The SSS class adventurer is a divine cleric
Chapter 94: Gareth Vael

Chapter 94: Gareth Vael

Derek stood on broken ground, his sword arm trembling from fatigue, blood dripping down his jaw. The shadows that had once danced with precision around his limbs were now flickering, unstable and already stretched thin.

The monster loomed in front of him.

Four arms. Two deflecting incoming spells and attacks with precision. Two swinging at him with bone-breaking force. Its birdlike head twisted unnaturally every time it struck, screeching in short bursts as if mocking him.

This thing was strong. Too strong.

He had seen strength before. He had been much faster than this monster. But this... this was raw madness, the disparity in strength was too much.

Around him, the battlefield was a mess. The once proud rogues of the Loose Leash now lay scattered across the forest floor, their hands blistered, weapons shattered, some too injured to even crawl away. These were not rookies. Every one of them had cleared over a hundred gold dungeons. But even they had been overwhelmed.

And it wasn’t just the monster’s strength.

It was its precision. Its speed. The way it used the very stolen weapons that once held it back as deadly extensions of its limbs. It fought like it had trained for this exact scenario. It didn’t rampage wildly. It was a perfect execution.

Derek parried another strike, his body jerking from the force. His own blade, the sleek black sword, drawn from shadows and legacy cracked slightly on contact.

He grimaced in pain and fatigue but his will power was not so easily broken.

Another arm slashed toward him. He ducked, pivoted, slashed but the second pair of arms already swung low, nearly catching his ribs. Only by twisting midair and sliding over the ground did he avoid it.

Even then, it grazed his armor.

He rolled up to his feet and shouted, voice hoarse. "Alira! Fall back!"

He didn’t need to look to know she was still here. He had told her to stay behind. But she’d followed anyway, weaving through shadows, trying to find openings to strike.

"This isn’t your fight!" Derek barked.

She hesitated. Then disappeared into the trees.

Good.

She was strong for her age. Skilled and sharp. But this... this wasn’t something she should be involved in. Not when even full-grown gold-rank veterans couldn’t survive a head-on clash.

Alira wasn’t like Kaelen or Neal. She didn’t have the ridiculous, cheat-level blessings that came with divine or celestial classes. Her class was that of an assassin fast, lethal, but fragile. And right now, fragility means death.

And Derek didn’t have time to babysit.

The monster surged again. Its arms flared outward. Derek ducked under one, spun to avoid the other, then jabbed at the beast’s exposed leg.

A graze. Nothing more.

The monster barely reacted.

This is not good. It’s not even slowing down.

And worst of all Derek was running out of time. He couldn’t keep this up. He couldn’t even breathe deeply. Every moment was another gamble, another flicker between survival and being torn apart.

From the edge of his vision, he saw motion. The rogues who had been sent to the rear were back. Their arms were healed and it was Kaelen’s handiwork, no doubt, but their eyes were sharp with alarm and horror.

They saw what he saw.

Their comrades down. The formation broken. Derek standing alone.

And the monster barely scratched.

One of the returning rogues, still panting, turned and shouted behind him. "We need backup! Now!"

Derek wanted to yell too.

Not out of desperation. But out of rage.

This was supposed to be a clean containment. A hunt. Not a war.

Yet here he was fighting an apex predator alone, surrounded by the wounded, facing an enemy that looked like it was just getting started.

He grit his teeth and raised his sword again.

He couldn’t fall. Not here. Not now when all his comrades were there lying on the floor injured..

Somewhere in another kingdom, a deep voice roared through the hall.

"What? And you didn’t inform me earlier?!"

The sound echoed across the marble floors, startling the aides nearby.

The man who shouted was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore the armor of a frontline warrior, scuffed, but still gleaming with authority. His name was Gareth Vael, an Epic-rank awakener, and one of the five who had taken part in the brutal dungeon siege years ago, the one that had claimed the life of Grand Duke, Ednar Yernils of Hather.

He clenched the letter in his hand until it crumpled.

"Are they stupid, or do they just want to disappear from the map entirely?" he growled. "Two mutants and they sent thirty gold ranks and an auxiliary type Epic?! That’s not even a battle, that’s a funeral."

One of his aides stepped forward hesitantly. "Sir... the report said they also have the two black system awakeners with them. And... the monsters are estimated to be peak gold rank. Not Epic."

Gareth’s face went pale.

The paper slipped from his fingers.

What was Hather thinking sending the most promising youths of humanity to death when they are still infants right now, the last hopes against the impending doom of the apocalypse and he could not allow this at all.

"Peak gold?" he whispered. "Mutants don’t follow rules. And black system or not, they’re still kids."

"DOGS!"

He didn’t wait another second.

With a flash, he was gone storming through the exit, sprinting across the courtyard toward the nearest teleportation gate.

As he ran, he pulled out his crystal communicator and shouted into it.

"This is Gareth Vael! Two mutants confirmed in Hather Kingdom. I repeat, two mutants. I need all Epic-rank awakeners nearby to respond immediately. Anyone not moving now better be ready to explain when the smoke clears!"

He activated the teleportation circle and vanished in a flash of blue.

His heart pounded with dread. He had seen firsthand what mutants could do. Entire cities leveled. Armies turned to dust. Even Epic-class awakeners had fallen like flies. And now... they were throwing children into the fire?

If Hather was not the hometown of his friend he would like to level it himself.

His fists clenched.

Not this time.

He would not arrive too late.