Started with a 10,000x Multiplier in a Game World

Dante carved through the allied army like a hot knife through wax.

He didn’t activate [Phantom Waltz]. The invulnerability frames were unnecessary when the enemy couldn’t even organize a coordinated counterattack.

The sheer psychological terror of the [Aura of Despair] completely shattered the discipline of the heavy infantry.

Dante didn’t block. He didn’t parry.

He was sitting at a fragile 2,550 HP, completely exposed, but his offense was absolute.

With [Asura’s Heart] doubling his attack speed, he was a blur of gold armor and tattered crimson fabric.

He gripped [Voidsever] with both hands, letting the primordial greatsword act as an extension of his own localized malice.

He stepped into a cluster of Vanguard’s Legacy paladins. They raised their heavy shields, desperately trying to lock him down with a synchronized bash.

Dante didn’t try to flank them. He swung the massive black blade in a brutal, horizontal 360-degree sweep.

[Passive Activated: Absolute Severance. 100% Armor Ignored.]

[Passive Activated: Predator’s Eye (100% Critical Hit Chance).]

The black blade passed through the steel tower shields, the heavy breastplates, and the avatars of six paladins simultaneously without a single fraction of resistance.

The 900% attack power boost from [Blood Sacrifice], compounded by the guaranteed 300% critical hit damage, generated a raw numerical output that was mathematically devastating.

[-150,000! OVERKILL!]

[-150,000! OVERKILL!]

The six heavily armored players exploded into blue pixels instantly.

But Dante didn’t stop to admire the damage. He was actively relying on the fundamental feedback loop of his new class to keep his avatar alive.

[Class Passive Triggered: Blood-Lust Stance (20% Lifesteal).]

Because the [Holy Forbidden Suppression Array] blocked all standard healing spells and passive regeneration, his baseline recovery mechanics were useless.

But lifesteal wasn’t classified as a restorative spell; it was an offensive feedback mechanic.

The Zenith Protocol’s combat engine recognized it as a damage modifier, entirely bypassing Silas’s suppression array.

The twenty percent lifesteal applied to the massive, six-figure damage numbers Dante was outputting.

[Lifesteal Applied: +180,000 HP.]

Dante’s health bar instantly skyrocketed from 2,550 HP back to his massively inflated maximum of 255,000 HP.

"Infinite sustain," Dante whispered, a cold, dangerous smile spreading across his face as he felt the digital vitality flood his avatar.

He was an unkillable god of slaughter, and his health pool was completely reliant on the death of his enemies.

He didn’t pause. He stepped over the dropped loot and plunged deeper into the chaotic mob.

He swung Voidsever again, bringing the massive black blade down in a brutal, vertical chop that cleanly bisected an Apex Coalition warrior trying to flank him.

[-160,000! OVERKILL!]

The warrior shattered.

But it wasn’t just the damage that broke the allied army.

[Class Passive Triggered: 200% Simulated Pain Feedback.]

The warrior didn’t just explode into pixels. His avatar violently seized, and a horrifying scream of absolute agony echoed across the gorge before the True Death fully processed.

The scream was painful.

The players surrounding the execution froze in absolute horror.

"Did... did you hear that?" a rogue stammered, dropping his daggers and backing away. "That didn’t sound like a game! He screamed like he was actually dying!"

Dante didn’t answer. He swung his sword again, catching a retreating mage across the shoulder.

[-145,000! OVERKILL!]

The mage shrieked, clutching her arm as her avatar dissolved, the simulated pain feedback pushing her real-world neural link to the absolute limit.

The psychological warfare was absolute. The allied army wasn’t fighting a boss with a predictable attack pattern.

They were fighting a player who inflicted genuine, real-world trauma with every single strike.

The massive [Aura of Despair] passively amplified the terror, crushing their morale and halving their defense stats.

"Don’t let him touch you!" a Vanguard lieutenant roared, scrambling backward over the bodies of his own men. "He’s hacking the pain receptors! Just run!"

The entire frontline completely routed.

Tens of thousands of players broke formation, throwing their weapons and shields into the dirt to shed weight, and desperately tried to run back toward the entrance of the gorge.

Dante didn’t let them escape.

He triggered [Meteor Stride].

Because of [Chrono-Shift], the Zenith-tier teleport had zero cooldown and zero mana cost.

He vanished in a blinding flash of white-hot light, materializing directly in front of the retreating mass of players.

The ten-foot-wide wall of superheated plasma left in his wake cut straight through the dense crowd, dealing massive, localized thermal damage.

Dozens of players screamed as the plasma burned them, the pain feedback triggering a chorus of sheer agony that echoed off the canyon walls.

Dante didn’t use [Cyclone of Ruin]. The massive hurricane would kill them too quickly.

He needed the lifesteal to keep his health pool full, and he wanted them to understand exactly what happened when you hunted Aegis Vanguard.

He became a blur of relentless, hyper-lethal violence.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

He chained [Phantom Waltz], the purple invulnerability frames making him completely untargetable as he delivered instantaneous, teleporting strikes across the retreating army.

Every single hit was a guaranteed execution. Every single death fueled his [Blood-Lust Stance], keeping him at maximum health.

The gorge literally turned red.

The massive, localized volume of [Absolute Ruin] passives triggering on every strike permanently altered the environment.

The dirt floor was carved into deep, jagged trenches filled with digital blood. The canyon walls were cratered and scorched.

He wasn’t fighting an army. He was actively, systematically butchering them.

In the gorge, the remaining surviving players were trapped.

They couldn’t run forward, because Dante was blocking the path. They couldn’t run backward, because the narrow entrance to the canyon was completely jammed with panicked players trampling each other to escape.

They were caught in a massive meat grinder.

Silas sat on his armored warhorse, entirely frozen.

The Guild Master of Vanguard’s Legacy watched his massive, five-million-credit army get systematically, casually deleted by a single player.

His pristine silver armor was splattered with digital blood from the players dying around him.

He looked at the sky. The massive, white dome of the [Holy Forbidden Suppression Array] was still active.

"The array is working," Silas muttered to himself, his voice trembling with sheer, unfiltered panic. "He doesn’t have his shields. He doesn’t have his healing."

"He doesn’t need them!" Gawain roared, riding his golden-armored horse up next to Silas.

The Paladin Guild Master looked absolutely terrifying. His heavy armor was scorched, and his golden warhammer was dripping with the blood of players he had actively shoved out of his way to retreat.

Gawain pointed his hammer at Dante, who was currently teleporting through a cluster of Black Dragon Syndicate rogues, turning them into screaming blue pixels.

"Look at him, Silas!" Gawain yelled. "He’s healing off the damage! He’s using lifesteal! The suppression array doesn’t block offensive modifiers!"

Silas stared at the anomaly.

He realized Gawain was right. The tactical trap had failed. He had successfully stripped Dante’s defenses, but in doing so, he had forced the anomaly to rely entirely on his most devastating offensive capabilities. He hadn’t trapped a target; he had released a monster.

"We have to kill him," Silas hissed, gripping his broadsword.

"My army is routing!" Gawain roared. "We cannot command them anymore! They are too terrified of the pain mechanics!"

"If we don’t kill him now, we lose everything!" Silas yelled back, panic completely hijacking his logic. "The server is watching! If we run away, we are finished!"

Silas turned his warhorse, looking wildly around the chaotic battlefield.

He spotted Ryujin pushing his way through the panicked crowd. The Sakura Nation leader looked absolutely furious, his crimson samurai armor covered in dirt from his humiliating encounter with Mei on the plateau.

"Ryujin!" Silas shouted over the deafening roar of the massacre. "Get over here!"

Ryujin spurred his horse forward, stopping next to the other two Guild Masters.

"My stealth flank failed," Ryujin snarled, his eyes burning with bruised ego. "His support squad wiped them out. We are completely out of options."

"No, we aren’t," Silas declared, his voice dropping to a desperate, manic register. "We are the Kings of this server.

We possess the highest base stats and the best gear of any players currently online. If the army can’t kill him, we have to do it ourselves."

Gawain frowned, hefting his massive warhammer. "A coordinated, three-man assault? Against that?"

He pointed to Dante, who had just completely pulverized a massive iron siege ballista with a single swing of his black greatsword.

"He’s a glass cannon right now," Silas explained rapidly. "His defense is zero. His health pool is massive, but if we hit him with our ultimate skills simultaneously, we can burst him down before he can trigger a lifesteal strike to recover."

Ryujin gripped his Gold-tier katana, his eyes narrowing. "It’s a massive gamble. If he parries one of us, we die."

"We die anyway if we let him finish the army," Silas pointed out brutally. "If we kill him, the bounty holds. We claim the server. If we fail, our guilds are officially dead."

The three Guild Masters looked at each other. They didn’t trust each other. They were bitter rivals who had spent the last week actively trying to ruin each other’s economies.

But right now, they were united by absolute, suffocating terror.

"Fine," Gawain grunted, his golden armor flaring with holy magic. "We strike together."

"I’ll take the flank," Ryujin nodded, his katana glowing with crackling lightning.

Silas drew his massive, silver broadsword. He didn’t have a flashy elemental aura, but his stats were heavily padded by his massive real-world investments.

"On my mark," Silas ordered.

The three Guild Masters spurred their warhorses forward, breaking away from the panicked, routing mass of their own armies, charging directly toward the anomaly standing in the center of the river of blood.

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