Surviving These Unfair Scenarios [LITRPG - DIMENSION HOPPING]

The sound of distant clashes echoed across the shattered city, each one a reminder that battles were still unfolding in every corner of Celestia Sanctum. While the members of 'No Name' and the others engaged their respective opponents, the central plaza remained locked in a different kind of confrontation—one not of chaos, but of cold, overwhelming precision. It was here that the mechanical construct known as Mecha Sung Ja-In stood unshaken, having effortlessly neutralized every attempt against him.

Now, as Solène and Meera stood side by side before him, the focus returned to this battlefield, where fire, steel, and divine power clashed beneath the shadow of a ruined empire.

The clash resumed with unforgiving intensity. Solène didn't wait, and the moment Meera landed at her side once more, she surged forward again, flames curling up her arms and scales rippling over her skin. Her dragon blood howled for domination, but Mecha Sung Ja-In didn't even shift his stance. He simply raised one arm, pivoted slightly, and parried the incoming blow with the back of his hand. The red-haired Dragonkin twisted, growled, and aimed a sweeping claw at his side. He caught her wrist mid-strike and slammed his elbow down onto her shoulder with brutal force. Solène was thrown back, gasping, but Meera was already moving.

Her chakrams spun outward from her hands, arcing in lethal circles. She dashed in low, one blade deflecting a counterstrike while the other sliced toward his throat. Mecha Sung Ja-In dipped his head just enough for the blade to pass above him, then retaliated with a palm aimed at her solar plexus. Meera pivoted off her front foot and narrowly avoided it, her counterblow grazing the edge of his peculiar chest plate.

They moved together again—Solène roaring as she invoked a new skill. Lava surged from her arm, taking shape mid-air as a massive claw of molten flame, three times her size, shimmering with unstable energy. Meera, in perfect rhythm, activated another skill. One of her chakrams expanded rapidly, enveloped in a veil of divine energy, spinning like a divine sawblade, tearing through the air with an audible whine. The two charged together.

For a moment, the square trembled under the convergence of their power. The lava claw swiped down with ferocious heat, while the divine chakram came in from the right in a horizontal cleave. The robot reacted without delay. He stepped forward, between the two incoming attacks, and raised both arms in a calculated gesture. The lava claw splashed across his left forearm and dissipated, nullified by a pulse of wind force. The divine chakram was more troublesome—he diverted his body to avoid its center, letting the edge skim past his shoulder. Even so, he didn't retreat. His hand lashed out like a whip and struck Solène directly across the ribs. The impact lifted her off the ground.

She hit the pavement with a grunt, coughing up blood, but Meera didn't let up. She twisted her remaining chakram and launched it from behind, but Sung Ja-In dodged with a rotation of his waist, the blade missing him by a hair. Solène scrambled to her feet, fury building in her chest, but she didn't notice something important. None of the robot's strikes were connecting with her friend. Not entirely, at least. Some grazed, others missed, and a few were blocked outright. The red-haired Dragonkin hadn't registered it, consumed by her own mounting frustration.

Their next exchange was shorter. Solène tried again with a wild overhead claw strike. The machine stepped to the side and swept her leg with a single low spin. She crashed down. Meera blocked a follow-up strike with her forearm, wincing but still standing. Solène growled as she got back up, her scales flickering between red and black.

Then Meera activated her strongest skill… A golden circle appeared behind her, rotating slowly. Symbols carved in a language older than memory spiraled across her arms. Her muscles tensed, her stance deepened, and a second breath overtook her. Her eyes gleamed with divine power at the time that [Unison of Body and Mind] was fully activated.

Meera launched forward again, this time with no sound. Her movement carved a line across the stone as her chakram split into six copies rotating around her form. Mecha Sung Ja-In raised both arms to intercept her, but for the first time, he was a second too slow.

Her main chakram curved inward, glowing with divine radiance, and sliced across his chestplate in a horizontal arc. Sparks flew, and a faint dent marked his armor, making him slide back three full steps.

Solène's eyes widened at the opportunity, and she didn't wait. Wounded or not, she pushed through the pain and charged again, her claws glowing orange. She screamed as she threw herself at him, using her full speed, full strength, full everything. For the first time, she thought they had an opening.

But it was not enough… The robot shifted sideways, rotating his frame with martial proficiency. His left foot slid behind her incoming leg while his right hand came up. In a single, controlled motion, he dropped into a low stance and kicked her full-force in the woman's face.

The impact echoed like a thunderclap, and Solène flew backward in a wild spiral, blood streaming from her nose. Her body bounced once off the plaza's edge before rolling to a halt against the rubble of a broken column, to the point that she didn't get up immediately.

Meera landed on one knee, chakra fading back into orbit. She glanced toward Solène's crumpled body and exhaled, then began running toward her fallen comrade. Once she reached her side, she knelt and tapped her cheek gently.

"You alright?"

She asked. Solène coughed, eyes burning.

"Screw you."

She growled, though the venom in her words lacked power. Meera didn't react. She straightened, her voice steady.

"That skill of mine has the divine attribute. It seems to work against him. But you… Well, they don't. You're not doing anything to him, Solène."

Solène glared, but didn't answer. Meera continued.

"I'll stop him. You go find the others. Bring them back here as fast as possible. We don't have much time. I'll hold him off alone."

There was silence while Solène's fists clenched. She growled low in her throat, her frustration boiling over. Her aura flared around her, and a wild pulse of draconic heat cracked the stone beneath her. She screamed, a guttural, wordless roar of helpless rage, slamming her clawed fists into the ground.

But deep down, she knew. Meera was right, so she stood. Bloody, panting, eyes narrowed to burning slits. She looked at her comrade and said nothing for several seconds. Then, she simply nodded.

"Don't die."

Solène muttered.

"I won't."

Meera answered with a smirk.

The redhead ran. Her steps were unsteady at first, but they gained rhythm with each meter. She vanished into the mist and smoke of the ruined sanctum. Mecha Sung Ja-In did not pursue her; he just remained still, watching Meera and showing no interest in chasing the fleeing target.

The moment Solène disappeared from sight, Meera exhaled deeply and released the divine skill. The glowing halo faded, the symbols vanished, and her shoulders dropped slightly as fatigue began to settle into her limbs. She stretched her arms once and rolled her neck.

"Whew... I really hope I didn't mess you up just now."

Her voice was casual, almost playful. Mecha Sung Ja-In responded without hesitation.

"Your concern is unnecessary. I have sustained no functional damage. The force of your attack was insufficient to compromise any system."

Meera blinked, then laughed softly.

"Hey now. That's kind of rude, you know?"

She twirled a chakram and stepped forward again, her smile faint but lingering. Her breathing deepened, her heartbeat steady. They were alone now, all went according to plan, and the real fight was just about to begin.

———————————————————

Far from the central square where fire and steel still clashed, a different battle continued in silence, deep within the cursed plaza now claimed by Adam. The air was thick with cursed miasma, and the shadows of skeletal knights roamed restlessly, no longer serving their original master.

Konrad Weiss, calm but visibly strained, maneuvered through his own territory like an invader. The very ground he had corrupted now obeyed someone else.

Adam stood at the center of it all, motionless and composed, as if the dense miasma around him served as a second skin. Where others would falter or rot under the constant pressure of the curse, he thrived. The fog embraced him like a forgotten crown, feeding his limbs and sharpening his mind. Meanwhile, Angela remained seated on a broken column at the edge of the plaza, avoiding all contact with the corrupted floor. She observed quietly, her expression focused but calm, trusting him to take the lead.

Konrad's current predicament was both humiliating and deeply alarming. He had stopped trying to regain control over the skeletal soldiers the moment they turned on him. There was no point. He knew exactly what kind of enemy Adam was. The man in front of him wasn't just a necromancer—he was a lich, and not just any lich, but a variant evolved through unnatural means, one blessed by forbidden energy and reinforced by titles that Konrad had only read about in other user reports.

In a neutral battlefield, Konrad might have posed a greater threat. He was more experienced, with more than one year of refined skill and control, and his spells were far more versatile. But that meant nothing here. Necromancy was an art defined by dominance, and in the hierarchy of undead, a lich would always eclipse a human necromancer. Especially one like this.

Despite everything, the man had tried to flee, but that, too, had failed. Every path was blocked, every shadow he stepped into turned against him. The skeletal knights, once bound to his will, now swung their blades to intercept him. Worse still, Adam had summoned something else, something even more insulting to his pride.

With a single chant, Adam had brought forth the 'Sacred Guardian of Envy', a towering golden skeleton with curved swords in both hands. Its body shimmered with disdain, its steps silent and clean. When Konrad fired a volley of cursed missiles into its chest, the creature walked through the explosion unharmed. Dark tendrils wrapped around its legs, attempting to constrict it, but they fell apart before contact. The Guardian was immune to curses, and every spell Konrad sent was absorbed or ignored.

It was clearly a one-sided battle since the very beginning.

Adam hadn't moved once from his spot. He simply watched with his arms relaxed and his eyes locked onto Konrad with unsettling interest. He spoke occasionally, though never directly. The necromancer's frustration built with every unanswered question, every flicker of amusement behind Adam's tone. At one point, Konrad shouted in anger and unleashed one of his most dangerous spells, calling down the [Cursed Thunder of Agrippa]. The black bolt cracked from the sky with a roar, shattering the air as it slammed into Adam's chest. For a moment, Konrad thought it had landed true. But the boy remained standing, his skin barely singed, his clothes ruffled by the wind. He inhaled slowly through his nose, closing his eyes.

"That felt... clean."

His words struck deeper than the spell had. Konrad's hand trembled slightly.

"What the hell are you up to?"

He muttered in a low voice.

"Why won't you attack? Why just watch me squirm?"

Adam tilted his head, as if deciding whether or not to answer.

"You're in no position to be asking questions."

He finally said.

"But since we're here... tell me, how exactly did you manage to contact the Hunt3rs Alliance?"

Konrad's mind froze. His eyes widened, and for the first time, his expression cracked.

"What?... How do you know about that?"

Adam sighed and looked away briefly.

"Like I said. I'm the one asking questions."

In that instant, the atmosphere changed while Adam blurred forward. One moment he stood twenty paces away, the next he was in front of Konrad, moving without wind or step. The necromancer barely had time to react. He swung his staff in reflex, aiming to strike the face that had haunted him for minutes. But the blow never landed. Adam's body shifted into mist mid-swing, the strike passing harmlessly through. The necromancer stumbled forward in confusion.

A second later, Adam reformed behind him, arms coiling around his shoulder and wrist with surgical precision. In one fluid movement, he twisted the man's arm and forced him down. Konrad hit the ground with a pained grunt, face scraping against stone. The miasma rose around them, heavy and watchful. Adam knelt over him, hand pressing down between his shoulder blades, his voice calm.

Stolen story; please report.

"I'm going to repeat myself only once more. The Hunt3rs Alliance. How?"

Konrad's fingers clenched against the stone, but he didn't answer. Adam didn't press further. He simply held him down, unmoving, as the cursed air around them grew denser. The skeletal knights watched silently. The Guardian of Envy raised one blade slightly, ready to strike if needed, and Angela remained on her perch in the distance with Falk on her shoulder, one hand resting on her knee, expression unreadable.

The necromancer tried to resist, his fingers twitching as he attempted to gather some kind of retaliation, but the pressure on his shoulder kept increasing. Adam calmly leaned in and shifted his weight. The joint twisted further... A crack rang out. Konrad gasped and clenched his teeth, but when the pressure didn't stop, he finally grunted as Adam forced more pressure on his arm, and finally hissed,

"Alright, I'll talk!"

Adam remained silent, eyes watching him closely.

"They reached out to us back in the Trade Nexus, at the coliseum."

Konrad said, his voice strained.

"Someone from Hunt3rs. Not official at first, just conversations. He said we'd benefit if we cooperated."

"What kind of benefits?"

Adam asked coldly.

"Access to information. Gear. Backing in tougher scenarios. They wanted us to send over any useful combat data we could get. Skills, strategies, conditions... especially the rare stuff."

"Data… Sure, did they say how they expected you to deliver those stolen skills?"

Adam interrupted.

"Specifically, with 'Skillrend Daggers'?"

The moment the name was spoken, Konrad froze. His breath caught in his chest. His body stiffened beneath Adam's grip.

The necromancer's mind was racing now. He didn't speak, nor did he move. Everything clicked together in the space of a second—the plan that had felt off, the shifting priorities during encounters, the way certain information had always been conveniently accessible to them. His lips curled back in disgust as he muttered low, almost spitting the words through his teeth.

"That bitch…"

Adam tilted his head slightly but said nothing.

"She said she was freed from that mind control skill. We believed her. Hell, we needed to believe her since I found nothing... But she never broke free, did she?"

Konrad growled and exhaled shakily.

"All this time, she was still under control."

As Konrad remained pinned, eyes burning with the realization, Adam calmly slipped a hand into the man's tunic and pulled out a small silver dagger. Its design was sleek, ceremonial, and unnaturally sharp, glinting with a magical sheen. Adam examined it briefly, then said in a neutral tone.

"Strange. You're carrying it physically. Why not materialize it through the system interface like usual?"

Konrad said nothing, but the tightening of his jaw and the way his fingers curled into the ground made the answer clear.

"I guess they aren't really yours, are they?"

Adam added quietly. No response again, only the hollow weight of shame in Konrad's expression.

The boy pocketed the dagger, keeping his weight on the necromancer's back. Konrad's body remained tense, but finally his resistance ebbed. He sighed, low and bitter.

"Fine. I get it. You've won. I'm not going to fight anymore. Let me up, and I'll walk away. I'll talk to the others. We'll retreat. End the scenario without more blood."

Adam didn't move.

"Do you actually think I'm that stupid?"

Konrad twisted his neck slightly to glance back at him.

"So what? Are you planning to stay there forever?"

"No… But if I kill you here and now, the issue disappears."

Adam replied, however that made Konrad bark out a short, sharp laugh.

"You're bluffing. If you wanted to kill me, you would've done it already."

Adam didn't reply.

"You're keeping me alive for some reason. Maybe information. Maybe leverage. Or maybe…"

He smiled with faint derision.

"Maybe you're just another one of those moralists. Can't kill someone unless they're actively trying to murder a puppy."

The boy's expression remained unreadable, and his silence only encouraged Konrad to keep speaking.

"You think you've done something impressive here? You don't have the slightest idea of what's coming."

The necromancer said, his voice dropping to a darker tone.

"If you think these scenarios are bad, then you've never seen what actual top users look like. Not the ones who just want to clear the stage. The ones who want to erase people like you from existence just for fun."

His tone sharpened further.

"The ones who join groups like Hunt3rs for the mere love of killing. Who walk through system boundaries because they've outgrown the rules. You're just mere ants to them."

Adam tried to speak, but stopped. A sudden pressure washed over him. His gaze turned upward, and in that split second, his pupils shrank. A shadow descended from above. Wings spread wide. A presence heavy and hot with intent. The sky was no longer dark with miasma, but glowing gold-orange from the incoming torrent. A moment before it landed, system text flashed before his eyes, parsing the incoming attack:

There was no more time. Adam pushed off and vanished backward in a blur, letting go of Konrad just before the wave hit. The fire fell like a waterfall, engulfing the plaza in a pillar of descending flame. It struck the ground and expanded outward in all directions, devouring the miasma instantly. The cursed fog evaporated in seconds, replaced by a sea of golden fire. Angela shielded herself instinctively atop her stone perch but didn't move otherwise.

In the center of the blaze, Konrad remained untouched. His skin wasn't even warm. The fire curled around him, leaving his robes clean. He groaned in pain as he slowly pushed himself up, the twisted arm still throbbing from the earlier hold. But he was alive. Above him, two figures landed with opposing auras.

The first was Solène with a changed appearance. Her arms were partially scaled, her back lined with extended wings of red membrane, and a long reptilian tail curled behind her. Her breath was heavy, but her steps were steady. Her presence radiated authority, heat, and fury. Clinging to her back awkwardly, a second figure dropped to the ground with a thud and stumbled forward… It was Jonathan Whitman.

His suit was crumpled, and his face was frozen in confusion and fear. He looked around, disoriented, unable to process what had just happened. His hands shook slightly as he tried to get up and immediately realized he had no idea why he was here or how he had arrived. Solène didn't even look at him. Her eyes were on the field zone where Adam had disappeared. Konrad straightened, still aching, but breathing.

The battlefield, still soaked in fading flames, shimmered with an unnatural heat that refused to die. The inferno hissed as it clung to the stone ground, licking the edges of what had once been a cursed miasma field. In the middle of it all stood Konrad, grimacing as he pulled himself upright. Solène didn't meet his eyes, but her voice carried enough sharpness to suggest concern.

"Are you alright?"

She asked flatly.

"I've been in better situations."

Konrad replied, brushing soot from his robes. Solène exhaled sharply, glancing at the scorched battlefield.

"They played us… We walked straight into a trap."

She muttered. Konrad didn't hesitate to answer.

"No. She did this."

That made Solène turn to face him fully for the first time. Her eyes narrowed, unreadable at first, but the tension in her body showed how seriously she took the accusation.

"What are you talking about?"

"Meera…"

Konrad said, voice dark with certainty.

"It's her. It was she who pushed for this entire plan. She made it all sound like it was the only path forward. And I believed her."

Solène stared at him, stunned.

"You're saying… she never broke free? That all that talk about resisting the mind-control skill was fake?"

"She lied to us, and if she fooled me, I'm sure that none of the others will have noticed. She's still under their influence, and we've been following orders that weren't really hers."

The realization settled like a weight in the air. Solène's expression shifted from disbelief to something more wounded and hollow. Her mind reeled, trying to make sense of what had happened minutes earlier, her battle against the mechanical warrior that shouldn't have gone the way it did. She had nearly died but was fighting alongside her friend. Had the whole thing been a manipulation?

But there was no time to linger on the thought. The atmosphere shifted once more, suddenly and violently, interrupting their conversation. A wind pulled at their clothes, and the air grew dense, suffocating. Both turned instinctively toward the center of the clearing, eyes narrowing.

The golden flames that had covered the battlefield began to ripple unnaturally. They darkened, the glow turning muddy, then ink-black, swirling as if caught in a vortex. The fire was being dragged, not outward, but inward, pulled into a single point like water down a drain. At that point stood a figure, his mouth wide open as if he were inhaling the entire battlefield… It was Adam.

His stance was calm, composed, his arms loose at his sides, but his presence dominated the area. The flames streamed into him, consumed by his body in long waves of energy. This was the fusion of his cursed fireproof techniques and his parasitic undead physiology: [Corrupted Existence] and [Cursed Fire Consumption].

The last strands of tainted fire slithered into his body, leaving behind only scorched ground and a vacuum of noise. A silence followed. Then Adam exhaled.

"Thanks for the meal."

He said with a hint of mockery, as if he had simply enjoyed a late lunch.

Konrad didn't speak. He couldn't. He just stared, aghast. The power Adam had just absorbed had not only failed to harm him—it had strengthened him. Around him, the aura of dark energy doubled, twisted shadows pulsing from his limbs, his eyes glowing faintly with a deep, unnatural crimson.

Solène's composure shattered as she stepped back, wings flaring slightly.

"What kind of hybrid freak is this??"

She yelled, her voice breaking from frustration and rage. She had just barely escaped defeat at the hands of a mechanical monster, and now this thing was standing in front of her, casually devouring flames that should have been an undead weakness.

Before either of them could react further, a calm figure descended from above. Angela, until now perched on a broken column, landed beside Adam with deliberate grace. She gave him a small nod before glancing toward the enemy duo.

"She's the leader."

She said plainly. Adam tilted his head.

"So she's the one who hurt Sebastian."

Angela's eyes didn't waver.

"Yes. But I'll handle it."

Adam blinked once.

"You sure?"

"My strongest skill is recharged, I can finish this by myself."

Angela said. The boy hesitated only for a moment, then took a step back.

"Alright. Do your thing."

The blonde didn't speak as she raised her hand. Her movement was precise and confident, the motion of someone who knew the flow of power by instinct rather than thought. From the space just above her palm, her brush emerged, conjured directly from her will. The handle was smooth and black, the bristles soaked in ink so dark it shimmered like the void, yet not a single drop escaped its tip.

She turned to the open space before her, gaze sharp and focused, and in a single, clean arc of her wrist, she painted a glyph in the air. The black circle lingered, floating in place as if carved into the air itself. For a few moments, it remained untouched, silent, and suspended. Then it drifted downward, slowly pressing itself into the earth until the ink met the ground and expanded outward.

It didn't explode or radiate violently, and what emerged from the circle was not light or sound, but weight and pressure. The shift in atmosphere was immediate and undeniable. Something ancient, something buried in the instincts of all living things, screamed at them to retreat. Konrad's fingers twitched involuntarily. Solène's eyes widened, and her wings shivered, every nerve in her body tightening. Even Adam narrowed his eyes and took a single step back, his spectral form flickering faintly.

Konrad turned his head slightly, throat tight. He didn't speak, but Solène did.

"What the hell is she summoning?"

He wanted to answer. But his voice wouldn't come. He didn't know the name, didn't know the source, but his body recognized it. Staying here was suicide.

Angela raised her brush again, but before the stroke could be completed, the air cracked. A digital chime echoed from above, clear and artificial, immediately followed by the sharp materialization of system windows midair.

A second later, beams of translucent energy whipped into existence around Angela. The chains struck without warning, wrapping around her limbs, torso, and throat in perfect sync. Her eyes widened as the brush fell from her fingers. Her body was yanked downward violently, knees crashing against the scorched stone with a force that stole her breath. The black summoning circle evaporated the moment she fell, reduced to fading lines of ink that dissolved into mist. Her breathing turned uneven, arms pinned to her sides, mouth open in shock. She hadn't seen it coming.

Adam turned at once, his expression unreadable but alert. Konrad stepped sideways, shoulder still aching, and Solène followed his gaze. All three sets of eyes locked onto the same point behind them.

Jonathan… He was shaking. His legs were quivering as if they might collapse at any moment, and his right arm was still extended toward Angela, his hand splayed open as if he were trying to push away a nightmare. Sweat ran down his face and soaked the collar of his shirt. His breathing was shallow, but his expression was set in determination, though it was covered in fear. He looked like someone who had done something irreversible and realized it too late.

"I… I saw her use that skill before…"

He stammered, voice trembling as much as his limbs.

"Just once. Back in the tower scenario. She summoned… A guy, or s-something. I don't know what it was… b-but it killed everything it touched. It didn't m-matter who or what."

He swallowed hard, his voice cracking.

"So I… I stopped it. Just in case."

Solène blinked, lips parting slightly.

"You had that kind of Plot Device and never said anything?"

"I bought it after the last scenario with my… Err… Ex-team?"

Jonathan said quickly.

"Didn't tell a-anyone. I thought maybe it would c-come in handy. I didn't know when or how, but I kept it… j-just in case. I wasn't even sure it w-would work."

His arm slowly dropped back to his side. He looked at Angela, still kneeling and bound, unable to move, her teeth clenched in frustration. The chains didn't hurt her, but they held her completely. Whatever force she had attempted to bring forth had been halted in that moment.

The battlefield didn't move. No one spoke. The fire was gone. The circle was gone… But the main concern for both members of 'Dragon Utopia' remained… That freak of a glasses boy.