Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player

Outside the Hidden Laboratory’s dungeon entrance…

As Soulless and Kieran engaged in a standoff where their ego clashed, primarily Soulless, who felt he was above Kieran simply because of his status and accomplishments as a young man.

As it stood, Soulless was amongst the youngest Titled Rankers to exhibit talent and combat ability strong enough to be considered as a contender for the next batch of Luminaries.

On the Exemplar Record, a Luminary represented a player of incredible strength, ability, and foresight that exhibited a potential far more radiant than their peers.

When it came to being a Luminary, there was a critical factor involved.

One’s growth potential must far exceed the usual limits of their age to be considered a prospect. After becoming a prospect for the ranking, one would then need to confirm that their ability had indeed surpassed human limits.

In other words, only players with awakened inhuman abilities could become Luminary, because, in that condition, their brilliance no longer conformed to typical human limitations.

Their futures were liberated and illuminated.

Not long after their standoff, a few seconds at most, a cold and almost stale voice rang out through the desert canyon, drawing Soulless’ attention.

When he shifted his gaze, Soulless laid eyes upon a figure dressed in extremely dark garbs that blocked or rather absorbed all presence of light that came in contact with it. The tall and slender figure stood under the torrid sun that beat down across the terrain unbothered by its luminosity.

As Soulless analyzed this individual, he noticed most of their features were concealed by a scarf and a thin headwrap. Though his description sounded eerily similar to Zephyr, it wasn’t him.

Zephyr’s appearance wasn’t something he chose himself, it was the attire of the Shadow Dancers. Whether or not one wished to change their attire was irrelevant.

With their role as the wielder of the shadow, they possessed a duty to serve their throne.

Once Zephyr took his seat on the Throne of Deathless Night generations ago, he too, experienced this change—acquiring strange black garbs coupled with a scarf-like cloak and a headwrap.

Needless to say, the person Soulless laid eyes upon was naturally Altair, who stood at a leisure, the faint breezes blowing his sparsely exposed hair of a now dull white color.

“And who might you be? This matter does not concern you. It’d be foolish of you to make an enemy out of Umbra—much less the Underworld,” Soulless stated, indifferently sizing up Altair.

Alas, getting a read on him was truly difficult.

Soulless couldn’t quite put it in words, but he felt this Altair’s presence, which remained unknown to him, was enigmatic in the sense that it felt ephemeral. Like a concept that was everlasting but so fickle that it could change at a moment’s notice.

Meanwhile, Bastion’s somewhat weary gaze fell upon Altair and was immediately enlivened, gasping loudly. “You’ve succeeded!”

“I have. It’s only right that I did. If Aatrox could do it, as his right-hand man, I’d naturally be capable of the same thing,” Altair said, his eyes briefly scanning Bastion’s horrid condition.

He had watched glimpses of Bastion’s technique but he couldn’t witness the aftermath because he became engrossed in finishing off his training and assimilating the power of the Nightly Gloom that now saturated his very being.

“Does that mean you’ve become an Advanced Being? But… we didn’t receive any notification that someone has succeeded in their Class Advancement,” Nemean muttered, browsing through his system log to ensure he didn’t miss such an important message.

However, before he could continue, Altair clarified the matter for him. “I haven’t. It would seem that becoming an Advanced Being is dependent upon our future actions. Though… whether or not I Advanced is of no importance. Like I said moments ago—what Aatrox lacks in quantity, is overcome by our quality.”

“That’s right. Let these motherfuckers know,” Bastion exclaimed, raising his fist triumphantly. Unfortunately, a moment later, he began coughing violently and groaning in pain.

His body was so battered by his Last Stand ability that the sudden movement of raising his fist produced a tremendous amount of pain.

“It would seem that your followers are bereft of common sense. Do you truly believe you can counter these odds—the thousands of players that have gathered to deal with you?” Soulless said.

Slowly, his hand gravitated to the sharp, katana-looking blade fastened to his hips by a dark sash.

Kieran looked at Soulless’ actions but didn’t react. Instead, he panned his gaze over the sea of players that seemed to agree with Soulless’ point of view. After a while, Kieran released a soft chuckle.

“That’s rich coming from you seeing as you have someone like Despot in your midst. That is truly someone bereft of common sense. It begs the question—how does the common sense of his superiors compare? I gather you’re all of a similarly vacuous mind.”

As Kieran spoke, a swirl of crimson wisps rose from the ground, soon making the furs of his Savage Beast Lord Set and his hair flutter all the same. When it came to the might of one’s presence, no player could claim to be his match.

“I’ll admit, your class is undoubtedly a fearsome one as is the power you can muster. But… there is something that you fail to realize. There is no reason to employ a facade of boundless strength. After clearing something unprecedented like a Hell Mode dungeon, you should be running on fumes as best,”

“Is that so?” Kieran chuckled softly. “And yet, even the fumes of my power are enough to wipe the floor with everyone here.”

Whoosh!

All of a sudden, a figure dashed past Soulless and erupted with a frightening force.

“God dammit! Are we going to fight or what? I can’t take all this cumbersome talk. It’s infuriating. Men should battle with their fists!”

Bang!

A thunderous explosion rang out in the canyon area as a cloud of dust was kicked up by the impact of an unknown strike.

Once the dust began to dissipate, it was revealed that the individual that made a move was none other than Vielens, the Guild Master of the Warhead Syndicate, who could no longer sit idly by and listen to the exchange of passive-aggressive taunts.

However, when the dust cleared further, Vielens’ expression contorted and darkened.

Due to the interruption he suffered, Kieran’s mood seemed to plummet, his eyes becoming incredibly cold and malevolent. What’s more, before Vielens ridiculous kick could inflict a hefty amount of damage, Kieran caught it a few centimeters from his face.

Considering that his kicks were powerful enough to contend against Champion Monsters five levels below him, Vielens was astonished to find that Kieran had caught it while suffering no more than 100 damage.

‘This guy’s STR has to be fucking monstrous. What is with this outlandish vice-grip of his? With my class, attempting to catch my attacks should render his arms useless. Also, he should’ve been blown back tens of meters!’

Vielens’ base class was a Fighter, which was understandable given his propensity to create conflict and his penchant for violence.

Unlike most people in the Underworld, who preferred to use firearms, Vielens enjoyed the act of hand-to-hand combat, using it to beat people to a bloody pulp. Thanks to this tendency of his, Vielens was pointed in the direction of a particularly strange NPC with an infamous reputation.

That reputation soon became a class that players could pick up provided their Infamy Value was up to par and their qualities suited the NPC’s taste. The class was known as a Vajra Brawler, which used fierce and deadly strikes to incapacitate their enemy.

Due to the class’s underhanded nature, most of Vielens’ skills inflicted some nasty effects. As for its rating, it was considered an Epic Hidden Class.

All of a sudden, Vielens sensed danger coming from Kieran and lashed out his second leg.

Contrary to his expectations, however, Kieran didn’t release his leg. What he released was his grasp on Crimson Ashrune.

A second later, Kieran’s large hand cut through the air like a lethal vice, prompting Vielens to reconsider his actions. If he couldn’t escape from Kieran’s clutches, wouldn’t he become completely helpless once both of his legs were entrapped?

While he pondered this outcome, Kieran’s cold voice sounded. “Ah, so your class stems from a melee path. Meaning you must hail from the Figher variety. Did you know… that despite my class stemming from a Warrior’s path, my true specialty lies elsewhere?”

When Kieran noticed that Vielens retracted his leg at the last moment, Kieran pulled him in and balled his fist. If there was one thing Kieran truly enjoyed, it was beating someone at their own game.

Since Vielens was a melee class, he would naturally overpower him by letting him know that his class specialty was meaningless before someone like him.

Sadly, Kieran’s intentions wouldn’t be so straightforward. With the number of enemies present, Kieran couldn’t afford to focus on one opponent for too long.

Otherwise, he’d end up in an admittedly precarious situation.

For example, as soon as he made this movement, Soulless executed a strange signal. All of the Seven Antumbra Agents behind him reacted, appearing beside Kieran quickly through the use of Burst Steps.

As trained real-life assassins, they had to be specialized in such a technique to execute kill orders quickly and efficiently. Though their occupation led to a strange implementation of Burst Steps.

What they executed was known as the Soundless Bursts.

Before Kieran’s punch could connect, he sensed danger from multiple angles.

“Did you believe we’d come at you respectfully? This isn’t a competition, this is an overwhelming seizure. Either submit or die,” Soulless said, his hand resting calmly on his blade’s hilt.

Though he didn’t reply verbally, Kieran shifted his gaze in Soulless’s direction for a moment. The sea of players had begun to approach and while he wasn’t scared, Kieran did understand that using Abhorrent Paroxysm and Deranged Spirit during the run left him in a state that was far from ideal.

However, at that moment, Altair hooked his finger on his scarf and pulled it off. This momentarily revealed his sharp jawline, which was eye-catching enough to make people stop and stare.

“As I walk through the darkness… where light is lost upon me… the dance of the shadows begin…”

As Altair muttered this mantra to himself, the scarf in his hand erupted with a blaze of black embers.

In the next moment, Altair covered his face with his hand, a tenebrous light radiating within his eyes.

A light chuckle, foreboding and ominous, then sounded as the scarf in his hand was released allowing it to return to its rightful place. The only difference now was that where Altair stepped, it was enveloped in a blanket of darkness.

“Lightless… Shroud.”