Divine Glitch: I Regressed With Endgame Knowledge

Epitaph kept himself small, shoulders hunched, slipping through a camp where every monster could have crushed him with a casual strike. The slimes around him were vile things, venomous and glistening, each one unnervingly alert.

He had arrived in the same place where Ryan was fighting, though he kept his distance, staking out the area and watching.

After his humiliating defeat—leading a party that had been effortlessly counter-killed by Featherlight—Epitaph had been dejected, intent on leveling slowly, licking his wounds. But when he logged in that morning, he caught sight of a new Glorious Achievement announcement. And it hadn't been earned by the usual figure who monopolized them. That alone made Epitaph exhale with relief.

At least Featherlight wasn't invincible. Or so he told himself. The forums insisted the victor had just been lucky. Epitaph clung to those words like a drowning man to driftwood, even while knowing they rang hollow.

In this game, strength was strength. Even if gained through luck, it was still real. Saying someone was "just lucky" might fool the foolish, but it didn't change the fact that they were strong enough to seize the opportunity. Still, such excuses quietly comforted players too intimidated to face Featherlight head-on.

That comfort didn't last. Before long, members of Flowing Light posted their own results from the same mission. They hadn't taken first place and thus earned no Glorious Achievement, but the message was plain: Featherlight had completed it too. When strength was required, he could deliver, and he delivered perfectly.

The humiliation of the Ironblood Covenant was doubled. They had proudly posted their achievement less than an hour earlier, confident in their timing, only for Featherlight to emerge with a faster clear. Not only that—his run was flawless, a full-health completion that silenced doubters and reminded everyone why he stood at the pinnacle.

Epitaph's chance encounter with Ryan was sheer accident. He had been sent out by the higher-ups of Reaper's Call, one of several scouts patrolling different zones in hopes of locating the Guardian at level thirty, rumored to lurk beyond the Arid Plains.

And because he was considered the strongest among them, Epitaph had been pushed toward this most dangerous region. He had grumbled at first; sneaking through an area where a single slip could alert a level-thirty monster was a miserable assignment. Yet when he stumbled across Featherlight's trail, his resentment evaporated instantly.

Even though Featherlight appeared in his Minotaur form, the Divine Storm he wielded was unmistakable. That ability was unique to him. There could be no mistake—this was Featherlight.

But why was he here? Epitaph could not say. It didn't look like a quest. Featherlight was slaughtering venomous slimes, clearing space rather than pursuing an objective.

The truth revealed itself soon enough.

From the shadows emerged ten scouts of the Druidic Order—five elites, five regulars—rushing directly at Featherlight and surrounding him in battle.

Epitaph's eyes widened as realization struck. Was Featherlight attempting to take on the Verdant Spire's overlord? Some hidden quest perhaps? He couldn't be sure, but interfering would certainly ruin it for him. Otherwise, why else would Featherlight travel into this forsaken corner of the world?

There was no way this quest was exclusive to this place, Epitaph reasoned.

Still, he didn't rush forward. He wasn't reckless. Against a ring of ten scouts, his damage output was barely equal to two of the weaker ones. He had plenty of skills at his disposal, but Featherlight was brimming with them as well.

And besides, Epitaph knew something from the forums—Paladins were said to have three lives.

Although Epitaph was startled at first by Featherlight's immunity skill, he quickly calmed himself. A powerful move like that surely came with a long cooldown. He reassured himself that Featherlight couldn't possibly use it again anytime soon.

When Divine Shield and Desperate Healing were both spent, and Featherlight's health bar began to steadily shrink, Epitaph's pulse quickened.

The man had no more lifesaving skills left. He was bleeding out under the pressure of a few NPC scouts. If Epitaph struck now—if he landed the final blow and captured a screenshot—it would spread like wildfire online. His name would skyrocket.

Wouldn't the guild's leadership have to promote him after such a feat? Wouldn't he finally claim the recognition he deserved?

Drunk on the thought, Epitaph crept closer, his footsteps light, his dagger trembling in his grip.

Then Featherlight tossed out a small stone golem. Epitaph's eyes narrowed. He waited, watching, until he saw the slow trickle of health the summon granted. A trickle—that was all. Not enough to turn the tide. The realization made his blood surge with excitement.

This was it. Featherlight was out of options.

When his target's health dipped to seven hundred, Epitaph abandoned stealth. He lunged from the shadows, dagger raised, aiming to finish the job while the last two surviving scouts pressed Featherlight on the other side.

But just as his blade was about to pierce its mark, a sudden flash of gold erupted. A pillar of light shot toward the sky, washing over Featherlight's body. Epitaph's expression froze.

That light—he knew it all too well. He had seen it himself not long ago and had rejoiced when it bathed him. It meant only one thing: a level-up. Featherlight's health and mana had been fully restored in an instant.

"Damn it! Why now of all times?" Epitaph cursed inwardly. Could killing those scouts really have pushed him over the edge to a new level?

But he had no time to think it through. Featherlight's eyes were already on him.

"So, this guy wants to ambush me?" Ryan thought with a low, dismissive sneer. To him, Epitaph wasn't even worth worrying about, no different from another mob crowding the field. He turned his back on the assassin's dagger and continued pounding the two elite scouts instead.

Epitaph blinked, stunned that he was being ignored. Relief surged through him. If Featherlight didn't consider him a threat, then escape was still possible. He began edging backward, ready to slip away.

But before he could retreat far, Featherlight's fist whipped around and smashed into him.

The world went dark. His limbs froze. Epitaph recognized the sensation instantly. Reprimand. He had suffered that stun before from dwarf Paladins. He knew exactly how long it lasted—five endless seconds.

Five seconds was more than enough for Featherlight.

As the stun faded, Epitaph's heart sank. He could already see Featherlight's cooldowns resetting. The Paladin turned with a calm, easy smile, deliberately dragging the two elite scouts closer.

Then he unleashed it all at once.

Divine Storm. Hammer of Justice. Avenger's Shield.

The three skills struck in quick succession, a cascade of holy power that lit up the battlefield. When the light cleared, Epitaph lay crumpled beside the fallen scouts, defeated in the very ambush he had planned.