Valeria turned to him, grey eyes blazing. "No," she said. "To watch him."
The Central Clearing had mutated from manageable chaos into organized panic. Hundreds converged on the location after that server-wide announcement blared across every channel. Nervous energy saturated the air—excited shouts from aspiring heroes colliding with grim tactical murmurs from seasoned players.
"Four tank parties minimum on the frontline!" A self-appointed raid leader gestured wildly, sword flashing. "Mages, archers—back positions, focus fire on its head! Healers, brace for massive area damage!"
Small parties scrambled to merge into larger alliances, a frantic grab for power and positioning. They all operated by familiar rules: raid bosses required raids.
Valeria's party arrived. Their grim focus separated them from the surrounding frenzy. No alliance-building for them. She led her group to a wooded rise overlooking the clearing—perfect vantage point. They weren't here to participate.
"There must be two hundred people here," Lia whispered, eyes wide at the sea of players. "Maybe... with these numbers, we actually stand a chance."
Valeria didn't answer. She scanned faces, searching. He wasn't there. Some irrational part of her wondered if she'd been wrong—maybe he'd completed his objective and logged out. But she knew better. Anomalies like Alvian didn't just vanish.
A figure emerged from the Crystalvein Mines direction. He walked with unhurried ease, stark against the clearing's frenetic energy. Mismatched starter clothes, dark leather armor, face like a mask of cold indifference. Alvian.
Murmurs rippled through nearby players. They recognized that name from the leaderboard's peak—the mythical figure whose score defied explanation. Pointing, whispering, gazes mixing awe with suspicion and envy. He ignored them all, eyes fixed on the clearing's center as if merely observing. Professor Solaka had given him a small rune-etched charm for the fang—minor but useful, increasing passive mana regeneration. Now the exam's final act was beginning.
The ground trembled. A deep groaning sound echoed, like the world cracking open. A massive shape rose from the clearing's center, dirt and rock cascading from its colossal form.
The Primal Behemoth.
A living mountain of stone, moss, ancient gnarled wood. Fifty feet tall, body vaguely humanoid but misshapen, no discernible head—just a single glowing crimson eye in its massive torso. Arms like ancient redwood trunks. Every step shook the ground violently.
[Primal Behemoth - LVL 20 (Raid Boss)]
"ATTACK!" the raid leader roared.
The clearing erupted. Battle cries, exploding spells, a cacophony of violence. That first volley was spectacular—dozens of fireballs, ice lances, glowing arrows streaking across the field, slamming into rocky hide. The result? Pathetic.
Damage numbers floated up:
[-1]
[-1]
[IMMUNE],
[-2]
Not even scratched.
The Behemoth responded. One massive tree-trunk arm swept across the frontline. Not a skill. Just a simple, contemptuous swipe. Dozens of tanks sent flying like ragdolls, health bars vanishing instantly. Terrified screams ripped through the crowd.
Organized chaos devolved into pure panic.
From her vantage point, Valeria watched with grim detachment. Exactly as expected. This wasn't a monster defeated by numbers. A gear check, a power check—every person in this clearing had failed it.
Then she saw him move.
While others scattered in terror or attempted futile retreat, Alvian took one deliberate step forward. He lifted his hand. For a fleeting moment, Valeria thought he was preparing some grand unknown spell. But he was checking the time. His skill was off cooldown.
"[Shadow Weave +2]," he whispered.
To hundreds of panicked players, he simply vanished. One moment standing there, calm amidst the storm. Next moment—gone, erased.
But Valeria saw it. Her eyes wide, senses honed by a lifetime of combat—she caught that fraction of a second where his form shimmered, dissolving into semi-transparent ripple before fading completely. Still there. Invisible.
The Behemoth lumbered forward after crushing the frontline, crimson eye scanning for its next target. It stopped. A low, confused rumble, then swiped at empty air to its left.
Damage numbers began appearing.
[-1,350! Critical Hit!]
Brilliant bloody red, hanging in the air beside the Behemoth's leg. So absurd, so utterly out of place compared to everyone else's single digits, it seemed like a system glitch. The crowd fell silent, fear momentarily forgotten, replaced by stunned incomprehension.
The Behemoth roared in fury, massive foot stamping, shockwave rippling through ground. Numbers kept coming.
[-210]
[-225]
[-1,380! Critical Hit!]
Appearing all over the monster's body, tracing an unseen attacker's path. A phantom dismantling the raid boss piece by piece. Valeria watched, breath caught. She could see the pattern. Small numbers struck rocky hide, but massive criticals... they appeared only at specific points. Back of its knee, a softer moss patch on its back, the base of its arm where wood met stone. He wasn't just attacking—he was striking hidden weak points no one else could see.
The Primal Behemoth was a fortress. Alvian was a one-man siege engine, bypassing walls entirely, attacking the foundation. The monster's health bar—once seemingly infinite solid red—now visibly, terrifyingly shrinking.
The fight lasted exactly one minute and fifty-four seconds.
The Behemoth, body riddled with thousands of unseen cuts, health bar in single digits, let out one final agonized roar. In a last desperate act, its crimson eye began glowing with terrifying energy, charging a beam that would wipe the entire clearing from the map.
Just as the beam prepared to fire, Alvian's final strike landed. He became visible for a fraction of a second—a flicker of reality as his skill's duration ended with his attack. Airborne, having launched himself off the creature's back, driving that razor-sharp Alpha fang down into the glowing red eye.
The energy imploded. The Behemoth shuddered, crimson eye flickering and dying like a snuffed candle. The living mountain froze, then slowly, majestically, crumbled—collapsing into a colossal pile of rubble and inert magical wood.
Dead silence.
Only the wind whispered across the entire clearing. Hundreds of players—the best and brightest of their generation—stood frozen, faces collective masks of shock and disbelief.
Alvian landed silently on the rubble pile, Alpha fang still clutched in hand. Blue loot glow erupted from the center, richer and more brilliant than any they'd seen.
He walked over calmly, reached in, pulled out his rewards. A massive purple-glowing battle axe, a shimmering golden chestplate. Epic and Legendary drops.
No celebration. No gloating. He didn't even look at the crowd. Simply turned and began walking away, silhouette framed by setting sun. Past rows of dumbfounded players—a king walking through a field of stunned peasants. His path took him right past the rise where Valeria stood. For a moment, their eyes met.
His remained as cold and empty as when she first met him. A slight, almost imperceptible nod...not respect, just simple acknowledgment, like one might nod at familiar furniture. Then he was past her, long shadow stretching behind as he walked towards the Battle Grid exit.
The exam was over.