[Ding! World Event Triggered — The Black Harvest Rises]
World Boss Unsealed: Malakar, Reaper of Fields (Lv. ???)
Every single player in the vicinity heard the system announcents. A heavy silence fell over the plaza, and then the chaos erupted.
"A world boss? Fuck yes! Let's do this!"
"Oh my god, what city is this? First, the hidden quest for all the priest class players, and now this world boss!"
"Ya, thank god I decided to co to this city. Hey, I am starting with a holy cleanse. Back up."
"I think whoever does maximum damage will get the credit for the world boss kill."
"Shut up! This daddy here will take it all."
"Everyone Golden Dragons guild has officially claid this world boss. Please leave now. Otherwise, prepare to beco an enemy of the Golden Dragons."
"Golden Dragons? Who the fuck are you? This here is my boy. You get lost."
All the players quickly started running towards the fountain and gathering in the area. A world boss ant a lot of experience points, high-tier rewards, and gold coins. No one wanted to miss such a golden opportunity.
Many had already started preparing their attacks when the farr's aged body suddenly surged with power and started contorting in twisted angles. His spine arched unnaturally, bones cracking like dry twigs as his skin darkened to a bark-like gray.
Veins bulged like writhing worms beneath the surface, glowing with a sickly green hue. His eyes—once bloodshot and broken—now blazed with a fierce, malevolent light, like lanterns lit in the pits of hell.
A grotesque halo of withered crops and shadowed mist erupted behind him. The old man—no longer a man—let out a choking sob that morphed into a howl of anguish and hatred so raw it made players' vision montarily blur.
This was when everyone realized that sothing was wrong. Players who had been charging up spells or drawing weapons began to hesitate. A few took uncertain steps back. The monster in front of them seed simply too strong.
And then it hit.
A pulse of sickly green light erupted from the transford farr's body, and the entire plaza was swallowed in a wave of oppressive decay. Stone cracked. The grass blackened. Players scread as their health bars instantly plumted—so by half, others all the way to zero.
[Ding! You are afflicted by: Withering Curse (Stacking)]
Effect: -3% HP per second. Duration: Infinite until removed by Divine Cleanse (Advanced Tier).
"WHAT THE FUCK!"
"HELP! I'M DYING!"
"Divine Cleanse is not doing anything damn it! Everyone here has divine cleanse! This is so bullshit!
But it was too late for many. Anyone below level 5 instantly keeled over, their bodies crumbling into lifeless husks. Even the higher-level priest players found their healing skills only half-effective, if that.
Malakar's transformation continued, its twisted form now towering nearly ten feet tall. The cloak of rot swirling around its shoulders seed to flicker with every breath, revealing glimpses of dozens—no, hundreds—of twitching, half-rotted arms reaching outward like they were trying to claw back into the living world.
[Ding! Malakar has entered Phase One: Reaping Begins]
Vines burst from beneath the stone, impaling players like skewers. Dozens died in a flash of red. A particularly well-equipped player was lifted into the air and torn in half mid-scream. Soone vomited. Soone else rage-quit.
A few players led by Aurora were the only ones able to react in a calm and composed manner. They seed to have so paladins among their group who erected shields, preventing the mass damage. However, it was clear that even they wouldn't be able to lay a hand on this world boss.
What the hell was happening? What sort of a world boss was this untouchable? Everyone was absolutely confused and shocked.
The entire plaza had turned into a graveyard within seconds.
Smoke and rot hung thick in the air. Screams echoed through the crumbling streets. Players scrambled to heal, to run, to hide—anything. But it was chaos. One wrong move, one delayed spellcast, and they were dead.
Tanks fell like paper dolls. Their priests were barely keeping themselves alive, let alone their teams.
Aurora's group was the only one holding any kind of formation, standing shoulder to shoulder in a tight crescent around the main fountain. Shields of golden light shimred around them, buying precious seconds—but even their expressions had turned grim.
Aurora's eyes were narrowed, scanning Malakar with surgical focus. "This isn't a world boss," she murmured. "This is a purge. We stand no chance against sothing like this. Let's retreat imdiately. The NPCs should take care of it soon enough. Maybe if we wait, we will have a chance."
Everyone around her seed to have the sa type of thoughts, and the remaining players started retreating as fast as they could.
However, in the midst of this chaos, one player alone charged ahead.
Damon was still in his beginner set of linen pants and shirt as he casually ran to the monstrosity. Perhaps it was because of all the bloodshed around him, he was in such a good mood. His blood was boiling with excitent.
His fangs itched to taste the divine blood spilled all around. His eyes glead like twin rubies in the storm of death and decay. The sll of rot, fear, and corrupted mana filled the air, and to Damon, it was intoxicating.
He sprinted straight into the heart of the battlefield, dodging vines and leaping over twitching corpses with graceful, almost arrogant ease. His footfalls barely stirred the ground. To the fleeing players, it looked like he was so kind of high-level player, and yet it was only day 2 of the ga launch. He couldn't possibly be a high-level player.
"Who is that lunatic?!"
"Is he suicidal?"
"How is he dodging all the vines? This is complete bullshit! How could his stats be so high?"
Aurora's sharp gaze snapped to him. Her lips parted slightly in surprise. "It's the dagger in his hands," she whispered.
And she was not wrong.
Damon gripped the small, rusted dagger tightly in his hand. This dagger held the secret to taking down the world boss—and only he had access to it.
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