indianbanksassociation Chapter 504, let's go, steal the boss!
Chapter 504, let's go, steal the boss!
"You don't understand."
Another player, who appeared to be a mage, shook his head, a greedy glint in his eyes.
"The boss's health bar is almost empty. Whoever lands the final blow now will be rich. First kill reward, you know? That's a special first kill of a boss, the reward is definitely huge."
"Then why don't you go?"
The monk chuckled, a hint of disdain in his eyes:
"Am I stupid? Going in now would just make us cannon fodder. Let it get a little weaker, a little weaker... Look at those who rushed in, how many of them actually managed to get a single hit on the boss? We should wait until they're almost completely worn down before we go in, that's what's smart."
On the battlefield, Kisla's health bar is slowly decreasing.
With each death, the health bar drops by a sliver. Those white lights, like numbers earned at the cost of lives, rise and fall in the night, forming an eerie display of fireworks.
"Oh shit......"
Someone murmured, their voice trembling.
"How many people would it take to grind it down? I did the math, at least three thousand died in that last wave, and its health only dropped by five percent."
No one answered.
Because the answer is right before our eyes—mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
Beneath the lingering white afterimages lay mountains of equipment fragments, potion bottle shards, and gold coins dropped by players before their deaths, gleaming faintly in the moonlight.
......
I don't know who made the first move.
Perhaps it was because they saw the boss's health bar drop again, from 8% to 7%.
Perhaps they thought, "I could do it too," after all, the assassin just now seemed to have hit the boss's weak point and dealt a three-digit amount of damage.
Perhaps it was pure greed that overcame fear; what if that 0.1% chance happened to me?
In short, people started to make a move.
One, two, ten, one hundred.
Those players who were originally watching from a distance suddenly became possessed, their eyes turning red and their breathing becoming heavy. One by one, they rushed down the slope and joined the frenzied meat grinder.
"Damn it, they're all in, I'm in too! We can't let them steal the boss!"
"The boss is about to die! The final blow is mine! Nobody can stop me!"
"Charge!!!"
Their eyes were fixed on the ever-decreasing health bar, their pupils reflecting only that single sliver of red.
No one looked at their feet—the crushed equipment, the lingering white afterimages, the corpses of their comrades.
No one listened—the wounded still screaming, the retired veterans shouting "Don't go!", the dying wails.
They only have one thing in mind:
Seize the final blow.
But what they didn't know was—
Just moments before they charged forward, the eighteen-meter-tall monster had swept away twenty warriors from the Eastern Territory with a single tail strike.
Among those twenty people, there was a level 29 player, an S-level talent, a tank known as "Little Cannon," and an assassin ranked in the top 100 of the damage output list.
They all flew away.
They're all dead.
These people were all at the highest level of twenty-five, and their best equipment was only blue-grade gear. Some of them even had a mix of different pieces.
They rushed forward like moths to a flame.
But the moth doesn't know it is a moth.
They only saw the fire.
......
At the edge of the battlefield, Zhang Tianya was carried away from the battle circle by members of Li Weiwei's battle alliance and Blood Romance.
His shield was long gone, broken into seven or eight pieces, with only the handle still in his hand.
His armor was torn into several pieces, the plates hanging limply on his body like a beggar, revealing the bruised skin underneath.
He plopped down on the ground, panting heavily, his chest heaving like a bellows, and his throat making a wheezing sound like a broken bellows.
"Mom... damn it..."
He could barely speak properly; he had to catch his breath three times after each word.
"These people... they're insane... truly insane... don't they know that thing can kill twenty people with one slap...?"
Li Weiwei collapsed beside him, her face as white as paper, her lips devoid of any color, her magical power long since depleted.
She didn't even have the energy to curse. She just stuffed a handful of mana-restoring pills into her mouth, swallowed them without chewing, and made gurgling sounds in her throat.
The pill was stuck in her throat, making her choke and her eyes roll back, but she didn't even have time to drink water.
Chen Shan was carried over and thrown to the ground.
His "Unbreakable Barrier" was still intact, but he was completely exhausted, unable to open his eyes, with only his chest rising and falling slightly.
The people who carried him put him on the ground and collapsed to the side, panting heavily.
Karl was still unconscious, being dragged to the side, blood still oozing from his mouth.
His shield was missing, and his right hand was twisted at an odd angle, clearly broken.
Raji lay on the ground, grinning.
His battle axe was held horizontally across his chest, its blade riddled with nicks and even chipped in some places.
Arjun knelt beside him, his hands on the ground, trembling all over—his mana bar was already depleted, and now he was risking his life to recover, each breath like a bellows.
Chishima Rin was helped to sit down by Kobayashi Hikaru. Her clothes were soaked in blood, and it was impossible to tell whether it was her own or someone else's.
A deep wound on his left shoulder, the skin and flesh rolled back, and the bone was vaguely visible.
Hattori Hanji emerged from the shadows, lying face down on the ground, motionless, with only the slight rise and fall of his back indicating that he was still alive.
Ye Yao leaned against Shen Yiyi, her eyes closed, her breathing weak, like a leaf that could be blown away by the wind at any moment.
Shen Yiyi's hands were trembling, but she was still desperately pouring medicine into Ye Yao's mouth, bottle after bottle, not caring whether the effects would accumulate.
Emily sat cross-legged on the ground, golden light flowing around her, sometimes bright and sometimes dim.
Blood was still dripping from the corner of her mouth, but she didn't have time to wipe it away. She just closed her eyes and desperately activated [Holy Light's Blessing] to recover her condition.
Karl and Helena lay motionless on either side of her, only the occasional twitching of their fingers a testament to their continued existence.
Sato stood there.
But he stood there only because he refused to fall.
His hands were shaking, the knife was shaking, his whole body was shaking.
The tiger's mouth of his right hand, which was gripping the knife, cracked from the impact, and blood flowed down the hilt, dripping onto the ground and creating small craters.
After five consecutive all-out attacks, his stamina had long been at its limit.
Every breath carried the smell of blood, a sign of internal organ injury.
Chishima Rin looked at him, wanting to say something, but her lips moved and she said nothing.
She knew it was no use saying anything; as long as this man had a breath left, he would stand.
Yamamoto Tatsuno sat to the side, his face full of fat and his eyes vacant—he was also ruined, unable to lift either of his arms. He had almost lost his life after taking a blow from the boss.