Staring back at Rain and cackling madly, Kod the explosives expert was flying at them. On his back, he seemed to carry a strange device like a wooden backpack. In each of his hands—which only had a total of four fingers left, the rest long gone to past explosive experiments—he held two vials filled with a pinkish liquid. However, the liquid wasn’t the important part; fire was escaping from the open top of the vials.

  These were explosives.

  Before Bonin had time to react, Kod was flying past them, and as he did, the two explosive vials left his hands and sailed directly toward the devil’s front. Bonin’s eyes widened in surprise and terror, but he didn’t have time to do anything.

  With a loud sound, the two vials exploded right in front of Bonin, the shockwave throwing him backwards and eliciting a scream of pain by his lips. The awful smell of burnt skin filled the air as the Boner Devil fell toward the ground, Rain still clinging to his back.

  However, Bonin wasn’t unconscious yet. Even as he screamed in pain, his insectoid wings buzzed once again, desperately trying to regain his balance and halt his fall. Yet, Rain wouldn’t let him.

  In the moment before the explosion, when the devil froze for a fraction of a second, Rain’s dagger had appeared in his hand. Now, as the devil fell, it was easier to hang on than when he was thrashing about. Even as Bonin tried to regain his balance, Rain’s dagger flashed, tearing into the skin membrane of Bonin’s wings like they were light curtains.

  The devil screamed harder as all hopes of stopping himself were lost. He dived head-first toward the ground. Rain was still on his back, hoping for the body to cushion his fall.

  Bonin madly flapped his wings, trying to turn himself around and land on Rain instead. In the two seconds before they landed, they were both trying to control their balance and momentum, and it was a direct clash between their Dexterities.

  Rain won.

  With a sickening crunch, Bonin landed face-first into the ground, breaking himself in the process. Rain landed a bit more softly, the devil’s body cushioning his fall, but he was in quite the ugly situation himself.

  Yet, there was no time to relax and lose consciousness. He was still in the middle of a battlefield, and he had to somehow survive his flashy entrance.

  Rain raised his head and took in the scene around him. Immediately, a wave of heat scorched his face, and his eyes widened as he gazed at the flaming mayhem ahead. A heaven-shaking roar rocking his ears.

  What in the ever-blazing fuck!?

  Just by looking at this boss battle, he knew that he could do jack shit about it. Phac would have to handle himself.

  Besides, I’m spent. I can’t fight any more. What I can do, however…

  Ignoring the dwindling souls and devils around him, Rain searched the battlefield for a single body. Kod…

  The kobold explosives expert had launched himself from the airship to save Rain. He wasn’t a monster like Phac either; there was no guarantee he could survive this fall.

  Finally, Rain located a small, still body just outside the battle. The melee had by now devolved into only a couple of tightly packed fights, so he quickly made his way there.

  Kod’s body lay in the middle of wooden debris, possibly what remained of the device he’d had strapped at his back.

  Rain’s heart tightened. This kobold gave his life for me…and I could not save him.

  However, before he could grieve, Kod’s eyes fluttered open and a groan escaped his lips.

  "Kod!" Rain shouted with joy.

  "Ke… Ke…" The kobold tried to laugh, but only managed to let out a sharp wheeze. "Big… Boom..."

  "Oh, thank God you’re okay." Rain smiled. They had a healer. If Kod was still conscious, he would probably survive this. Whether he would walk again was a different story, but at least he was alive. After falling from that height, this was more than enough.

  "Don’t…worry…" The kobold let out a few more words with the faintest of smiles as he saw through Rain’s thoughts. "Landing…device…"

  Rain furrowed his brows in question before taking another look at the wooden remains that surrounded Kod. Then, ignoring the raging battle behind him, he released a peal of long, hearty laughter.

  "Landing device… You really are something else, kobolds!"

  TWENTY-TWO

  THE BATTLE OF HOPE’S END

  Phac eyed the hulking monster in front of him, Pincer at the ready. Vrohathor didn’t even take a battle stance; he simply grinned.

  Phac’s ambush, with half his Stamina invested in the attack, had managed to cripple one of the devil’s wings and open a long gash on his side. Unfortunately, that was far from enough to bring him down.

  Now, green tongues of flame danced around the devil’s body, focusing on his claws and horns, while the air around him shimmered from the heat. Phac was at least ten meters away and still felt as if he was facing a blazing bonfire.

  "You’re pretty hot," he said, breaking the stalemate. "Can I take you for a ride, sweetheart?"

  "A steady heart is far from enough, mortal," the devil replied in his deep, clear voice. He smiled, but anger was still clearly visible. "Some gaps simply cannot be bridged."

  "Come on, give me a shot. Drinks are on me."

  Vrohathor’s smile cracked. "You will make a fine devil," he said, then attacked.

  Taking a single step forward, the devil brandished his trident and waved it in strange patterns, the green flame tips tracing lines behind them as if he was drawing in the air. Then, the drawing was complete.

  A pentagram of green fire rotated slowly in mid-air. Phac’s brows lowered.

  What the hell is that…

  The pentagram began to float away, rising higher and higher, forcing Phac to split his focus between it and the devil. Then, a green light lit up its center, and the pentagram spewed out flames.

  A column of green fire landed on Phac’s location as he Crab-Stepped away. It didn’t stop there; the continuous stream of fire followed him even as he ran away.

  The pentagram’s rotation was fast, but Phac was faster. A Goatee Devil—Hero—was now furiously break-dancing at the edge of the melee, filling him with energy, and the previous fiddle music had at some point changed into an epic battle ode that reached his ears through the clamor of battle, from where Feraya was somehow making her fiddle sound like an entire fucking orchestra. Both buffs were active, and Phac was fast. He grinned.

  Fried crab isn’t on the menu tonight. Let’s rock!

  As Phac Crab-Stepped along the perimeter of the large empty space he and Vrohathor had been given by the surrounding melee, the flame stream only lasted for a couple of seconds before the pentagram ran out of steam. He took a few shallow breaths, shaking off the tiredness. Sprinting for two seconds wasn’t tiring to Phac, not anymore, but he still lacked the Stamina he’d invested in his first attack.

  Yet, something was wrong.

  Even as Phac ran around like a headless chicken, the Winged Devil only looked on with arms crossed. The angry look on his face had been replaced with one of scorn and superiority, deriving pleasure from watching Phac struggle to avoid his attack.

  Phac thought back to the description Dunce had given of this devil, frowning. Arrogance… It will be your undoing, idiot.

  "What’s wrong, mortal?" asked Vrohathor, raising a cocky brow. "Surely, you aren’t that weak, are you?"

  "Not even close," replied Phac, glancing at the pentagram. It hovered five meters above the ground, inert, as the green glow had faded from its center. However, it still rotated slowly, showing no signs of dissolving.

  Does it need time to recharge? Or is he just toying with me? he thought but had no answer. And no time. He still had no idea what was happening to Rain, but holding off that Boner Devil couldn’t be easy. Phac had to finish this quickly and rush to assist.

  With his options limited and the clock ticking, Phac simply charged.

  Before he could even get close, Vrohathor waved his trident in a wide arc, and a circle of green flames burst out of the ground, rising almost two meters high, with Vrohathor at the center and a radius of a few meters.

  Phac had stopped his advance only a couple of steps from the flames, but the heat was scalding, as if he was standing right next to a wildfire. He was forced to step back.

  "Take your time, mortal." Vrohathor laughed, his cocky smile visible from within the flames. "For every second you waste, your friends come closer to dying."

  By now, Phac was almost sure that the devil was toying with him. If Winged Devils were ruled by arrogance, then this was definitely a prime fucking example.

  He also had a sneaking suspicion that this battle would prove tougher than expected. The devil might have been holding back, but there was nothing Phac could do about it. Gritting his teeth as he stared daggers at the grinning devil, despair and fury mounting, he realized that Vrohathor could toy with him. He had the power to be arrogant.

  At his core, Phac was a Crab Fighter. He didn’t have any fancy skills, no magic to speak of; he could run up to enemies and bash their heads in, and that was pretty much all.

  However, he could not approach these flames. Even from a few steps away, the sheer heat was staggering. The devil could just relax inside the circle for as long as he liked. Phac could only wait, hoping that the magical flames would eventually run out.

  Or.

  Or he could just rush inside and hope to survive the burn. It was a risk.

  Regardless of his intentions, Vrohathor had chosen to keep his distance from Phac. He was a wizard, apparently, and wizards did not fare well in close quarters. Additionally, he was a winged creature, though his one wing was currently crippled. It made sense that he would specialize in fighting from a distance.

  Perhaps that was why the devil specifically prevented Phac from getting closer; not just to torture him. Perhaps, if Phac could close the distance, he could win this—or die a gruesome death. He had to make a choice, and the clock was ticking.

  A familiar sound entered his ears, like burning paper, and he immediately dashed away, a torrent of flames landing at his previous location from above. He continued to run away as the pentagram’s green fire chased him until it ran out of steam again, and then he turned toward Vrohathor and continued running.

  A perplexed look crossed the devil’s face before turning into exhilaration.

  "You cannot!" he roared, grinning widely.

  "I can and I fucking will!" Phac roared back, withstanding the heat as he closed his eyes and dived into the flames. "BOR’GAH!"

  It hurt so much more than he imagined. Even with his great Constitution and the defensive skill that augmented his skin’s durability, Crab Shell, the exposed parts of his skin charred, slowly flaked away, and turned black. He screamed.

  And he kept going. The circle of flames was incredibly hot, but it was also only a step thin. Even suffering extreme burns, he burst through.

  Struggling to focus, Phac removed the hand covering his face and opened his eyes. Inside the circle of flames, the world was tinged green. Shadows danced from every direction and the swift exchanges of light and darkness were enough to make him dizzy. The heat was still staggering, but it was bearable. He hurt all over, but he could last long enough.

  HP: 69/138

  STA: 15/34

  Good. I can still fight.

  The only issue was that Vrohathor seemed to be missing.

  Phac’s eyes went wide as a voice came from above, and turning to look, he saw the Winged Devil hovering four, five meters off the ground, right above the center of the circle. His one wing still hung limply from his side, and the other rested quietly on his back. The devil was flying, but he wasn’t using either of his wings. Phac’s eyes bulged out.

  "Foolish mortal." Vrohathor laughed, and he seemed almost drunk from the ecstasy of making Phac dance in the palm of his hands. "A Greater Devil, like a mortal Grandmaster, doesn’t need wings to fly!"

  Despair crept into Phac’s psyche. He had dived through flames, withstood extreme pain and heavy injuries to reach the devil. Now, he realized that he could not reach him at all. It was helpless. The heat around him showed no signs of lessening, and, even if he ran through the fire again, the injuries would simply leave him too weak to fight. This was a dead end, and there didn’t seem to be any way out.

  Every path led to death. This fight was hopeless to begin with. Classed could not fight Grandmasters.

  And yet, Phac wasn’t one to just accept death.

  Through the pain and despair, he grinned. His hands clenched Pincer as he crouched and prepared to jump. It was doubtful whether he could reach that high, and it was very possible that the devil would be able to dodge, but there was nothing else to be done.

  "BOR’GAH!" he forced himself to shout, using the familiar war cry as an anchor to keep his mind from falling apart, something to focus on. If he wanted to survive, he needed to remain sharp, even though his mind was already consumed by fire and death.

  At the last moment before he desperately leaped, an earth-shaking roar echoed across the sky, and fire and death themselves crashed into the devil in the form of a big, bad, red dragon.

  "DIE!" roared Vainmarius, slamming into Vrohathor from above and throwing him to the ground with enough force to create a small crater. The young red dragon floated above the fallen devil, flapping his majestic wings as he stared the enemy down.

  "I owe this human a favor, devil. You do not get to touch him."

  In Phac’s arid, despair-devoured mind, a seed of hope burst forth. "Vainmarius!" he shouted in mad joy.

  In his crater, Vrohathor roared like an animal, pushing rocks and sand away as he bolted upright. He was bloodied all over, and one of his arms lay broken at the side, but his other hand still tightly gripped his trident, and veins of fury bulged in his eyes as green embers swiftly spun around his body. The arrogant devil had just been humiliated in his moment of glory, and the flames of his heart burned hotter than ever. The circle of flames had disappeared when he was struck, but it didn’t matter. Playtime was over.

  With a guttural roar, green flames jumped out of Vrohathor’s trident, forming the outline of a much larger trident around it. At the same time, balls of condensed fire formed at the tips of his horns and, one-by-one, started flying toward Phac at great speed. After each ball was launched, another was created, unendingly.

  The Crab Fighter clenched Pincer’s handle, swinging the greatsword as swiftly as he could to block the onslaught of flames, his training now bearing fruit. Meanwhile, Vainmarius roared and moved to assist, but it was right then that the floating pentagram shone again, unleashing a torrent of green flames directly at the dragon.

  He would not retreat. Stopping his descent, Vainmarius opened his mouth and unleashed his own river of fire against the pentagram’s, the green and crimson flames colliding in mid-air, spreading across the sky, and illuminating the entire battlefield in alternating shades of the two colors.

  Below the sea of fire, Vrohathor charged at Phac. His now three-meter-long flaming trident became almost corporeal as it clashed against Pincer. Balls of flame were still continuously shooting at Phac from the devil’s horns, but Phac wasn’t a sitting duck either.

  The orcs had taught him how to fight. Oreg’s father had. Even while defending against Vrohathor’s surprisingly unskilled attacks, Phac continuously Crab-Stepped in a circle around the devil, dodging or blocking the flaming balls that were hot enough to melt his skin on impact. His initial assumption was right. This devil wasn’t built for fighting in close quarters.

  "Mortal!" Vrohathor cried out, spitting the word as he continued to swing his trident in manic fury. "You cannot defeat me!"

  Up above, the pentagram’s fire ran out of steam at the same time as Vainmarius. However, the dragon had more weapons than just fire. With a majestic roar, he folded his wings and flew at the devil like a hawk. Seeing this, Vrohathor slammed the butt of his flaming trident on the ground, and the sandy rock cracked all around them, including a fissure right below Phac’s legs.

  He barely had time to dodge. At the very next moment, green flames shot out of the cracks in the ground as if the entire hill was filled with fire that had just found an outlet.

  The Goatee Devils and disguised souls that were closest to them were swiftly burned to cinders, and Phac only managed to save himself by finding an empty spot in the maze of fire. Even if he wasn’t touching it, the extremely hot fire was still too close, and the heat of the air itself was enough to singe all of his facial hair and cause slight burns across his skin.

  The pain was tormenting, and Phac screamed as he was roasted alive for what seemed like hours but was, in fact, less than three seconds. Then, the flames receded, slowly dying down until they completely disappeared, and the cracks along with them.

  Even opening his eyes hurt as his eyelids were burnt, but Phac forced them open, because the battle was still not over. His vision was blurry, but he could see, up in the air above, Vrohathor clashing against Vainmarius.

  The devil’s entire body was now shrouded in green fire just like his trident, forming a hazy outline of flames twice the size of the devil himself. Balls of condensed flames still flew out of his horns, aiming for the dragon who elegantly twisted out of their way, dodging most and withstanding the few that hit him. The flames were hot, but the fire dragon’s scales could handle them.

  Vainmarius roared in primal fury as he dived at the devil from above, and Vrohathor aimed his trident at him, the flames that made up its outline seeming to almost solidify. As the dragon approached, the devil stood his ground. He bet that the dragon would die before he did. By the side, the flowing pentagram was once again lighting up, aimed at Phac, and it would fire soon. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been forgotten.

  Phac didn’t have time for dodging. The decisive clash between dragon and devil was about to take place above him. The two were high up, more than fifteen meters into the air. He assumed he couldn’t help, but he’d just realized the folly of his previous way of thinking.