Floating Islands: SSS Gacha System-Chapter 138 - - The Count to Doom

Azure Dunes.

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

The sun blazed mercilessly over the barren island, its heat bearing down on the flat expanse of land dotted with tall dunes of sand. Though a massive lake shimmered in the distance, its presence did little to alleviate the harsh reality—this island was one of the most challenging places to find cover or refuge.

Hidden caves lay buried beneath the sands, and small rocky hills surrounded the lake, offering minor concealment. But for Milo, Karian, and the combined forces of Team Aether and Team Dusk, none of that mattered now.

They stood at a dry patch of land in the middle of the arid terrain, surrounded by brittle grass that crackled underfoot. From every direction, enemy forces encircled them, cutting off all escape routes. The hostile army spread out across the dunes, leaving no room to maneuver.

"There are about 200 of them," Ronan, the leader of Team Dusk, said, standing beside Karian.

"Hah! It looks like they can't wait to throw their lives away," Karian replied, his greatsword resting on his broad shoulder. His tall, muscular frame exuded confidence as he surveyed the situation, unfazed by the overwhelming numbers.

Meanwhile, Zara stood next to Milo, her face tense as she glanced at the enemies surrounding them.

Milo's hands trembled slightly, and his face was pale, sweat trickling down his temples—not from the scorching heat, but from the sheer dread coursing through him.

"Th-their numbers... th-they're way too many... Karian..." Milo stammered, his voice shaky with fear.

One of the enemies, a man riding a massive rhino-like beast, approached with the thunderous stomps of his mount, sending clouds of dust swirling into the air. He was clad in heavy armor, his expression twisted into a smug, mocking grin as he closed the distance.

"Hey, you pathetic troops! You don't stand a chance. Have you written your wills for your heirs yet?!" the man taunted.

Karian stepped forward and replied with a sharp grin.

"Yo, I think it's you who should be doing that. Because my greatsword is going to take all your heads off in one swing."

The opposing lord, a bulky man with long black hair flowing behind him, laughed heartily at Karian's boldness.

"Hahaha! I have to admit, I respect your confidence. But don't worry—we're generous enough to offer you an opportunity. Retreat now and abandon your mission. Wouldn't that be better? Your struggle doesn't have to end in death. You can go home and rest peacefully. Isn't that a kindness on our part?"

In the Dominion Skirmish, every team has the option to abandon their battle, effectively forfeiting the island. However, this comes with strict conditions: a retreat must be declared outside of active battle mode. Once a team retreats, they permanently lose their chance to compete for that island, marking it as surrendered.

This rule exists to give participating lords a way out if they determine their chances of victory are slim. Surrender is rarely an option for proud lords, but here, the enemy lord dangled it mockingly before them, confident they were outmatched.

"That should be my line!" Karian roared.

He continued. "You all leave this place now. Retreat and go back to your island. I'll give you ten seconds. If you don't, we'll go all out, and I promise not a single one of you will leave here alive."

At Karian's words, his troops immediately readied their weapons. There wasn't a single hint of doubt in their eyes, even though they were outnumbered nearly four to one. No matter how well-trained or skilled Karian's group was, the odds were impossible. Four to one was nothing short of suicide.

But none of that seemed to matter to Gacha Haven and the troops.

"Ten!" Karian began counting.

The opposing lord sneered, his mocking grin replaced by a flash of frustration. "You fools have no respect for your lives! Have you lost your mind? I said retreat! We'd rather not dirty our hands with your blood. You'd be wise to reconsider, so we don't have to waste our energy beheading you all."

"Seven!" Karian continued, ignoring the taunt.

The enemy lord raised his right hand, signaling to his troops and allies. Without hesitation, they moved into formation, encircling Karian's group from every direction. The sound of weapons being drawn filled the air as the enemy tightened their hold.

"There's no chance you'll win this! This is suicide!" the enemy lord shouted. "Retreat now, and you can still live to see tomorrow!"

"Five!" Karian's count continued, his hand gripping the hilt of his greatsword tightly.

Karian continued walking forward, his steps steady, his voice unyielding as he kept counting. "Four."

"I said stop!" the enemy lord barked, frustration boiling over in his voice.

Around twenty enemy troops broke formation and rushed forward, attempting to block Karian's advance.

"Three!" Karian called out, his voice louder now. "Still no retreat? Do you all want to die?!"

"You've lost your mind!" the enemy lord shouted back. "I'll kill you before you finish counting!"

"Two," Karian said, a thin, dangerous smile spreading across his face as his eyes locked on the enemy troops closing in on him.

The enemy troops surged toward him, weapons raised, their intent clear.

But Karian didn't flinch. His hands gripped the hilt of his greatsword tightly as flames erupted from the blade, roaring to life and engulfing it in searing heat.

"I said retreat! You've brought doom upon yourselves!" Karian roared.

In an instant, he charged forward, his greatsword blazing like an inferno. His movement was impossibly fast, his fiery blade carving through the air with devastating force.

A single massive slash tore through the enemy troops, the fire exploding outward like a wave, scorching the battlefield. The strike was so overwhelming that the advancing troops had no time to react. The force hurled a dozen of them backward, their bodies colliding with the ground in lifeless heaps.

The enemy lord stood frozen, his face pale with shock as he watched Karian's raw power cut through his troops like paper.

The remaining enemy forces raised their weapons. The battlefield tensed as the troops prepared to retaliate.

Zara, standing right beside Milo, reached out and gently grasped his trembling left hand.

Milo froze and turned his head to look at her.

Zara met his gaze, her expression calm but resolute. She smiled softly.

"Mr. Milo, we're here together, facing the same enemy. We'll fight together. No one will be left behind—we'll protect each other and stay together until the very end. Just like Lord Atlas said."

For a moment, Milo stood in silence. The tension around them was so thick, with the others stealing quick glances at the scene. They all saw it clearly—the fear etched across Milo's pale, trembling face was suddenly replaced by something... darker.

His stiff expression hardened, and then, slowly, a smile crept across his lips. But it wasn't a calm or reassuring smile—it was grim, cold, and filled with unrelenting malice.

"Yeah..." Milo murmured, his voice low and chilling. "We need to obliterate our enemies into pieces."

And then it happened. A dark energy began to swirl around him, cloaking his entire body in a sinister shadow. The raw power pulsed violently, causing his hair to stand on end as the energy coursed through him.

Zara released his hand and took a step back as she watched Milo transform.

Milo turned to face the advancing enemy troops, his grin widening. He began to walk toward them, slow and deliberate, the shadowy aura intensifying with every step.

Milo tore off his shirt, revealing a body now several times larger than before. The shadow-like power wrapped around him, making him look monstrous, his form exuding sheer intimidation.

"You pieces of trash... scum... children of whores," Milo growled, his voice deep and distorted. "I'll teach you exactly how to behave. And your first lesson..." He bared his teeth in a feral grin. "Is having your heads smashed into pieces!"

Immediately after that, chaos erupted.

Raze, now fully transformed, charged forward at an incredible speed, meeting the dozens of enemies head-on with unrelenting power.

Karian? He had already launched himself into the fray, tearing through the battlefield with brutal ferocity.

Meanwhile, Team Aether and Team Dusk held their positions, forming a defensive line to brace for the oncoming assault. Magic spells and arrows flew through the air, weaving between shouts and the clang of weapons. They healed, defended, and maintained their ground, each member fighting to hold the line against the overwhelming enemy numbers.

The clash was deafening. Steel met steel, fire and shadow collided with flesh, and the battlefield erupted into utter mayhem.

Victory wasn't guaranteed—not by any measure. But there was one thing all of them knew deep in their hearts: once you step onto the battlefield, you give everything. Fight with everything you've got, like your life depends on it.

Because it does!

Victory or nothing!