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墨書 Inktalez
Provocation, absolute provocation!
The Noble Scholar was taken aback, a surge of boundless anger rising within him. While signaling his subordinates to pursue, he had already cast a spell from a distance—an intermediate fire magic skill known as Flame Impact!
"Boom..."
The searing flames shot forth in a straight line, roaring like a raging fire dragon. Upon hitting the target, it erupted with a deafening sound, as if a heavy bomb had been detonated, instantly coating the surrounding area in a layer of charred black ash.
"Damn it, that was ruthless!"
The newcomer barely dodged the attack and couldn't help but curse. If he had been just a moment slower, he would have been scorched alive. The flames had even licked at the back of his head, and thinking back on it now sent chills down his spine.
"Chase him down; we must eliminate this guy!"
With his attack missing its mark, the Noble Scholar felt a surge of irritation. As he issued the order, he grasped his staff and was the first to give chase. He noticed that the fleeing figure was unarmed, merely hopping left and right to avoid the thorns on the ground, clearly trying to make a quick escape.
"Trying to run now? It's too late."
The Noble Scholar said coldly, not pausing for a moment as he pursued. While chasing, he gathered magical elements and occasionally launched simple attack spells that burst like fireworks in rapid succession.
Indeed, all of the Noble Scholar's spells missed their target, but that did not affect his true intentions. In Zero Era, magic skills did not have locking capabilities; players had to rely on their own estimation of aim and distance based on real experience and skill to hit their targets.
At this moment, as the person attempted to flee, the Noble Scholar's attacks were merely meant to disrupt his rhythm and throw him into a panic. This way, he could take advantage of any openings to subdue him.
However, while this plan seemed sound in theory, executing it proved challenging. Minutes passed—four or five of them—and yet the fleeing figure continued to bounce around like an Australian kangaroo. There was no sign of fatigue; instead, it appeared as if he was getting into the groove.
Zigzagging back and forth...
This seemingly ordinary maneuver immediately drained color from the Noble Scholar's face. A closer look revealed that the continuous zigzagging was gradually increasing the distance between them through alternating long horizontal lines and short diagonal lines, creating a "Z" shape in his path.
"Damn it!"
Realizing this, a chill ran through the Noble Scholar's heart. He understood now; this person was clearly doing this on purpose—not only to stall him but also to subtly widen the gap between them and potentially escape entirely.
Of course, this so-called "distance between each other" did not refer to the space between this person and the Noble Scholar, but rather the distance between the Noble Scholar and the BOSS, Undead Ridge Lord Yozar. To put it bluntly, the other party was intentionally trying to lead the Noble Scholar and his companions away from the BOSS's range.
"Go back, all of you go back!"
As anger surged within him, the Noble Scholar shouted hoarsely, unable to suppress a torrent of curses in his heart. Yet, he had already turned around, charging toward the location of the BOSS like a mad bull.
As he drew closer, the Noble Scholar suddenly froze. How long had it been? Certainly not more than ten minutes, yet why was there no sound ahead? When he left, the BOSS seemed to still have plenty of Vitality. Could it be that his subordinates had suddenly erupted in strength and taken down the BOSS?
Filled with endless confusion, the Noble Scholar even activated his blinking skill while fleeing. Upon arrival, he saw a group of his subordinates gathered together as if watching something. However, the eerie silence of the scene made him feel an unsettling sense of foreboding.
"What’s going on?"
The Noble Scholar asked loudly as he approached. The crowd startled and quickly parted to make way for him. As his vision cleared, his eyes immediately fell upon a corpse lying on the ground, covered in black armor—it was Lord Yozar of the Corpse Ridge.
Indeed, it had been taken down.
The Noble Scholar was momentarily stunned before bursting into laughter. The earlier unease vanished completely as he stepped forward to examine Lord Yozar's awkwardly sprawled form on the ground. He nodded and said, "Well done, brothers! Haha..."
"Uh... President..."
Someone called out hesitantly, but their tone was clearly off. There was no trace of excitement or exhilaration after taking down the BOSS; instead, it conveyed a sense of helplessness and fear. Even their eyes flickered nervously as if they had committed some unforgivable mistake.
"What exactly happened?"
A sudden chill ran through the Noble Scholar's heart. These subordinates had been with him for a long time; he knew their personalities well enough. Observing their expressions now rekindled his earlier unease, which intensified.
There was definitely something wrong here.
"President, the BOSS... someone stole the BOSS." After a moment of silence, someone finally spoke up to reveal the grim truth.
"Stolen?"
The Noble Scholar was left dumbfounded. Although he had suspected this possibility before, hearing it confirmed left him utterly shocked. How many of his subordinates were there? For a BOSS that was practically trapped like a turtle in a jar, how could it have been stolen?
Was it a sign that his own people were too pathetic, or that the opponent was simply too powerful?
"Where are the items? The gear dropped by the BOSS?" Noble Scholar still wanted to save face, to prove that the group of brothers who had followed him from the start were not a bunch of useless fools. His tone was somewhat harsh, but at least it lacked any hint of anger. "You must have gotten the gear by now, right?"
Silence filled the air.
"Speak up! Are you all mute or something?"
Noble Scholar had no choice but to shout angrily. After a moment, one person spoke up nervously, "The gear and gold coins... they were all taken by that person... taken away." Another added, "Not a single piece was left behind. It's even worse than when Little Bastard was around."
Noble Scholar's mouth twitched in response, struggling to suppress his inner fury. He didn't want to lash out at his brothers, but he couldn't find a reason not to. After a round of cursing, his anger began to subside, and he realized there was still an important question he hadn't asked.
"Who came? How many of them were there?"
Noble Scholar's gaze turned cold and fierce, as if he could kill with just a look. However, the answer to his inquiry only fueled his rage further—
There had only been one person on the opposing side, and they had no idea about their identity since there had been no direct confrontation from the start.
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