Ren watched as the players vanished from the battlefield one after another—some melted by acid, some crushed by tendrils, others dragged screaming into the Primeval Antibody's body.
With each disappearance, a cold satisfaction stirred in his chest. The real enemies were never the dungeon, the monsters, or even Jibblinplip's Heart. It was the players. The ones contending with him for the last hit. The ones who would steal the achievement he needed.
The fewer of them remained… the stronger his chances became.
As long as he was the last one standing at the end, then everything would fall perfectly into place.
Ren adjusted his grip on the stolen [Monarch Sovereignty]. The powerful scepter pulsed faintly in his hand, still reacting to his mana, still tied to him as if acknowledging him as the rightful owner. Thanks to his gained ability, [Monarch's Might], he was completely immune to every single status effect in the room.
Blindness? Useless.
Poison? Worthless.
