Mad Hatter's Guide to Clearing The Game-Chapter 95: Ch93. Pain as a teacher (17) - Not alone

The ringing in Miles’ ears had barely faded when the newcomer’s voice cut through the eerie silence of the battlefield.

"Do you mind if I crash your party?"

Miles twisted, his breath catching as he caught sight of a figure standing atop a pile of jagged wreckage, the silhouette framed against the fog. A man, or at least something close to one.

He was tall and lean, his frame wrapped in a long, tattered coat that fluttered in the wind. His messy brown hair was streaked with white strands, and a single, piercing silver eye glowed from beneath the shadow of his hood. The other eye was obscured by a bandage, messy and frayed at the edges.

But more than his appearance, it was the pressure oozing from him that sent a shudder through Miles’ spine.

He was not normal.

The massive machine-beast staggered slightly from the impact that had shattered its arm, its plated face twisting in what almost looked like confusion. Sparks hissed from the jagged stump where its hand had been, tendrils of dark flesh exposed, along with flickers of black energy licking at the wound.

The man clicked his tongue.

"Hah. Tough bastard." His voice was casual, almost amused. "Still, not as bad as I thought."

Without another word, he moved without any hesitation. No wasted motion.

One second, he was standing on the wreckage. The next, he was gone, a blur of motion that even Miles could barely track.

The machine-beast barely had time to react before a heavy boot slammed into its plated chest, sending it skidding backward through the dust. The impact was so violent that it left deep gouges in the metal ground beneath it.

Miles’ eyes widened.

That was not normal. Not even for a level 50 player.

The newcomer did not stop just there. The moment his feet touched the ground, he pivoted, summoning a pair of knives into his hands, wicked, curved things that pulsed with violet energy, and slashed at the monstrosity’s exposed joint.

Metal screamed as the blades bit deep, sparks cascading as the machine-beast reeled.

"Who the hell-?!" Miles barely had time to speak before the man cut him off.

"Hold that thought, kid." Kurt barely glanced at him, stepping just out of the monster’s reach like he was taking a casual stroll. "Unless you want to get turned into a bloodstain, that is."

The metallic monster roared.

The guttural sound rippled through the wasteland, shaking the ruins. Its remaining claw whirred, shifting and unfolding into something bigger, a serrated blade that crackled with unstable energy. Then, it swung.

The stranger vanished again.

No, not vanished. Miles’ eyes finally caught the movement, the way he moved... It wasn’t teleportation, it wasn’t the [Blink] skill that a few players had in his world, no.

It was momentum.

Every motion was built upon the last, using force and impact to keep moving, never stopping, never standing still. It was like he was flowing through the motions.

And he was fast.

Before the beast’s blade could finish its arc, the man reappeared at its side, balancing effortlessly on the thing’s own knee joint. His knives lashed out – one, two, three quick slashes – cutting into its exposed plating.

Then, out of nowhere, a gunshot.

Miles flinched as the man suddenly raised a sleek, black revolver and fired point-blank into the monstrosity’s exposed wound. And the shot did not miss.

A blast of violet energy erupted from the impact, sending the enemy staggering back as its plating ruptured.

Miles took a deep breath. Now or never.

His fingers tightened around his scythe, and he moved.

It was painful as hell, but he dashed forward, gritting his teeth through the pain and the bleeding, the edge of his weapon whistling as he swung toward the Executioner’s exposed side. The machine-beast reacted, but too late.

The scythe bit deep, slicing into its shoulder joint. Metal groaned, and the beast screamed, a sound that was both mechanical and horrifyingly organic.

The stranger grinned.

"That’s the spirit, kid." He pivoted, holstering his revolver in one smooth motion. "Now, let’s finish this thing."

Before Miles could reply, the man kicked off the thing’s knee, vaulting over its back in a perfect arc. His knives vanished in a flash of violet light, replaced by something else. A blade of crackling energy, shifting between a sword and a spear in an unstable flux.

Miles felt the shift in power immediately.

Whatever that weapon was, it was dangerous.

The man twisted mid-air, and with one powerful strike, brought the blade down onto its exposed core.

A shockwave rippled through the battlefield, and for a moment, nothing moved. Then, it exploded.

The monster blew up from the inside out, a violent explosion of dark energy and scrap metal. Miles barely had time to brace himself before the force sent him flying, his body slamming into a nearby wreckage pile. 𝑓𝘳𝑒𝑒𝓌𝘦𝘣𝘯ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝑚

He coughed, spitting out dust and a mouthful of blood, his vision blurry.

The stranger, meanwhile, landed effortlessly on the ground, straightening his coat like he had just finished brushing off lint.

"What the fuck?!" Miles groaned.

The man turned, flashing a lazy smirk.

"Well, you’re welcome," he said. "Nice to meet you, too, I’m Kurt."

Miles scowled, dragging himself to his feet. However, as soon as he planted his feet on the ground, he lost all balance and fell hard on his side.

"Calm down, kid." The man, Kurt, approached him. "Here, this’ll help."

Miles looked at Kurt as he extended a hand with something in it. It looked like a black pill, and after a few seconds of consideration, he took it and swallowed in a single gulp.

Immediately, warmth surged through his body, his wounds sealing like they had never been there. His limbs stopped screaming in pain, his strength returning in waves. He exhaled sharply, gripping his arms, testing the sudden restoration. It was fast.

Almost as fast as what the [Ether Teapot] was capable of doing.

"You mind explaining who the hell you are?" Miles asked, getting up and dusting himself off.

The man tilted his head, and then, with a casual flourish, he spun his sword-spear once before dismissing it.

"Again, name’s Kurt." He grinned. "But most folks around here just call me Rogue."

"... ’Most folks around here’? You mean there are more people in this place?" Miles blinked.

Felix’s grin widened.

"Oh, kid." He chuckled, a dark note finding way into his voice. "You have no idea."

Miles’ stomach twisted, and for the first time since arriving at this wasteland, he realized something.

He wasn’t alone.

But that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.