"My senses tell me that this guy is here, but I can't pinpoint him."
The reaper player stopped at the edge of a crater, boots sinking slightly into the cracked soil. His voice was low, more to himself than to anyone else. The battlefield around him was quiet, too quiet, with only the distant hum of broken terrain settling after the chaos of earlier fights.
He turned slowly, eyes scanning the rocks, the shadows, the broken ground. Every instinct screamed that someone was nearby. Not far. Close enough to strike.
"Something is not right here," he muttered. "Either he moved away or…"
The thought never finished.
A sharp crack tore through the air.
The bullet came straight at his chest.
His body reacted before his mind could. The rapier snapped up on instinct, metal meeting metal with a violent clang that rang across the field. The force pushed him back half a step, boots scraping against stone.
"Damn it. It's an ambush."
He cursed under his breath as he twisted his body and jumped aside, eyes darting in every direction. There was no clear firing point. No obvious muzzle flash. No sound delay he could read.
Whoever was shooting knew what they were doing.
Another shot followed.
Reever fired again, not aiming to kill, just enough to keep the pressure on. He watched calmly through his optics, his camouflage keeping him hidden as the reaper scrambled for position. Ending the fight now would be easy. Too easy.
Where was the fun in that.
Rookies were fun to mess with. They panicked. They overthought. They made mistakes. It would not last long before he ranked up and started facing real monsters, the kind that did not flinch or curse when bullets flew. Until then, he might as well enjoy himself.
The rapier player blocked another round, sparks flying as metal screamed against impact. He tried to follow the bullet's path, tried to judge the angle, the speed, the direction.
Nothing made sense.
"This player is tough and skillful," he thought, breathing slowly as he steadied himself. "But he's a bit cunning, and I don't like him one bit."
His grip tightened around the rapier. His senses spread wide, awareness stretched to the limit. He knew one mistake would end this fast.
The next shot came heavier.
This time the bullet was not meant to warn.
It struck the rapier hard, far harder than before. The blade held for half a second, then shattered near the hilt. The broken piece spun through the air and clattered against the rocks far behind him.
The rapier man froze.
His weapon was gone.
He did not even look back at it.
Instead, he turned toward the direction the shot had come from, teeth clenched, heart pounding. He was about to move when another gunshot rang out, louder, sharper, closer.
A golden armored figure stood on higher ground, weapon still smoking, barrel pointed straight at him.
The golden man had fired.
"Couldn't you be a bit more etiquette?"
The rapier player's voice was strained but steady as he faced the newcomer. The golden armored man did not answer immediately. He only tilted his head slightly, as if amused, then adjusted his stance and prepared another shot.
"We are in a freakin gun fight," the golden man said casually. "This ain't a cultivation life, so suck it up and die for me."
As he spoke, multiple piggy bags around his waist opened at once. Dozens of small gadgets floated out, hovering briefly in the air before dropping.
Smoke bombs.
Too many.
More than a hundred hit the ground almost at the same time. They detonated in rapid succession, thick white clouds bursting outward and swallowing the battlefield in seconds.
Vision vanished.
The air turned heavy, burning the throat. Rough coughing echoed through the smoke as visibility dropped to nothing. Shapes disappeared. Distance became meaningless.
Smoke bombs were cruel tools. The one who deployed them could see clearly. Everyone else was blind and choking. Against low ranked players, it was often enough to end a fight instantly. Against higher ranks, it was just an annoyance.
The rapier man coughed hard, forcing air into his lungs as he backed away blindly, boots scraping against uneven ground.
"Yo brav," he shouted between coughs, voice rough. "I don't know your issues but remember we have an enemy who is ranked one. We could have ended him then we fight and decide who is the first."
His words carried through the smoke, thin and uncertain.
The golden armored man's footsteps approached calmly, unhurried, completely unaffected by the smoke.
"Those who depend on others for a win will always be a failure," the golden man replied. "I would rather die than team up with you. Plus, I am not as weak as you."
He stopped close enough for his shadow to be barely visible through the white haze.
"And I know I can end all of you in an instant if I wanted to."
The rapier man felt the barrel of a gun press lightly against his head.
"It's time for you to die," the golden man whispered.
The rapier player smiled.
"What a shame," he said softly. "I thought you would fall for my trick and team up."
The space behind the golden man warped.
In an instant, the rapier player vanished and reappeared directly behind him, one remaining blade forming in his hand as he drove it forward with everything he had.
KLING.
The sound rang loud and clear.
The blade failed to pierce.
The golden armored man did not even stagger.
"Interesting," he said, calm as ever. "You have a one time skill. If I am right, it's a back warp."
He turned smoothly, hand snapping out to grab the rapier mid thrust. His grip locked around it like a vice.
The rapier man's eyes widened.
"What the…"
He stumbled back, slowly, step by step, trying to pull away from the golden man's grasp. Panic crept in as he realized the armor had not even cracked.
"Where are you going?" the golden man asked.
He tightened his grip and crushed the rapier in his hand. Metal bent, twisted, then snapped apart, falling to the ground as worthless scrap.
"My uncommon weapon. You monster."
The rapier man shouted, hands shaking violently. Sweat soaked his body beneath the armor. His face would have been pale if not for the helmet hiding it.
The golden man surged forward.
In one burst of speed, he covered twenty meters, closing the gap instantly. The rapier man barely reacted, pushing his movement skill to the limit and retreating as fast as he could, covering distance in a blur.
The golden man scoffed.
He summoned a shotgun into his hands, its heavy frame humming with energy. He aimed calmly at the retreating figure, tracking him with ease despite the smoke thinning around them.
"I told you," he said. "Only the weak seek to team up. The strong survive."
The shotgun glowed faintly.
"This is a game of survival. It's your bad luck that you met me."
He steadied his aim.
"I'll let you taste my rare weapon. Grinder. Hope to meet you in the next match."
He pulled the trigger.
The shot vanished the moment it left the barrel.
It reappeared directly in front of the running man's head.
The impact was instant.
Blood sprayed across the ground as the body collapsed mid stride, momentum carrying it forward before it hit the dirt lifelessly.
The smoke slowly cleared.
Reever watched the entire scene from concealment, his camouflage still active, unmoving.
"Scary," he muttered quietly.
The battlefield fell silent once more.