Reever could not ignore the chance to haunt the players before Conner arrived and stole his fun. After all, camouflage and haunting were what defined him now. They were the core of how he fought, how he moved, and how he survived. The players could only blame themselves for not having the right skills to counter his own.
Still, he knew his camouflage was not absolute. There were skills that could disrupt it. There were tools that could weaken it. He remembered the Elite ranked player who once used a gadget to interfere with it. A simple gadget. At that time, Reever had been like a fish on a chopping board, unable to do anything but watch as his advantage disappeared.
He also remembered the cockrupine king. That creature had marked him with a strange liquid. It had not fully cancelled his skill, but it had made it weaker. Then there was the queen. Her loud screech had cancelled his camouflage completely. That moment had shaken him. For a short while, he had truly felt exposed.
But that had been then.
Right now, the enemies in front of him were nothing like those threats. These were weak players. Pathetic players. Especially Prespeto.
They would serve as a way for him to release his frustration.
When Prespeto saw Reever disappear, he immediately ordered his men to fire at the last place he had been standing. Bullets tore through the air. The ground was riddled with shots.
Unlucky for them, Reever had already moved.
Even if he had stayed still, the bullets would not have done much. He was confident in his armor. At best, they would have been an annoyance.
Grab.
Bang.
He did what he always did.
He moved silently behind one of the players, grabbed the weapon from his hands, and fired. He did not aim for the head. He shot the back. One clean shot. Enough to disable.
Another move. Another grab.
Bang.
One by one, the players began to fall. None of them even saw him. None of them understood what was happening. Their own weapons were being used against them.
Reever was not trying to kill them quickly. He was enjoying it. He wanted to watch fear spread.
He did not go for Prespeto.
Prespeto was the main dish.
And the main dish tasted better when it was soaked in fear.
Fear was the seasoning Reever liked.
"What the f**k is happening here?" Prespeto shouted as he watched his men drop one after another. Weapons were disappearing from their hands. Gunshots came from nowhere. "Show yourself if you are man enough. Face me. Let this battle be decided by fists and not these unscrupulous tricks you are using."
A whisper came right behind his ear.
"Face you? What's the fun in that?"
Prespeto turned and fired wildly. Bullets flew in every direction.
Reever had already moved.
Moments passed.
More men fell.
Soon, Prespeto only had ten left. They formed a defensive circle around him, weapons pointed outward, eyes scanning everywhere. Even then, deep down, he knew it would not work.
Who did I provoke?
The thought kept repeating in his mind.
Was it one of the legacy kids? Was it someone from a powerful background? He had no room to retaliate. He could not even see the enemy, let alone fight him.
A whisper came again, closer this time.
"I am sure you are thinking about me being a demon."
Prespeto froze.
His guards were still standing around him. They were alert. They were watching. Yet this voice was right behind him.
How?
He spun around and fired. He emptied his weapon. Then he grabbed small grenades from his inventory. They were things he had looted from fallen players.
If he could not see the enemy, then he would destroy everything around him.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Explosions filled the area. Dust rose into the air. The ground shook lightly. Compared to what Reever had done earlier in the tunnels, these were weak blasts. But for Prespeto, it was everything he had.
"Hahahaha. Finally. The bastard is dead."
He laughed loudly as the smoke began to clear. His remaining men were gone. Dead. But that did not matter. If their sacrifice meant his survival, then so be it.
He looked around, searching.
He was looking for the loot chest.
If the enemy was dead, then the system would leave behind a chest. That was the rule.
He scanned the ground again.
Nothing.
He frowned.
Nothing?
Was his explosion strong enough to destroy the chest?
Impossible.
Which meant…
He turned pale.
Before he could even finish the thought, he felt a light tap on his back.
That gentle touch felt more terrifying than a blade at his throat.
"Don't worry. I can't die for now. Death claimed me once. It won't take me again."
Reever cancelled his camouflage and appeared right behind him.
His armor was untouched. It still shone with a bluish glow. Not a single scratch. Not a single dark mark.
Prespeto's hands trembled.
"Guess you were a bit fun," Reever said calmly. "Time to send you on your way."
Just then, footsteps echoed from behind. Many footsteps. A lot of them.
Conner had arrived.
"Yo, big 067. I hope I didn't keep you waiting."
Conner's voice came from behind a large crowd of players. A second later, he pushed through them and walked up to Reever. His eyes moved from Reever to Prespeto, then around the area.
"I thought you told me you were dealing with a queen and were about to die," Conner said. "And you also said some team was trying to rob you. Where are they? I was expecting some fun."
He looked around again. There were signs of battle everywhere. Bodies on the ground. Weapons scattered. But Reever stood there without a single wound, his weapon aimed calmly at the man in front of him.
It was strange.
"Well, you can say I took care of the small fries to preserve our strength," Reever replied.
His gaze shifted back to Prespeto.
Prespeto did not resist. He did not beg. He did not even try to run. His legs refused to move. His eyes were locked on the weapon pointed at him.
He knew it was over.
"Now time to go," Reever said.
He pressed the trigger.
The shot echoed through the cavern.
Prespeto fell.