Ten hours passed in a blur of clearing, looting, and slow, steady progress deeper into the Hive.
Fifty Mythic-rank units now drifted or stood in loose formation around the Mothership’s deck and the space just beyond it, shapes ranging from sleek humanoid forms to things that looked more like small moons with opinions.
Logan had stopped trying to remember all their names individually somewhere around unit thirty.
He sat in the middle of it all on a throne Synthia had built purely for comfort, no combat function whatsoever, just deep cushioning and a high, curved back that fit his shoulders like it had been measured for him personally. Which, knowing her, it probably had been.
Off to one side, one of his Mythic Spacecraft had reshaped a portion of its own hull into something resembling a proper kitchen, Fire Manipulation keeping a steady flame going under a wide pan while its other limbs worked through a pile of Hive vegetation and something that had definitely been a bug an hour ago.
Logan pulled up both boards out of idle curiosity more than actual need.
```
[ Elimination Leaderboard ]
Rank 1 | Leon Flanke | 102
Rank 2 | Sylvaeth Windrune | 31
Rank 3....
```
```
[ Overall Score Leaderboard ]
Rank 1 | Leon Flanke — 58,400 Score.
Rank 2 | Sylvaeth Windrune — 18,400 Score.
```
A hundred and two eliminations. The next closest name on the list sat at thirty-one. The Overall Scoreboard told the same story in different numbers, his own total sitting comfortably clear of whoever held second place by a margin wide enough that it barely looked like the same game.
’Two and a half areas left, according to the map.’ He glanced at the pulsing red dot still sitting patiently at the center of the display. ’Getting closer.’
The area he currently sat in wasn’t one most players even attempted head-on. Two separate Mythic-rank Field Bosses roamed it, each backed by an army of lesser creatures thick enough to make most coordinated groups think twice before committing.
Logan had read about this specific pattern before he’d ever queued into his first Star Hunters match.
Every Hive looked different, a different alien threat, a different biome, a different Queen entirely from one match to the next, but the structure underneath always stayed the same. The last handful of areas before the Queen’s own chamber consistently ran harder than the final boss itself, a last filter meant to strip out anyone who’d made it this far on luck rather than genuine strength. Most solo players who reached this deep didn’t fight through these areas at all. They went quiet instead, stealth and patience carrying them past threats that would have ended a straight fight in minutes.
’Not really an option for me, though.’ He grinned, already rising off the throne. ’Fifty Mythics and I don’t exactly do quiet.’
---
Sylvaeth Windrune had killed enough players in this match already to lose count, and none of them had ever made her feel the way the leaderboard did every time she checked it.
```
[ Sylvaeth Windrune ]
Player Level: 40
Class: Stormrune Sentinel (Lv. 40)(Mythic)
Talent: Verdant Cataclysm (Mythic)
```
She wasn’t alone. Twenty other players stood or hovered around her own Mothership’s deck, a mix of elves and dwarves who’d never once shared a match before this, drawn together by exactly one thing.
Every single one of them carried at least a Legendary-rank spec as their weakest attribute. Four of them, two elves and two dwarves, matched her own dual Mythic specialization outright.
Thaeloric Vaen stood near the rail, arms crossed, the other elf with a Mythic Class and Mythic Talent both.
Grimdolur Ashveil and Borak Cinderfist held the dwarven half of the arrangement, neither one bothering to hide how little patience they had for standing around talking about it.
"Leon Flanke." Sylvaeth said the name like it tasted wrong. "A hundred and two eliminations. Twenty-three Motherships wiped out in a single engagement, according to three separate reports. And the leaderboard’s crowned him for it besides."
"I heard it from a fourth source too." Thaeloric’s own voice carried a thin edge of something between respect and resentment. "Apparently he’s already cleared two Mythic-rank Field Bosses on his way through."
"Don’t care how he got here." Grimdolur’s voice came out low and flat. "Care that he’s still standing when the rest of us aren’t. That ends today."
"Assuming any of you actually manage to land a hit on him." Borak’s grin didn’t reach his eyes. "I’ve seen your kill counts. Don’t get in my way when the time comes."
Sylvaeth’s eyes cut toward him, sharp enough that Borak’s grin faltered just slightly. "Worry about surviving long enough to see him first. Whoever actually lands the killing blow keeps whatever he’s carrying. The rest of you are just here to thin the numbers he brings with him."
"Fine by me." Thaeloric’s smile came thin. "Though I’d remind everyone here, once he’s down, the four of us still have our own business to settle."
Nobody argued the point. Nobody needed to.
"Later." Sylvaeth turned back toward the Hive stretching out ahead of them, violet eyes narrowing on something only she could see on her own display. "For now, we hunt."
Twenty-one Motherships fell into formation behind her without another word needed.
...
The two Mythic-rank Field Bosses announced themselves long before Logan’s own fleet actually reached them, a section of the Hive’s fungal canopy collapsing outward as something massive shouldered through it.
```
[ Filburn Dreadmaw Colossus ]
Level: 40 | Tier-4 | Mythic
```
```
[ Filburn Stormcaller Matriarch ]
Level: 40 | Tier-4 | Mythic
```
The Colossus alone stood taller than the Mothership itself, six massive limbs ending in blades instead of claws, chitin plating dark enough to swallow the bioluminescent light around it. The Matriarch moved differently, smaller but faster, wings buzzing loud enough to be heard even at range, dozens of lesser creatures already pouring out from beneath her own wing casings.
Logan didn’t bother closing the distance himself first. Fifty Mythic units spread out ahead of him in a formation that had started looking less like an army and more like a single coordinated organism over the last ten hours.
"Twenty on the swarm. Thirty on the two of them." He didn’t need to specify further than that anymore. Everyone already knew their own role.
The twenty assigned to the swarm didn’t so much fight it as erase it. Gravity fields bloomed from three different units at once, dragging clusters of lesser creatures together into tight, helpless masses before a wave of coordinated cannon fire turned each cluster into scattered ash in the same breath.
The remaining thirty split cleanly down the middle, fifteen converging on the Colossus, fifteen on the Matriarch, and the two Field Bosses found themselves fighting an army that didn’t need to take turns.
The Colossus swung one massive limb in a wide arc meant to clear space around itself, and it caught nothing but empty air. Fifteen separate attacks answered in the same instant, beams and blades and gravity wells all converging on a single point along its own flank, and armor built to withstand something like Uorop’s own artillery cracked wide open under the combined weight of it.
The Matriarch tried to scatter, wings beating hard enough to lift her clear of the fighting below, and found fifteen more units already waiting in the air she’d tried to retreat into. She didn’t get the chance to summon anything else before the first strike landed.
```
[ Filburn Dreadmaw Colossus HP: 4% ]
[ Filburn Stormcaller Matriarch HP: 6% ]
```
Two more strikes landed in the same heartbeat, one from each side of the fight, and both Field Bosses came apart within a second of each other, the Hive’s own canopy lighting up gold and violet from the twin detonations.
```
[ 2x Mythic-rank Field Bosses defeated. ]
[ Total Tower Points earned: 30,000 ]
```
Logan hadn’t moved from where he’d been standing the entire fight, watching the whole thing unfold like a piece of choreography he’d already rehearsed a hundred times without ever actually needing to.
[Your class has reached level 29.]
The mythic units who didn’t hit level 40 yet also reached it after this fight.
His player level had long reached level 40, and his class was getting there slowly. The class leveling requirement was tough, so Logan knew he would likely not hit class level 40 in this short game that he was about to end.
"Everyone. Take some of those juicy chunks and have a feast. Y’all must be tired."
Logan got off his comfy throne and stretched before sitting next to the Mythic spacecraft cooking the food that Logan had named Winsmoke and Synthia, who had already started serving his plate.
Winsmoke’s spaceship form could pretty much be arranged into a cafe with a kitchen that he could control, cooking anything with its unique kitchen that only he could run.
Logan was still awed at the taste.
This guy was cooking mathematically because of his talents, which was called Complete Breakdown. A scan that can break down the structure of anything to give the entirety of its details. Pairing this with his other talents--Fire Manipulation, Spirit of Cook, Cafe Mode- made him a perfect chef who came with his own restaurant.
"We’ll modify your cafe after getting out, Winsmoke. It has great potential."
"Is that so? Hahaha, I didn’t notice." Winsmoke laughed.
One thing, though. This guy was irritatingly sarcastic.
"We’ll go with a forest theme. I’m going to grow some flowers on you, boy." Logan grinned.
"Good idea." Synthia chuckled.
"Damn..."
Just then, Billy and Solveig arrived, joining the party.
"Where’s the food, bro?! I’m starving."
"Winsmoke, I’d like my usual, please."
Unfortunately, the party was about to be crashed by some rude and arrogant fellows.
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