Zenith Online: Rebirth of the Strongest Player



To the untrained eye, this Fallen Gladiator would simply seem fast in comparison, but there was more to its movement. There was crafty calculation, a hint of it, but it was there nonetheless. 

A freakish kind of speed propelled its large body forward but it wasn't that action itself that took Kieran aback.

Kieran's start originated from the timing of it all. 

This Fallen Gladiator's abrupt acceleration happened as soon as Kieran blinked. A powerful yet evidently restrained step carried its body half the distance separating them.

The unusual timing, the gaze burning with indignant resentments and persistent fury, and the lack of wasted movements told the tale of a well-trained killer. An engine whose sole purpose was to ensure their survival amidst any peril and triumph above any challenge.

Compared to any opponent Kieran had faced thus far, these Fallen Gladiators were undoubtedly the toughest, but more than that… they served a clear purpose. These reanimations of murder stressed the necessity of no reticence. 

A single moment's hesitation was all the opportunity a crafty and adept opponent needed.

'Literally in the blink of an eye. That kind of explosive speed poses a greater danger than the swarming number of weaker Fallen Gladiators.'

From Kieran's point of view, the situation was akin to a camera shutter capturing two disparate images. One which served as the original and the other serving as a stark contrast beyond compare. If the focus was the differences in the image.

Alarmed by the sight, Kieran hastily prepared a defense for this incoming opponent. It had yet to wield any weapon throughout its current movements but Kieran expected it to. 

That expectation was an excellent one. During its second step, this particularly powerful Fallen Gladiator pulled a large warhammer from the ground and swung it.

Several alarms fired in Kieran's mind, telling him that this attack was fueled by power he could potentially lose against.

Sensing the evident irony present in the abilities of this opponent, Kieran scowled. Speed and power—his own forte. 

He was being challenged in his domain!

'Surely this isn't fear? Apprehension? No… it's my human nature. That uncomfortable feeling that the unknown produces. It's why we chase certainty and move to eliminate anomalies.'

It was far too early to consider activating Deranged Spirit or Abhorrent Paroxysm. Not only was it too early, but Kieran failed to gain any insight into the trial's duration. Furthermore, what would happen if he failed to kill his opponents?

Could the next round begin without the current one concluding?

The thought sent chills down Kieran's spine. A sudden introduction of an additional opponent while having failed to deal with the earlier ones was not an ideal situation. But he had to admit, it was possible.

Anything was possible when the answers were shrouded in lingering uncertainty.

To keep from letting his thoughts enter a morose place, Kieran called upon all of his battle experience he had accumulated thus far. When an opponent was of equal power and speed, there was only one facet of battle he could rely upon—technique.

He had spent years honing his techniques to what his body deemed perfection. It wasn't perfect in its truest sense, but it was the "perfection" he could muster. His ability only needed to be greater than his opponent's; it didn't need to be omnipotent.

Struck with this realization, Kieran's confidence redoubled, returning in a wave of frenzied battle lust. 'Why am I thinking so much? Was I not made to battle? Was my class not made to conquer and annihilate? There's no reason I should be this hesitant.'

Unknowingly, all of the burdens Kieran had taken on imperceptibly warped his mindset, sowing meager seeds of doubt with enough presence to shake the foundation of his confidence.

There were one too many times when he felt powerless or he felt his power was in vain. Without the support of others, he would have undoubtedly fallen long ago.

'This is a gilded opportunity that I can't afford to squander. I'm allowing my challenges to overwhelm me and morph my ironclad confidence into something faulty and feeble. If he saw the me now… he'd be disappointed.'

It was unknown who he referred to, but it was evident Kieran respected the man at his core. Perhaps they were responsible for Kieran's refined technique.

Allowing this surge of confidence to reconstruct his mental state, Kieran focused, a viscous and eerie layer of dark blood oozing and gently rippling on the length of Crimson Ashrune's edge.

With Sanguine Slashes activated, Kieran's conviction was reinstated. 

Standing firm, Kieran lowered his stance, remaining mindful of the incoming nine Fallen Gladiators. It was an encroachment on all sides but Kieran remained calm, assessing the situation.

From major to minor, Kieran classified which Fallen Gladiator held the power to sway this round's outcome. Soon enough, he obtained his answer.

Blood Strengthening occurred, but there was no skill unleashed. Crimson Ashrune's color deepened and the rippling became less frequent, but this wasn't a detriment. It was an opportunity.

The infrequent ripples created an irregular serrated edge on Kieran's sword, creating a menacing, fear-inducing weapon reminiscent of a giant shark's maw.

When the weapon collided against the Fallen Gladiator's warhammer, both sides stood motionless, two sets of eyes radiating distinct yet oddly similar emotions.

'I don't know what perils you faced and what led to your demise, but I don't have the luxury of losing to you.'

All of a sudden, Kieran lifted his foot and stomped the ground, shattering and crushing the terrain in a sizeable radius. The massive cloud of dust that rose from the floor obscured their position, limiting the approaching Fallen Gladiators' advance.

Nine chains of blood appeared abruptly from within the obfuscating cloud of dust and dismantled stone. The chains wrapped around the Fallen Gladiators, restricting their movement while the remaining three snaked around the strongest opponent's arms and waist.

Attempting to generate power had become difficult for Kieran's primary target. 

A seething unwillingness burned in the Fallen Gladiator's eyes while Kieran's serrated blade left a large scar in the warhammer, ripping away a layer of its armor moments later.

The more damage it suffered, the more intense the burning in its indignant gaze grew. 

Creaks could be heard from the blood chains. 

They were on the verge of shattering after the aggrieved Fallen Gladiator refused to fall. Suddenly, its armor began radiating a deep red light, its physical prowess suddenly amplifying several times over.

Kieran's most recent slash was caught, and although it ripped into the Fallen Gladiator's hand, it didn't register the debilitating pain. 

It was truly like a Berserker that had lost itself to madness.

At that moment, the other blood chains began shattering in quick succession. Rapid omnidirectional movement could be heard near Kieran, heightening his awareness to its peak.

A few seconds later, they appeared, those inanimate human-looking Fallen Gladiators. Their presence and aura were identical and emphatic enough to end this trial.

Yet Kieran smiled.

His lips moved, but his sentence was inaudible. 

All that occurred was a flash of crimson radiance followed by a geyser of torrential skyward-oriented blood. The radius of this attack surpassed anything Kieran had unleashed thus far, which was understandable, considering Kieran sacrificed his ability to move to accomplish this feat.

Beneath his feet, using the Mark of the Maddened connected to the ground, Kieran unleashed an augmented Wrath Eruption. The great force behind the attack launched several of the enemies into the air but the main threat resisted, stoically rooted to the ground.

Once more, their weapons met, giving birth to an ear-piercing cacophony and further damage to the ground they stood upon. This time, Kieran was forced back a few steps, lifting his arm to block a second onslaught.

A wave of heat rushed through his arm, symbolizing the presence of an injury. Yet crazed excitement teetering on the edge of becoming deranged raged in Kieran's eyes.

The Tormented Beliefs passive continued to grow more potent alongside the progress of Kieran's abilities. 

Kieran could tell this much. 

It was like he was standing before a doorway that required one or two more surges of inspiration to push him past that threshold.

But, something told Kieran it wouldn't happen now. It simply wasn't time. 

Instead, he'd have to persist and continue to claw his way to that destination. Inspiration wasn't required, but it was a welcomed gift.

Kieran returned from his previous stumbling—stronger, faster and more ruthless—delivering another unrelenting series of slashes. At the same time, several Blood Waves coalesced in the air nearby at a deliberate pace.

It wasn't until the airborne Fallen Gladiators began their descent that these Blood Waves finished their terrifying congregation process. Like red arcs of promised death, Kieran exhausted some of his mental energy to expel the Blood Waves outward, vertically or horizontally, bisecting these unfortunate Fallen Gladiators.

Perhaps he was going crazy, but Kieran felt he perceived a tinge of sorrow and pitiful blame in his opponent's eyes when the Fallen Gladiator's lifeless husks landed with heavy thuds.

Those emotions, however, were quickly hidden. Poorly though. These emotions were, without a doubt, transferred to its every attack that Kieran beat back with his increasing battle power.

Blood Mania and Tormented Beliefs—a recipe for monstrous battle power.

Desperate resignation flashed in the eyes of the Fallen Gladiator as Kieran withstood the pummeling strikes of its warhammer. The realization that its previously barbaric and irrepressible attacks were becoming ineffective couldn't be a more pitifully sobering thought. 

The Fallen Gladiator's sullen and morose thoughts had permeated its attacks and commandeered its aggression, eventually deteriorating the somewhat vacuous zeal it possessed.

In the end, it was Kieran who stood victorious amidst the other defeated Fallen Gladiators. As these resentful souls returned to the unfortunate embrace of the flowing rivers of blood and scarred stone, Kieran gazed into the distance.

The second round wasn't terrible, and it served to reinforce his mental state, but Kieran couldn't appreciate this transient victory. 

A gnawing feeling gripped his attention.