Mad Hatter's Guide to Clearing The Game

Chapter 43 - Ch41. Miles

Everything happened so fast – from the moment when the masked man raised his weapon to when the portal appeared – that it almost looked like he had summoned it himself. The players around all froze on the spot, confused, but when the portal opened, and the monsters began pouring out like a heinous river...

Then, the players began running, screaming. Some took up arms and tried to fight back, but they were no match for the creatures.

However, those were monsters Sarissa had never seen before. A mixture of metal and flesh, gears clicking and turning inside them, visible through a few cracks in their metallic parts. Some were humanoid, while others were beastly, but none of them had a face, all towering above the exquisite masked figure by a few heads. And yet, he fought them no matter how many came at him.

'What the...' Sarissa's jaw was slack as she observed. Her instincts screamed at her to join the fray, to get her hands bloody, but something else was telling her otherwise.

The masked young man fought with supernatural grace, his scythe describing arcs in such frightening speed that she was sure to be one of the very few – if not the only one – who was able to follow his movements.

The scythe flew up and down, diagonally, horizontally, the masked figure used both its blade and its hilt to strike and defend, dodging, blocking, evading, slicing, dicing, attacking like there was no tomorrow. And she was sure that, if he ever failed at keeping even one of those monsters at bay, it would certainly be the end.

Sarissa felt more and more mesmerized by the dark grace of the masked figure's movements and his deadly, beautiful fighting style, to a degree that, when she got back to her senses, she had to close her mouth, fighting against the strange shiver that ran down and up her spine, screaming at her to not join the fight.

Which she did.

She took a slow breath, steadying herself against the strange wave of hesitation that threatened to root her in place. The battle raged before her, a chaotic storm of steel and flesh, blood and oil, as the masked figure carved through the monstrous horde with a precision that was borderline inhuman. His movements were relentless and restless, unstoppable, a seamless dance of death, with the scythe being but a mere extension of his body.

But he wasn't enough. Not alone.

He was human, which meant that, sooner or later, fatigue would settle in, and in a large-scale battle like that, the smallest mistake could cost one's life.

Her fingers twitched, fire already crackling at her fingertips before she even made the conscious decision to act. The hesitation was gone. There was only instinct, sharpened by countless regressions, and the hunger that burned deep within her. The hunger for battle, for control, for survival.

For power.

Sarissa shot forward like a bullet, her form blurring as she wove through the broken street with practiced ease. She leapt over an overturned car, twisting midair to avoid a lunging, wolf-like machine-beast, landing right beside the masked fighter. She barely spared him a glance before her flames erupted outward in a controlled arc, catching one of the larger creatures mid-step. @@novelbin@@

The thing shrieked in a metallic screech, gears grinding violently as its flesh burned away, exposing the intricate mechanisms beneath. She didn't wait to see if it would die. She pivoted, her body moving on autopilot, following the masked man's rhythm.

For the first time in gods knew how long, she was not fighting alone.

The two moved in unison, as if they had trained together for lifetimes. Where his scythe struck, she followed up with a blast of her [Mad Fire], her flames filling the gaps in his defenses – even though it seemed that they only appeared now that she joined the fray – forcing the enemies into predictable patterns that he exploited with ruthless efficiency.

They weaved around each other like twin storms, complementing one another's strengths without a single word.

The masked man seemed to acknowledge her presence without surprise. He adjusted his attacks to match hers, creating an unspoken harmony between them, an unrelenting hurricane of destruction that tore through the metal-flesh monstrosities with terrifying precision.

The other players, who were breaking apart and running for their lives, hesitated. Then they saw it.

They saw the two warriors standing against the tide, and something inside them reignited, even though neither Sarissa, nor the masked figure saw it happen.

A battle cry ripped through the air, and the players surged forward, no longer retreating in terror but charging with renewed purpose. Mages began launching coordinated spells, bolts of electricity and cascading icicles slamming into the creatures. Fighters and rogues flanked the monsters, capitalizing on the openings that Sarissa and the masked young man created in their assault. The battlefield, once a chaotic mess of panic and despair, transformed into a coordinated effort.

They were winning.

Sarissa let out a deep breath, her flames roaring brighter as she unleashed a wave of fire that engulfed a massive, four-armed abomination attempting to flank Miles. The heat warped the air, and in the brief glow of the flames, she caught sight of his mask turning toward her.

Though she couldn't see his expression, there was an undeniable awareness in his stance, a mutual acknowledgment that neither had expected this to happen, and yet it had.

They were working together.

The tide of battle turned swiftly. With the combined might of the reinvigorated players and the overwhelming force of the two apex warriors leading the charge, the mechanical horrors fell one by one.

The once-overwhelming horde was reduced to burning, shattered wrecks littering the battlefield. The last creature – a towering, insectoid nightmare of steel and sinew – let out a metallic screech before Sarissa's fire and the masked young man's scythe cleaved it apart simultaneously, its pieces clattering to the ground like discarded scraps.

Silence fell over the battlefield, save for the heavy breathing of the surviving players. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burnt metal and flesh, but they had won.

The monstrosities were more powerful than the monsters Sarissa was used to fight, but she – they – had won.

She straightened, her green eyes locking onto the masked figure as he planted his scythe into the ground. His shoulders rose and fell with steady but quiet breaths, and for the first time, he turned to face her fully.

"Who are you?" Sarissa tilted her head ever so slightly, and the masked young man dismissed his mask, which disappeared in a whirlwind of black sparks, returning to his inventory.

"My name is Miles." He smiled, offering a hand. She did not know how, since she could not see his features, but she was sure that there was a smile on his face. "Thanks for the help."