CHAPTER 63: FINAL BOSS

The Regent’s fury spiked, and it unleashed its ultimate—

[Midnight Requiem] — the sky itself darkened, and dozens of shadow lances materialized overhead.

Rhys planted his foot, activating [Light Shield] through Puddle just as the first wave fell. Golden barriers deflected the strikes, but each one sent shockwaves through his bones.

"Fine," Rhys muttered, "my turn."

He roared, chaining everything—

[Ghost Edge Step] to close in.

[Magic Enchant] with Ancient Light Magic for burning purity.

A perfectly timed weak point slash straight into the Regent’s heart-thread.

The demon reeled—right into Puddle’s [Gleaming Halo], the radiant ring shredding its remaining vitality.

With one last step, Rhys drove his sword through its chest, twisting hard before ripping it free.

The Regent shuddered, dropped its weapons, and collapsed in a slow, final fall.

[Elite Boss Slain — Black Regent]

[EXP Gained]

[Drop Obtained: "Gatekeeper’s Insignia" (Required for City Lord’s Palace)]

[Skill Acquired: Midnight Requiem]

[Skill Acquired: Dark Flare Blade]

Rhys exhaled, wiping the sweat from his brow as his blade lowered.

"Now... that was a fight."

His gaze shifted forward. The massive palace gates—twin slabs of obsidian reinforced with crimson glyphs—were now wide open. Beyond them, a roiling red mist drifted like living smoke, curling along the marble courtyard and slipping between the cracks in the stone.

Every breath he took tasted faintly of blood and ash.

The oppressive mana pressing against his chest grew heavier with each step toward the gates.

Puddle’s body rippled uneasily, faint light pulsing within its watery form. Rhys could feel it through their bond—an instinctive warning. Whatever waited beyond was far more dangerous than the Regent.

He glanced at the Gatekeeper’s Insignia in his hand—a coin-sized medallion of black iron etched with a horned mask. Even touching it sent a faint sting through his palm, like the mark of something that did not belong to the living.

The gates themselves seemed to breathe, the faint creak of their hinges sounding unnervingly like a sigh. The red mist spilled thicker now, and within its depths, faint silhouettes moved—warped, humanoid shapes barely visible before fading into the haze again.

Rhys smirked faintly. "Alright... City Lord, let’s see what you’ve got."

He tightened his grip on his Sword, slid the Insignia into his inventory, and took the first step past the threshold. The red mist curled around him like a predator welcoming prey.

***

Rhys cut down another servant-turned-demon, its head splitting cleanly beneath his light-empowered blade. The corpse barely had time to hit the ground before evaporating into the red mist that now blanketed the core district.

Ahead stood the final gate—twice the height of any he had passed, a looming slab of black stone reinforced with veins of crimson metal. The surface pulsed faintly, almost like it had a heartbeat of its own.

Without hesitation, Rhys pulled the Gatekeeper’s Insignia from his inventory. The cold metal seemed to hum in his hand as he pressed it against the center of the door.

A sharp crack echoed. Thin fractures of red light spiderwebbed outward from the medallion’s imprint. The magic bindings hissed as if alive, their energy bleeding away until the great gates groaned and began to part.

The space beyond was... wrong.

It opened into an enormous hall that stretched far longer than it had any right to. Pale marble floors were cracked and overrun with black roots that pulsed like veins. Towering pillars lined the walls, each etched with murals of a city burning under a blood moon.

At the far end of the chamber sat a man at an ornate table. Mid-aged, draped in a regal crimson coat embroidered with black thread, a half-empty wine goblet rested beside his gloved hand.

Rhys slowed his pace, eyes narrowing. The man’s features were striking yet unremarkable—no obvious demonic distortion, no glowing marks. In fact, he seemed... ordinary.

Until he opened his eyes.

They were pure black, save for the crimson irises that burned like molten coals.

The man’s gaze slid over Rhys, up and down, slow and deliberate—like a predator sizing up its prey.

"You..." His voice was low, carrying an oily sort of persuasion. "You have not yet tasted the gift of the Lord."

Something wet and heavy thumped against Rhys’s boot. He looked down.

A dark-red, pulsing fruit rolled to a stop at his feet. It throbbed faintly, like it had its own heartbeat.

Before Rhys could speak, a sharp ping of system text flashed across his vision:

[ Eat the Demon Blood Fruit to ascend your race to High Demon and complete the trial ]

Reward: ×2 Stat Upgrade, All Class Skills +1 Level, ???

[ Or reject it, kill the Demon Worshipper, and complete the trial ]

Reward: ×2 Stat Upgrade, All Class Skills +1 Level, ???

Rhys’s eyes narrowed.

The ×2 stat upgrade and the skill level-up meant that no matter what he chose, his base stats would be doubled and all his class skills would gain one level after clearing the trial—a standard reward granted to all challengers regardless of the difficulty they had chosen.

Then why have a difficulty setting in the first place?

The answer was simple—extra stats. In FLO’s Rank-Up Trial system, higher difficulty completions awarded specialized bonus stats.

Those bonus stats were class-specific. For example:

Normal difficulty: +100 Intelligence for a mage, or +100 Strength for a warrior.

Hard difficulty: +200 extra stat points in the class-specific stat.

Very Hard difficulty: +300 extra stat points in the class-specific stat.

Ultra Hard difficulty: +500 extra stat points in the class-specific stat.

The same applied to skills. At higher difficulties, one or even two skills—sometimes even three depending on the challenge—would gain an extra level-up. This meant that a single skill could be leveled up twice, though which skill received the boost was random.

But Rhys wasn’t even looking at that part.

His focus was locked on the choices.

He already knew—this was clearly a trap. His Trial quest had been crystal clear: Cleanse the city of invaders. That meant all demons, without exception.

If he took the first option... he would fail his Rank up Trial quest instantly.

Simply put, it was a mind-game trap—one that appears in trials from Rank 3 upward, often testing wisdom as much as strength. But since Rhys had chosen Ultra Hard difficulty, he had already been given a tricky choice this early, even in a Rank 1 Trial.

Rhys’s lips curved into a thin smile.

His answer was obvious from the start.

He looked up, meeting the man’s burning gaze.

"You can keep your fruit," he said coldly. "I’m here to erase demons... not join them."

The man’s expression darkened, the faint smile twisting into something far more dangerous.

The wineglass in his hand cracked, black liquid spilling across the table as the red mist surged like a living storm.