After Sindellow transformed into his true vampire form, the nightmare truly began.
That tail—long, sinuous, impossibly flexible—became his deadliest weapon. From a distance, it looked awkward. But up close? It was lethal. Its range exceeded his arms, its movements were unpredictable, and it struck with the weight of a collapsing tower.
From sheer size alone, Sindellow was several times Dawei's mass. A single blow wasn't just damage—it was fatal. Not just to a player's HP, but to the terrain around them. And Dawei knew: one more solid hit, and it wouldn't just be another dramatic flyback—it'd be a one-way trip to the Resurrection Hall.
That tail wasn't just dangerous.
It was unfair.
Sindellow knew it too. He could see Dawei's footwork tightening, steps shortening. The vampire count grinned. That tail lashed again, testing Dawei's limits.
"Next time, it's not just a knockback."
Dawei muttered the words under his breath. The first hit was an accident. The second... debatable. But now? That tail was locked on him like heat-seeking death. He was immune to the boss's dark spells, sure—but divine-tier power wasn't limited to magic.
Sindellow's earlier sneer echoed in Dawei's mind: "You inherited power, but not control."
Hypocrite.
Because even Sindellow, for all his terrifying strength, wasn't in full command of that power. He was on the brink of godhood, but not there yet. Without a divine domain, he was still mortal enough for the system to treat him like a boss, not a god.
Which meant he could be killed.
Not easily. Not directly.
But it was possible.
Dawei switched tactics. No more toe-to-toe. No more trading blows. He abandoned the fantasy of a fair fight. Now, the plan was survival. He kept his distance, staying mobile, circling the crumbling battlefield like a jackal watching a wounded lion.
But that strategy had its own flaw.
The moment Sindellow took to the air again, Dawei's maneuverability meant nothing. The boss became a missile—a predator in full control of three dimensions. His tail whipped like a hurricane, shattering walls, gouging the ground.
Destruction Smash – 98,000!Aerial Dive – 67,000!
Holy hell. Those weren't numbers. They were warnings. That kind of damage against terrain—which had natural resistances—meant a direct hit on Dawei would be more than lethal. It would delete him.
The only reason he survived the first tail hit?
Luck.
The Goddess of Fortune herself must've been smiling.
Now? She was blinking.
Dawei was running out of miracles.
This is what they mean by Tu Long tech, Dawei thought, adrenaline roaring in his ears. This is the trial before the technique—the storm before the slaying.
Sindellow's attacks came faster. Roars shook the mountainside. Claws raked stone. Buildings collapsed.
At first, the Count had been calm—methodical. But now?
He was angry.
Too angry.
And something about that gave Dawei pause.
He watched carefully. Every lunge, every missed strike… it was off. Sloppy. Unfocused. And most importantly—predictable.
"Even a god-tier boss has stat boundaries," Dawei whispered.
Sindellow had started accelerating his attacks—far beyond the intended parameters. He was forcing speed, overwhelming power—but his accuracy tanked. It was the tradeoff all berserking bosses made: more volume, less precision.
Dawei's brain lit up.
The boss was rattled.
Sindellow wasn't fighting efficiently. He was panicking. Playing with his food… had backfired.
He's scared, Dawei realized. He's toying with me, but I've survived too long. That's not in the script.
Suddenly, everything clicked.
He's not toying anymore. He's desperate.
"The more violent the cat, the more the mouse got under its skin."
That was it.
The window paper. The thin barrier between ignorance and truth.
Dawei grinned despite the chaos. He wasn't just reacting anymore—he was learning. Every twitch of Sindellow's wings, every wild arc of that tail—it fed him data. Information.
And inconsistencies.
Sindellow's god-tier strength wasn't infinite. Just borrowed. Controlled by a system that demanded rules.
Just like Montictu once figured out...
Dawei's thoughts raced.
"How did Montictu discover the way to kill him?""He didn't start knowing. The Count didn't hand it to him.""It wasn't given. It was learned. In battle."
Just like Dawei was doing now.
Montictu had survived. Watched. Analyzed. And when the moment came—he'd struck with the true dragon-slaying technique.
Dawei was almost there.
So close.
But then—
Rage Strike – 32,000!Status Effect: IntimidationStatus Effect: Fear (2 Stacks)
Dawei flew backward, limbs limp, stunned mid-thought.
Blood sprayed across the battlefield.
Not good.
The fear effect was creeping in.
Too many stacks, and his control would shatter. His character would freeze up, trembling in place, an open target. That's what fear did—it stole agency. Paralysis of the mind and body.
And now he knew why it was affecting him at all.
Zhu Gutra.
That cursed lab rat had injected him with Count Sindellow's blood during that god-level mission.
He thought it was a blessing.
Turns out, it was a leash.
Why hasn't the influence triggered until now? Dawei wondered.
And then he remembered.
[Title: God of the Hunt]You were the first player to kill a god-tier boss.+7% Physical Damage+5% Spell Damage+10% Defense+10% Crit Chance-15% Duration of All Negative Effects
It wasn't just power.
It was resistance.
That title wasn't a badge—it was a shield. A counterweight against Sindellow's influence. Without it, Dawei would've been long gone—his mind shattered under the vampire's will.
But titles wouldn't save him forever.
And explanations wouldn't kill the boss.
Only one thing would.
Dawei steadied himself.
He'd been brushing against the dragon-slaying technique the entire time—dodging it, circling it. Now it was time to strike.
He could feel it.
One more spark. One more revelation.
And the Count would fall.