Flashy Adventurer System : Show Off to Get Stronger! - Chapter 959

Chapter 959: Battle of the Black Dragon Gate (13)
Shye fought, and fought fiercely.

Raging tides of forbidden creations—abominations, Soul Warriors, and what remained of the Soulless Heroes, attacked him with relentless and reckless aggression.

None of them seemed to care about their own life and deaths.

Furthermore, they were tireless—pure machines made for the sole purpose of slaughter.

Unfortunately for them, the lone enemy that stood between them and the cohort was the same and was even an infinitely better version of them.

Shye was tireless, fearless, and most importantly far stronger than all of them.

Blood splattered everywhere—the crystalline floor, his face, his blades—but he didn’t give a flying f*ck.

He just continued killing whoever got too close.

This would have been the perfect solution to his problem—if not for the fact that he would soon need to swap in and help infuse mana into the magic circle to complete the ritual.

His comrades were reaching their mental limits.

Hence, Shye calculated like a machine, counting the seconds with ruthless precision—all while fighting like a mad War God.

There was no room for error; no leeway for mistiming the swap.

Otherwise, the ritual would fail, and the other objective—to send his comrades out of the place—would be compromised.

He continued hacking, slashing, and stabbing with deadly precision, reaping a life with every slash of his sword.

A few courageous Hawklings who dared try their hand merely suffered the same fate.

He was untouchable—his footwork swift, unpredictable, and utterly immaculate.

Seconds passed.

A Fire Dragon Emperor fell from the skies, his fate unknown.

A White Stallion crashed from the crystalline ceiling—still alive, but barely.

Warcries of actual humans with souls erupted from outside the gate as mere mortals faced the divine.

The cohort members fell one by one, unconscious as they stretched their mental limits to the utmost.

Contrary to Shye’s “objective,” they had long resolved themselves to die as heroes.

It wasn’t so bad—dying with their closest friends and the most worthy of comrades while making history…

They would be the true immortals.

Their names would be spoken for generations, their tales of valor recounted in different corners of the world.

Their noble spirits would be studied and upheld as examples for the younger generations—perhaps for decades, centuries… maybe even millennia.

Such things weren’t so bad…

And so, those who couldn’t take the mental burden of the ritual plopped down with a smile, entrusting everything to their group’s strongest.

Shye wouldn’t fail them.

He never had in the past, and he never would…

They would be falling as heroes, no doubt.

Unfortunately, dying as martyrs wasn’t part of the plan—it never was.

Their dreams of dying gloriously in combat as heroes would have to be spoiled by their unwilling pillar.

Shye spoke without turning as an enormous black scroll, inscribed with a glowing purple magic circle, plopped onto the ground before the few conscious cohort members.

None of them had even seen how he pulled it out and tossed it toward them.

“Harry, David, activate this scroll. You two should still be able to handle the burden. Once it activates, take everyone with you and leave. I’ll handle the rest.”

They were naturally flabbergasted upon hearing his words.

‘This wasn’t a one-way trip?’—that was the resonating question in their minds, except for Shirley.

“Shye, what about you?”

“How will you continue to infuse mana while defending yourself?”

“Are you planning to sacrifice your life after you’ve already sacrificed your soul?”

These were the questions that burned within her.

However, Shirley knew this wasn’t the time for emotions.

Asking unnecessary questions might only put her dearest in even greater danger.

Furthermore, she doubted whether the gravity of her concern would even reach him—it didn’t seem like he was capable of feeling it.

It was better to battle her grief internally, like the stoic woman she had always portrayed herself to be.

Who knows? Maybe, by doing so, she would meet her beloved again.

In this world? Or perhaps in the afterlife?

If it meant seeing his vibrant, confident smile once more, she would wait ten eternities.

For now, they shall part.

Harry and David began channeling their mana into the scroll, while Wendy, Shirley, and Siegfried continued pouring theirs into the unsealing magic circle.

Meanwhile, Shye remained an unwavering wall of defense.

His greatswords carved through flesh and bone with ruthless efficiency, while a myriad of spells occasionally rained death upon anything that dared approach.

In the shadows, Dweezel gritted his teeth.

Time was running out.

Yet, no opportunity presented itself.

For the first time, he considered retreat—admitting defeat to keep his life.

As long as he lived, anything was possible. He would do it all over again if he had to.

Even if, this time, it would be infinitely more difficult as he would be the villain, not the savior he was once known as.

He wouldn’t be able to move as freely as before, but at least he would retain his current knowledge of Soul Arts.

It wasn’t as if he had to start from absolute scratch.

Nevertheless, the battle wasn’t lost yet for the Hawkin Group, and the sinister snake was determined to see things through to the end.

He would relentlessly search for an opportunity to intercept the unsealing ritual.

Once he succeeded, those meddlesome bastards would have no time to restart it, as his massive teleportation mechanism would activate.

He could stay.

Escaping with his current body would be simple anyway.

Fortune favors the bold, the patient, and the relentless—and so, Dweezel soon found his chance.

A void portal activated, meaning it was time for Shye to swap in and infuse mana into the unsealing scroll.

Only ten seconds remained.

But strong as Shye was, could he last that long without defending himself?

Dweezel doubted it.

He still had a few trump cards—ones that could efficiently kill a sitting duck, or in this case, a sitting monstrous horror.

In any case, as long as the target was immobile, his endless arsenal of killing cards would work…

They should work…

They had to…