Surviving These Unfair Scenarios [LITRPG - DIMENSION HOPPING]

The colossal World Tree, Yggdrasil, stood as a beacon of life in the shattered plaza, its radiant golden glow washing over everything. Life pulsed from its impossibly lush foliage in a wave of pure, revitalizing energy. Every member of 'No Name' felt their injuries knit together with astonishing speed. Bruises faded, gashes sealed, and exhaustion evaporated like morning mist.

It was a blanket of profound healing spreading its warmth over the devastated land. Yet, at the very heart of that rejuvenating aura, a figure twisted in agony. Adam, his mutated body crumpled and broken, still writhed on the scorched earth, screaming, the Yggdrasil's life-giving energy tearing at his corrupted essence, burning him from the inside out. His screams, raw and animalistic, were the only discordant sound in the plaza.

Beowulf, having just explained the curious nature of his spectral bull, watched the boy with an almost scientific interest. He stretched languidly, then, with a casual stride, walked towards the still writhing form of Adam. The cries of pain intensified as he approached, but Beowulf paid them no mind. He reached into the air, and a system window materialized in his hand.

The message hung in the air, its implications settling over the plaza. The instant the Plot Device activated, Adam's agonizing thrashing ceased. His body, still mutated and grotesque, froze mid-writhe, suspended as if an invisible hand had pressed a colossal pause button. The screams died in his throat, his eyes wide and fixed, utterly unmoving. The silence that followed was profound, weighed down by the sudden cessation of suffering.

Meanwhile, Brunhilde moved with swift grace towards Drake, who was still slumped on the ground, his body slowly but surely recovering under Yggdrasil's healing glow. She knelt beside him, her delicate fingers reaching out.

"Such a dreadful state for such a perfectly sculpted specimen. This simply won't do."

She murmured, her voice a soft, almost sympathetic tone, while she attempted to help him stand, her hand gently touching his arm.

But Drake recoiled, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His eyes, still burning with a strange, hostile light, snapped towards her. He pushed her hand away with a violent jerk, his movements still sluggish from the lingering effects of his ordeal, but clear in their rejection. There was aggression in his posture, a deep-seated antagonism that seemed completely at odds with his usual kind-hearted demeanor.

Brunhilde paused, her hand suspended in the air and her elegant brow furrowing slightly. She observed him, her green eyes narrowing, no longer just seeing a 'pretty face' but a subject of curious anomaly.

With a deliberate motion, she raised her own hand, and the Moderator menu materialized before her. She scrolled through it with practiced ease as her fingers danced across the ethereal interface, until her eyes widened faintly with a flicker of understanding passing through them.

"Ah, I see."

She murmured, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching her lips.

"So that's it. A rather persistent and unpleasant little trinket."

She focused on a specific line of text, then, with a decisive gesture, her fingers glowing faintly with the power of her alchemy, she reached out and touched Drake's forehead. Her [Basic Alchemy+] skill activated, but this time, it felt different, imbued with the authority she now wielded. She was not merely combining compounds, but subtly separating a conceptual influence from his very being.

A system message bloomed into existence above the blond boy.

The words hung in the air, illuminating the plaza with their stark truth. The oppressive energy that had shrouded Drake, the subtle distortion that had twisted his perception and amplified his darker impulses, began to recede. The overflowing Ki that had lent him an almost monstrous strength, the divine wings of light that had flared so magnificently, began to dim and lose their volume. His colossal legendary sword and the soul fire of the Vermillion Dragon shimmered, then vanished from his grasp as its connection to him was severed. The golden flame that had wreathed his blade dissipated, leaving only the mundane reality of his bare hand.

Drake's body, suddenly stripped of its amplified power, crumpled. He fell to his knees, gasping for air, his eyes wide and unblinking, as if staring into an unseen abyss. The immediate physical sensations were overwhelming, but far more terrifying was the sudden, jarring clarity of his mind.

Drake clutched his head, his hands pressing against his temples as if trying to physically contain the torrent of memories that crashed over him. The world spun, not from physical dizziness, but from the sickening reminiscing of what he had done. Tenzing… The monk's face, the surprise in his eyes, the swift, brutal decapitation. It replayed in his mind, sharp and vivid, a scene of cold-blooded murder that had felt justified, even necessary, just moments ago… A choked gasp escaped him, his breath hitching.

He wasn't a stranger to violence; no one in the system truly was. But the truth was, Tenzing wasn't the first person Drake had killed. Years ago, in the real world, before the system, when he was just a desperate young man trying to survive the harsh realities of the underworld, he had been indirectly responsible for many deaths. Other gang members and petty criminals, all consequences of a brutal existence.

But never like this. Never with such a chilling detachment, never with a direct, cold-blooded intent that had left no room for doubt or remorse. The 'Neutral Evil' alignment change had not only suppressed his empathy but amplified a dark potential he had always kept locked away, turning him into a terrifyingly efficient killer. The memory burned, twisting his gut. He had justified it, rationalized it, but the chilling truth was, a part of him, a part he now hated, had enjoyed the cold efficiency of it.

Brunhilde noticed the subtle tremor that wracked Drake's body, the sudden, haunted look in his eyes. He wasn't crying, but his internal turmoil was palpable, even to someone as seemingly detached as her. When she spoke to him, offering a casual remark about his recovery, he didn't respond. His gaze was distant and his jaw clenched, lost in the horrors of his own mind.

"Such stress…"

She murmured, her voice carrying a faint note of distaste.

"It hardly suits such a charming visage."

With another swift, deliberate motion, she reached out and touched his forehead. This time, her [Basic Alchemy+] skill combined with her authority worked not to dispel a Plot Device, but to extract a specific emotion. She separated the raw, overwhelming anxiety that coiled in Drake's mind, pulling it out as if drawing poison from a wound.

The emotion materialized before them as a shimmering, slightly iridescent watery bubble, pulsing with a faint, uneasy light. It floated for a moment, until Brunhilde, with a soft hum, produced a small, ornate glass vial from a hidden pocket within her immaculate white uniform – a pocket that seemed to appear from nowhere and vanish just as quickly. With a delicate flourish, she uncorked the vial and allowed the bubbling anxiety to flow into it.

"Perhaps this will prove useful at some point."

She mused, more to herself than anyone else, her purple eyes gleaming with a hint of dark curiosity. She recorked the vial, then, with a casual gesture, made it disappear back into her inventory skill.

Drake's body stilled, and the trembling ceased. The suffocating anguish that had clamped down on his mind, the sickening sensation of self-loathing, lifted. It was as if a heavy weight had been pulled from his shoulders, leaving him feeling disoriented but undeniably calmer. He didn't understand how, but the crushing sense of dread was gone. Yet, the memories remained. The cold, stark truth of his actions, unburdened by the Plot Device's influence, was still there, seared into his mind.

His jaw tightened, his gaze still shadowed, and a deep, pervasive sorrow settled over him. He had done those things. He had taken a life, directly, unfeelingly. The horror of it remained.

Brunhilde watched him, a faint, almost sympathetic flicker in her beautiful eyes. She offered him her hand again. Drake hesitated, his gaze still fixed on the ground… He swallowed hard, then, slowly, his hand trembling slightly, he reached out and accepted her help. He didn't speak, but the slight inclination of his head was a silent acknowledgment.

Meanwhile, Beowulf called out to the scattered members of 'No Name' and Angela.

"Alright, everyone! Come on over! Nothing to worry about now!"

His voice boomed across the plaza, cutting through the stunned silence. The 'No Name' team hesitated. They exchanged wary glances, their eyes darting between the seemingly benign Beowulf and Brunhilde, and the still, frozen form of Adam.

Angela, who had finally pushed herself fully upright, glared at the two Team Eden members with clenched teeth.

"Don't listen to them."

She hissed under her breath to her team, her voice low and filled with an almost visceral animosity.

"You cannot trust anyone from Team Eden."

But Li, shaking off the last vestiges of his pain and exhaustion, stepped forward. His cybernetic eye gleamed with grim pragmatism.

"We don't have a choice. Besides, the reason they're here is likely a direct consequence of the 'Deus Ex Machina' Plot Device I activated. By definition, they shouldn't pose a threat to us. They're here to 'solve' something."

He stated. His logic, cold and unfeeling, offered a strange reassurance.

Li was the first to approach, then the rest of 'No Name' followed hesitantly, their eyes wide, their bodies still stiff with lingering shock, but drawn by the promise of safety and answers. Chloe moved with a nervous energy, while Gregor and Emir walked with a more measured caution. Kazue and Katya walked side-by-side, the blonde still glaring at Angela, but keeping her silence for Kazue's sake.

Angela, however, remained rooted to her spot, her jaw tight, her eyes burning with an unspoken fury. She watched them go, her body rigid with a deep-seated resentment. Kazue, noticing Angela's distress, peeled away from Katya and walked over to her, much to the blonde's annoyance.

"Angela…"

Kazue said softly, her voice filled with genuine empathy.

"I know there's clearly a problem between you and that… Team Eden or whatever. I understand that. But Li's right. The System itself wouldn't let them harm us now. The very definition of 'Deus Ex Machina' means they're here to help us out of danger. You don't have to interact with them if you don't want to, but I don't think it's wise to antagonize them, not right now."

Her words were calm, reasoned, and appealing to Angela's logical side.

The girl hesitated. She looked from Kazue's earnest face to the approaching forms of her team, then back to the two imposing figures of Beowulf and Brunhilde. Her gaze drifted over the motionless form of Adam, the center of this new, bizarre peace. She weighed her deep-seated animosity against the stark reality of their situation. A flicker of something unreadable passed through her eyes, a fleeting thought, a deeply personal memory.

She sighed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly, like a grudging acceptance in her posture.

"You're right… Besides, we still need to attend to Adam anyway."

She muttered with resignation. The words were clipped, but the concession was sincere.

Finally, everyone gathered under the warm, golden glow of Yggdrasil. The World Tree's healing power continued its relentless work. They watched, astonished, as the last wounds vanished, and their strength returned with every passing second. Emir, whose body had been wracked with the lingering curses of Adam's spear, felt the black veins receding, his pain dissolving entirely.

He gasped as the terrifying agony was completely gone, and with renewed energy, he reached into his inventory and pulled out another of his interdimensional containment cubes. With a soft hum, he released the body of Thabo, one of Angela's teammates, who had been brutally wounded protecting the kid during their desperate fight in the catacombs. The man's body, battered and on the brink of death, collapsed onto the soft, glowing grass beneath the tree.

"Thabo!"

Angela gasped and rushed to his side, her earlier animosity forgotten in a surge of concern for her comrade. She knelt, checking his pulse, but as she watched, Thabo's ghastly wounds began to seal. His skin regained a healthy color, and his shallow breaths deepened, becoming even and steady. He wasn't awake yet, but it seemed he was no longer in mortal danger.

Beowulf, who had observed the scene, offered a reassuring smile.

"Don't you worry, lass, as long as he's not dead, every wound will be mended under the World Tree's shadow."

He rumbled with a calm and steady voice. Angela didn't respond directly, but the visible tension in her shoulders eased, and she let out a quiet sigh of relief. The implicit promise of the healing skill power offered a comfort even her deep-seated mistrust couldn't completely ignore.

With everyone gathered and accounted for, their wounds fully mended, Beowulf began to speak. Brunhilde was still entirely focused on Drake, meticulously inspecting his now flawless skin, running her hand over his jawline with a discerning eye.

Beowulf, meanwhile, grinned at the users in front of him.

"Right then, everyone in one piece! Good to see. Not sure if you lot heard me before, with all the chaos, but you've just been dealing with a rather peculiar S- rank entity, a nasty being that is now possessing your friend's body."

He watched their faces with an unwavering smile.

"One that even fluctuated into S and S+ rank depending on the circumstances, all thanks to a rather nasty loophole in the system."

The team exchanged bewildered glances. An S- rank entity? Fluctuating higher? The sheer power they had faced, the overwhelming sense of helplessness, suddenly made terrifying sense. Kazue was the first to voice their collective thoughts and step forward.

"First of all, thank you…"

She said, her voice earnest.

"Truly, thank you for your help. But… who are you two? And why are you here?"

Beowulf chuckled, a deep, resonant sound.

"Right to the point, I like that! Name's Beowulf."

He gestured to his companion, who barely acknowledged the introduction, still lost in her admiration of Drake.

"And that's Brunhilde. Code names, you see. Every member of Team Eden gets one. Can't go around using our real names, internal policy, don't you know? Bit of a pain, but rules are rules."

Kazue's eyes lit up.

"Team Eden? But…"

She breathed, the name carrying a legendary weight within the System. She was about to ask more, about their history, their structure, how one became a part of such an elite team, but Beowulf cut her off with a raised hand.

"Hold your horses there, kiddo, can't be giving out spoilers now, can I? While the general characteristics and ways to enter Eden are an open secret, I can't just blurt them out directly. Users have to discover that for themselves. It's part of the fun, after all. The system likes its little mysteries."

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

He said with a playful glint in his eye. His answer, though frustrating, made a strange kind of sense within the illogical rules of their world.

The conversation continued, the tension slowly bleeding from the air, replaced by a cautious curiosity. Chloe piped up once she was calmed enough.

"So, Adam… he'll be okay?"

She asked, her gaze flicking towards the still-frozen, grotesque form. Beowulf nodded reassuringly.

"Oh, he's just 'contained' for now. Perfectly fine. Well, as fine as a paused, mutated half-lich can be, that is."

He chuckled again. Emir, his young eyes wide with awe, spoke next.

"You two… you're so strong! You beat the monster possessing him so easily!"

His innocent amazement brought a wide grin to Beowulf's face.

"Haha, easy there, little guy! We've had a bit more practice, that's all. But you've got guts, I'll give you that. I can feel traces of great demonic energy coming from you, but you are not tainted by it, meaning you have most likely one of those beasts tamed, yeah? Quite something!"

Emir blushed faintly at the praise. Li narrowed his cybernetic eye and was the next to talk.

"Then what was the real reason you appeared in this scenario?"

He asked, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. Beowulf's smile softened slightly, losing some of its playful edge.

"Well, truth be told, it was a bit of a strange coincidence, with both of us showing up. But we did have a… peculiar feeling."

He glanced at Drake, who was now standing fully, though still somber.

"Both Brunhilde and I have had our eyes on that Drake Shaw guy since the last scenario you guys were at. When we sensed him activating his Moderator role, only to find him on the brink of death, it set off some alarms. That's when we discovered that your friend was… bugged, in a way. Dealing with system errors and eradicating them is part of our job, you see."

Gregor crossed his arms and interrupted.

"So, you're both 'Moderators', then? And your duty is to exterminate errors. Why leave Adam alive then? You said that he's clearly an error."

His gaze was unblinking and challenging. Beowulf chuckled, a softer sound this time, then his face settled into a more sober expression.

"That's a fair question, soldier. And the answer is… a special case. Our leader has a rather unique interest in the user Adam Scholar. He talks about him quite a bit, actually. We don't know why exactly. But once we found him here, in this state, we couldn't just… eradicate him, you know?"

Everyone exchanged bewildered glances. Angela, in particular, shot a deeply suspicious look towards Adam's frozen form. A special interest from Team Eden's leader? She wondered, a cold dread seeping into her heart. What kind of relationship did Adam have with a team she despised so fiercely? The thought was unsettling, hinting at layers of manipulation and unseen connections she couldn't possibly fathom.

Their uneasy conversation, however, was suddenly interrupted by a piercing shriek.

"Let me go, you traitorous bitch!"

Everyone whipped their heads around. Solène, the leader of 'Dragon Utopia', had finally awakened. She thrashed wildly, fire flickering at the corners of her mouth, her eyes blazing with furious indignation. While Meera, who had also just revived, was struggling to hold her back, her arms wrapped around her friend in a desperate attempt to restrain her.

"First, I'm going to settle things with that four-eyed bastard!"

Solène roared, her gaze fixed on the group.

"Then I'm going to rip your arm for betraying us!"

Her fury was palpable, radiating off her in waves. Meera, pale and desperate, tried to calm her, but Solène was beyond reason.

The 'No Name' team instinctively tensed, but Beowulf merely let out a soft laugh.

"Calm yourselves, everyone, any violence is useless here. While you're under Yggdrasil, any damage will simply be healed. You can scream and fight all you want, but you'll just tire yourselves out."

His words, though delivered calmly, carried an undeniable authority that settled over the chaotic scene.

Solène, ignoring the imposing man, managed to wrench herself free from Meera's grip and surged forward, a draconic snarl tearing from her throat.

"Where is that damn nerd?!"

She bellowed, her eyes scanning the plaza for Adam. But as she ran, her gaze flickered to the destroyed, unmoving body of the boy, still held in stasis by Beowulf's Plot Device. Solène skidded to a halt. The fury on her face vanished, replaced by an expression of profound, horrifying shock.

She ran towards him, her previous rage forgotten in a surge of bewildered horror.

"Who… who did this?!"

She demanded, her voice raw with disbelief.

"I'll kill them! I'll kill whoever did this to him!"

It was a startling transformation… During their fight, Solène had developed a strange, almost respectful bond with Adam. He had pushed her to her absolute limits, forcing her to unleash everything she had, and he had ultimately defeated her with every ounce of his power. It wasn't a one-sided stomp like with the dammed robot; it was almost equal, it let the girl use her all for the first time. She didn't see him as an enemy to be hated, but as a formidable opponent, someone she longed to fight again, to test her strength against since she was an irremediable battle junky.

Meera, too, surged forward, her own eyes widening as she saw Adam.

"Brother!"

She cried, tears welling in her eyes, her fabricated memories of him as her older sibling overwhelming her. She rushed to his side, reaching out to grasp his destroyed body, trying to pull him closer, but he was frozen and immovable. Her hands trembled uselessly over his shattered form, a heartbroken wail escaping her lips.

Beowulf observed the scene with a faint, almost imperceptible arch to his eyebrow as he watched Meera's emotional outburst. He noticed something else, too – a subtle, persistent energy within Meera's mind that the Yggdrasil's healing effect didn't seem to fully clear. Curious, he thought, but didn't dwell on it. It was an anomaly, but not his current priority. He approached the two distraught women, his voice calm and reassuring.

"He's fine, ladies. And I'm afraid it was I who left the boy in that state, but…"

Solène and Meera both exploded. The redhead twisted her draconic features in a furious snarl, lunged with a sharp, clawed hand, aiming for Beowulf's face. Meera hurled her divine energy-infused chakram with lethal intent as well. The man, however, simply raised his hands, effortlessly catching both their attacks. He seized Solène's wrist in one hand and Meera's chakram in the other, stopping them both dead in their tracks.

"Calm yourselves, nothing bad is going to happen to him. In fact, keeping him like this is necessary for now."

He rumbled, his voice firm but not unkind.

"What do you mean, 'necessary'?"

Meera demanded, her voice choked with tears and fury. Drake, who had slowly risen from the ground, fully healed and now free from Brunhilde's direct ministrations, stepped forward. His expression was grim. He looked at both women.

"Adam… he was possessed by the Undead Empress. A being of immense power, sealed inside him."

He explained, his voice low and strained. Beowulf nodded.

"Indeed. And it seems someone conveniently 'unsealed' her, didn't they?"

Solène's furious gaze shifted. She looked across the plaza, her eyes narrowing on the figure of Konrad, still sitting slumped and unresponsive in the distance. Her jaw tightened. She understood… That miserable necromancer. A low growl rumbled in her chest.

"He'll get what's coming to him."

She muttered, a chilling promise in her voice. Both women, though still visibly shaken, began to calm. Beowulf, sensing the shift, released them. Solène scratched her head, her earlier fury fading into a frustrated anxiety.

"So… what about the rest of my team?"

She asked, her eyes sweeping over 'No Name'.

"Seeing all of you here… I assume our plan went sideways. They all lost, didn't they?"

Kazue stepped forward, her expression gentle but firm and proud.

"Yes, they did, but everyone's safe, none of them are too badly hurt. We left them outside the plaza. We agreed with Meera's earlier terms – defeated, but not critically injured."

She assured her. Meera sighed with profound relief, her shoulders slumping. Her team was safe. It was a small comfort in the grand scheme of things.

But then, Drake's jaw tightened. He clenched his fists and hesitated, a fierce internal battle raging within him. He had to say it. He had to face it.

"That's not entirely true."

He said, his voice low, raw with forced confession.

"There was… one casualty. I… I was the one who ended Tenzing's life. I'm truly sorry."

He looked directly at Solène and Meera, his eyes filled with self-loathing.

"It was the Plot Device that changed my mentality, it activated automatically. But it was still me, I… I decapitated him."

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the plaza. The women stared at Drake, their eyes darkening, a dangerous glint in their depths. The rest of 'No Name' looked at the blond with a mixture of shock and disbelief. Did Drake kill someone? It was a horrifying revelation for some of them, or at least it was for Kazue, Chloe, and Emir.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Solène spoke. Her voice was surprisingly calm, devoid of her usual explosive anger.

"Did he… suffer?"

Drake, caught off guard by the unexpected question, blinked. He met her gaze, his own eyes filled with a raw honesty.

"No… He didn't. It was very fast. He likely didn't even register his own death."

He replied, his voice barely a whisper. Solène and Meera's faces, though still etched with a profound sadness, softened imperceptibly. They were clearly furious, but then, a collective sigh of resignation escaped them. The redhead ran a hand over her face.

"As long as he didn't suffer, then there are no major problems. Death… it's normal for system users. We all learn to deal with it, eventually. We can't expect to go into these scenarios, intending to take lives, and not be prepared to lose our own."

She murmured with a weary and tired voice. Beowulf clapped his hands together, a loud, resounding sound that echoed across the plaza.

"Hear, hear!"

He boomed, a genuine approval in his voice.

"That's very true. Death is part of the system. No reason to magnify it. It's fine to mourn a fallen ally, but not to let it lead to unnecessary conflict or sacrifice."

Drake's jaw tightened. He clenched his fist harder, biting his lip until he tasted blood. He disagreed. He disagreed profoundly. He didn't know what he would be capable of if anyone else dared to kill one of his comrades. He remembered Nikolai, his face, his final words, the agonizing pain of his loss. But he also remembered the quiet pride in Nikolai's sacrifice, the fact that he had chosen his own end for their sake instead of being mercilessly assassinated… That was a death to be honored, not mourned with bitter regret. He couldn't help but feel a deep, burning resentment for Beowulf's casual philosophy.

Then suddenly, Solène slumped violently to the ground.

"So, what now?"

She asked, her voice flat, utterly lost in the dizzying aftermath of everything that had transpired. She had no idea how to proceed. Beowulf was about to answer, but this time, Brunhilde interrupted him, her green eyes fixed on Adam's frozen form.

"Regarding Adam Scholar, nothing can be done at the moment. Once the scenario concludes, the possession will end, and he will return to his normal state."

She stated, her voice cool and authoritative.

"However, be warned. When you re-enter another scenario, the entity you call the Undead Empress will simply take control of his body again."

Kazue's eyes widened.

"Then what can we do?!"

She pleaded, a desperate edge to her voice. Chloe, her face crumpling, exclaimed,

"So it's like nothing happened?! This is useless!"

Drake, after a moment of silent contemplation, pushed past the others and approached Brunhilde.

"Can't you… can't you do with Adam what you did with me?"

He asked, his voice low and urgent.

"Use your skill to separate him from the ghost that possesses him?"

Brunhilde offered him a serene smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"My dear, I certainly could."

She said, her voice smooth, almost apologetic.

"But I won't. As my companion just stated, Adam Scholar is a user of significant interest to our leader. And therefore, we have no intention of touching him further than we already have."

Kazue cried out in protest, but Brunhilde's gaze snapped to her, a cold, piercing intensity in her purple eyes that immediately silenced the girl.

"Gilgamesh's orders are absolute."

Brunhilde stated, her voice chillingly devoid of warmth.

"He is a perfect being, the most perfect you will ever have the privilege to witness. If he has an interest in someone, it is for a significant reason. There is no room for discussion on this matter."

Her words brooked no argument, her authority absolute. With the matter settled, Kazue, still reeling but undeterred, asked again.

"Then what can we do?"

She looked desperately between the two Team Eden members, searching for any glimmer of hope. Finally, Beowulf offered a reassuring smile.

"Oh, there are plenty of ways to fix that before your next scenario, all different, with varying results, but ways to solve it, nonetheless."

He said with ease.

"What options?!"

Kazue pressed, her voice laced with an urgent plea. But before Beowulf could respond, a familiar, ominous sound echoed across the plaza, a high-pitched, almost digital chime.

Suddenly, a massive blue screen materialized over them, blotting out the air. It pulsed with an unyielding light, while a female robotic voice began to read its content. Solène, who had been listening intently, gasped, her eyes wide with a profound, almost comical, disbelief.

"No way…"

She muttered, her voice barely a whisper. The screen pulsed with the unmistakable signal of the scenario's conclusion.

In an instant, Angela's body began to shimmer. A soft, golden light enveloped her, growing brighter, until with a silent burst of pure energy, she vanished. Thabo's unconscious form, still resting on the ground, also shimmered, and then, with a similar burst of light, disappeared beside her.

Everyone stared, stunned by the abrupt end. It appeared that while the furious, world-shaking battle had raged in the plaza, the rest of Angela's team, somewhere else in the city, had completed the main plot objective, either consciously or unknowingly. The suddenness of it left them reeling.

With only seconds left before the 'No Name' members would also disappear, Kazue, driven by a desperate urgency, turned back to Beowulf.

"But Adam! How do we help him?!"

She pleaded, her voice raw. The man sighed, a long, drawn-out sound.

"It's too long to explain now, kid."

He rumbled, his voice holding a hint of genuine regret.

"Besides, we have something else to do."

He raised his arm, and another System screen materialized, displaying a new notification.

Beowulf's gaze settled on Meera and Solène.

"We still have a few things to discuss with them."

He stated, his voice now serious, losing its playful edge. As the light around the 'No Name' team began to intensify, signaling their imminent departure, Emir acted quickly. Without delay, he pulled out another of his cubes, and with a soft hum, he released two more figures onto the ground: the young girl Elizabeth, and the stern man Ernst. They collapsed in a heap, bewildered, but instantly began to heal under Yggdrasil's lingering glow. Meera, seeing them, was dumbfounded, but rallied herself and yelled at Kazue.

"When you get back, buy the skill 'Friend List'! I'll contact you through—"

But her words were cut short. With a final, blinding burst of light, the bodies of every member of 'No Name', along with Mecha Sun Ja-In, vanished from the plaza, teleported back to the system's lobby.

Only Beowulf, Brunhilde and the members of Team 'Dragon Utopia' remained. Beowulf's face lost all traces of its former cheerfulness. His expression hardened, becoming cold and severe.

"Alright, let's talk about the 'Hunt3rs Alliance' that contacted you..."

He said, his voice low, grave, cutting through the silence of the suddenly empty plaza.

—————

Adam's eyes snapped open. He was suddenly, jarringly, awake. One moment, he had been trapped in the ruined inner city, talking with Nikolai's spirit; the next, he was back. The familiar, sterile whiteness of the system reward room surrounded him. Glowing blue System screens, filled with data, floated before him, confirming it. The scenario had ended. But what had happened? How had he returned to his body? He reincorporated himself, his muscles stiff, his mind a whirlwind of confusion. He glanced at the statistics, his rewards, and the mission parameters.

The rewards were shockingly high, far more than anything he had ever accumulated in previous scenarios. His eyes, in a quick scan, landed on the tally: [Users Killed: 1]. A cold dread seized him, replacing the initial confusion. One? He felt a wave of nausea, a primal fear clawing at his gut. Who? When? He couldn't remember.

His mind reeled, trying to reconcile the number with the blank void of his memory while possessed. This meant a user had died by his hand, or rather, by the Empress's hand in his body. The thought alone was unbearable, thinking that it could be one of his teammates.

His uncertainty was abruptly cut short. The glowing system windows flickered, then vanished. The white walls of the room began to dissolve, shimmering away, signaling his imminent return to the familiar nexus of the lobby.

As he reappeared in the bustling, familiar space of the system lobby, a searing, unimaginable pain ripped through Adam's body. His form had reverted to its state at the end of the scenario, not his perfectly healthy self. His muscles screamed, his bones ached, and every nerve ending flared with excruciating agony from the immense damage he had sustained while possessed.

A raw, guttural cry tore from his throat, though he tried to suppress it and to maintain a semblance of control. He could barely hear over the roaring in his ears, but then, distant voices cut through the fog of pain. His… friends. Their frantic shouts.

"They are here! Heal Adam and Sebastian, quickly!"

The voices were close, full of urgency and concern, their footsteps thundering towards him.