NOVPUBGreg stood outside the towering territorial castle wall of the Grey Empire. Archers and mages were lined up neatly along the battlements, their weapons drawn and ready to fire one last time. Their expressions were solemn, their stances firm. The newly constructed and sealed gates stood tall behind them, with squads of short-range rangers stationed in formation, prepared to deploy at a moment's notice.
Just one man stood against an empire that had stood unshaken for centuries.
The news of the confrontation had spread like wildfire. Kingdoms, villages, towns, and tribes across the world were left in disbelief. Was the man who dared to lay siege to the mighty Grey Empire a fool, drunk on arrogance, destined to meet his end? Or did he possess the power to back such audacity—a power no kingdom had ever wielded before?
Most spectators, both players and natives, leaned toward one belief: this was pure arrogance, and Greg would pay the price.
"Hello, viewers! I'm Catty! Nice to meet you all once more!" a chipper voice rang out from a livestream. "Today will be a very sensational day as I'll be streaming the confrontation between the player we all know by now—Nemesis—and the greatest empire of them all, the Grey Empire! The empire that's ruled the apocalypse for centuries! Don't forget to like and comment below while I capture this historic moment for you!"
Catty, a popular game streamer, was just one of many broadcasting the spectacle. Like her, dozens of others had set up camp, convinced this was the scoop of the century. Their instincts were soon confirmed as the viewer count surged by the second, crashing past record-breaking numbers.
How had these streamers gotten wind of the empire's upcoming battle? The answer was simple: Lilith. The mischievous demon had casually leaked the information, selling it to multiple streamers at a generous price. For her, it was just a bit of harmless profit—nothing personal.
"Foreigner! How dare you act so conceited against the Empire?" a voice boomed across the field, magically amplified by a nearby mage. "Your arrogance knows no bounds. But I will offer you a path to redemption. Fall to your knees right now and surrender. Do so, and we may yet spare you!" declared Prince Jason, his expression twisted with disdain.
Greg said nothing.
The silence made Prince Jason's eye twitch. Being ignored so blatantly was an unforgivable insult.
"Bishop," he hissed through clenched teeth, "when he reaches the Atonement Ground, ensure he atones properly."
Bishop Kelly stood beside him, nodding with a wicked grin tugging at his lips.
Greg's eyes shifted toward the celestial temple's banner fluttering among the knight regiments. He narrowed his gaze.
"Celestial Temple," Greg began, his voice calm but cold, "although we've had our differences, I've still considered our friction pardonable. Expose the truth, stop pestering me, and I will let it slide. This is your last chance to avoid enmity with me. Leave quietly, forsake your alliance with the Grey Empire, and walk away—or become my enemy. And let me make one thing clear: I never rest until my enemies are utterly destroyed."
Bishop Kelly scoffed. "I do not negotiate with traitors of their own race. Likewise, I'll give you one last chance—surrender now, or suffer the wrath of the Celestials."
Greg let out a low chuckle. "Very well then," he muttered. "Even the Celestials you worship won't be able to save you from my wrath."
As he spoke, his legendary weapon—Heaven Defier—materialized in his hand, pulsing with cold, terrifying energy.
"You dare blaspheme the Celestials?!" Bishop Kelly roared, his face flushed with rage.
"Long-rangers! Attack!" the war commander bellowed. In a heartbeat, the sky darkened as a storm of arrows and spells hurtled through the air, all converging on one man.
It was a scene that could have been painted by a master artist—a lone figure, standing still, as death rained down from the heavens. The viewers held their breath. There was no way Greg could survive this.
"Hmph. Hasn't even started and he's already lost the will to fight," Bishop Kelly sneered. "The arrogant fool can't even move—petrified with fear."
To the bishop, Greg had already become more than just a political pawn. He was a personal enemy—one whose existence now needed to be erased.
The attacks struck the ground in a thunderous impact, shaking the very earth beneath. A cloud of dust rose high into the sky, cloaking the area and obscuring Greg from view. The entire battlefield fell into a hush, breath held in suspense.
"Hmph. So much for arrogance," Bishop Kelly scoffed again. "He probably looks like a porcupine now."
And indeed, most onlookers thought the same. With tracking spells and honing arrows among the barrage, there was no conceivable way Greg could have escaped unscathed—if he was still alive at all.
But slowly… the dust began to clear.
And what was revealed made jaws drop across the battlefield and livestreams alike.
Greg stood unharmed.
Not a single scratch marked his body. His black clothes remained spotless—completely untouched by dust, arrows, or flames. An auxiliary effect of the immortal-grade outfit he had specifically purchased for its self-cleaning, spell-resistant fabric.
"What?! Impossible!" Bishop Kelly stammered, staring at Greg with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.
Greg looked up, a cool smile tugging at his lips.
"So," he said, raising Heaven Defier, "you've made your move. Now allow me to make mine."
He raised his hand and spoke in dragon tongue. "Arrows."
Hundreds of arrows shimmered into existence behind him, crackling with dark, abyssal flames at their tips. With a flick of his fingers, they surged forward like a swarm of angry hornets, racing toward the castle walls.
"Not good! Take cover, Prince!" the war commander yelled, darting toward Jason and the nearby Oracle, using his body as a shield as he ushered them to safety.
"Archers! Shields!" he ordered.
The archers quickly raised their reinforced steel shields, while the mages conjured layers of magical barriers in desperation.
But Greg chuckled softly.
"Come now… don't insult me. Do you really think that'll stop my wrath?"
The abyssal arrows collided with the defensive wall in a blaze of dark fire.
In the blink of an eye, the magical shields shattered. The physical shields melted under the corrupting flame. The unlucky archers and mages behind them didn't even have time to scream before they were consumed completely—reduced to ashes, their bodies erased from existence.
And Greg remained where he was—unmoving, unflinching, and absolutely merciless.
