Ark Chess Player

He threw a punch.

Mephistopheles was still immersed in liberating the hardened parasite's mental connection when he snapped back to reality and saw a fist looming larger in his line of sight.

"boom!!"

Matthias's fist struck Mephistopheles's still-mocking face, shattering the gold-rimmed glasses that served as the casting unit, countless fragments embedded in Mephistopheles's flesh. But that wasn't enough; Matthias made his fist ethereal, thick mist seeping into Mephistopheles's nostrils, eyes, mouth, and ears, penetrating directly into his brain, leaving him no chance of escape.

Matthias materialized once more and unleashed a lightning-fast second punch!

Mephistopheles' head instantly shattered into pieces, scattering in all directions and turning into a pile of black sludge.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Thirty miles away from Longmen, there is an abandoned mobile city block.

Mephistopheles clutched his head and howled wildly, falling off the chair with a bloodcurdling scream like a pig being slaughtered. This was the second time he had experienced a mental breakdown. Even though his body hadn't suffered any physical damage, the pain of having his head smashed directly affected his nervous system, making him wish he were dead.

The sensation of Matthias turning into mist still echoed in his consciousness, like the mud from a drain washing over every fold of his brain. This feeling, which would kill most people if they experienced it once, was deeply imprinted in Mephistopheles' soul.

This will become his new nightmare, one he will never forget.

"Lord Mephistopheles, what's wrong—"

The Infected member of the Reunion Movement guarding the door was startled, but he dared not go inside because Mephisto had given prior orders that no one was allowed to enter no matter what happened, or they would be executed on the spot.

"...I'm fine, you may leave."

Mephistopheles gritted his teeth and forced out those words despite the excruciating pain.

Upon hearing this, the guard turned and ran straight back to his original position, terrified that he would become Mephisto's next target. He didn't want to end up like the previous guard, disobeying Mephisto's orders and being... what was it again? Why can't I remember...?

The infected guard stood outside the door, his thoughts drifting away, forgetting many things without realizing it. The Originium crystals on his skin subtly emitted an eerie glow, and without his awareness, the Originium fusion rate gradually increased. It wasn't just him; all twenty guards Mephisto had pre-arranged to stand guard outside the door exhibited the same symptoms. Each of them experienced a slowing of their thinking, and the sites of their Oripathy infection were burning.

Inside the secluded Facility Fourteen, Mephisto knelt on the ground, his upper body tilted back, as faint white particles were drawn into his body from all directions.

Mephisto's Originium Arts, amplified by the Holy Grail, no longer simply bestow life upon the Infected, but can now steal life from them. While many limitations remain—such as the scope and number of recipients, the purity of life extracted, time, and efficiency—they are irrelevant. Divinely granted authority, his power will grow stronger with each Holy Grail he unleashes. One day, he will stand at the pinnacle of the Infected, able to control a person's entire being with a single thought.

At that time, Mephisto will only need to move his finger to completely crush these traitors among the infected on Rhodes Island!

"Damn defective product..."

A tear of blood slid down Mephistopheles' left eye. He raised his hand to wipe it away, rubbing the sticky blood between his fingers before licking it clean with his tongue. In the empty room, Mephistopheles, kneeling on the floor, propped up his head, which was throbbing intermittently, his eyes filled with malevolence.

"Die!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

click.

Matthias's outstretched fist showed signs of cracking.

As he shattered Mephistopheles' head, the black lines clung to his hands, extending towards his body. Mephistopheles's last resort still worked, though it slightly delayed his death.

Matthias looked at his right hand, his consciousness still in a hazy state. Most of his soul had been completely obliterated, with only a wisp of emotion remaining, activated by Amiya's mental power. Without Amiya's help, he would have been completely unable to resist on his own.

"..."

He used to be a chatterbox, but now he can't say a word.

Matthias didn't not want to speak; rather, Mephistopheles had slit his throat because he had remained silent when he should have.

Matthias slowly clenched his right hand into a fist as black fragments continued to fall. He turned to look at Amiya, who was struggling against the hardened parasite... the black bear Uvi of the True Wolf Guard. He glanced again at the still struggling Kingslayer and fell into deep thought.

"Go do what you want to do."

Amiya's voice echoed in his shattered soul, overlapping with the words the former kingslayer had spoken to him. Ripples spread across the lake of Matthias's consciousness, and he felt his awareness of his own existence had deepened considerably.

"..."

Matthias raised his head blankly, his small figure reflected in his dark green eyes.

"Go, Matthias, don't let yourself regret it."

Amiya was multitasking; she was resisting the out-of-control hardening parasite while simultaneously amplifying Matthias's mind. She had once traversed Matthias's memories, knowing what Matthias hated most and what he cherished most.

For the True Wolf Guard, the Kingslayer was their guiding light, their mentor.

The Kingslayer wouldn't accompany her Yetis on every mission like the Yeti Squad Princess, nor would she rigorously command her Shield Guards like Patriot. She would simply lazily slack off at the base, telling the Guards what to do next and then letting them do it—nothing more. She wouldn't tell any of the True Wolf Guards their specific tasks during missions, but rather…

"Go do what you want to do."

The rest of the Reunion Movement, especially the commando leader Shattered Bones, scoffed at this, believing that a Kingslayer was unfit to be a leader. Every Infected person was working hard for Reunion, even the youngest child helped with logistics and handicrafts, supporting the frontline warriors! And she, a leader, actually said, "I'm on my period, I'm cold, so I'm going back to my quarters to sleep!" This infuriated Shattered Bones. Who is her period? Talulah? So high and mighty!

In reality, only a handful of people within the Reunion Movement truly understood the Kingkiller.

The former Talulah, and the members of the True Wolf Guard.

No matter how perilous the challenges the True Wolf Guards faced during missions, whether it was a surprise attack under the near-certain death of the Ursus military forces, or even encountering a rare reverse cold wave... they always maintained the highest survival rate among all Reunion teams, which was an unbelievable feat. The missions assigned to them were no less demanding than those of others, yet they managed to survive without a commander.

Initially, only Matthias in the squad was unaware of the reason. He was the youngest and joined last. Then one day, during an operation, he made a mistake and accidentally triggered the camp's alarm, turning their stealth mission into a survival mission. Before collapsing from exhaustion, Matthias experienced auditory and visual hallucinations. The Kingslayer leader, who should have been relaxing at the base, suddenly appeared before him and said…

"You've done enough. Leave the rest to me."

When Matthias awoke again, he was back at base. He then understood why everyone else always wore smiles when embarking on missions. He even greeted the Kingslayer until she impatiently waved him away and shouted, "Get lost! Don't disturb my sleep!"

Kingkillers never stifle their ideas.

Those infected should be free.

They act according to their own will, which allows them to unleash their full potential. Even if they make mistakes or suffer defeat due to momentary lapses in judgment, the Kingslayer will quietly appear, telling them they have done enough and helping them clean up the mess.

The regicide may appear to want to avoid getting along with anyone, but in reality, she is more sensitive than anyone else. She can't bear to see anyone leave her again; the two most important people in her life have both passed away, and no one knows what she thinks about during those sleepless, cold winter nights.

Once the mask is removed, the regicide is nothing more than an ordinary person with flesh and blood.

"..."

Matthias couldn't utter a sound. He turned his stiff, misty body and bowed slightly to Amiya. This gesture caused more cracks to appear on his body, scattering black fragments all over the ground. Without waiting for Amiya's response, he turned and rushed towards the Kingslayer.

It has always been the regicide who has been worrying about them and protecting them from behind the scenes.

Matthias's body was completely severed by the black lines, unable to regenerate or transform into mist.

However, at least he could hold out until he reached the king killer.

"This time, it's our turn."

Matthias's neck, which bore a clear cut mark, began to wriggle, revealing fine cracks.

Matthias reached out with his only still-functioning left hand and grabbed the kingslayer's shoulder.

The barren, primal sludge of the Holy Grail surged wildly towards Matthias, flowing away from the Kingslayer. The black lines binding Matthias came into contact with it, like a compressed file and a decompression program running simultaneously at the same target point, constantly reporting error instructions and increasing the burden on the central processing unit.

The next moment, Amiya found that she could no longer sense Matthias's presence.

Amiya managed to catch a glimpse of where Matthias had been amidst the chaos of battle, but she didn't see him. All she saw was black snow, a heavy blanket of snow. Snowflakes drifted through the ruins, dispelling the surrounding mist and allowing the last rays of dusk to shine once more upon the earth.

The kingslayer blankly reached out his hand, caught the black fragment that smelled of burning, and slowly closed his palm.

This is Longmen.

The Ursus boy who always longed for his hometown could never go home again.

Chapter 310 Goodbye, My Weakness (4K)

If the regicide knew.

If she knew how those self-proclaimed True Wolf Guards viewed her, she'd probably laugh so hard she'd roll off her chair. She'd be rolling around on the floor, clutching her stomach, letting out hiccup-like laughter, and be full on the spot.

Because she didn't think that much about it.

She never thought that infected people were free, or anything like that.

The Kingslayer will not feel inferior because he is an Infected, nor will he be proud of it. Just like Talulah now, she claims that Oripathy is a talent, a unique talent that allows her to master the path of Originium Arts.

All she knew was that Oripathy caused her excruciating pain all over her body and would occasionally wake her up in the middle of the night. Being infected prevented her from freely entering any mobile city, nor could she openly walk into neighborhoods inhabited by ordinary people.

But what does it matter?

She's afraid of pain, but she's also used to it. What can't she adapt to? As for the latter, it doesn't matter to her at all.

The Kingslayer was originally a top-ranking assassin on Syracuse's dark list. She was a criminal destined to be exiled to the desert to die, a resident of the dark world, and had no chance of going through official channels to the moving city. If it weren't for Rhodes Island vouching for her, and Lin Lu's protective stance towards his wife, saying he would immediately confront Lungmen if they made things difficult for the Kingslayer, she wouldn't have been able to come here.

The Kingslayer once suggested to Talulah that he didn't need a squad and that she would carry out any assassination mission on her own.

Talulah rejected her application, grandly claiming that the Reunion Movement needed the Kingslayers to train more outstanding talents. Looking back now, hasn't Talulah changed by then? The original Talulah would never force someone to do something they didn't want to do in order to increase her strength. She would respect every Infected person, never ordering those in distress according to military standards, but rather treating them as partners walking side-by-side under the same beliefs.

When Talulah handed these young, or perhaps immature, children over to the Kingslayer, she initially paid them little attention. The Kingslayer, recalling the earnest words Lin Lu had spoken to her before his abrupt departure, simply repeated them verbatim.

"Go do what you want to do."

The regicide didn't think she would value those who followed her without permission. What difference would it make if she taught them? They would all die soon, just in different orders. She didn't want to bear so many partings anymore.

But she simply couldn't stand it anymore. These guys couldn't even tell which insects were edible and which weren't! How could people who survived in the desolate wastelands of Ursus not know such basic common sense? Fools like them, let alone going to the battlefield, would they die a horrible death even if left unattended?

Driven increasingly by frustration, the regicide irritably taught them basic survival skills in the wild, casually instructing them on combat, and then tailoring a teaching plan to each individual's personality. He promoted them occasionally, ensuring their survival in the brutal struggle. While they completed missions, he secretly observed their performance, mentally assessing them and refining his teaching methods accordingly, accompanying them on their journey of growth.

Just like a teacher.

The regicide taught them so much without them even realizing it.

But they didn't teach them one thing.

She didn't teach them how to be wary of their own people.

She didn't teach them the cruelest side of being infected.

She didn't teach them... and she never had the chance to teach them again.

The Kingslayer gripped the falling black snow tightly in her hands. She could no longer hear Matthias's talkative voice; she had missed so much.

“I will take you back to your hometown, I promise,” the Kingslayer said in a deep voice. She carefully put the strand of black snow in her hand into her pocket, looked up straight ahead, and took a deep breath. “Next… let me take you back too, Uvi.”

How could a regicide not recognize her former subordinates? Even if they have become like this, she could never forget them.

The vast amount of physical and mental strength plundered by the barren Holy Grail did not weaken the Kingslayer; the rage surging in her heart supported her spine. She could not save her former subordinates, but she could at least let them rest in peace.

The Kingslayer raised her carbon fiber dagger, now riddled with cracks. She stumbled, but gritted her teeth, stomped her foot, and charged forward. As if leaving her bewildered self behind, the Kingslayer ran, leaving a trail of red afterimages in the air.

"The Queen Killer?!"

Amiya was startled by the Kingslayer's speed and quickly created a gap in her dense magical net to prevent it from crashing into it. But the Kingslayer reacted even faster, leaping into the air and soaring over the layers of magic. A red figure, sparks flying from the friction with the air, struck the hardened parasite's chest with a sharp dagger, sending up brilliant flames.

"—Clang!!"

A sharp, resounding crack echoed as the Kingslayer's swift thrust failed to pierce Uvi's chest, but spiderweb-like cracks appeared in his black iron armor. Unfortunately, it wasn't completely shattered, and the writhing flesh was slowly healing.