Chapter 101: A Fact The transition from the nightmarish realm of Hell’s Mountain to an open expanse field left Doom Serenity in stunned silence.
Amidst their incredulous disbelief, Tristan remained knelt on the ground, his expression a mixture of shock and defiance.
The turn of events was unfathomable. Their coveted position, their two-hundredth place, had been stripped away in the blink of an eye.
Tristan’s disbelief manifested as a fierce denial, his voice a furious crescendo that echoed across the field. "This is cheating! The rules clearly state a maximum of ten players per team. We fought against dozens and dozens of them!"
Artemis’s gaze remained unyielding, his response devoid of emotion.
<Doom Serenity comprised ten players, while Snow Angels fielded fewer. There has been no violation of the rules>
Tristan’s frustration persisted, his protest a desperate plea against the outcome. "But—"
Artemis’s voice cut through Tristan’s words, an authoritative edge to his tone.
<The System’s decisions are final. Golems are an inherent part of Lord Schrodinger’s abilities. If you find fault with the outcome, you have the option to submit a report to the higher authorities>
Artemis’s final words carried an undercurrent of bureaucracy’s limitations.
<However, understand that the higher authorities are inundated with numerous reports daily. Your query may require up to seven business days for resolution>
Tristan’s teeth ground together in a tumult of frustration. To lodge a complaint felt like admitting defeat, and he could almost envision the judgmental whispers it would generate.
The prospect of appearing a sore loser held no appeal; it was a bitter pill he refused to swallow.
<Consider issuing another challenge to Snow Angels>
The system proposed with a monotonous tone.
<This time, ensure a meticulous understanding of the rules and be relentlessly prepared>
Artemis continued, its words pressing on Tristan’s realization of his previous oversight.
Embarrassment tinged Tristan’s features, the blush of it spreading like wildfire. Snow Angels had outwitted him, revealing a complacency that was entirely his own fault.
Amidst the turmoil, Tiffany’s distress escalated to a fever pitch, a cacophony of disbelief and fury. The air crackled with her claims of injustice and cheating. Her fellow guild members struggled to contain her outburst.
The impending wedding loomed over Tristan and Tiffany, casting a dark shadow on their reputation as a once-esteemed guild and players.
The fall from their top two hundred spots marked a public tumble from grace, threatening to turn them into a subject of mockery from being defeated by a low level guild without backing.
Their shares would surely plummet and investors would start to question his membership in the guild. Not to mention that he wouldn’t hear nonstop about this from his father.
The weight of responsibility crushed down on Tristan’s shoulders, its burden amplifying his frustration to an overwhelming degree.
Tristan’s eyes rested on Xiaxia and her companions, their jubilant faces a stark contrast to their own. A self-inflicted wound gnawed at his pride, leaving him with lips bitten raw and anger uncontainable.
Within that seething anger, he grasped his halberd. His focus zeroed in on a singular goal –– Lord Schrodinger’s exposed throat.
At that juncture, Tristan’s fury and desperation had merged into an overwhelming urge for vindication.
The mere presence of Lord Schrodinger tightened his throat and poisoned his mind. "If not for that fucking cat." Tristan’s thoughts were punctuated by a surge of frustration.
Driven by an eruption of raw emotion, Tristan raised his halberd, directing its sharp tip with seething anger towards Lord Schrodinger.
. In that incensed moment, his sole focus was to obliterate the source of his humiliation. The weight of his weapon was almost a reflection of the intensity of his emotions.
With a primal roar building within him, Tristan unleashed his attack, the halberd a manifestation of his desire for revenge. He longed to pierce through Lord Schrodinger, to extinguish his presence, to quench his thirst for vengeance.
Mid-attack, Lord Schrodinger met his glare with an impassive stare, a detached look in his eyes that sent a surge of boiling anger through Tristan’s veins. It was as if his assault was nothing more than an insignificant annoyance, a pesky mosquito buzzing in his ear.
The sight of Lord Schrodinger’s disinterested expression was like gasoline to a blazing fire. The flames of Tristan’s fury roared higher. He was determined to wipe that uncaring expression off Lord Schrodinger’s face, even if it cost him everything.
"Bastard, I’ll kill you!" Tristan’s voice thundered, a vehement declaration that echoed through the air, a proclamation of his intent to avenge his pride.
But reality intervened once again, swift and merciless.
Before Tristan could close the distance, a colossal force struck him with a thunderous impact. His vision exploded in blinding pain as a giant hammer slammed into his face, obliterating his assault in a brutal instant.
The sheer force of the blow sent Tristan hurtling through the air, his body a mere puppet in the grip of overwhelming power.
With a bone-rattling crash, Tristan collided with the unforgiving ground, his body skidding across the earth in an ignominious sprawl. The world around him spun, a chaotic whirl of pain and confusion.
A glaring number flashed across Tristan’s screen, yet amidst the storm of his anger and desire for revenge, he couldn’t decipher its significance. His senses were consumed by the overwhelming surge of resentment, blinding him to the reality of what was happening.
In his reckless pursuit for vengeance, he remained oblivious to the truth that his very being was fragmenting into particles.
Unbeknownst to Tristan, this time, his death carried a heavy toll –– an EXP penalty that loomed like an impending doom.
A colossal deduction in experience points that threatened to regress his level to a mere fraction of its former self.
Had it been a straightforward player-versus-player confrontation, he would have escaped unscathed.
But in the context of the present battle, the system recognized his defeat against the formidable Hilda as a boss fight. The punishment was the grievous EXP penalty, a consequence of his unchecked anger and failed revenge.
Tristan, however, remained in the dark about the intricate mechanics of the system. The events that had transpired would linger as an enigmatic puzzle, a mystery whose answer eluded him.
As Tristan’s form began to disperse, Xin approached with measured steps. Standing over the dissipating fragments of Tristan’s avatar, Xin’s gaze bore down on him, his voice a low and slow.
"Perhaps wisdom will finally find you." Xin’s eyes locked onto Tristan’s fading presence, his constricting eyes stared down at him.
"Your recourse is clear –– a public apology to Xiaxia delivered on your knees. Refusal will not be tolerated. This is not a threat; it is an undeniable reality that you would be wise not to disregard."
With his warning hanging in the air like an unspoken promise, Xin’s presence lingered for a moment longer before he turned and walked away.
The remnants of Tristan’s essence scattered in his wake, shouting and cursing until the end.