his stomach, shaving away several hundred HP in an instant. With a feral growl, Rob pushed against it, but the weapon didn't give so much as an inch in return. He tried placing it into his Spatial Storage, only for the system to vomit up a baffling message at him.

Error: Enchanted Item 'Gravemaker Trident' is partially bound to recipient 'Morcant Cyraeneus'. Bound items cannot be forcibly removed from a recipient's plane of existence.

Rob didn't let his bewilderment last longer than a split second. Thinking quickly, he used the Ring of Teleportation to escape the deadlock – leaving behind a very confused trident – and cast explosive Rampages again and again to propel himself forward like a rocket-powered aircraft.

By then it was too late. King Cyraeneus had reached his quarry, having closed the gap shockingly fast, arm raised high to cave Orn'tol's skull in. The boy's face hardened with grim determination as he drew one last arrow that he knew wouldn't make it in time. Rob burned through his MP pool, casting Rampage with reckless abandon, but he wouldn't make it in time either.

Vul'to did. The Merfolk King's mouth fell open as he gaped in disbelief; his fist, a deadly weapon that could fold steel like paper mâché, had been stopped short by the Vanguard's shield. Vul'to eyes blazed with resolve as he held the line, Indomitable rooting him in place as if he was an ancient tree planted in soil.

He held on just long enough for Rob to finally catch up. With a strike empowered by Bulk Up, the Anklet of Moderate Brawn, Blood for Blood+, and Imbue Vitality, he carved a vicious gash straight down the Merfolk King's back. The water darkened with red as the King...didn't bother moving. His wound healed an instant later, closing in a similar manner to if he'd used Lifesurge, but without the telltale aura of a Skill being cast.

...What.

<Damnit,> Diplomacy hissed. <Check the crown on his head.>

Name: Crown of Salvation
Description: An Enchanted Item that instantly heals non-fatal damage. Can heal up to 2000 HP worth of damage before its mana reserves run out. These reserves recharge over the course of 24 hours.

Rob cursed in frustration as he was forced to swim away, putting more distance between himself and the Trident as it attempted to gore him again. The Merfolk King seemed perturbed, but he rallied his composure once Rob was gone, striking around Vul'to's side to try and catch him off-guard. Vul'to's shield glowed with a vibrant silver aura, moving of its own accord to block the King's punch. And the next punch. And the one after that. King Cyraeneus' expression warped from one of calm lethality into one of affronted irritation, but try as he might, he couldn't get past Auto-Guard's defenses. All the while, Orn'tol and Malika were retreating to safety, taking errant potshots as they shrank into the distance. A frown split across the King's face as he began to realize that his momentum had been completely halted in its tracks.

Things went from bad to worse for him just a moment later. He was close enough to Vul'to to cast a minor shadow on the Vanguard's shield, and that small opening was all that Meyneth's Shadow Walk needed. She burst forth from the front of his shield like a fish cresting above the ocean's surface, bellowing a war cry as she raked her claws across the King's chest. His reflexes saved him – by the time Meyneth's attack started, Cyraeneus was already shooting backwards, turning a grievous wound into a mild scratch that proceeded to heal in the blink of an eye.

And then, to Rob's shock, the King retreated. Not far; he was still well within fighting range. But his relentless aggression had been put on pause, the monarch stopping to examine each member of Riardin's Rangers with a discerning gaze. Apparently, he hadn't expected this degree of resistance. Rob couldn't blame him. Aside from the Party's stats – which were higher than normal for their Levels – Skills such as Temporal Freeze, Indomitable, Auto-Guard, Shadow Walk, and the explosive version of Rampage were Awakened Skills that Rob knew the King had never seen before. Just one or two fighters possessing uniquely powerful Skills would have been enough to give him pause; a full Party of abnormalities was something to treat with extreme caution. After all, who knew what other strange abilities they'd yet to reveal?

Rob was grateful that Riardin's Rangers managed to get inside the King's head, because from his own perspective, they were getting their collective asses kicked. Every member of their Party had put important Skills on cooldown in an attempt to end the battle early, and all they'd gotten for their efforts was depleting the Crown of Salvation by not even half of its reserves. Rob himself was effectively neutered; he'd used up Not A Scratch, Bulk Up, the Ring of Teleportation, the Anklet of Moderate Brawn, and 250 MP. Lifesteal+ healed his injuries after he'd dealt a decent blow to the King, preventing him from needing to use Lifesurge, but that was about it.

The fact that he could only call that blow 'decent' was another cause for concern. Most Blightspawn splattered into gooey bits when they were hit by that very same Offensive Buffs + Imbue Vitality combo. King Cyraeneus, on the other hand, had taken one of Rob's most brutal attacks in stride. The royal asshole probably had defensive Skills out the wazoo, maybe even supplemental magic spells to further reduce damage, and Rob was definitely not being hypocritical when he thought that was bullshit and totally unfair.

Rob clenched his teeth and veered to the side in order to avoid a trident strike that would've pierced his heart. He was tempted to yell at the Merfolk King to call it back – before realizing that he really, really shouldn't. As frustrating as being hounded by the Gravemaker Trident like a dog chasing a stick was, it was actually better than the alternatives. The Merfolk King's strategy had likely been to take Rob out of commission right away, then retrieve his trident and use it to tear through the rest of Riardin's Rangers. Or just send the trident after its next victim; whatever floated his boat. Instead, his weapon of choice was stuck pursuing a stubborn bastard with an exorbitant amount of Vitality. He couldn't have chosen a worse target.

That lucky break wouldn't last forever. Eventually, the King would realize that his Trident was taking too long to kill the pesky Human. He'd call it back and start wielding it properly, and if that happened, the rest of the fight was a wash.

You got any ideas? Rob asked Diplomacy.

<I'm a lover, not a fighter.>

Ha ha. Rob glanced at his Stamina, now below 100. Exhaustion was creeping deep into his muscles, as deadly as if it was a necrotic disease. Seriously though, I'm kinda struggling here.

Diplomacy threw its metaphorical hands up in the air. <I'm serious too. Combat isn't my brand of expertise. I can try to think of something, but don't expect the world.>

"Odium's gills," the Merfolk King suddenly gasped. His voice was higher-pitched than Rob expected. "Are all eight of you Awakened Class users?"

"Finally, you realize." Keira twirled her greatsword in her fingers as if it were a light dagger. "Ready to talk? Unless you'd like to resume your defeat at our hands." A savage grin spread across her face. "I'm happy either way."

<Put me in, coach!> Diplomacy pleaded. <We've entered the negotiating phase! This is my time to shine!>

Would love to, but I'm a bit busy right now. Rob contorted his body sideways, the trident nicking his cheek as it sailed past him. I literally don't have the breath to spare.

<Ugh,> Diplomacy groaned. <We can't afford to be tied up in a matter as trivial as the threat of imminent impalement. Keira's Intimidation is, what, Level 6? Would it truly be wise to leave a conversation this important to a Skill that's so...disadvantaged?> They frowned. <No offense meant. I'm sure it has a lovely personality.>

You're in a snarky mood today, Rob commented. Is that your way of coping?

Diplomacy bowed. <I learned from the best.>

Thankfully, Vul'to managed to catch up to Rob at that moment. He gripped the trident with both hands and cast Indomitable, rooting himself and the weapon in place. "This won't last forever," he grunted, neck muscles bulging with exertion. "Please say what you need to say."

Rob nodded and quickly swam towards the Merfolk King before Keira could piss him off too badly. He joined them just as the two's voices were starting to rise in pitch. "Hey there!" Rob waved, drawing the Merfolk King's attention with a chipper tone and a bright smile. "Mind if I cut in for my friend? She's a bit on edge right now. What with the ambush and all."

The Merfolk King raised a single eyebrow. "Are you implying that I ambushed you?" He really did sound like a dozen noble twats rolled into one person. It was impressive, in a bizarre sort of way. "Putting aside the method by which you've learned to swim and breathe underwater, must I remind you that this is Merfolk territory? Your very presence constitutes an invasion."

"We simply wanted to talk," Keira pointed out. "You're the one who threw the first punch – in this case, the first trident."

"Don't make me repeat myself," the King stated, bristling. "You're a group of eight high-leveled combatants arriving unannounced in foreign lands. Two of your Party members are a Fiend and Human. In what world – nay, in what universe should I consider you anything other than invaders? Why should I show you the barest modicum of respect or trust when you didn't even see fit to announce your coming?"

"We were in a hurry," Rob explained. "A very big hurry." And Elder Alessia determined that there was no way you would've allowed us access to the Locus if we asked nicely. "I don't mind answering the multitude of questions you undoubtedly have swimming around inside your head, but for now, we need to focus on the problem right in front of our faces."

He gestured towards the cadre of beleaguered Merfolk that were still busy fighting off the Blight. "Our group has a vested interest in making sure that the Blight loses," Rob continued. "I mean, doesn't everybody?"

"And what would you have to offer in that regard?" The King asked. "Unless you control mastery of water on the level of myself or my soldiers, there is naught you can accomplish here in our domain. Sharp blades will do little to stymie Blight-infected water that houses tens of thousands of minute creatures."

Rob nodded. "You're right. I wouldn't be offering my sword arm, though. I've got something much better in mind: a Skill that counteracts the Blight's Corruption. Burns it away like dry paper held over an open flame. My Skill can purge thousands of points of Corruption in a single day, and it gets stronger with every Locus of Power that I touch." His expression shifted from a bright smile to a resolute stare. "That's why we're here. You may have every reason to be suspicious, but trust me when I say that we share the same goal."

The Merfolk King's eyes were wide as saucers. For the first time since their conversation began, he looked truly adrift, unsure of how to comprehend the revelation that had just been dumped on his head. His eyes snapped to Rob, then to his soldiers, and then back to Rob again. Any hint of pompous grandstanding was gone, replaced with a wary, calculating gaze. "Can you provide evidence in favor of this utterly ridiculous claim?"

"Bring me someone with Corruption, and I'll remove it from them. Done that hundreds of times before."

Objectively, Rob had to admit that his claim was, in fact, utterly ridiculous. It was like someone from Earth showing up at a guarded military encampment and saying that could cure cancer by sending thoughts and prayers. There were so many layers of weirdness to swallow that he was surprised the Merfolk King wasn't choking on them. Hell, the royal had barely commented on the whole 'Human breathing underwater' thing, which was a testament to how much else was on his mind.

But rather than the scorn that would've justifiably been there, when Rob examined the Merfolk King's expression, he found longing. Interest. Hope. No matter how ridiculous Rob's claim was, the King desperately wanted to believe that it was real.

Apparently, things weren't going great in Merfolk territory either.

Now might be a good time for some patented Diplomacy advice, Rob thought. We need to seal the deal before the King gets cold feet.

The Skill hesitated. <You're correct, it's just...> Their core condensed, as if concentrating. <I'm unsure of how to proceed. As much as he wishes to entertain the notion of a miracle solution falling into his lap, in truth, The Merfolk King is only giving you due consideration because your Party survived a confrontation against him. Otherwise he would've dismissed any talk of Locus-touching or Corruption-curing. This is partially because of his inherent Elatran mindset, in that those with power are worth paying more attention to than people without power, but also because he wants to avoid a second confrontation with you. He isn't confident in his victory, and that scares the shit out of him.>

Shouldn't we keep pushing for the peaceful option, then? Rob asked.

<There's diminishing returns in doing so. At a certain point, your calls for an end to hostilities will start to resemble an underhanded ploy meant to lower his guard.> Diplomacy slouched. <I'm sorry. Don't think I can fix this one. Still not used to Merfolk, and the sudden appearance of a Human and Fiend working together is simply too much for the King to look past. Doesn't help that a drawn-out conversation favors your Party, as it gives your Active Skills extra time to go off cooldown, which he'll realize right about...now.>

Right on cue, the King spoke up. "How can I be sure that you aren't some trick of the Blight?" he accused. "Your timing is rather...impeccable. Not a month has gone by since the Blight began executing routine assaults on our Loci of Power. Its attacks have been relentless; every victory we achieve is short-lived and immaterial, as a new swarm of Corrupted water always returns with renewed vigor before the day is out. We were beginning to despair – which is exactly when you just so happened to arrive on our doorstep with an outstretched hand and tales of curing Corruption. And all you ask for in return is access to those very same Loci of Power."

His face tightened. "What better way for the Blight to breach our defenses than by masquerading as a savior?"

Rob winced. "If you bring a person with Corruption to me, I can cure them. That's the best proof I can offer. And if you want to have some physicians examine me to make sure I'm not some Blight monster in disguise, then that's fine too." A note of frustration entered his tone. "What else can I possibly do to prove myself?"

The Merfolk King glanced once more at his soldiers, features hardening as he came to a decision. "Come back tomorrow," he said, in a tone that brooked no argument. "Allowing you access to the Locus under these conditions would be foolhardy in the extreme. We can discuss terms when the Blight isn't on the verge of breaking through my front line of defense."

Rob's heart sank. Even if King Cyraeneus was telling the truth, he still wouldn't grant them access to the Locus if they showed up tomorrow. There would be talks, and interrogations, and explanations, and cold feet, and communication with Fiendland, and bureaucracy. All things that took time – time which the Fiends didn't have.

"We can't wait that long," Rob said, quietly.

"Unfortunate." The Merfolk King shifted his posture into a fighting stance, gaze flitting between one member of Riardin's Rangers to the next, ready to intercept whoever made the first move. His caution wouldn't last long; like Diplomacy had said, a drawn-out fight favored the side with Skills already on cooldown. If Riardin's Rangers didn't act soon, then the King would.

Rob activated Quick Thinking and examined every detail from every angle. As a whole, Riardin's Rangers were thoroughly exhausted from their day of marathon swimming. Mistakes, whether by virtue of clouded minds or dulled reflexes, were inevitable. Keira had a few Active Skills left in the tank, but the rest of the Party was pretty much tapped out – except for Faelynn, who was adjusting to her Class change and not yet at full capacity. And even if everyone's Skills were available, Rob would still bet on the King to emerge victorious after Round 2. He was in his element, far more accustomed to underwater fighting than they were. The Perfected Ring of Waterdwelling could only do so much to close that inherent gap in expertise and biology.

It didn't help that Orn'tol and Malika were significantly less effective when fighting underwater due to the way their combat styles functioned. The speed and impact of Orn'tol's arrows were reduced by water resistance, invalidating what had become the sole focus of his build. Malika's repertoire of spells was also largely ruined by the environment; fire turned to steam, lightning caused friendly fire, earth wasn't within reach, and wind lost its cutting edge. Firing icicles – which were, of course, slowed by water resistance – was the best she could do.

Considering how agile the Merfolk King could be, it was unlikely that he would ever be tagged by one of Orn'tol or Malika's projectiles unless he was being held in place or suffered an unforeseen stroke. That left the lion's share of the fighting up to the rest of Riardin's Rangers, who were all melee combatants. Tasked with getting up close and personal with a Level 71 world Leader. Who had god knows how much Strength and Dexterity. And who'd already been hit by one sneak attack and probably wasn't going to let it happen again.

It was hard to imagine Riardin's Rangers prevailing in a direct fight without copious amounts of luck on their side.

Conventional wisdom told Rob that he should take the careful approach. Buy time until all of his Party's Skills were usable. But that wasn't really an option, was it? Several minutes was an eternity on the battlefield. Someone would die long before those timers reset, especially since his long-range attackers were effectively useless. Maybe they'd be able to outlast and overcome the King after all was said and done, but if doing so came at the cost of any of his friend's lives, then what was the fucking point?

No. This needed to end now.

"Figured it out," Rob stated, as he barreled directly towards the Merfolk King without a hint of self-preservation in his posture. The rest of the Party was a mere split second behind him, moving in unison like they'd read each other's minds. Eyes widening, the King realized that something was amiss and backed away, refusing to take the bait. It was a smart tactical decision on his part, as Vul'to wouldn't be able to hold onto the trident for much longer. Rob could see the plan forming on the monarch's face; play it safe, let the trident escape, call it back, chuck it at a softer target, then take everyone down one-by-one before their Skills refreshed. Simple and efficient.

It would've worked – if he was facing opponents with normal Skills. The King winced and jerked to the side as Keira's greatsword blasted past him, shooting forth like a five-foot long steel arrow. She teleported behind him a moment later, appearing next to her sword in a shower of blue motes, teeth bared and bloodlust rising. Without missing a beat, Keira activated Reflected Rage – the last Active Skill she had remaining – in order to summon a shadowy double next to herself. The duo charged forth with manic grins, looking like twins from a horror movie yearning to eviscerate their prey. Sensing an impending disembowelment in his near future, the Merfolk King whirled around and shredded Keira's double with a torrent of pressurized water, the original managing to dodge as Danger Sense came in clutch once again.

Grunting loudly, King Cyraeneus lunged forward and punched Keira's greatsword with a fist enshrouded by red, aiming to pummel her weapon into a heap of scrap. But while his strike sent Keira flying back, it glanced off of her sword without leaving so much as a dent. Normal metal would've crumpled, but Steel Soul made heavy weapons invulnerable as long as Keira was holding them; all the King had accomplished was bruising his hand.

Zamira caught up next. She was completely out of Skills, but her high Dexterity let her keep up with the King while Keira distracted him from the other side. Arrows and Icicles soared past them as the Elves struggled to gain an edge, Cyraeneus dodging their attacks with a fluid grace on par with Danger Sense. Zamira overextended by a hair – and paid for the error with her longsword as Cyraeneus' arm snaked out and snapped the blade in two like a dry twig.

His victory was short-lived. Before the King could retaliate, he was forced to plummet straight down to avoid the trio of blackened lines that shot through the air where he'd just been, each one several feet tall and shaped like claw marks. From off to the side, Faelynn stared at her hands in disbelief, slowly comprehending the full extent of the Awakened Skill that'd been added to her repertoire. A jubilant smile crept across her face as the newly-minted Awakened Class user swung her arms down in slashing motions, shooting off more claw marks one after another. As the cherry on top, Meyneth finally caught up with the Elves, taking a position opposite of them in order to further restrict Cyraeneus' movements as he struggled to stay in control.

That was about when the Merfolk King lost his shit. Fending off three melee fighters while dodging three sets of projectiles all at once was, for some reason, not his idea of a good time. With a frustrated snarl, the King extended his limbs out and let forth a massive burst of pressurized water that expanded outwards, from him. The effect was as sudden and destructive as if he'd detonated a bomb. Roaring waves churned the ocean as they battered everything unlucky enough to be in their path. Keira, Zamira, Meyneth, and the incoming projectiles were blown away like leaves in a hurricane.

Rob glanced at his Party Screen, and after confirming that the others weren't in danger of dying, shoved aside his worries and kept closing in on Cyraeneus. He used his final two casts of Rampage to push through the torrent, water shredding his skin as he went. It felt like swimming through shards of glass. Didn't matter. His friends had given their all to distract the King and grant him this opportunity – he wouldn't let it go to waste. In that moment, the only thing that mattered was him and his target. Had to get closer. Closer.

Closer.

There. The King was recovering from his outburst, guard down just for a single instant. "VUL'TO!" Rob screamed. "LET GO!" The Human proceeded to do the exact opposite, wrapping his arms and legs around Cyraeneus' torso and squeezing tight.

The Merfolk King's confusion morphed into horror as his body was engulfed in an azure inferno. Undeterred by their aquatic surroundings, the flames that were not truly flames ate away at the monarch's flesh with a sickening sizzling sound. His panic intensified as the Crown of Salvation failed to activate, leaving the burns unhealed. Rob barked out a victorious laugh – his assumption had been proven right. Flames of Vengeance+ prevented the wounds that it inflicted from healing for a full week. Any damage that the King took now was going to stick.

With a hideous shriek of agony, the King reached down to pull Rob's arms off his waist. He flinched back with a hiss as the conflagration ate away the tips of his fingers down to the bone. Panting heavily, the King whipped his elbow back and bashed Rob's head, growling every time his limb brushed against the Flames. Desperation alighted in his eyes, nearly as vibrant as the pyre consuming his body.

Rob couldn't help but laugh. Getting pummeled hurt, but he'd had so much worse. The King bashed again and again, Rob taking each blow as if they were love taps. As questionably lopsided as his Vitality fixation was, it was because of that fixation that no one was better than him in situations like these. Tough Skin reduced the physical damage he took by 30%, and Vitamin D(fense) greatly strengthened his bone structure's durability, so the King was going to have to up his game if he wanted to do more than leave a few hairline fractures here and there.

Then the King's elbow started to glow with a red aura. Rob narrowed his eyes, trying to remember if he'd ever seen an 'Elbow Strike' ability before. He didn't think so, but there was a first time for everyth-

Crunch.

Vitamin D(efense) Level Increased! 7 -> 8

Tough Skin Level Increased! 5 -> 6

Passive Skill Leargfwqe
Name: Brain Damage Resdkfdls
iwdvnqkleurvpqoiwq

Hurts. Strange. Thoughts strange. Blurry. Vision gone. Smelled of dark. Felt warm.

Rob regained his senses as Lifesurge flowed through him, regenerating the hole in his head and half-smashed brain matter within. <You're welcome,> Diplomacy stated, in a smug tone completely at odds with the pure terror resonating from their core. <Activated that for you.>

The BERSERKER didn't respond, too busy processing what just happened to him. Even by Elatran standards, that had been pretty fucked up. There was definitely a first time for everything.

"You can't be serious!" The Merfolk King bellowed. Tears streaked down his face as he kept battering Rob's skull, his elbow searing away a bit more with each attempt. "Who are you people?"

"Riardin's Rangers," Rob grinned. "I'd tell you not to forget the name, but...somehow, I doubt you will."

The Gravemaker Trident took that moment to soar in and spear its target straight through their back.

And through its master's back as well.

Platelet Party Level Increased! 12 -> 13

Rob peered down at his chest. Only two vital organs pierced; a stroke of luck on his part. Lifesteal+ combined with the Flames of Vengeance were already patching him up, and Lifesurge would rejuvenate him if necessary. His HP was also slightly below 25%, which allowed him to activate Do Not Go Gently for the first time in ages, doubling his defensive Skills in case the King pulled out a sudden Hail Mary attack.

He needn't have worried. Compared to Rob, the Merfolk King was faring quite a bit worse, as the Crown of Salvation couldn't fully heal his wounds as long as the trident was still stuck inside him. It also couldn't dull the pain, which was compounding nastily with his current status of On Fucking Fire. With trembling hands, the King gripped the prongs sticking out of his chest and tried to push them back out, but by then his strength was fading. He struggled less and less with every passing second, fear deepening into despair as the azure Flames burnt away his flesh and resolve.

At long last, the King's arms fell. Rob felt the monarch's body slacken under his grip. Cyraeneus was conscious – barely – but not for long. All Rob had to do was hold tight for a little bit longer, and the fight was over. Just five more seconds to send the Merfolk King into a well-earned slumber.

And ten more seconds to ensure he never woke up.

Rob was tempted to squeeze until there was nothing left in his arms but cinder and ash. How much EXP would a Level 71 Elatran Leader give him? How many Levels, even? Static whispered in the back of his mind, urging him to claim the spoils of war that were his by right.

With more hesitation than he would've liked, Rob let go of the Merfolk King and pushed him forward. The trident exited Rob's body with a squelch similar to squeezing a slice of watermelon. He lazily floated backwards, watching an Elatran Leader drift away like rotting detritus. Rob blinked once, twice, then thrice as he slowly began to comprehend the enormity of what had just transpired. He glanced back at the rest of the Party, who were wearing expressions of disbelief that he imagined were a match for his own.

"Did we seriously just do that?" Rob wondered aloud, rubbing his hands over his eyes. "Kings are...kind of a big deal."

<Generally so,> Diplomacy said, in a lightheaded tone. <I hope that your stardom in Fiend territory helped you grow accustomed to being well-known, because your fame is about to spread like wildfire in a drought-afflicted forest.>

"God damnit."

He froze as a sudden realization struck him. Not the fact that Riardin's Rangers had beat the shit out of the Merfolks' sovereign Leader – that wasn't sinking in anytime soon. Rather, he'd realized that the waters were deathly quiet. Up until that point, the sound of Merfolk soldiers fighting the Blight had been audible, comprising the background noise of the last few minutes.

And now it was gone, because the Merfolk had won. The Blight's infected swarm was fleeing into the distance, choosing discretion over valor, leaving the Merfolk free to check in on their boss. Dozens of eyes turned towards Rob, finding their King defeated and on death's door. With a dreaded Human floating near his motionless body.

The looks of shock on their faces would've been hilarious if they weren't so problematic.

"So on a scale of 1 to 10," Rob began. "How bad of a PR snafu is this?"

His question was answered when, one-by-one, the Merfolk started to overcome their shock and raise their weapons.

"...I think we should go."

<Agreed.>

As he swam for his life, Rob took solace in the fact that he'd finally crossed off an Elatra bucket list item: getting chased by an angry mob. The tridents even looked kinda like pitchforks.

--

Author's Note 2: The Sequel:

Recent chapters (including ones you guys haven't seen yet) have more a lot more difficult/time-consuming than usual to write, so to give myself a bit of breathing room the next update is going to be a short, non-canon filler thing. This will help extend my chapter backlog (which increases overall quality, as each chapter is edited up until the day of release) and retain author sanity, which is important for obvious reasons. Thanks for your patience, and as always, thanks for reading!