Shammus had been a bit surprised. In fact, more so than usual, thanks to the random teleportation into a slightly chilly tower. Who’d have thunk that the fools were correct about how this floor required an even sized party? He never would have gotten past it if it weren’t thanks to those idiots for inviting him.

  He laughs as he sprouts the blood wings. His level is too high to deal with those idiots. He has no reason to care as he flies for only a minute before the spiral of the staircase vanishes and it’s replaced with just a field of stone.

  Filled with nothing, but the dim light from the gods know where. He draws his two machete-esque blades, twirling them around once. His own blood fuels the halo that forms above his head, as it tilts separate. It falls over his head at the exact same tilt.

  He stays silent because there is no more reason to talk. He is truly a knight, not in shining armor, but rather one that spells the end of the tower as it was previously. It may have taking him 8 years to formulate a party, but what does that matter?

  He forms a singular magic circle, and aims it around everywhere, looking for a singular foe. He knew the bright red would be easy enough to see, but it’s too fast for even him to dodge. When he sees a similar bright red circle pointed at him he fires with no hesitation.

  Of course, enemies with his very same aces. Just what he loves to see. Shammus doesn’t flinch as he starts up the blood rain. It’s just like bombing an entire nation. It doesn’t feel any different.

  Not exhilarating, but rather disappointing. To have this much power. Finally, he’s attacking foes that could actually kill him, but he’s long since surpassed fighting himself. It isn’t any different from facing just an old compatriot, the only difference is these guys are dumber and have the same stats as him.

  No difference in build. He cuts them down like nothing, and even though they could block, they copy his own technique of striking first. Unfortunately, he designed his own technique to kill himself.

  It was sad at the start, but when he started being revered as a God. It got to his head. He had to learn how to defeat a foe exactly like him in every way, eventually learning to kill hundreds of them.

  None of the EXP goes to him, but it’s still over a trillion Coins a kill. And hey, maybe the allies he was forced to make to get here may be somewhere close to his level when he gets out. The only potentially exhilarating fight that could ever be brought close to him would be fighting an actual God.

  But then it wouldn’t be close in the opposite way. That’s why he despises his life as a soldier. He can’t have a fun fight, cutting down hundreds of skeletons with the exact same wings and halo he does. He can’t dodge the beams of red light firing at him from all directions, so he simply predicts them and sends the attack back.

  His bomber skill exits cooldown, and he launches it again. His MP pool is so large it's practically infinite, and with his lifesteal ability, it replenishes just 10% mana for every kill, and 5% health. It’s pointless the health part, but when you continually cast one hit KO’s that cost less than a full ten percent?

  It’s easy to call it infinite. The skeletons quickly dwindle in number. Seems like there were only 5 million of them. Weak. Weak. WEAK. These ‘beasts’ are far too weak to even allow him to release his full power. Even though they all clearly released his own, he killed them too fast.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Because he isn’t a tank. He easily launches attacks that could kill himself ten times over every single second. His own blade is able to take him down in a single moment. His Constitution stat is only a mere 1000. His other stats are well into the tens of thousands.

  And this is no coincidence. He built himself this way ever since he reached Level 250, since why would he need constitution if he’s just able to dodge everything? It’s not like that stat would stop his back pain.

  But it doesn’t matter. Just because he’s fighting for his very life, doesn’t make it fun. Because he just has to not get hit. If he could take a few hits, maybe it’d be more fun. But he can’t afford to, because he’s simply one hit from the field of stone and the inky black void that’s ever present above him.

  He narrowly avoids plenty, which he never grants the skeletons such a mercy. The final skeleton is all that remains, the stone field covered in craters. This skeleton carries itself differently.

  This one clearly has a mind, with eye sockets not just empty, but rather with deep red shining from somewhere inside the skull as pupils. The way it was even staring off into the abyss showed the exact same.

  The fire in both Shammus’s and this singular skeleton’s eyes was burning not just bright, but cold too. If it was someone with hair, or someone with far less experience, it would be standing up on the back of their neck.

  But Shammus has faced himself at least partially. The skeleton is clearly not expecting anything, neither death or victory. Shammus lunged forward first, the skeleton blocked instead of doing the exact same stuff the rest had been doing.

  The skeleton responded with the same red skill he tried to use at first, but Shammus reacted quickly with the exact same spell. The two cancelled out, which is an odd reaction in Shammus’s mind.

  Shammus always thought the way [Destruction Beam] was written they would pass through everything, even itself. Never thought the way it cancels out magic using its own damage, would cancel the very spell that cancels it.

  The skeleton attacks next, but the clinking of the iron blades fast, sparks flying out. This was the only beast that Shammus felt decent about fighting, because both of them used the same defensive style Shammus adopted.

  The two were attacking and defending at the same time, the way the blades moved as though extensions of the skeleton’s arms and Shammus’s was interesting. Clearly a single error would cause one of the two to die.

  The blood Shammus used to form the wings dims slightly, which the skeleton attempts to target. The very act of targeting those was the fatal error the skeleton had made. The skeleton had similar wings, but Shammus had these for far longer.

  The final skeleton had turned to simplistic dust as Shammus planted both blades in the skeleton’s ribs. Its ribs were split, and the beast had turned to dust similar to every other skeleton beforehand.

  Shammus sighed as the final message popped up; [You Win!]

  [You gained…]

  [WARNING! LEVELS ARE NOW BALANCED! EXP IS NOW BEING SPLIT EVENLY!]

  Shammus let out a dry chuckle as he began to laugh. Laugh at whatever the hell had just happened. Everyone in the party at the same level? No way the 5 million skeletons were enough to get those fools at a mere Level 100 to level 1430!?

  Shammus checks the menu, not once, not twice, but a full thrice. He is truly confused, putting the blades away. He never paid attention to the EXP gained, or the Coin either, but also there’s no way he’d have leveled up.

  The field of stone sort of lit up, the dim light being replaced with a shining beam somewhere in the distance. It’s kind of annoying, with just how bright it is. But Shammus has no choice but to approach it.

  There are no more enemies on the way there, there are no more threats. Just the blinding light that Shammus decides to enter. On the other side of this blinding light, Bariton hardens his resolve as he steps into it.

  The other two blinding pillars of light wield similar pairings, with Sornid and Clara entering one, and Pallad and Judine entering the final one. The light is truly blinding on the inside, and they could see absolutely nothing as the feeling of weightlessness had overridden every single one of their senses.