* * *

Ryu Gang-cheol and Bellows had both changed greatly after using 『Constellation Descent』. But their changes were nothing compared to Eugene's—in her abilities, her circumstances, or her state of mind.

BOOM! KRA-BOOM! BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

"Hahaha, hahahahaha! Ahahahahahahahahahahaha!!!"

Black mist tore apart. The world shook like a toy. Killing intent sharp as blades erupted.

In place of her hoodie, Eugene wore a bearskin draped like a cloak. Mechanical gauntlets and boots, twice as thick as her limbs, protected only her forearms and lower legs. Leather straps bound her chest, while her slender waist lay bare. Laughing, she swung a giant hammer—once her rough-hewn guitar—with one hand.

The thrill of smashing whatever stood in her way. The ecstasy of blood surging hot through her veins. The joy of power overflowing. It all stained her vision red and drew laughter from her lips.

BOOM! RUMBLE!

"Aagh!"

"Focus your psionics! We cannot let the formation collapse!"

What delighted her most was the mingling of crashes, screams, and shouts. What would normally have been nothing but noise burned and melted in the heat filling her head, becoming the raw material of music. One song: a hymn to madness made of screams, laughter, and destruction.

'More, more, more!'

For a sharper thrill. For deeper music. For more blood. Eugene rampaged ever more fiercely, and nothing could stop her.

BOOM!

"Gugh!"

"General Manager!"

At last, the force of the wind from her swing made the old gnat cough blood where he stood, frozen as though caught in a web. She broke the arm he thrust out as if to counterattack. Just as she was about to crush him with her hammer—

"『Octagonal Barrier』."

BZZZZT!

Eight layers of barriers suddenly appeared in midair, blocking her hammer. Only for an instant. Imbued with divine strength that could shatter anything, Eugene's hammer smashed through all eight layers like pie crust and struck the ground. But in that instant, the old insect she had meant to crush vanished.

"I was told to enjoy the hotel's services until things got truly difficult, so I've been watching for now..."

A figure emerged silently.

A calm voice sounded from the air above the lobby, where the old insect had been. "It seems things have reached that point."

A man in a white suit, with hair covering one eye and a distinctive monocle. He radiated such power that even Eugene, who now saw all humans as insects, could not help tensing.

"Everyone, stand back."

The insurance Limon had arranged to protect Leviathan. The reason Li Qingyu could send him to the subsidiaries without worry. And the chief reason Guardian would be spending an enormous sum this time.

"Under the security-services contract between the Infinity Guild and Guardian, I'll take charge here from now on."

The master of the Infinity Guild. One of the ten great Monarchs. The Infinite Monarch, Lee Cheon-gi, looked at Eugene with his usual composed expression and drew his sword.

* * *

CLANG!

Archduke. A word that had mainly referred to the rulers of small countries. But after the Players Association began classifying players by level under a ten-grade system based on the five noble ranks, it took on a special meaning: a noble beyond those five ranks, someone almost a king. In other words, a player of level 90 or above—a prospective Monarch, or a lesser one.

CLANG!

In their respective fields, archdukes could rival or surpass Monarchs, and some held more influence than Monarchs in their own regions. The same was true of combat. One on one might be another matter, but even a Monarch had to be wary of two archdukes. Enthusiasts reckoned that five or more could contend with the Regressor Monarch.

But what if someone gathered a hundred such duke-class players? Everyone would agree: 'A hundred archdukes could kill a god!' Then they would add, 'Not that it could ever happen.'

It was only common sense. High-level players were rare to begin with, and duke-class players each led a major guild and wielded power little different from a king's. Getting even a few to join forces was rare. That was aside from the fact that there were only a few dozen players above level 90 in the first place.

Yet at this very moment, that supposedly impossible scenario was unfolding. Ryu Gang-cheol had gathered a hundred clones, each as powerful as a duke-class player, and set them upon Limon.

["Hahahahaha!"]

["Die!"]

["I'll carve you up a hundred times over!"]

It was a tide of steel, an avalanche of blades, a storm of death. A hundred steel giants, each nearly three meters tall, formed a disaster worse than any natural calamity—one no human could stop.

That made the human who stood firm against the tide of steel all the more extraordinary. He deflected scythes with his sword, turned aside from tackles, and tripped his attackers. He met the charge of nearly a hundred steel giants with calm, effortless movements, like a great mountain enduring a thousand disasters or a vast sea letting them wash through it.

But like nature itself, Limon was not so merciful as to merely endure their attacks.

SLASH! BOOM! RUMBLE!

One stroke severed a head. One pierced a chest. One sent a body flying. Cutting down Ryu Gang-cheol in a single stroke, despite his thick armor and duke-class speed, was a feat of swordsmanship bordering on the divine. Doing it again and again while outnumbered a hundred to one was beyond astonishing.

["Kill us if you can."]

["A hundred times, a thousand times—it doesn't matter."]

["In the end, you'll be the one who falls, comrade."]

And yet that was all. When one clone fell, Ryu made another; when two vanished, he replaced them both. No matter how many times Limon swung his sword, the number of steel giants never diminished. It was the brute force of numbers: the simplest power in the world, and all the more frightening for it.

["You got too cocky, comrade!"]

["Sword Master or not, you're just a swordsman who's good at swinging a blade!"]

["They don't call you washed-up for nothing!"]

Ryu Gang-cheol shouted triumphantly. A Monarch might have found a way to respond. Their Absolute Skills transcended the laws of nature and made the impossible possible. Just as Ryu kept churning out clones, the Infinite Monarch could have threatened him with thousands of skills, while the Summoning Monarch could have held him back with endless summons.

But Limon was ultimately a swordsman, a relic of an earlier age who knew nothing but how to swing a sword.

["Struggle all you like."]

["The moment you make even one mistake, you're finished, comrade!"]

Ryu was certain victory was his. Unlike Ryu and his endless clones, Limon had only one body and one life. However brilliant his swordsmanship, he could kill only one of Ryu at a time; he could never defeat an enemy who multiplied without end. Ryu, on the other hand, could die any number of times and needed to kill Limon only once. There was no question who would win. If Limon was human, he would make a mistake eventually. All Ryu had to do was keep pressing until he did.

["Let's see how long you last!"]

That was what Ryu thought, and he kept charging in, eager to cut Limon to pieces.

["Struggle all you want! It's no use!"]

The fallen clones numbered ten, then twenty.

["One mistake and it's over for you."]

Fifty, a hundred, two hundred.

["Just one mistake..."]

By the time the count passed five hundred, his confidence had reached its limit. ["... What the hell are you, comrade?"] Even Ryu, who had charged in so triumphantly, could only stare in dismay.

It wasn't simply that Limon remained unscathed after killing him five hundred times. He hadn't shed a drop of sweat through a battle that would long since have exhausted most high-level players. His movements grew faster rather than slower. Above all, his sword tip had not wavered once since the fight began. Ryu cried out, almost screaming.

["How can you fight like this and not make a single mistake?!"]

Humans could never be perfect. Even a master craftsman could not produce a masterpiece every time. In a fight to the death, even a battle-hardened soldier would make a mistake or two. The greater the concentration demanded by the danger, the faster exhaustion set in, making mistakes more likely as the fight dragged on. At least, that was how humans worked as far as Ryu knew.

How, then, could Limon avoid making even one mistake while walking such a knife's edge? Ryu was past astonishment. It was incomprehensible.

"You stupid bastard."

Limon sneered at him as though he had heard the most absurd question imaginable. Giving Ryu a contemptuous look, he swung his sword and cut down another clone.

"What the hell do you think a Sword Master is?"

As Ryu himself had pointed out, a Sword Master was ultimately just a swordsman good at swinging a blade. But that was precisely why a Sword Master's command of the sword was absolute. Ten million swings or a hundred billion; hands torn open or legs lost—a Sword Master could trace a perfect path with the blade every time, without a single mistake. Anyone who could not do even that had no right to call themselves a Sword Master, Limon said coldly.

Then he asked, "I've swung a sword for hundreds of years without making a mistake. Did you really think I'd make one against the likes of you?"

["..."]

Limon was not mocking or taunting him. He sounded genuinely baffled, even curious. Ryu's eyes shook. The instincts he had honed while taking countless lives as a murderer gave him the ominous feeling that he had made a fatal mistake.

["... That still changes nothing!"]

But Ryu shouted down his instinctive unease. His belief that he would win in the end as long as he had infinite clones rekindled his killing intent.

"Right. Nothing will change."

Watching Ryu charge at him with renewed ferocity, Limon nodded slowly. He swung his sword and murmured languidly, "I finished correcting for the error a while ago."

["What does that even—"]

SLASH!

The clone's head flew off before he could finish speaking. Ryu cursed the merciless stroke, but he did not stop charging Limon. He still had plenty of clones, and he could always make more to replace those he lost.

THUNK! CRUNCH! SHHHRIP!

["What?"]

A moment later, Ryu could only stare in confusion. Something had changed. He still couldn't so much as touch Limon's clothes, and Limon was still killing him with a single stroke. Only one thing was different. It was...