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Three towns remained.

Just three.

They were the last Keldar-held positions on the map. The final scattered frontlines in a war that had gone on too long.

And somewhere among them, the last Demon—Vlora—was waiting.

Or so Arlon believed.

They didn't need to split up this time. Not anymore.

There was no point in risking unnecessary delay. The Gamers Guild had grown strong enough. And together, they were faster.

The plan was simple: move as one, wipe out the resistance, and find Vlora.

Arlon handled the logistics.

Since none of the other players could use teleport, they needed to either run or use the teleport points that weren't present in all of the cities under siege.

So, Zephyrion had given the Gamers a military carriage so that they could move faster.

And Arlon teleported everyone together with the carriage.

Of course, there was a reason for that.

Firstly, the reason these three were the last towns was easy. Arlon didn't have direct teleportation to them.

Obviously, with his current level, he could teleport to a close location and cover the distance in a really short time.

So, these three were just the farthest ones among the rest.

And the reason he teleported the carrige was so that the others could catch up with him.

If he were to go alone just to go fast, the time he saved would be less than if all of them attacked together.

This was because Arlon couldn't use any high-tier spells to avoid damaging the cities.

And now the military carriage was carrying the strongest group of players in the game.

The first town stood ahead.

They didn't linger.

There was no time for scouting, no need for discussion. They already knew what to do.

Every Keldar had to be eliminated.

Arlon didn't wait.

He slipped around the front line without a word and began his assault from behind enemy lines—erasing entire squads before the Keldars even noticed they were under attack.

The others saw what he was doing and immediately picked up the pace. If Arlon was already cutting through the back, they wouldn't waste time crawling through the front.

Spurred on by quiet competitiveness and the weight of responsibility, they launched into motion.

The coordination was natural. Earned.

They moved like a single unit with no need for commands or orders.

Arlon already knew the Demon wasn't there.

The moment he arrived, he could feel the lack of pressure—the missing weight in the air. It was just another overrun town, no stronger presence among the waves of Keldars.

Still, he didn't turn away.

He couldn't leave the town to its fate.

So, they cleared the it fast.

Faster than expected.

Arlon alone accounted for more than half of the kills. His spells were swift and relentless.

Keldars fell like ash on the wind. June was close behind him—her magic refined and direct, efficient as ever.

At this point, there was little functional difference between their strength. Both only needed a single spell per kill, and they couldn't use wide-range spells.

The gap between them didn't matter right now.

But that didn't stop the others from feeling it.

That sting in the chest.

A sharp, familiar kind of envy.

It wasn't bitterness. It wasn't even real anger.

Just a flash of frustration.

Friendly jealousy.

They watched as Arlon and June tore through the battlefield like forces of nature—and they couldn't help but wonder.

Why didn't he bring us?

Where had Arlon trained? How had he gotten this strong, this fast? Why had he gone only with June?

He trusted them with the final battle, didn't he?

So why hadn't he trusted them with the journey?

None of them said it out loud.

But the silence between spells was heavy with it.

Still, they pushed on.

The town was cleared in minutes, and they moved without pause to the next.

The second town was no different.

There was no Demon here either.

They worked together, clearing the enemy the same way—Arlon from the back, the others pressing from the front.

It was a rhythm now.

And it worked.

But time wasn't on their side.

Arlon could feel it.

Asef had to know by now.

Not just about their progress—but about their intent.

The death of these low-level Keldars didn't matter to them. There were too many of them. An unending tide.

It could be called infinite.

Their numbers meant nothing.

But this... this concentrated push... this sweeping endgame...

It meant something.

So maybe—just maybe—they were pulling back. Preparing. Rearranging the battlefield to their advantage.

Arlon didn't want to give them that time.

So, as soon as the town was cleared, they moved on.

No delay.

No breath.

The third and final town stood waiting.

And this time… something was different.

As soon as they approached the town, Arlon felt it.

Outside the town. Not in the streets, not among the enemy ranks—but further out. Closer to the Keldar territory.

A presence.

An existence far stronger than the mindless Keldars. Stronger even than the Named Monsters.

But much weaker than Arlon or June.

He could feel its weight pressing faintly against the world. A slow, pulsing presence that resonated across the battlefield like distant thunder.

It had to be Vlora.

He didn't need to choose between the town and the Demon.

It was time now.

He spoke to the minds of everyone present.

It was a spell he had learned from Agema.

A very hard spell.

But, at his level, hard didn't mean anything anymore. He hadn't even taken out his sword yet.

He talked to the Gamers and told them to follow the Demon.

He and June would join them as soon as they cleared the town.

In the meantime, he hoped for Asef to come out.

Even though they were scared by the sudden communication inside their minds, the Gamers understood the situation.

So, instead of getting off the carriage, they continued.

June and Arlon were more than enough to clear this town.