Surviving These Unfair Scenarios [LITRPG - DIMENSION HOPPING]

The night passed silently across the massive underground refuge, but silence did not mean rest for everyone. While the members of 'No Name' and WNATN slept in their assigned improvised quarters, worn out by the long hours of strategy and preparation, Adam did not close his eyes even once. The half-undead genes running through his body had many drawbacks, but they also gave him time others could not afford.

He used those hours with the utmost efficiency.

Accompanied first by Vaelric, Adam moved through the sections of the refuge inhabited by the vampire survivors. Word of his presence spread quickly. Dozens gathered around the great vampire lord and the man they had started calling a herald of change. Adam's cursed aura flowed subtly behind every word he spoke, amplified by Malzaphir's devilish influence. He never lied to them. He told them exactly what they were about to do—march straight into the capital of the Human Empire, strike at the heart of the paladin regime, and dismantle the divine tyranny from within.

He spoke of the losses they had suffered. The brothers, the sisters, the elders who had fallen under false crusades. He didn't need to beg for support. His words struck deep, and Malzaphir's presence made sure they carried weight. By the end of his speech, the vampires weren't merely nodding. They were shouting. Some roared into the air, fangs bared, armor trembling with tension. Their anger had been directionless for too long. Now they had a cause.

From there, Adam moved with Mughal to the domains of the giants, the last remaining descendants of a race built for endurance and spiritual harmony. Their sorrow had lingered in silence for days, but now, under the guidance of their young representative and Adam's commanding presence, they too listened.

The approach was different. Adam spoke not only of war, but of liberation—of freeing Groz'mar, one of their greatest chieftains, from the curse that bound him. He spoke to their sense of pride, of what it meant to be a giant, of how they had once walked beside the other races as equals, not prey. Mughal stood tall behind him, confirming every word, eyes glowing with conviction. Some of the older giants wept. Others stood, lifted their weapons, and swore to follow.

When the last speech ended and the last vow had been made, Adam stepped away from the firelit cavern, the echo of war drums already starting in the distance. He said nothing more that night.

Dawn arrived not with sunlight, but with clouds. The sky over Velmoria remained heavy, gray, and oppressive, a perfect shield for what was to come. The light never reached the ruined city, as if the heavens themselves had chosen not to interfere.

Inside the underground refuge, everyone was already moving. Armor was strapped. Weapons were checked. Communication relics were synchronized and stored. In a large gathering room just outside the central corridor, the members of 'No Name' and WNATN met one last time.

Adam stood at the front. Some like Gregor and Drake flanked him, their expressions tense but composed. Angela stood with her team, giving out last-minute assignments with sharp, efficient movements. Kazue, now fully recovered, approached the center with both hands raised.

"Everyone, before we go… I want us to do something."

Some turned. Others kept adjusting gear, but she continued nonetheless.

"We've trained together, fought together, almost died together. I know it's cheesy, but… can we all gather our hands? Just for a second. Let's start this together."

Katya was the first to respond. She stepped forward without hesitation, her face locked in a rare expression of seriousness and joy, the latter probably due to the opportunity to hold Kazue's hand. Without saying a word, she placed her hand firmly over her friend, eyes never leaving hers. Chloe came next, sliding into the circle with the ease of someone who had long accepted this group as her home. Emir followed quietly, his small hand joining theirs as he stood up straighter, trying not to show the weight of the moment pressing on his shoulders.

Then came Drake, his palm worn out from battle, resting on top of the others with unwavering resolve. Gregor placed his hand as well, slow and firm, saying nothing but offering a single nod. Kazue glanced sideways with a surprised look when she felt the next hand—Li had joined the circle too. He didn't speak, but the action spoke for itself. One by one, every member of both teams stepped forward.

Adam was the last to step forward. He approached without fanfare, his expression unreadable, his movements steady and measured. The group watched him as he raised his hand and pressed it firmly over the others. There was no speech, no dramatic declaration, and no effort to command attention. For just a moment, he closed his eyes, drawing in a single breath as if anchoring himself in the stillness.

The silence that followed was absolute. No one spoke, yet everyone understood. In that wordless moment, something shifted among them. The divisions that once separated their teams had faded. The tension, the doubts, and even the rivalries were replaced by a shared understanding. They were no longer acting as fragmented survivors or scattered resistances. They were united now, bound by the decision to face the impossible and make it bend to their will.

Their hands remained joined for several seconds more, not because someone told them to, but because none of them wanted to be the first to let go. It was the last breath before the storm, the final moment before they stepped into a scenario that would shape the outcome of everything.

When at last their hands separated, they did so with purpose. No hesitation remained. The plan was in motion. There would be no turning back.

————————

From the edge of Velmoria's ruins, the first to emerge were the vampires. The remaining Lords and elders alike marched with crimson cloaks and armor of deep obsidian. Vaelric Duskthorn led them, mounted on a monstrous undead stallion whose hooves left trails of fire in its wake, while his black-plated armor shimmered with cursed runes. He raised a crimson spear toward the horizon, signaling the march.

Behind him, rows of vampire warriors followed in perfect lines, accompanied by units of spellcasters, assassins, and bloodbound knights. None hesitated and none looked back.

To the east, from a different breach in the ruins, came the giants. Towering figures, wrapped in war hides and iron-forged armor, stepped in a synchronized pace. At their head stood Thalgrun Ironhearth, bearing a massive hammer across his back. On his shoulders sat Mughal, no longer dressed in his tattered robes from prison but in full traditional battle armor of his kind.

As the armies surfaced, so did the rest of the strike team.

Leading the mixed formation of scouts and special units were Dayana Valdés and André Silveira, both carrying newly acquired items for communication and support. Dayana's expression was focused for once, her usual energy subdued beneath the weight of what was coming. André had dropped his typical grin and carried two large packs on his back filled with triggers and custom markers.

And behind them… walked Sebastian.

He no longer looked frail. He walked with steady steps, head raised, his face unreadable. He had changed his attire, no longer wrapped in bandages or resting. However, for some reason, Falk was nowhere to be seen.

They walked for hours.

The ruined outskirts gave way to old roads, cracked and overgrown. Along their path, several small paladin settlements stood. Outposts fortified with divine symbols, manned by small units of human soldiers. None of them lasted more than a few minutes. The moment they were spotted, the army split into designated strike units. The vampires moved with unnatural speed, breaching the walls and neutralizing the resistance before any alarm could reach the capital. Giants tore down barricades and captured whatever commanding officers they found. There were no executions—only capture and silence. It was not about revenge; they couldn't afford to take too much time there.

Each time a settlement fell, the army reformed and resumed the march. No speeches were given. No songs were sung. The silence of discipline and shared purpose filled the air more effectively than any words could have.

Eventually, the terrain shifted again. The path became smoother, the road broader, and the atmosphere heavier. Statues of angelic figures began to appear along the sides of the road, many of them broken, some still intact and glowing faintly. Pillars of white stone marked the boundary of sacred land, inscribed with prayers to Arianka. The divine presence in the air grew denser with every step, pressing on their skin like weight. But they did not stop.

As they crested the final ridge, their destination revealed itself… Celestia Sanctum.

The capital stood in the distance, massive and imposing. Towering white walls surrounded the city, reinforced by layers of divine runes etched into their foundations. Wide golden gates sealed the main entrance, watched over by dozens of paladins whose armor reflected what little light passed through the thick gray clouds. Above the city, a faint glow spread across the air—a divine dome, barely visible, humming with sanctified energy.

Even from kilometers away, they could feel it. The pressure of the holy capital pulsed against them, as though the land itself rejected their presence. The sacred aura of the city was still active, even after the fall of Arianka. A reminder that her influence, while fractured, was not yet fully gone.

But they did not stop. The army halted briefly atop the rise. Vaelric raised a hand, signaling the full column to stop and reorganize. Thalgrun did the same on the giant side, allowing the warriors a moment to adjust their formation. Dayana scanned the divine field in front of them, a notebook in her hands glowing with warning messages. André unslung a large flag from his back, not to raise it, but to mark their position.

Under the signal of their leaders, the great mixed army of vampires and giants thundered forward with a sudden surge of force. The air filled with the roars of a thousand warriors, their voices rising in unison, a defiant echo that shook the earth beneath their charge. With Dayana and André trailing behind at a slower pace, doing their best to keep up, the storm of warriors advanced like an unstoppable tide toward the gates of Celestia Sanctum. Their morale had reached its peak. The united front moved as one, fueled by desperation, vengeance, and unity.

Their steps rattled the broken ground, heavy and resolute. Dayana had to use her full energy just to keep pace, while André—despite his physique and stamina—was already gasping, pushing forward with every muscle straining. Neither of them looked back. They had their mission, and even if their presence wasn't as overwhelming as the giants around them or the vampires armed with dark steel, they ran forward just the same.

But before the army could reach the massive gate, everything changed. From the towering walls of Celestia Sanctum came the unmistakable sound of an alert. Trumpets blared, followed by a sequence of divine bells ringing in cascading rhythm. A golden shimmer ran across the wall's surface, and divine glyphs activated in synchronized patterns. Then, with a sound that echoed for kilometers, the gates opened wide. Light burst from within like a living force, revealing the enemy prepared and waiting.

From the interior marched the full force of the Human Empire's defenders.

First came rows upon rows of paladins clad in full-plate armor that shone unnaturally bright, each of them radiating divine energy as if they were beings of faith incarnate. Their weapons pulsed with blessings, and their eyes burned with zealous intensity. Interspersed among them were beasts—once human, now transformed into divine-hybrid warforms. Some walked on all fours like hulking wolves of radiant energy, others were bipedal but monstrous in shape, their howls unnatural.

Then the elite arrived. Five colossal figures stepped forward from within the holy light. They were clad in sacred armor engraved with blessings, each carrying a blade of burning divine fire. Their presence was suffocating. Light poured off their backs like wings made of sunlight, and the very ground beneath their feet cracked with the weight of their power. These were a small unit of Paladin Champions—holy commanders of the empire, the pinnacle of human divine combat.

This was the same army that had brought doom to cities, exterminated the non-human races without mercy, and held dominance for generations. An army that, until this day, had never known defeat.

If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

But today, something was different… A figure moved from the rear lines of the advancing army. Not a giant, not a vampire, not one of the traditional warriors leading the charge.

A single man.

He ran forward at a blinding speed, accelerating past giants and soldiers alike with effortless motion. His presence didn't command attention with divine light or magical effects, but his speed alone parted the crowd before him like a knife cutting through water. He shot forward like a projectile, and before anyone could shout a name or question it, he jumped.

His body rocketed into the air with such force that it left a crater where he had stood. The paladins didn't even have time to react before the figure ascended like a missile.

The first Paladin Champion barely had time to raise his sword.

"Who—!?"

He never finished the sentence. A boot slammed violently into his helmeted face, the impact loud enough to crack the sky. The sheer force behind the kick sent the armored giant flying like a cannonball into the ground far behind his allies, crashing into the dirt and stone with a deafening explosion that sent shockwaves through both armies.

The battle line of the human soldiers wavered. They had not seen what struck the Champion. They could not understand how he fell so fast, so hard, so completely helpless. Confusion surged across their ranks. Some stopped in their tracks, others lowered their weapons without realizing it.

The other Paladin Champions turned in shock.

"What just happened!?"

Before the Paladin Champions could fully process the first impact, the same figure was already moving again, his body a blur of raw power and absolute intent. With no cry of war, no flourish or declaration, he reappeared before the second Champion.

There was no hesitation in his motion, just a precise, devastating punch aimed straight at the center of the paladin's ornate helmet. The impact was immediate. The holy armor cracked under the force, and the entire body of the Champion was launched backward through the air like a lifeless mass. His limbs flailed for a moment, but he had no control. His descent ended in a brutal collision against the fortified rear of the human formation, kicking up a mountain of stone and dust. The ground quaked, and several soldiers near the impact zone were thrown off their feet. Confusion spread through the holy ranks, disbelief reflected in every eye that watched the scene unfold. They had never seen a Champion fall like that, not in their lifetimes, not in any battle.

The remaining three Paladin Champions didn't wait for answers. With synchronized precision, they launched themselves into the air. Their bodies cut through the sky like drawn blades, wings of divine light spreading wide behind them. Their flaming swords slashed downward in brilliant arcs, powerful enough to sear through steel and bone in a single strike. But the figure they targeted was not there to be burned.

He rose higher into the sky to meet them, leaping from his position with small but exact bursts of movement, landing momentarily on invisible footholds before launching himself higher with unnatural ease. There were no wings on his back, no divine aura around him, and yet he moved like a demigod, rising level with the Champions with nothing but his own force.

Their blades danced through the air, swinging in brutal unison, but every strike missed. The figure didn't evade with elaborate flips or acrobatics—his movements were sharp, efficient, and minimal. He tilted his head to avoid a blade by centimeters. He shifted his torso to let a sword pass harmlessly past his ribs. He rotated his shoulder just enough to redirect another strike off its intended course. No energy was wasted, and no motion was unnecessary.

Two of the Paladins flanked him in midair, the third closing in to trap him from behind. The coordination was flawless—one slash aimed low at the knees, the other aiming high toward the throat. It was an attack designed to be inescapable.

But he didn't escape, and instead, he stopped.

His arms moved faster than the eyes of any soldier watching. Both hands shot out, and with a deafening burst of pressure, he caught the burning blades in mid-swing. Fire clashed against flesh, holy energy hissed into the sky, and a violent shockwave rippled outward from the impact point. Sparks and embers scattered through the air like flares, but his arms held firm. The Paladins stared in disbelief. Their swords remained locked in his grasp. The flames surged, burning with divine might. But his skin did not char, his fingers did not tremble, and his body stood firm, unyielding.

The light of their weapons bathed his face—and for the first time, the warriors of the Empire saw the man clearly, it was just an old man… Sebastian.

His eyes were open, yet devoid of life. His gaze did not blink. His expression had not changed since the beginning of the charge. There was no emotion, no hatred, no fury. Only precision and focus. His entire body seemed locked in a trance of absolute discipline.

Without uttering a single word, he rotated both wrists simultaneously. The maneuver was not extravagant, but the effect was instant. Both Paladins' grips failed, and the blades were wrenched from their hands and spun into the air. Sebastian's grip tightened immediately, holding both sacred weapons in his hands.

The Paladins backed away, aghast.

"That's not possible!"

One of them shouted.

"Those weapons are divine—only those touched by Arianka can—!"

The sentence never finished. Sebastian moved like a flash… One moment, he was stationary, suspended in the sky, and the next, his form vanished in a burst of momentum that seemed to cut the wind itself.

He reappeared between both Paladins, crossing his arms in an X with the burning swords in hand. Then, with a sudden outward slash, he performed a dual strike, both blades carving through the armored bodies of the Champions in flawless unison. Their holy plates cracked under the blow, their chests gashed with precise incisions that sent golden blood and searing pain through their nerves. Both warriors cried out, not just from agony but from the disbelief that someone had executed such a technique—one forged not from miracles, but from a perfect martial foundation.

The dual shockwaves sent them falling, their broken bodies crashing into the dirt below. Pillars of light burst outward where they landed, shattering the nearby formation of soldiers and sending dozens sprawling across the battlefield.

The last remaining Paladin Champion was already fleeing.

"Monster!"

He screamed, wings of golden light sprouting from his back. He soared into the air, retreating fast toward the open gates of Celestia Sanctum.

But Sebastian did not follow. Instead, he bent his knees slightly in the air, and then, in a single movement, he launched downward like a meteor.

The earth groaned from his impact. Soil, stone, and armor shattered as his landing ruptured the ranks of the human army. Divine soldiers were thrown into the sky, with their weapons torn from their hands by the shockwave. Screams echoed as entire lines buckled under the force of his descent.

The old man stood tall amidst the wreckage, both sacred swords still gripped in his fists.

Without wasting a breath, Sebastian began to walk, and with every step, he swung the divine flames on his hands. Paladins charged at him in desperation, blades raised, battle cries echoing. However, he struck each one down with extreme ease.

One soldier lunged—Sebastian sidestepped and sliced across the chest. Another came from the side—he turned his wrist, impaling the enemy through the abdomen. A group surrounded him, striking simultaneously—he spun low and swept all three from their feet, then rose with both blades crossing upward, cleaving two more in the same motion.

The radiant glow that once filled the eyes of the divine soldiers began to falter. Where once they stood tall with unwavering conviction, now their gazes darted in every direction, searching for orders. The discipline that had carried them through countless crusades began to splinter under the weight of what they were witnessing.

Their ranks wavered. Tight formations that had taken years of drilling to perfect began to fall apart as hesitation crept in. Lines that were once unbreakable bent and twisted as individuals moved out of position, either in panic or uncertainty. For the first time in decades, the divine army of the Empire looked disoriented.

Several paladins began to back away. Their retreat was not organized; it was driven by fear, by the realization that their enemy was not just resisting—but dismantling them. The clamor of weapons being dropped, the scraping of armored boots on stone as soldiers stumbled backward, and the shouted commands from officers trying to reestablish control filled the air.

Others stood frozen in place, unable to act. Their training screamed at them to fight, but their bodies refused to move. The image of Sebastian tearing through their Champions like paper and then to the army without any effort, wielding their sacred weapons as if he had been born for them, had burned into their minds. The certainty drilled into them—that no enemy could match the light of the Goddess—was now cracked beyond repair.

Amid the chaos, Sebastian remained silent. He neither roared nor called out. He simply walked forward, blades in hand, cutting down anyone who came close. His presence was relentless, and his technique flawless. Every motion served a purpose. Every swing ended in another body hitting the ground.

The old man moved like a weapon given life. His dual blades, still engulfed in divine fire, cleaved through the glowing ranks of paladins with merciless precision. Each strike was deliberate. Each step was calculated. The mass of divine soldiers that surged to meet him could not stop him. One after another, they fell in brutal succession.

Five came at once. Then six. Then eight. It made no difference. Sebastian spun and pivoted with flawless control, cleaving through steel, light, and flesh with single sweeps of his arms. Not once did he pause. Not once did he speak. His expression remained unreadable, his stance steady, the weight of every movement grounded in a purpose far beyond anger or pride. He simply moved forward, cutting down all who dared bar his path.

The army of light hesitated. What moments ago had been an impenetrable wall of gleaming order now cracked under the pressure of a single, relentless man. Their formations broke. Their rhythm collapsed. Even those who retained their footing faltered at the realization that the unstoppable force tearing through their center was no divine wrath — just a man. But that man had shattered their Champions and carved a hole through their army. Their hesitation was punished without mercy.

And then, the true wave of chaos arrived.

The armies of vampires and giants collided with the front lines of the human empire like a living avalanche. Steel clashed against enchanted shields. Enormous weapons met glowing spears. The ground shook under the impact of the charge. The shrill cries of battle filled the air as claws, fangs, axes, and halberds descended upon the still-disoriented paladins. What should have been a stand of holy warriors became a staggered retreat. They were greater in number and, in raw power, still held the advantage — but they had lost their formation. The fear seeded by Sebastian's rampage had cracked their unity, and the combined weight of ancient grudges carried by the vampire lords and the fury of the giants crushed into their staggered lines without pause.

From a distance, the brass bells of Celestia Sanctum roared louder. The gates of the capital began to groan, slowly pulling inward, the divine mechanisms sealing the holy city in response to the attack. But the defenders would not succeed.

Before the doors could close completely, something shook the battlefield again. André's voice echoed across the plain, booming with unrestrained enthusiasm.

"Super Multi-Size Technique!"

His body exploded in size. Bones stretched. Muscles bulged. Flesh expanded with flawless proportion. In seconds, André towered above the battlefield, surpassing even the tallest giants on the field. His body radiated with raw vitality, his skin reinforced by the energy of his unique ability. In his cupped palms, held tightly together, something glowed — an object, or perhaps two figures — kept safe by the warmth of his monstrous hands.

He began to run. Each step cratered the earth, and each stride pushed him closer to the gates that were now almost sealed. Paladins turned in horror to intercept him. Dozens tried to form a barricade. They cast spells. Launched spears. Formed shields of divine light, but it didn't matter; André didn't slow down. He bulldozed through divine magic and weapons alike. And just before the gates shut completely, another explosion of sound split the air.

Sebastian had arrived at the base of the gates. He dropped the twin blades, stepping forward alone. The divine metal barriers loomed above him, bathed in radiant light, crafted by the Empire as a final protection against the chaos of the outer world.

He stood still for a second. Then, without a sound, Sebastian shifted into a martial stance… And struck.

His punch connected with the divine gates like a cannon of raw force. The earth split beneath his feet. A shockwave burst outward in every direction, slamming into nearby soldiers and sending them flying. The enormous hinges on the gates shrieked, then buckled. The barriers cracked. The divine symbols etched across their surface shattered into meaningless fragments. And with one last groan, the gates fell apart, blown open from the force of one man's fist.

André arrived at that exact instant, slamming into the weakened structure with his entire weight. The already-broken gates exploded into dust and fragments, and the gigantic warrior surged into the city with unstoppable force. Behind him, a trail of crushed earth and broken paladins remained.

The defenders were no longer defending. They were retreating.

Those who remained standing had no choice but to fall back toward the inner city, attempting to rally in a more defensible position. But their terror made it impossible to regroup properly. And in the middle of it all, André charged ahead through the streets of Celestia Sanctum. Despite his size, he tried to avoid crushing civilian homes, swerving where he could, though more than a few buildings fell under the sheer pressure of his advance. Each of his strides covered dozens of meters. And just ahead of him, moving faster than his massive legs could allow, ran Sebastian, leaping across rooftops and roads with weightless precision.

In André's massive palms, he finally opened his grip, two figures stood there — Dayana and Takeshi.

The girl's eyes glowed, the irises shifting into a vibrant, kaleidoscopic blue. She raised her gaze toward the city skyline, the pulse of her unique skill already active. Her voice was sharp and certain.

"I see it. I can trace them. The Paladin Paragons. They're all inside. That way."

She pointed toward a distant section of the city, her voice unwavering. For a girl her age, her resolve was absolute. Takeshi grinned, pushing his headband into place and adjusting the seals on his sleeves.

"Then that's your path, I've got my own job."

He said calmly before turning toward André's open hand, crouched like a runner ready to launch. Then, in one graceful movement, he leapt off the moving giant's palm. His body twisted mid-air, a blur of motion, landing cleanly on a rooftop before vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Takeshi's mission had begun.

Dayana turned toward Sebastian without saying a word. The elder warrior gave her a brief nod and then broke into a sprint once more, vanishing down the narrow avenues of the city, blades left behind, fists clenched tight.

The assault on the holy capital had officially breached the outer sanctum. From here, the true war would begin.