Grey slowly turned back, his expression ice cold. His mood already wasn’t the best, but the bandwidth he had for backstabbers was even less.
Alvin had, at least, not had a single relationship with him. By comparison, when he met Amunet, he had thought her to be the first decent person he had met in this hellish bullshit.
He shared with her without reservation, even though he knew that if there had been a contribution leaderboard to their Instance they entered together, she would have, at most, received 5 to 10% of the credit. And even then he was being generous.
Esmeralda and the vampire pimp both were far too powerful for them, it was unfathomable that they would accidentally fall into such a situation.
Back then, Grey thought that they were in the Vanguard Class, and they may very well have been. But what was obvious was that they weren’t any sort of Vanguard that he had met already.
If he were to make an analogy, Esmeralda and the vampire pimp were probably the equivalent of Paladins to Sir Ovaal’s Low Tier Knight. They might even be better than that because they seemed to be of a different race from humans.
That was to say that their starting point was already much higher than where Grey and the Holy Knights he had met began.
It was an impossible Instance—especially for two Proving Class warriors—yet he had led them through it, was gracious enough to reward her with the spoils, to split the Free Stats they got, and yet this was how he was repaid.
Grey couldn’t see Amunet’s face at all. He just saw a figure in a calm, lowered stance, one hand closed behind its back and a rapier pointed forward.
Grey stretched out a hand and his fang dagger appeared. He stood tall and proud, a blood blade extended until it sat like a saber in his palm.
Then he moved.
His frustration became a smoldering, controlled fire. He didn’t even care what the Producers made of it or what the fallout was. He was going to rip that Nexis Suit and that cloak off of her.
Amunet moved in response, her rapier leaving streaking afterimages in its wake, not because of the sheer speed, but instead because of trailing shadows.
For a moment, it looked like she was slashing down, her flexible rapier curving almost like a whip through the air despite her slow movements.
But in the next instant, Grey found it thrusting at his neck.
He shifted to the side, his pupils constricting. That didn’t make any sense. If not for Last Paladin Spirit, his throat would have been pierced through.
He could feel that Amunet was still in the Proving Class, and her stats were fractions of his own. How had she done that?
Was her Frame activated?
’Yes,’ Grey concluded. It seemed she was going all out from the beginning.
But a fully activated Proving Class Frame, even with a full armory of Core Sync Abilities, shouldn’t be this good.
Should it?
Grey realized then that he still had too little information about this world. If the Vampire Lord Frame was Perfect, why did it feel like it still had so much more room to grow? How could something perfect become more perfect?
What was the true limit of a Proving Class Frame?
Grey slashed out at the body of the rapier, but his attack went right through it. He instantly canceled his plans for a follow-up attack and activated his Shadow Forces, flashing backward.
Or, rather, he hoped to do that.
But his Shadow Forces that had always been reliable until now, and had been upgraded to a pair of Mythical items, faltered as though they had fallen into a quagmire.
A surging cyclone of darkness covered the ground and Grey felt like his feet sank an entire inch down. He could still move, but it was like his legs had suddenly doubled in weight.
Amunet pulled her rapier back and stabbed at his belly.
Grey reacted quickly and made a move to summon his second fang dagger, and just when Amunet was ready to counter it, his wrist turned and the Turning Shield flared to life instead.
DING.
Grey shifted his battle style as the rapier nearly flew from Amunet’s hand.
The Turning Shield grew from a small parry shield into a full-on tower shield. It spun on his wrist, following the length of his arm and slamming its butt into Amunet’s body.
BANG.
Amunet went flying like a kite.
The Turning Shield retracted as Amunet skidded over the grass, toppling over. Her legs spun over her head, her head gliding along the ground and into the distance.
Grey was about to go after her when his eyes narrowed and he looked toward a line of shadowy figures. When he was about to say something, Amunet came to a stop, grinding her rapier through the soil.
She held her hand up. "Not a single one of you move, or I’ll kill you myself."
Her voice came out clipped and cold, but it was clear enough.
She stood shakily to her feet and held out her sword again. The shadows that shrouded her pulsed with her breath, her body growing firmer and straighter with every one.
She took one final breath and then it looked almost like her eyes opened.
Slits of red were cut into the helm of her shadowy form, two for her eyes and one for her mouth. Standing there, it almost looked like she had become a shadowy ghost, a demon that had crawled out from the abyss.
She vanished into a streak of crimson and darkness, her rapier forming a lance of swirling energy that pressed down with such violence it felt as though it could rip everything in its path to shreds.
The spectators blocked their eyes with their forearms, their hearts leaping out of their chests.
Was this the leader of the shadows? Where was J Dog? And who was this woman?
How was she so powerful? How were either of them so powerful?