NOVEL NEXT Chapter 561: The Head on the Tower
Twenty-four bodies lay scattered across the narrow city wall at Ethan's feet.
He stopped before the man standing opposite him.
"What exactly are you smiling about?" Ethan asked, frowning.
He didn't recognize the man's face, not even a little. And yet, there was something faintly familiar about him. From the moment Ethan had set foot on the wall, this guy had been grinning at him. Sometimes his lips would twitch upward into something smug, almost mocking. Even earlier, when he'd turned to run, he had kept glancing back with that same damned smile.
It was that smile that made Ethan uneasy. A smile that felt like déjà vu.
"Nothing much," the man said, voice smooth and self-assured. "Just that, seeing your in-game self, I finally understand. My old rival Marcus Skeiner didn't lose unfairly."
The man was IronSeraph, leader of the Judgment Guild.
"Marcus Skeiner?" Ethan's expression darkened. His words came slow and deliberate, carrying nothing but disdain. "Your rival? I never once considered him mine."
Their conversation, like everything here, was being broadcast live.
Far to the north, inside the Blade Syndicate guild hall, Marcus Skeiner heard his name. For a moment he froze, face twisting. Then rage exploded out of him.
"Damn you to hell…"
He knew instantly his humiliation was being aired to the entire world.
On the live feed, his name was already spreading like wildfire:
Viewer A: "Who the hell is Marcus Skeiner?"
Viewer B: "No idea. Probably some nobody."
Viewer C: "Nonsense! He's the guild leader of that infamous moron squad, Blade Syndicate, up in the Northern Frontier region! Careful—say that too loud and he'll come after you!"
Viewer D: "Ha! I'm from the Southern Frontier. Tell him to come here. I'll strip him naked and punish him until his own mother wouldn't recognize him!"
Viewer E: "Bro above, what the hell is wrong with your tastes? I'm about to puke my dinner!"
Marcus saw the flood of comments, kicked aside the girls lounging at his side, and stormed to his feet, overturning chairs and provoking shrieks. He was seconds away from smashing the table when one of his own guild members piped up:
"See? See? That guy said we're famous after all! He called us the Northern Frontier's most infamous guild! Famous! Famous!"
Marcus' eyes went red. In a single motion, he drew his sword and cracked the idiot across the forehead with the flat of the blade.
"Famous? You're dead! Get this clown respawned back in the Starter Zone!"
His guild cowered. Marcus was shaking with fury—and IronSeraph's next words only twisted the knife deeper.
On the broadcast, IronSeraph's smug grin faltered briefly before he sneered.
"You're right. That fool Skeiner was never worthy of being our opponent. He was just… amusing. Like walking a dog."
The impact of his words hit harder than the chat comments. This was IronSeraph, leader of Judgment Guild, spitting on Marcus Skeiner in front of the world.
Ethan laughed. "Us? Are you really putting yourself in that 'us'? You're not worthy. But you got one thing right—you and Marcus are both idiots."
His grin widened as he reached out, one massive hand clamping around IronSeraph's throat.
"But between the two of you? You're worse. At least Skeiner could last a few rounds against me. You? You're nothing. And so is your precious Carnage Faction."
The sound of bones crunching echoed across the wall. Ethan's fingers tightened, and IronSeraph's neck snapped clean through. As the body collapsed, Ethan caught the head in his palm and stared at it, frowning.
The man hadn't revived. Strange. In Ethereal, once your body was destroyed, you could only return through graveyard resurrection. Yet even with his head dangling in Ethan's hand, IronSeraph wasn't clicking the prompt.
"What are you playing at?" Ethan muttered.
He sighed, reached into his bag, and pulled out a weapon. "What a waste of a Silver-tier spear," he said with a grimace.
Shifting back into human form, he replaced his Twilight War Spear with the new weapon. With a flick of his wrist, he impaled IronSeraph's head on the tip, then hurled the spear with a sharp snap of his arm.
The silver shaft arced through the sky, glittering in the sunlight, before slamming into the tallest tower in town. IronSeraph's head remained pinned there for all to see.
In spirit form, IronSeraph stood in the town square, staring at the spectacle with his lips twitching faintly upward.
"Guild leader, please revive quickly!" one of his guildmates begged. Ethan's humiliation of them was complete.
But IronSeraph only sneered. "They say the higher you climb, the harder you fall. Let him strut. I'll let him."
Then he logged off, leaving Judgment Guild in chaos.
On the walls, Ethan pulled up the hood of his black cloak. His voice carried like steel:
"If you want to fight, then fight. If not, then get out of my way."
He leapt down from the wall and strode into the city.
For the first time, the Druid God's face was being revealed to the world.
The WCC commentator practically screamed into the mic. "Look at him! That's the Druid God! This broadcast will go down in history—give it up for the Druid God!"
Carnage Faction players stood frozen as Ethan walked toward the town center. No one moved to stop him. They stared at the bloody head nailed to the tower, and one by one, they stepped back to clear a path.
The swagger they had shown earlier was gone, replaced by a chill in their hearts. On the livestream, even the viewers went silent, transfixed by the killing intent radiating through their screens. It was as if Ethan had climbed out of a sea of blood and corpses.
He entered the City Hall, leaving the crowd stunned.
Inside, Ethan let out a long breath. He had been bluffing the entire time. If anyone had blocked him, he would have turned and run without hesitation. The town had already swelled to hundreds of thousands of players; the numbers were only rising. Conquering a town alone was absurd.
But he had gambled—and won.
Transforming into a panther, Ethan bounded up the stairs toward the mayor's office. If the man was some mutated boss, so be it. He had to take him down quickly, claim the rewards, and escape before the horde outside realized his bluff.
Otherwise, his prize would vanish like smoke.
Outside the hall, silence lingered before the Carnage players finally erupted.
"Damn it, there are so many of us! What are we afraid of?"
"Right! We're here for the quest!"
"Five hundred Honor Points! I'm not losing that!"
"It's just a game—we can revive! Charge the City Hall!"
"Hurry! If the mayor dies, our quest fails!"
They surged forward, a wave of bodies rushing for the doors.
The first to reach the threshold never made it inside.
A deafening roar cracked the air as the ground trembled. Above, a vortex tore open the sky, swirling with violet light. From it, a beam of pure energy struck down, piercing the City Hall roof in a blaze of purple brilliance.
The darkened world lit up in an eerie glow.