Return Of The Strongest Player

Chapter 168 Avalon Or Arthur: Blood-Hand Feyright

"How have we not died yet?" Gabriel spoke dumbfoundedly, inspecting the grievous injuries on his body as he let out bitter laughter. Blood spilled from his body like a geyser, yet breath remained in his lungs.

The battlefield was littered with blood and flesh, with craters and cracks as a side-effect of the battle's destructive nature.

"The heavens have blessed us… they do not wish to see us perish," said Feyright, smiling gently. Yet, both of them knew they couldn't give up. To see the other perish was both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because their enemy would finally have died.

A curse because their enemy would have left this accursed world before them.

It was almost dawn, yet their battle had not come to an end. With ragged breathing, the two simply laughed, too exhausted to continue fighting. It seemed they would succumb solely by standing still.

However, at that moment, the two sensed an approaching presence.

'Arthur?'

'Avalon?'

Gabriel and Feyright muttered internally dumbfoundedly. Their expressions crumpled, and with widened eyes, they exchanged glances, attempting to confirm whether what they saw was real. The crimson-eyed man was still alive?

Why hadn't he died? Where were the residents of Gargo Village? There was no way Avalon could have killed all of them, right? Right…?

Gabriel gulped. His face paled progressively. Although his death was confirmed, he still held the hope that Gargo Village would be able to survive. However, now that Avalon had emerged victorious, and practically unscathed, the hope was diminishing.

Feyright burst into laughter, uncaring of anything and everything. "Gabriel… What the fuck did you do?"

His laughter reached Arthur's ears, drawing him towards the battle.

After integrating with death bones and checking out the second stage for a few minutes, Arthur immediately exited the inheritance ground, content with his gains. Now, it was time to depart from the First Floor.

But first, he needed to utterly destroy all remains of Gargo Village.

'This only makes it easier,' thought the crimson-eyed man, realizing his opponents were already injured beyond belief. A deranged smile blossomed over his face, and with unwavering confidence, he gazed at Gabriel.

Gabriel shuddered under the gaze, which was reinforced by Arthur's trait, [Searing Gaze].

"Arthur… we can solve this peacefully," said Gabriel. He knew there wasn't a sliver of hope left, but he still intended to try. Feyright raised an eyebrow, wondering why his rival addressed the man as "Arthur."

"Arthur?" Feyright asked, glancing at Gabriel. Suddenly, his face paled. Then, without warning, he broke into laughter once again. "Arthur Solace? The guy who recently broke the record on the First Floor?"

Gabriel gritted his teeth, realizing he had unintentionally revealed Arthur's identity. But it didn't matter anymore. "Yes, Feyright."

"Peacefully?" Arthur inquired, raising both eyebrows with a dumbfounded expression. Tremendous mana swirled around his body. Now that he wasn't at risk of being crippled, he could finally use all of his strength.

Finally, after a few weeks of avoiding bloody battles, he could utterly destroy his foes with his overwhelming power.

Moreover, he had only just undergone a massive upgrade.

Awakening Skofnung, Arthur smiled devilishly. "Peaceful, my ass! Where did peace vanish to when you forcefully summoned me to your room, threatening me to participate in the competition despite being aware of my injury?"

Gabriel couldn't care less about Arthur's injury, but he couldn't outright admit that fact, as it would only escalate the situation. The latter was aware of the former's uncaring attitude and would have probably done the same in such a situation.

But he also would have made sure to nip the threat in the bud immediately afterward, which Gabriel failed to do.

This was the rotten fruit of his weakness.

"Arthur…"

"Shut up," said the crimson-eyed man stoically, rushing forward using [Ethereal Glide]. Mana plates formed under his feet, allowing him to traverse at terrifying speeds across the bloody battlefield.

Gabriel was barely able to react before the Demonic Blade approached his neck, transmitting its devious thoughts directly to its wielder.

However, before the blade could slice Gabriel's throat, a fist struck the sword's blunt edge, knocking it off its trajectory. Feyright wiped his bloody hand, wrapping it tightly in white clothing, which was immediately dyed crimson.

"Thanks," said Gabriel, his cheeks reddening. He couldn't believe that his rival had rescued him.

Feyright didn't respond, locking eyes with Arthur. "So you're the guy who beat Zeus and the others' high scores. To be honest, I'm impressed with your resilience, and the fact that you survived the onslaught of several of this dumbass's clan's members."

Gabriel didn't react.

"I'd rather not receive praise from a guy who abandoned his status," Arthur shook his head in disdain, preparing for another strike.

"You're one of those guys, eh?" Feyright inquired rhetorically. "The ones who are obsessed with climbing and disregard all other aspects of their life, focusing solely on increasing their power and nothing else."

"You're one to talk, Blood-Hand Feyright."

"You know who I am."

"How could I not?" Arthur retorted, tilting his head slightly before revealing an innocent expression. "As you said, I'm obsessed with everything related to the tower, so it's only obvious that I do my research."

Feyright let out a sigh, realizing his words had been ignored. He walked over to Gabriel, grabbing a rusty sword from the ground. Tossing it in the air a few times, Feyright nodded in satisfaction.

"All right, boy," said Feyright with an expression displaying his overflowing interest. "Show me what you have. Let's see if your obsession has paid off."

Although Feyright was on the verge of death, he was leagues above Arthur in terms of the number of floors he'd climbed. He was on the latter floors of the single-digit group, and a well-renowned figure.

At least, in the past.

Now, no one remembered Blood-Hand Feyright.

Except for those who meticulously researched all aspects of the tower…

Arthur–as described by Feyright.

Gabriel stepped forward, letting out a sigh of defeat.

Then, the final battle began.