Unholy Player
Chapter 208: Strongest Player

Chapter 208: Strongest Player

- Shelter City 8 -

A harsh wind blew in from the north, sweeping across the land and dragging a wall of yellow-stained clouds behind it. The sky ruptured with a deafening crack, spilling a torrential downpour as if the heavens themselves were trying to drown the rot below.

The rain hammered the high concrete walls, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the sound of war.

Below, a relentless wave of mutants surged forward. Twisted, humanoid figures tore through the downpour, their segmented, armor-like skin glinting faintly beneath the darkened sky. Though lean in form, their presence carried a violent urgency. They moved with feral speed, sprinting toward the walls in silence. Some leapt upward and began to climb, claws punching into rain-soaked concrete as if it offered no resistance. Shards of stone broke away and crashed down behind them, but nothing slowed their assault.

On the ramparts above, STF soldiers fired relentlessly. Heavy rounds clattered against the monsters’ plated hides, sparking on impact or ricocheting off with a hollow metallic thud. Even armor-piercing bullets only staggered them for a moment before they rose again, seemingly unfazed.

Explosives were no better. RPGs struck the ground in bursts of fire and smoke, shredding limbs and armor, yet they were far from lethal. Despite the damage, more mutants kept coming. They surged forward through the devastation like an unstoppable force, unyielding and blind to fear or pain.

And as the storm raged on, the defenders stood their ground, fingers clenched around their weapons, knowing full well that every second bought was paid for in blood.

Somewhere atop the high walls stood four figures, tense and watchful—detached from the chaos of battle, yet deeply connected to every moment.

"You keeping us here won’t change anything," the only woman among them said. Her crimson hair, damp from the rain, clung to her face, and her piercing red eyes tracked the mutants climbing ever higher on the walls. She stood clad in a sleek black tactical uniform, rain streaking across the fabric.

Though she looked the youngest of the group, an unmistakable aura surrounded her—one born only from leadership and battle-hardened experience. Behind her, two other players stood rigid, waiting for orders. Their eyes held nothing but agreement with her words.

"I know you’re frustrated," said the only man who stood apart from the group. Dressed in a black suit rather than tactical gear, his gray hair and beard gave him the weight of experience. His voice was calm but firm. "But we can’t just send you in blindly, knowing there’s almost nothing you can do out there."

His words hit hard for the three players beside him, but they couldn’t deny the truth.

The woman, her gaze steady and unwavering, responded quietly, "Minister, this isn’t about whether we can make a difference anymore. If we don’t act now, by nightfall there won’t be a city left to defend."

The Defense Minister tore his eyes away from the unending wave of mutants battering the defenses and turned toward the three people, the last remaining players within the city.

Each one carried a burden far beyond their years: the mission to explore the other world. This responsibility made them invaluable assets. Even if the city fell, even if everyone else inside perished, he had no intention of throwing them into the chaos. But that truth was one he could never voice aloud.

When he met their eyes, all he could see was fierce resolve—a determination to protect the city at any cost.

"I know," he began with a heavy sigh, "but—"

Before he could finish, a distant roar from above cut through the tension.

"A hoverjet?" Evangeline squinted into the sky, quickly spotting the silhouette of a military aircraft against the heavy clouds.

The three players exchanged surprised looks. The Defense Minister let out a low chuckle, relief evident in his voice. "Looks like reinforcements have arrived just in time."

Evangeline’s brow furrowed in confusion. There was only one hoverjet, with a capacity no greater than twenty passengers. Even if two hundred could somehow fit, how much could such a small force really change against this relentless mutant tide?

Their skeptical gaze shifted toward the minister, waiting for an explanation. His voice was calm and confident: "They’re from Shelter City 9. Their strongest PTF personnel is aboard that plane. We hold on a little longer—maybe they’ll turn the tide."

"A player? Minister, are you mocking us? You’re keeping the three of us here while calling in help from another city—and it’s just one player?" Evangeline snapped, her brow furrowed, her anger and disbelief clear in her voice.

But the Minister offered no immediate explanation. Instead, he said firmly, "Just wait. Like I said, if things don’t go as planned, I promise you’ll be allowed to intervene."

Those words eased the group’s tension somewhat. It was obvious to them that a single player wouldn’t turn the tide alone, so at least having the promise to join if needed was enough not to argue.

Evangeline turned to the other two, raising an eyebrow. "Do you know who the strongest player in Shelter City 9 is?"

Since all twelve cities shared the same PTF network and forum, players often exchanged information, and even if they couldn’t access all details openly, rumors and knowledge circulated freely.

"I think his name is J.T. Ripper," one of the players said uncertainly, scratching his head.

"J.T. Ripper?" Evangeline’s eyes widened at the name. She knew exactly who he was. Across all twelve cities, every player recognized that name, especially because the PTF shop featured a special equipment tab customized just for him.

No other research team outside Shelter City 9 had succeeded in developing gear based on technology and knowledge from the other world. Crafting custom equipment for a single player was unprecedented.

That alone made J.T. Ripper a strange and fascinating figure among all players.

But was that really enough to stop an army of first-generation mutants, especially ones that might be under the influence of a Spark? The doubt in their eyes said everything.

Yet when they turned to look at their Defense Minister, all they saw was unwavering confidence.

What does he know that we don’t? Evangeline couldn’t help but wonder.

Of course, whatever he knew had come directly from Henry Bates.

Player-to-player intel was strictly classified. The trio hadn’t been briefed on Adyr’s capabilities. But every high-ranking official in Shelter City 8 had full access to the reports. They knew exactly what he had done.

At the very least, they were aware of what had happened during the Cannibal operation. And for them, that was more than enough.

By PTF standards, each mutant currently attacking the walls was believed to be on par with—or slightly stronger than—the Cannibal. And yet, Adyr had taken that one down with brutal ease, reducing it to nothing more than a training dummy.

The most convincing detail, however, was this: that mission had taken place days ago. And according to the latest reports, Adyr had grown significantly stronger since.

While everyone stood frozen in tense anticipation, eyes fixed on the rapidly approaching hoverjet, something sudden drew the attention of the three players.

"...Wait. Did someone just jump?" one of them muttered, disbelief flashing in his voice.

The hoverjet was still high—soaring just beneath the cloud cover and cutting through the storm with piercing speed. At that altitude, jumping was madness. The winds were violent, the fall lethal, and below... a seething mass of mindless mutants waited like an open maw.

Yet the silhouette of a figure had clearly broken away from the aircraft—falling fast, cutting through the rain like a blade through silk.