Chapter 133
Now, after going on at length about the wind dragon's behavior patterns and counterattack methods, the actual process of defeating it requires an absurd amount of time and landing every single arrow I currently have in my quiver as clean hits—only then can it finally be brought down.
Just one class difference creates a hopeless gap in stats.
Not a single arrow can be wasted.
That pressure makes even firing an arrow feel laced with terror.
But for someone like me, who’s faced adversity like this countless times, landing every shot is child’s play.
Or at least, that’s how it *should* sound cool—but in reality, my eyes refuse to even blink, my breath keeps hitching, and internally, I’m muttering *"Miss and I die, miss and I die"* over and over, pushed to the brink.
Right now, a single arrow weighs more to me than gold.
Thanks to my resolve not to waste even a single precious damage resource, I’ve managed to land shot after shot on the wind dragon so far. But—
A single moment of distraction means a missed attack, and lost damage.
That’s what creates this unbearable tension.
A terror not found in games—a battle with my life on the line.
It’s producing a pressure I’ve never experienced before.
My throat is dry, my fingers feel heavy, my breath is ragged.
There shouldn’t be any monsters inflicting debuffs on me, yet I can feel my body losing vitality by the second.
**"!?"**
And then, at the worst possible moment—I stop breathing.
*Air Zero Field.*
No time to even curse myself for forgetting—I desperately scramble to escape.
A barrage of wyvern breath attacks rains down where I stood, and I barely manage to roll awkwardly behind a rock.
**"Hah… hah… hah…"**
Gasping for air, wiping away sweat.
I try to steady my breathing, but there’s no sign of it calming down.
Proof that I’ve failed my stamina management.
I’m desperately trying to stay composed, but my body can’t keep up with the pressure far exceeding my expectations.
**"Th-This is bad…"**
Amid ragged breaths, I don’t despair—but I *do* start feeling the danger.
I don’t even need to ask myself if I can keep fighting like this.
I already know the odds of taking down the wind dragon—already slim to begin with—have now become as thin as water.
The thought of retreat flashes through my mind, but then I wonder how I’d ever live down the shame of my failure.
This is the mountaintop. There are no protective rock formations on the path down—if I run now, I’ll be met with concentrated fire and *game over*.
The only reason I’m even able to fight right now is because of these rocks providing cover.
**"…Guess I’ll have to do it the hard way."**
Even if I *were* to flee, I’d need to escape this field first.
And I *do* have an idea for how to do that—but it’ll take some courage.
And I don’t have time to muster that courage.
Hiding behind rocks only conceals me from the wind dragon—not the wyverns.
**"No time to sit here agonizing."**
This isn’t about *can I or can’t I*—it’s a binary choice between *do or don’t*.
I choose *do*.
I plunge my hand into my magic bag, grab one of my dwindling smoke bombs, light it without hesitation, and hurl it toward a wyvern in a specific direction.
**"If this works, I win. If not, I lose!!"**
With that shout, I dash forward, chasing after the smoke bomb I just threw.
The bomb explodes midair, right in front of the wyvern, shrouding its vision in smoke.
**"Namu san!!"**
Right before the smoke fully obscures it, I land a headshot on the wyvern, forcing it into a fall.
Yes—the wyvern, positioned right above the path I climbed up, plummets without even spreading its wings.
I leap onto its body.
**"This is it!!!"**
Even if I’ve latched onto the wyvern, I can’t defy gravity.
I cling desperately to its massive frame as we plunge downward.
The wyvern has more surface area, meaning greater air resistance—but also more mass.
The perceived speed surpasses even a roller coaster’s freefall.
I brace myself, timing it just right.
Gripping the wyvern’s body, tucking in my limbs, pressing the soles of my feet against it—
**"It worked! It actually worked!! My heart can’t take this, but it worked!!"**
In *FBO*, players experimented endlessly with ways to survive high-altitude falls.
Thanks to the game’s advanced physics engine, which accurately calculated most real-world mechanics, fall damage was brutally realistic.
The higher your class and stats, the less damage you took from falls, allowing you to leap from greater heights.
A natural result of enhanced physical prowess.
But what if your current stats *aren’t* enough to negate fall damage?
The answer: use tricks.
This time, I used the wyvern as a cushion.
Ever heard the theory that if you’re thrown from a plane without a parachute, having *something* to land on—no matter how flimsy—might give you a slim chance of survival?
Tree branches, haystacks—anything soft enough to absorb the impact.
This is an application of that.
The wyvern’s body crashes into the ground, and at the exact moment the shockwave hits—
I use the recoil to flip midair and land properly.
The timing is razor-thin, and I’ve barely practiced this.
But in this hyper-focused state, I *knew* I could pull it off—which is why I dared to try.
And since I succeeded, I’d love to celebrate with a full-body victory pose, but—
**"HAHAHAHA!! RUN AWAY TO SAFETY!!"**
The instant I land, I break into a full sprint. Behind me, a breath attack rains down, obliterating the wyvern that helped me survive the fall—reducing it to ashes.
*Thanks, wyvern. I’ll remember this favor… for about an hour.*
If you can’t win, you run. That’s the golden rule of combat.
Muttering survival strategies and excuses under my breath, I weave through the relentless assaults of pursuing wyverns and the wind dragon, sprinting full speed toward the dungeon exit.
**"Wait, another guest!?"**
Ahead, I spot an undead still stubbornly resisting.
Overwhelmed by the wind dragon, the horde of dragon zombies it painstakingly created lies in ruins.
*Lone last stand* sounds heroic, but when you’re being pummeled from the air, even a Class 5 Royal Dullahan gets shredded.
Its mounted dragon zombie is gone, and perhaps unwilling to flee in disgrace, it clings to knightly honor—raising its sword against the dragon, only to be blown away mid-swing.
Like Don Quixote charging at a windmill.
*You had no chance. You should’ve run.*
But the Royal Dullahan didn’t flee.
Right before my eyes, it’s engulfed in the wind dragon’s breath and annihilated.
The moment the dungeon’s ruler changes.
The moment the dungeon begins its restructuring.
With one of the two dungeon rulers defeated, the dungeon’s rules shift.
The remaining wind dragon roars in triumph.
No *Existence Evolution* this time—it only defeated an inferior foe—but the dungeon *does* expand.
No second Giant Killing occurs.
I’ve just witnessed the end of one monster’s journey.
**"A golden treasure chest!?"**
But what catches my eye isn’t its demise—it’s the chest that appears where the Royal Dullahan fell.
Without hesitation, I shove my hand into my magic bag and pull out my last five smoke bombs.
Lucky or unlucky?
Normally, if you value your life, you’d ignore the chest and sprint for the exit.
But right now, with two wind dragons nearby, *because* my life is on the line—I *have* to go for that golden chest.
I ignite all five smoke bombs and hurl them into the air.
Just for an instant—block *all* lines of sight.
By the time they notice and turn toward me, smoke blankets the area, obscuring vision.
I don’t slow down.
Sprinting full tilt, I dive for the chest.
**"Please, please, PLEASE!!"**
Fifty-fifty odds.
A golden chest at the *last possible moment*?
If luck’s on my side *this* far, then break through this probability too!!
I wrench the chest open, but the smoke around me obscures its contents.
So instead of looking, I plunge my hand inside.
If it feels hard, I’m screwed.
But if it’s paper—
**"!?"**
The moment I recognize the texture, I grab it and leap back.
The golden chest, still faintly visible through the smoke, is bombarded with concentrated fire—but as an indestructible object, it vanishes after ejecting its contents.
**"I still have a chance."**
The shockwaves from breath attacks disperse the smoke.
In my off-hand—the one not holding my greatbow—is a scroll.
A Royal Dullahan’s golden chest only holds two types of items in practice:
A greatsword called *Beheader*—
**"Maybe my usual bad luck was saving up for this moment."**
—or a *Skill Scroll*.
There *was* a slim chance it could’ve been a *Dungeon Key*, but that would’ve been more trouble than it’s worth.
So for all intents and purposes, only these two options exist.
I unfurl the scroll and confirm its contents—it’s exactly what I needed.
**"Learn."**
I acquire the skill without hesitation.
---
**[Liberta] Class 2 / Level 100 Base Stats: VIT 240 | MAG 160 BP 0 | EXBP 0 Skills: 5/7 Slots**
- **Spear Mastery** – Class 10 / Level 100 - **Magic Edge** – Class 10 / Level 100 - **Scythe Mastery** – Class 10 / Level 100 - **Stealth** – Class 7 / Level 43 - **Headhunter** – Class 1 / Level 1
---
*Headhunter*—the signature skill of a Headhunter Assassin.
I never thought I’d obtain it *now*, of all times.
**"Now—leave your head behind as you go."**
Even with inferior stats, it doesn’t matter.
If landing a hit on the neck gives me a chance to win, then I’ll charge forward with everything I have.
**"At this distance—!!"**
The wind dragons’ positions:
One directly ahead, the one that fought the Royal Dullahan.
One to my left-rear, the one that chased me.
With this setup, my first target is the one in front.
I draw my greatbow and fire—not at the wind dragon, but at a wyvern flying near it.
Unlike the wind dragon, wyverns can’t protect themselves with *Wind Veil*.
The *Dragon Slayer* effect strikes true, embedding deep into the wing joint and grounding it.
As it plummets, I fire again—this time at another wyvern, sending it crashing down.
With each wyvern I shoot down, aggro shifts squarely onto me.
The wyverns ready their breath attacks.
The wind dragons prepare their magic.
If this concentrated barrage hits, even a maxed-out Class 5 tank would struggle to survive—let alone someone with *my* stats.
The enemies are spread out too widely—running won’t save me.
A perfect kill box.
They must think this is inescapable.
Too bad for them—it’s *not* perfect yet.
The breath attacks roar forth, powerful enough to obliterate the falling wyverns.
I use one of those falling wyverns as an umbrella, slipping beneath it.
Even the weakest dragon won’t vanish instantly from friendly fire.
Wind attacks from wind dragons are less effective against their own kind, buying me a few precious seconds.
I’m using airborne objects to block airborne attacks.
As the wyvern I’m under crumbles, I dart beneath the next falling one, using it as a new shield against the storm of breath.
**"Next—*you*."**
While securing a fresh "umbrella," I shoot down another wyvern.
Positioning works in my favor—another ideal target is in range.
Before my current shield disintegrates, I fire again, grounding another wyvern.
Breath attacks have cooldowns.
If I time it right, they’ll crash before the next volley.
But even if they can’t act as umbrellas—
**"They can still block magic."**
The falling wyvern intercepts a *Wind Cutter* spell from the wind dragon behind me.
This area’s too open—no indestructible rocks for cover.
I *have* to create my own defenses.
The wyvern tanks several *Wind Cutters*, turning to ash.
Another wind dragon’s *Wind Hammer* slams into the next falling wyvern—one hit, two hits—
*You’re doing great as a shield.*
Only because I obtained *Headhunter* can I afford to use arrows defensively like this.
**"This is the position I wanted."**
Blocking alone is a losing battle.
I needed to reach this spot.
Twisting my body awkwardly, I loose an arrow—
Aimed not at the wyvern, but straight for the wind dragon’s face.
At the last second, it jerks its head aside, dodging.
For a split second, its mouth seems to twist—
Almost like it’s sneering.
*Did you really think I couldn’t evade something so weak?*
Maybe I imagined it. Maybe it’s paranoia.
But because I *saw* it—
**"You weren’t the target."**
The words slip out.
And the answer descends from above.
The wyvern I headshotted earlier—now crashing directly onto the wind dragon’s skull.
Even a wind dragon can’t brace against that much mass unexpectedly.
It plummets, wyvern and all.
I sprint beneath its landing point, swapping my greatbow for a scythe-spear.
*Magic Edge* forms the blade.
My target? The *reverse scale* on its neck.
*Headhunter* ignores neck defenses.
The weakest point for dragons.
Add in the damage multiplier from fall velocity—
**"HEADHUNTER!!"**
I swing the scythe upward—
And activate the skill.