Damon grinned as he slashed at one of the vines he couldn't quite dodge in ti. The blade of Reaper's Folly t the corrupted tendril, and instead of bouncing off like every other weapon had, it cut clean through it with a hiss, like a hot knife through rotting flesh.
A wave of fetid mist erupted from the severed vine, but Damon didn't flinch. His lungs were burning, his muscles humming, and his instincts sharper than ever. All his stats were currently at 1000%, and he was riding the high like there was no tomorrow.
Power felt good.
No—scratch that. It felt divine.
He was faster than the players, stronger than the priests, and more dangerous than the monster before him.
Damon ducked beneath a sweeping claw of bramble and bone, twisted low, and leapt upward. The dagger in his hand pulsed like it was alive, hungry. He lunged, slashing across the grotesque creature's chest, or at least the place he assud a chest should be.
Black blood splattered in steaming arcs, and the boss howled—a sound like a thousand crows screaming all at once. Because while the dagger empowered Damon with a 1000% stat boost, it also afflicted the monster with a 1000% debuff.
The dagger was sothing the old man had unearthed from his cursed paddy field and hidden away, hoping to sell it for coin. What he didn't know was that the blade was the very reason his daughter had gone missing.
Reaper's Folly had been enchanted by a cultist sect—remnants of a forbidden ritual that bound despair to the soil. It had been buried like a seed, ant to blossom into a harvest of souls. But it was dug up too early... by a poor farr just trying to survive.
The mont he touched it, the curse took root in his land—and soon after, his daughter vanished.
The dagger had a taste for innocence. It fed on grief, lured misfortune, and marked its surroundings with ruin. And now, in Damon's hands, it was doing exactly what it was forged to do: Reap.
In his past life, it had taken another player five grueling in-ga days of quests to unlock this dagger. This ti, Damon had simply looted it from the farr's hut.
"What a nice weapon," he muttered, his grin widening. "Too bad its effect only lasts five seconds."
The ichor spraying from Malakar's body hissed against the cobblestones. The massive creature reeled, flailing in every direction, but Damon's movents were too precise, too fast. The pulsing aura of rot and corruption that had lted low-level players and blighted the entire plaza now flickered like a dying fla.
Every cut Damon landed shredded Malakar's resistances further. It was as if the boss were unraveling from the inside out.
On the rooftops, the surviving priest-class players stared, slack-jawed.
"He's doing it! He's actually bringing it down!"
"Who the hell is that guy?!"
Aurora didn't speak. Her eyes were locked on the man with the grin and the rusted dagger dancing through death like it was a waltz.
"He should be the top player of the ga!"
"Soloing a world boss on day two?! What kind of monster is that?"
None of them dared to interfere. The penalty for dying to Malakar was brutal—three real-world days of resurrection lockout. No one wanted to take that risk, especially not at the start of the ga.
So they watched in stunned silence as Damon kept slashing down at the monstrosity. In the blink of an eye, the fearso, huge demonic thing was reduced to a puddle of filth and rot.
Malakar let out a distorted screech that split the sky itself. His form convulsed, shadows peeling from his body like dying embers. Black veins exploded across his torso, glowing green for a heartbeat before erupting in arcs of corrupted mana.
Then, just like that, the great Reaper of Fields collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. The vines retreated. The stench cleared. The clouds above began to part.
And Damon?
He landed lightly atop the monster's skull as its massive body began to disintegrate into ash and mist beneath him.
System Announcent: [Ding! World Boss Defeated!]
System Announcent: [Ding! Hidden Event Chain Completed!]
The notifications kept rolling in, one after another, but Damon ignored them. He only responded to the one notification about keeping his na and player ID anonymous.
"Annoymous, huh?" Damon smirked. "Fuck no!"
In his last life, most people assud anonymity would protect them. No one wanted to beco a walking target. But they were wrong. Dead wrong. Fa wasn't just power—it was currency, it was leverage, it was a magnet that pulled the world toward you.
Being famous wasn't a weakness. It was a weapon.
Damon would now get access to secret dialogue trees, better item prices, and easier entry into forbidden areas. He'd have sycophants lining up, especially other vampire NPCs.
If Damon flaunted this fa, he could purchase items for up to 50% off in the right shops. There were many secret quests he could unlock, not to ntion how easily he could attract small fries if he wanted to.
It would be stupid to remain anonymous, and this was just the beginning.
System Announcent: [Ding! Player Blood God has slain the World Boss: Malakar, Reaper of Fields!]
System Announcent: [Ding! Player Blood God has slain the World Boss: Malakar, Reaper of Fields!]
[Ding! Reward: Global Fa Increased 1000]
[Ding! Player Kill Record: First World Boss Solo — Unlocked.]
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