Chapter 67 ‒ The Contract Broken
Chapter 67 ‒ The Contract Broken
Tyler looked down, the smell of iron thick in his nostrils and the distant echo of dripping blood tapping against the stones like a metronome of dread, at the blood-soaked ground beneath him, his breath ragged and uneven. His gaze drifted to his own hands — crimson, trembling, as though they no longer belonged to him. He felt his body slowly mending itself, the wounds stitching closed, bones sliding back into place. The system’s miraculous healing worked efficiently on flesh and bone, but it did nothing to mend the exhaustion gnawing at his spirit. His mind felt frayed, every nerve buzzing with a restless, toxic energy.
He had fought countless battles, endured pain beyond imagination, but the most gruelling fight was not against Brontusk or any other monstrous foe — it was the battle within, the struggle to keep himself from slipping into that abyss of unbridled slaughter. Yet again, he had failed. Again, he had succumbed to that terrible whisper echoing in the dark corners of his mind. That voice — it wasn’t his own anymore.
The last time he had heard it so clearly was during Velin’s poison gas attack, a memory that shattered his fragile mental defences. Back then, a gentle, soothing voice had reached out to him, pulling him back from the edge. But this time, amidst Brontusk’s unrelenting rage and the surging adrenaline, he found only silence. As he swung, parried, and bled, the voice within grew sharper, more venomous.
It demanded blood. It urged him to rip and tear, to erase every heartbeat around him. It promised satisfaction in chaos and ecstasy in ruin. His consciousness felt as though it were drowning under crashing waves of rage and hatred, each stroke of his blade sinking him deeper. It was no longer Tyler who fought — something else had taken root, wearing his skin like a grotesque mask. Finally, his legs gave way beneath him, and he collapsed to his knees.
From above, Drellic’s shrill laughter echoed across the broken arena walls. “Hahahaha! So this is how it ends! You used every last drop of your strength to fell that beast, and now look at you!”
Tyler’s eyes flickered, a ghost of conflict flashing through them as if a shred of his old self tried to reach out from the abyss, before life momentarily returned to them as he weakly croaked, life momentarily returning to them as he weakly croaked, “But… but the contract…”
Drellic’s laughter doubled in intensity, echoing like a madman’s choir. “The contract? Hahaha! What contract?!”
Tyler’s voice trembled as he whispered, “The… Scroll of Truth…”
Drellic wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. “Scroll of Truth, you say?! Hahaha! You gullible fool! There’s no such thing! No scroll, no contract! Forget about freeing the slaves — beg for your own pathetic life instead!”
Tyler’s lips curled upward into a bitter laugh. “Hahaha.”
Drellic’s brow furrowed. “What? Why are you laughing now? Have you finally lost your mind? Did that beast knock your brains out?”
“Hahaha…” Tyler’s chuckle grew deeper, echoing eerily.
“You… you’re insane,” Drellic spat.
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Tyler forced his head up, his voice rasping, “Why don’t you ask your precious Collector about the bets in the last round?”
“Last round…?”
“Everyone bet against me… so you claimed all their gold, right?”
Drellic scoffed, arms wide. “Yes! Of course! Who in this damned world would bet on a mad dog like you against that behemoth? Your win was unexpected — too bad no one is left alive to witness it!”
Tyler’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Are you sure… everyone bet against me?”
Drellic hesitated, a twitch in his lip betraying a sudden unease. Before he could respond, a ragged voice broke the tension.
Through the rubble, a rat hybrid emerged, dust cascading from his fur. “Boss! Boss! We have a problem! One… one guy… he bet on [Player]!”
Drellic’s face contorted into a mask of incredulous horror. “What did you say?! It doesn’t matter! There’s no evidence, no record — that gambler isn’t even here to claim his winnings!”
Tyler’s cracked voice sliced through the air. “Farnak! Come out now!”
From behind a collapsed pillar, a figure emerged — clothes torn, face smeared with soot and ash. Farnak stumbled forward, coughing violently. “Are you serious?! You told me to stay hidden till the very end! Do you know how close I came to being buried alive?!”
Tyler’s grin spread, though his face still dripped with sweat and blood. “Well, well… how the turn tables,” he said, a glimmer of savage satisfaction flashing in his eyes.
Drellic staggered backward, eyes wide in primal terror. “No… no! This can’t be! It’s impossible!”
Tyler tilted his head mockingly. “Now… who is the one laughing?”
Drellic shrieked, clawing at his hair. “I don’t care! You want your gold? Come and take it! You want me to pay? MAKE ME!”
Tyler’s arms quivered as he braced himself against the ground, pushing up slowly. Pain shot through every nerve, remnants of Brontusk’s ferocious strikes and the brutal cost of [Gigantify] flooding his senses. He gripped his swords, breath shallow, his entire body shaking like a cornered predator.
Drellic’s face twisted with scorn as he screamed, “GUARDS! Take him out now! Kill them both!”
The guards charged forward, swords raised and shields locked in tight formation. Tyler shifted in front of Farnak, his mind a storm of conflicting agony and resolve. There was no time to listen to the voice within, no space to question his sanity. Only one truth remained: he could not allow them to touch Farnak.
With a guttural roar, Tyler launched forward, blades sweeping wide. Behind him, Farnak froze, eyes wide with terror and awe, clutching at his torn cloak and stumbling backward as if barely comprehending the storm raging before him. Tyler launched forward, blades sweeping wide. The first guard fell instantly, his helmet split clean in two. Another lunged, but Tyler twisted, his sword biting deep into the man’s side. Every slash reverberated through his weary muscles, each impact threatening to tear him apart from the inside. Blood spattered across his cheeks as he pressed on, teeth clenched, eyes burning with feverish determination.
His movements faltered, steps staggered. The aftershocks of [Gigantify] gnawed at his bones like acid, each breath a jagged knife in his lungs. Yet he fought on, for Farnak, for the slaves waiting for salvation, for every name and every broken promise. For Kelmo, for Morik, for Ralgar and Velin, for Kragg, and above all — for Milo, the brother who believed he could still be more than a monster.
Tyler pivoted, blades flashing, catching another guard by surprise. Sparks burst as metal collided, and Tyler forced the guard’s sword down, delivering a brutal upward slash that tore through his opponent’s chest. The guard collapsed, eyes wide with shock and blood bubbling at his lips.
Pain screamed through Tyler’s body, his vision swimming at the edges. Yet his stance held firm, an unyielding wall before Farnak. Even as his strength dwindled, he refused to let his resolve collapse.
With each desperate breath, Tyler felt the ghosts of his fallen companions at his back, pushing him onward. Every motion became a prayer, every strike a promise — that he would never surrender to the voice again, that he would protect those who had no power to protect themselves.
With a final, echoing cry, Tyler charged forward once more, the world blurring around him. No longer a hero, no longer a Player — but something fierce and untamed, something reborn in fire and blood.
And he would keep moving forward.