J stood there, his body transformed by some desperate surge of power, golden fire dancing across his skin. His eyes blazed with the same color, and behind him, the other orcs from the settlement were emerging from the shadows—Aria's original companions, along with dozens of other orc warriors.

"You want to kill our king?" J's voice thundered across the battlefield, raw emotion making it crack and waver. "You want to wear his face while destroying everything he fought for?"

The flames around him intensified, growing hotter, brighter.

"Then you're going to have to go through ALL of us first!"

The orcs roared as one, a sound of fury and loyalty that shook the very air. They charged forward, weapons raised, ready to die for the leader who'd given them hope.

The Blood Monarch's smile widened into something truly terrible.

"Yes," it purred, anticipation dripping from every syllable. "Now this... this is interesting."

The orcs hit the Blood Monarch like a tidal wave.

J led the charge, golden flames trailing behind him like a comet's tail. His spear blazed with fire, the weapon becoming a lance of pure energy as he thrust it toward the Monarch's chest with enough force to crater the ground beneath them. The impact sent shockwaves rippling outward, forcing nearby adventurers to brace themselves.

The Monarch slid backward several feet—the first time anything had managed to move it.

For a heartbeat, hope flickered in the eyes of those watching.

Then the Monarch looked down at where J's spear had struck its chest. No damage. Not even a scratch. It raised its gaze back to J, and that terrible smile returned.

"Ah," it purred. "You have some strength after all."

It moved.

J barely got his spear up in time to block the counterstrike. The impact sent him flying backward, golden flames guttering and flickering as he crashed through three orcs who'd been charging behind him. They all went down in a tangle of limbs and groans.

But the orcs didn't stop. They came from all sides—spears thrusting, axes swinging, war cries echoing across the battlefield. Dozens of them, attacking in coordinated waves, each one willing to die for their king.

The Monarch wove through them like water through a sieve.

A spear thrust at its back—it twisted, letting the weapon pass harmlessly by, then grabbed the orc's arm and twisted. Bone snapped. The orc screamed. The Monarch discarded him like trash and moved to the next.

An axe descended toward its head. The Monarch caught the handle, stopped the blow dead, then drove its palm into the attacker's chest. The orc flew backward, blood spraying from his mouth.

"KEEP FIGHTING!" J roared, forcing himself back to his feet despite the pain radiating through his entire body. The golden flames around him flickered weakly, but he pushed more power into them, making them blaze brighter. His spear reignited, burning like a torch in the darkness. "We don't stop! We CAN'T stop!"

Three orcs coordinated an attack from different angles, their weapons converging on the Monarch simultaneously. For anyone else, it would have been impossible to defend against.

The Monarch blocked all three strikes with casual grace, then retaliated so fast the movements blurred together. Three bodies hit the ground in rapid succession.

"Your loyalty is admirable," the Monarch said, its voice carrying clearly over the sounds of battle. "But loyalty doesn't translate to strength. And strength is all that matters."

It caught another orc by the throat, lifting the warrior off the ground. The orc struggled, clawing at the hand, but it was like fighting against iron.

"Watch," the Monarch commanded, addressing the other orcs. "Watch as your champion dies."

"NO!" J's golden flames exploded outward in a desperate surge. He charged again, faster than before, his spear blazing like a miniature sun. The weapon's point aimed straight for the Monarch's heart, all of J's remaining power channeled into a single, desperate strike.

The Monarch released the orc it had been strangling and turned to face J's attack. This time, instead of blocking or dodging, it caught the spear's shaft with one hand.

The resulting explosion of force was tremendous. A shockwave blasted outward in all directions, throwing orcs and adventurers alike to the ground. The earth beneath them cracked and split, a crater forming at the point of impact. Golden flames scattered like burning embers, briefly illuminating the horrified faces watching.

When the dust cleared, both fighters stood frozen in that position—J gripping his spear with both hands, the Monarch holding the weapon's shaft casually with one.

J was breathing hard, golden flames flickering weakly along the spear's length. His arms trembled with the effort of maintaining even that much power. The Monarch stood perfectly still, not even winded.

"Is that all?" the Monarch asked softly.

It twisted the spear.

The weapon shattered. The sound was like breaking glass—sharp and final. Fragments of the spear scattered across the ground, the golden flames dying with them. Before J could even process what had happened, the Monarch's other hand shot forward, gripping his wrist.

And twisted.

J's arm shattered. The sound was sickening—multiple breaks occurring simultaneously. J's scream tore through the air, raw and agonized. The golden flames around his body guttered and died completely as he collapsed to his knees, cradling his destroyed arm.

The other orcs faltered, horror and despair washing over them as they watched their strongest warrior fall.

"This is the difference," the Monarch announced, its voice cold and final. "Between you and me. Between mortality and divinity." It raised its hand, blood from fallen warriors flowing toward it, streaming up its arm and being absorbed. "You cannot win. You could never win."

Around the battlefield, injured adventurers watched in hollow-eyed despair. Ryan sat slumped against debris, his broken arm hanging useless. Aria could barely stand, blood trickling from numerous wounds. Nyla's face was pale, frost no longer forming around her depleted body. Nibo knelt in the dirt, too exhausted to even lift his axe.

The orcs that remained standing looked at each other with growing hopelessness. They'd thrown everything at this monster—everything they had—and it wasn't even injured.

'We can't beat it,' the thought rippled through every mind present. 'There's no way to beat it.'

The Blood Monarch tilted its head back slightly, eyes closing as it absorbed more blood from the fallen. Its expression was one of pure satisfaction, of hunger being sated.

And as the crimson liquid flowed into Akhil's body, something else happened—something the Monarch didn't notice, couldn't notice, because it existed in a realm beyond physical sensation.

---

In the waiting lobby, Akhil stared at the message he'd just sent to Rao Shin, his finger still hovering over the confirmation. The void around him remained dark and oppressive, offering no answers, no comfort.

'Please respond,' he thought desperately. 'I need to know about the updates. Need to know how to help them defeat—'

[NOTIFICATION: BLOOD ESSENCE THRESHOLD REACHED]

[RETURNING PLAYER TO GAME WORLD]

[CONSCIOUSNESS TRANSFER INITIATING...]

"What?!" Akhil's eyes widened in shock. "No, wait! I need to—"

The void began to shift, reality warping and twisting around him. He felt a pull—gentle at first, then growing stronger, insistent. Something was dragging him back toward the game world.

'The blood,' Akhil realized suddenly. 'The Monarch is absorbing blood in my body. It's replenishing my blood essence without realizing it. And when blood essence is restored...'

The system was pulling him back automatically. Preparing to return his consciousness to his body now that the critical threshold had been met.

[TRANSFER COUNTDOWN: 10 SECONDS]

"Wait!" Akhil shouted into the void, panic rising in his chest. "I haven't received a response yet! I don't know about the updates! I don't know how to help them!"

[9 SECONDS]

His mind raced. If he went back now, without information, without a plan, what could he do? The Blood Monarch was in control. His friends were fighting desperately against an enemy they couldn't defeat. He needed answers. Needed to understand what Rao Shin knew about the game's new systems, about how to combat entities like the Blood Monarch.

[8 SECONDS]

But if he stayed... if he somehow delayed the transfer, would his body survive? Would his friends survive long enough for him to get those answers?

[7 SECONDS]

'What do I do? What do I DO?'

A new window appeared before him, separate from the countdown—an incoming message notification. But it wasn't from Rao Shin. It was from the system itself.

[OPTION AVAILABLE: DELAY CONSCIOUSNESS TRANSFER]

[WARNING: DELAY WILL ALLOW BLOOD MONARCH TO CONTINUE CONTROL]

[WARNING: DELAY INCREASES RISK TO ALL PLAYERS IN VICINITY]

[WARNING: DELAY MAY RESULT IN IRREVERSIBLE CONSEQUENCES]

[ACCEPT DELAY? Y/N]

[6 SECONDS]

Akhil stared at the options, his heart hammering. He could stay. Could wait for Rao's response. Could gather the information he desperately needed to help everyone survive what was coming.

But every second he delayed, the Monarch killed more people. His friends. The orcs. Innocent adventurers who'd come to watch a competition and ended up in a nightmare.

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