Chapter Four: All or Nothing

Energy Sword Mistress had lost her weapon, so she could only pull out a new white energy sword from her pack. One glance at the plain equipment and she knew its power would be greatly diminished.

“It doesn’t matter. Today I’ll show him the true meaning of death,” she spat, taking out a small blue glass vial that looked just like a bottle of oral medicine. Wu Hua recognized it immediately. “What kind of potion is that?”

She gritted her teeth. “I’m giving this bitch some face. My survival gene serum was meant for the boss fight, but now I have no choice but to go all in.”

Gene Warriors relied entirely on gene serums manufactured by the Federation’s chemical factories to grow stronger. These potions fell into two categories: permanent and temporary. The permanent kind, once consumed, granted everlasting effects. Monsters never dropped these, and their value was exorbitant. The temporary kind, on the other hand, induced rapid cellular mutation for a set duration, granting remarkable abilities.

The survival gene serum would unleash her potential, instantly doubling her HP. After she drank it, her delicate face turned a ghastly blue, her grimace terrifying—like a starving ghost. Oath stood by, furiously pouring out healing spells.

Her 3,000 HP surged to 6,000, lasting fifteen minutes. It was clear she intended to weather the storm head-on.

As Energy Sword Mistress’s face turned blue, Magma Ridge’s expression darkened as well. “That slut’s doping herself? Shameless!”

He dared not be careless—both hands raised, preparing to channel magma with elemental control.

On the cliff’s edge, Hotshot Sister’s MP5 was no longer idle. Sparks erupted from the muzzle, spitting sharp tongues of flame. Bullets clanged against the shield—though the effect was minor, the red flames of the shield were slowly weakening. An MP5 was no joke. Thirty rounds spent, another thirty followed. Hotshot Sister had more than enough cash; running out of ammo was her last concern. No matter how tough the defense, this war of attrition would wear it down eventually.

This was truly a clash of masters. When Energy Sword Mistress charged the stone bridge again, it was at normal speed. Magma Ridge swept both arms, sending magma surging across the bridge in a dazzling, overwhelming wave. The moment pain hit, she immediately activated her “Charge” skill. In this way, she minimized the damage, and the force of the magma would not toss her from the bridge as before.

This time, Magma Ridge was starting to panic. He’d long since exhausted his healing serums during the previous chase. Now, all he could do was rely on the shield to stall. Energy Sword Mistress unleashed a devastating combo—“Heaven and Earth Cross Slash,” “Gale Sevenfold Strike,” and “Dire Wolf Burst Slash.” All level-twenty skills, fifteen consecutive strikes, each one a lethal blow. Warrior skills were not only practical, but gorgeously spectacular: sword light flashed at the far end of the bridge, the clash of metal ringing out in a continuous barrage.

“A triple combo like that deals at least two thousand damage—no way the shield can withstand such power,” Wu Hua observed.

Sure enough, with a final hiss, the ground erupted as the last sword fell, and the shield vanished without a trace.

But Magma Ridge quickly retreated two steps. At that moment, two streams of magma shot diagonally from the left and right, aimed squarely at Energy Sword Mistress’s waist. His calculations were precise, and his elemental specialization high—his spell accuracy was remarkable.

After finishing her combo, Energy Sword Mistress was forced to pause for three seconds. Magma Ridge seized the opportunity.

With a deafening roar, two streams of magma engulfed the cliff, swallowing Energy Sword Mistress whole.

Amid the searing crimson torrent, a stream of white light—data flowing—rose slowly into the air and then disappeared.

“Second Sister!” Oath’s cry was no longer just a shout, but a voice torn apart by grief.

She was dead. No one could survive such an onslaught. Wu Hua saw it clearly: as she charged down the bridge, a cloud of damage numbers—“–50, –52, –786, –777…”—swarmed above her head like a flurry of bees, not to mention the burning bridge itself. Each stream of magma inflicted nearly eight hundred fire damage. Even six thousand HP couldn’t last long.

But Magma Ridge, too, had pushed himself to his limits to unleash all that magma.

He laughed triumphantly. “Damn you, thought you could outsmart me?”

Hotshot Sister glanced at her watch. Only one minute and fifty-six seconds remained before the full twenty-four hours was up—there was no more time to waste.

Having watched her close friend die so horribly, she could no longer keep her cool. She slapped a healing serum onto her thigh, snatched up her MP5, and charged onto the stone bridge.

“Big Sister!” Oath cried out in alarm, but quickly fell silent. She knew her leader was as stubborn as a mule—once she got going, no one could hold her back.

Hotshot Sister’s situation was even worse than Energy Sword Mistress’s. Above her head floated a constant stream of “–60, –62, –63,” and the heat beneath her feet was excruciating. But her face was set with iron determination and murderous resolve—she was clearly ready to fight to the death.

Magma Ridge wasn’t about to relax. He unleashed two more streams of magma at her. But unlike Energy Sword Mistress, Hotshot Sister dove forward and rolled, miraculously dodging the brunt of the attack. The streams were so wide, though, that the edge still caught her back, scorching a chunk of her combat suit and popping up a “–414” above her head.

“Big Sister, be careful,” Oath pressed a hand to her chest, so tense she could hardly breathe. Hotshot Sister was level twenty-four, with just over two thousand HP—five hits like that and she’d be dead. But she followed an agility and ranged specialization, boosting her defense, speed, and long-range prowess. She sprang to her feet, raised her gun, and fired in a relentless rain as she advanced.

Magma Ridge was no pushover, either. Realizing these women were fighting with everything they had, he braced himself—his shield gone, he simply endured the hail of bullets. Blood sprayed from wounds all over his body, damage numbers rising in continuous rows.

“–33, –38, –50, –57, –61…”

To Oath, these numbers were meaningless—just the futile struggle before death. But in Wu Hua’s eyes, the red numbers showed a rising trend. The closer the distance, the greater the impact of the bullets, and Magma Ridge’s purple gear had formidable defense.

“–80, –88, –90…”

Suddenly, a green “–200” rose. Wu Hua saw it clearly—the bullet struck the section of armor at Magma Ridge’s navel, his weak spot. Green numbers signified flaw damage: his weak point was his navel.

But Hotshot Sister made a mistake. She was used to aiming for the head, but not everyone’s head was a weak point. Magma Ridge’s helmet deflected most shots, keeping the damage around “–60.” Even so, her barrage was no joke—a dozen seconds, and he’d lost over six hundred HP.

“Damn you, die!” Magma Ridge finally snapped, brandishing his energy staff skyward. The magma pool erupted, sending at least eight streams surging onto the bridge, turning it into a sea of crimson.

There was no way Hotshot Sister could dodge this. She cursed furiously.

A column of white light ascended—she, too, had fallen.

“Haha! The biggest thorn in my side is gone—how delightful!” Magma Ridge gasped, his laughter wild.

At the edge of the bridge, Wu Hua stowed his sensor in his pack and spoke, expressionless. “Heal me.”

Oath, torn with grief and fury, nearly hurled the entire medkit at his head.

When she saw Wu Hua raise his Mauser and prepare to charge, Magma Ridge suddenly called out, “Wait! You’re not with Blue Ocean Corporation, are you?”

Wu Hua paused. “How did you know?”