CHAPTER 119: CHAPTER 117: "MY DEAR WEREWOLVES

[HP-50! (Dizziness!)]

The Cloning that was under the "Ming’an" state had pitifully low Mentality Points, inflicting only a minor fixed damage.

But at the same time, the dizziness effect took hold.

[HP-920! (Combat Power Suppression! Physical resistance!)]

[HP-50! (True Damage!)]

Blood-red damage numbers sprang from his own body, and Mizushima Kawa Sora’s eyes flashed with confusion as he almost toppled to the ground.

Even when blades were drawn upon her, the emergence of a passive Defensive Barrier around her did little to ease her mind.

At the moment the opponent’s blade scraped past, aiming for her neck... She genuinely felt an intuition of death closing in.

...The opponent’s eyes still carried a smile.

But his life-taking actions were merciless.

She glanced nervously at her nearly depleted health bar, feeling for the first time the true extent of the opponent’s combat power.

Her teammates promptly came to help, but the damage they dealt didn’t elicit any reaction from Su Ming’an. He struck and retreated in one go, neither his physical defense nor his health appeared to be low.

Mizushima Kawa Sora was focusing on her opponent.

In the world forums, there was actually a lot of analysis about the Number One Player.

He possessed both a main body and a Cloning, one focusing on Strength, Fitness, and Agility in all three dimensions, and the other extremely centered on Mentality Points. Though it seemed like he had clear weaknesses, once he got going, the damage he inflicted would be devastating.

The previous night, the Werewolves arrived so suddenly that there was no chance for Spatial Displacement.

But this night... They seemed to be rather too relaxed.

She suppressed the rising dizziness and sensation of fainting surging from her chest, using Black Blade to prop against the ground, almost passing out then and there.

"—Shall we consider cooperation?"

Su Ming’an stood on a beam, looking down at them, "If we can’t reach an agreement, I might not mind being a... knife-wielding Prophecy who can contend with Werewolves."

"Idiot." A Werewolf remarked disdainfully.

Su Ming’an’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Then, the Werewolf holding something in hand, surrounded by Black Mist, made it unclear, but the moment it appeared, the whole house lit up. A formation bristling with blood-red Pattern Marks suddenly rose.

"Su Ming’an, you don’t think we haven’t researched methods to counter you, do you?" The person revealed a pale green Pattern Mark on his body, staunchly blocking in front of him, completely stopping any spatial disturbances: "Your abilities are too one-dimensional. As long as we can defend against it, defeating you will be easy... You... don’t actually believe you’ve been winning by strength alone, do you?"

"Your hostility towards me is really strong, and your words reek of an extremely stupid and arrogant blindness." Su Ming’an said, "I guess... with that way of talking, you must be Mizushima Haru? Unfortunately, you don’t even have the capital to keep winning until now. Compared to your sister, Ms. Mizushima, known as the future of humanity, it is you who should feel inferior."

"Hmph, the main body does look more pleasant... Your Cloning in this state is truly annoying." The person sneered coldly, movements becoming more intense, and in the next instant, the blood-red Pattern Marks enveloped him!

Su Ming’an, holding his sword, dodged the Pattern Marks and leaped down.

But the Pattern Marks stuck to him like a shadow, clinging to him in an instant.

Unexpectedly, upon contact, they didn’t explode against each other but diverged abruptly as if mutually yielding, slicing past each other like two slippery fish.

The next moment, the blade swung, cutting down several Werewolf Players on the spot, and the blood-red Pattern Marks finally landed on him.

"Slash—" A faint sound resonated, and right after, Su Ming’an fell to the ground.

A blood-colored Pattern Mark stuck to his body, extinguishing the spatial white light around him in a flash.

Both sides lay on the ground.

"Ugh..." Mizushima Kawa Sora supported her head, gritting her teeth, her body so weak she could hardly stand.

It felt like a giant spoon was vigorously stirring in her mind, causing her vision to sway and a strong sense of nausea, almost making her want to retch right there.

She struggled to calm the churning in her chest and quickly checked her health bar—only fifty points remaining.

Suddenly, a wave of hindsight crawled up her spine like ants.

If her Equipment hadn’t been geared towards increasing Physical Strength and her physical defense high enough, she would have likely died under the opponent’s sword.

The sword... when it cut towards her, it flashed with a snowy light. The main source of her nausea was that white light, not the blade itself.

...She saw the numbers springing from her body, [True Damage], and realized it had such an effect.

The public opinion Edward and others had deliberately created seemed to not have swallowed up the opponent... Instead, it was they who, because of their own fabricated underestimations, had underestimated him.

...How could they think the Number One Player had no real combat abilities?

Perhaps it was because in the previous instances, the Number One Player had demonstrated abilities that were not combat-related, leading them to believe he was just a player good at talking.

She turned her head with difficulty, looking at her teammates. The green Pattern Marks stably guarded in front of them, warding off waves of aftershocks.

"Be careful, be careful of his main body..." Mizushima Kawa Sora cautioned through her teeth, remembering that such an unstable threat still existed.

"No worries." The teammate surrounded by the green Pattern Mark spoke, seemingly in good condition. While speaking, he slowly rose from the ground: "This red Pattern Mark has been designed specifically for his skill."

He stood up slowly, staggered half a step, then steadied himself, looking at Su Ming’an on the ground:

"The forum users say the main body and Cloning share their five senses. So, whatever happens here, the main body will get the update immediately."

"Exactly, and then?" Su Ming’an, who was bound and unable to move, still looked up at the person shrouded in black mist, as if he was oblivious to any danger.

"So..." The person slowed down their speech, whispering as if muttering, "...you’re in pain here, and your true body must be in great pain too, right?"

Mizushima Kawa Sora had a bad feeling.

"Wait, isn’t this too..." she couldn’t help but speak out.

...too excessive.

She wanted to stop her teammate.

Be it normal competition or a battle of wits and tactics, with so many viewers watching, if her teammates resorted to this sort of interrogation by torture, she feared that the "Number One Player fans," who were madly obsessed, might blast their heads off in the forums.

...Also, it’s disgraceful.

Such targeted actions were disgraceful in the first place.

"Mizushima, you don’t need to worry." In Mizushima Kawa Sora’s clear vision, the person showed a very eerie smile, "This is just a feast... that belongs solely to me. He thinks he’s so righteous and shines in the eyes of everyone, doesn’t he?"

As the person spoke, the flash of a knife in their hand became more sinister and intense, "...Then, I’ll just showcase his most failed and despicable side in front of everyone."

Mizushima Kawa Sora watched her teammate step by step toward Su Ming’an, who was lying on the ground, and her brows furrowed slightly.

She opened her mouth to dissuade him, but remembering Su Ming’an’s wild behavior on the stage after the end of the Second World, she hesitated and turned her head away.

"...Wait a second."

But to her surprise, apart from her, another teammate also spoke up to stop him: "Wait a second, this isn’t appropriate."

"...What’s inappropriate?" The teammate with the knife turned around, obvious impatience in their tone.

"It’s inappropriate." The teammate repeated, shaking their head, "...It’s inappropriate no matter what."

"Are you joking with me?" The teammate with the knife sneered, "You were almost dead a moment ago, self-righteously saying you’d fight for the faction, and now you tell me this? And you, Mizushima, didn’t you see this guy as the only enemy? I still remember the declaration of war you posted on the forums... even though you deleted it, I remember he clearly declared war on you. What, can’t bear it now? Have you taken a fancy to this guy like Lv Shu, that bootlicker? Have you forgotten his attitude towards the Light Pursuers?"

"...It’s not appropriate." Mizushima Kawa Sora glanced at the barrage in her live stream.

They were all posting naively, "Stop when you should," "Don’t bully Ming’an bro!" "Why are you targeting him so much?" "So it turns out Mizushima is that kind of person..." "Villains! All villains!" "Just stab and be done with it, don’t treat the Number One Player like that!"

She had anticipated this.

In fact, apart from them, who were already squarely in Edward’s camp, the vast majority of lower and middle-level players were absolute supporters of the Number One Player.

Number One Player had come a long way and gained so much. The title of "Number One Player" was also officially recognized by the organizers, never leaving for a moment. Newcomers fighting could only compete for second place... and they hadn’t even won that yet.

They were targeting him because hostility had been established with no way back.

But in reality, this person’s appeal was terrifying; the popularity of his live stream showed it. Just a wave from him, and who knows how many viewers would become forum trolls, voluntarily becoming Light Pursuers to tear apart anyone who targeted him on the world forums.

Hadn’t you seen the group on the world forum who claimed to be "Lighthouse supporters," had trampled over every hot post—leaving their mark everywhere?

The other party was a natural world center with a large group of supporters. Even if they exhausted all their energy manipulating public opinion, it was only slightly effective. If they really opposed him... Today’s situation proved that even the viewers in her live stream wanted to rush forward and save him, unhesitatingly standing by his side.

...This is the Number One Player.

...That’s why Edward and the others wanted so badly to take his crown, to replace him, to become him.

...After all, who wouldn’t want to become the core that the whole world admires?

"Alright, stop the torture; the public opinion pressure is too great," Mizushima Kawa Sora said. "Just kill him, and if his true body doesn’t show up, we’ll find a chance to kill it tomorrow."

"Hmph..." The teammate with the knife snorted with dissatisfaction, but still put away the knife.

Mizushima Kawa Sora finally recovered from the dizziness of space, holding the Black Blade unsteadily as she walked over, lifting the knife up.

"Goodbye, self-proclaimed ’Prophet,’" she said, as the Blade flashed sharply.

"...Then, goodbye, Ms. Werewolf?" She saw the helpless opponent actually smiling at her.

Mizushima Kawa Sora faintly sensed something amiss. If this was all the opponent had, it was a little too easy...

She noticed something flashing in her line of sight, and when she looked down, she saw a silvery object in his grasp.

[Scanning in progress...]

[Scan complete, target name: Mechanical Explosive, originated from the Second World’s Daylight Floating City, threat level extremely high...]

Mizushima Kawa Sora’s pupils shrank sharply.

In the instant the Black Blade fell and blood burst forth, she saw the man lying on the ground, his face breaking into a madman’s smile.

"—Along with the most important Prophet, die, my dear werewolves."

His smile was brilliant, yet profoundly deep, like the last glimmering light of a setting sun.

The silvery wire was pulled in a flash.

The temperature soared abruptly, extremely fast, giving no time for reaction.

"Run..." Her heart surged with urgency, her feet starting to pivot, but even the words didn’t have time to leave her mouth—

"Boom—!"

A blinding white light engulfed everything.

The violent explosion echoed through the boundless quiet night; the bright light covered the cramped room, illuminating it as if in daylight, as if falling into a swamp of black and white.