Prestige Grinding : I Can Reset My Level

One Hundred-Sixteen glanced at his panel as a notification appeared.

'Better than nothing,' he thought, pushing the notification aside. Despite having eliminated the five farm overseers, his task was far from over. He needed to move. Emerging from the shadows, he immediately sensed something was wrong.

'Where's the Werewolf?'

Jut was no longer in his original position. Scanning the battlefield, One Hundred-Sixteen quickly located him in the sky, peeking into the secret dimension Sixty had created.

'Impossible. He shouldn't be able to find it...'

His three brothers were still locked in battle, unable to intervene. He was the only one left. Without hesitation, One Hundred-Sixteen vanished.

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"Hello, little thief... Why don't you return them to me?" Jut's deep voice was heard in the small space.

Sixty's mind raced as he felt his pocket dimension trembling. The backlash from Jut's interference was immense. Sixty's attention was split between moving the captives, reinforcing the broken dimension, and trying to recover from the backlash.

However, the brief lapse in focus was all Jut needed. He disappeared from his position and rushed towards him. Sixty barely had time to process it before Jut's claws cut through him. The pocket dimension trembled as Sixty failed to defend himself. As the pain flared through his body, he knew it was too late.

'A single hit... I didn't even see it coming...'

Sixty was the first Alter Ego to fall. With his death, the collapsing dimension shattered, and hundreds of unconscious human players began falling from the sky. Jut, who had referred to them as his precious slaves, however paid them no mind. His eyes were fixed on Sixty's corpse. Before the body could turn into particles, it was locked in place by him.

Soon, blood began to surge from it. The liquid flew toward the Werewolf as he started absorbing every last drop of his enemy with his eyes closed.

Then, as his body started glowing with a red light, Jut jerked violently as something sharp was struck into his back. His body trembled, as a foreign energy tried to invade his body. Fighting back, he quickly removed it from his body. A thick, dark substance spilled from his mouth.

"Darkness and shadow elements?" he muttered, "You're the rat from earlier..." Jut said as he turned around. But there was nothing behind. His green eyes scanned the battlefield, searching for the attacker. However, the attacker was gone.

One Hundred-Sixteen had disappeared once again.

Snorting, Jut absorbed mana from his surroundings and directed it toward his back, letting the injury quickly heal. With each breath, the wound closed further, his regenerative abilities taking effect. His gaze shifted toward the three humans who had just finished eliminating his subordinates.

Without anything better to do, he moved toward them. In an instant, he was above them, ready to strike. But before he could bring his attack down, his sharp senses caught movement in the distance. Near the unconscious players, something was moving.

The pest that annoyed him had reappeared there.

Understanding that this group was after the captives, Jut frowned. "If you dare touch any of them," he growled, "your friends will die."

The moment he spoke, One Hundred-One seized the opportunity to attack from a distance. His sword intent slashed through the air, aiming straight for Jut's exposed side.

One Hundred-One's message echoed in One Hundred-Sixteen's mind, but he didn't respond. Summoning his Sword Domain, One Hundred-One frowned as his sword intent barely penetrated the Werewolf's skin.

'Ranged attacks deal almost no damage... I need to get closer.' He thought as he held his Tier 2 Sword.

The battle became chaotic. Coordinating with his allies, One Hundred-One charged in, engaging in close combat next to them. Using the sword, he managed to leave deeper wounds on the Werewolf's body. Seven and Eight Hundred-Thirty-Two fought alongside him, pushing themselves to the limit.

Despite their efforts, Jut was unstoppable. Despite being faster and stronger, he was patient and didn't fight recklessly. He endured the blows, and observed them. Each time he hit one of them, they would be sent flying. Noticing the difference between the damage they dealt and what they were dealt, the group quickly switched strategies, relying on cloning techniques, illusions, and feints.

They bought precious seconds. Enough for One Hundred-One to land several heavy blows. But Jut adjusted once again, growing used to their feints and skill combinations after a few seconds.

With a sudden burst of speed, he caught Seven off guard. Pretending to attack a clone, he changed directions at the last moment, and lunged at him. Just as Seven thought he had managed to dodge the Werewolf's claw, Jut's teeth grazed his hand.

"We need to keep working together! Brother's sword is slowly but surely getting through his defense! Nice dodge, Seven!" Eight Hundred-Thirty-Two exclaimed. He was excited. Seven had managed to dodge most of the strike, suffering only a minor injury.

But when he looked at his brother's face, he froze. Seven's expression was pale and his breathing difficult. His gaze was locked onto his hand, which was turning red. Without hesitation, he lifted his blade and severed his whole arm.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Eight Hundred-Thirty-Two's eyes widened in shock. "What's wrong?!" he shouted.

Seven didn't respond. He was struggling to contain whatever was flowing through his body.

Jut's laughter was heard. "Too late for your brother," he taunted as he floated away from the trio.

The infection spread rapidly. All of Seven's skin turned red, and his veins pulsed violently beneath it. Despite his efforts to resist, his body betrayed him. His muscles swelled and his blood vessels burst one by one. He gasped, his red eyes widening in horror. Understanding that he had lost the internal battle, he let out a chuckle, his lips forming a small smile. He turned to his brothers and raised a trembling thumb.

"I'll be right back," he said.

Then, his body exploded.

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One Hundred-One and Eight-Hundred-Thirty-Two stood, frozen, their eyes locked on their brother's corpse which had yet to turn into particles.

Jut clicked his tongue in irritation. "Tss. Such a waste of high quality blood," he said, licking his lips, making sure they could hear him.

"Enough of these games. You're just delaying the inevitable." He said, his eyes turning cold. His eyes moved back to the two remaining opponents, before looking beyond them.

In the distance, One Hundred-Sixteen was moving—killing human players as fast as possible. His name had long since turned red, but he didn't seem to care.

"They're going to use this to take away my share in the [Soul Pearls] distribution." He said, before adding, "You lot really are ruthless trash. Killing your own allies like that."

Trying to limit the damage, he tried moving toward One Hundred-Sixteen. But just as he stepped forward, he stumbled into a Void Tunnel and found himself momentarily unable to control his body. Before he could adjust, Eight Hundred-Thirty-Two and One Hundred-One were on him, harassing him from different sides.

With one hand, he grabbed Eight Hundred-Thirty-Two, who was attacking with his real body, and shredded him apart. Then, he appeared behind One Hundred-One, fist clenched. A barrier made of floating swords, formed from pure Sword Intent, surrounded him in an attempt to block the attack.

Jut's first punch slammed into the barrier but was deflected. His fist was injured, blood dripping down his knuckles, but he didn't stop. He threw a second punch. The second strike met the same resistance.

Waiting for his fist to recover, he spoke, his voice almost mocking, "Why don't you escape? You're stronger than the other rats... Run. Survive. No one will blame you. And who knows? Maybe you'll be strong enough to fight me in a few years."

One Hundred-One clenched his sword . He didn't need to run to survive. He would survive death.

"A few years?" he asked. "Aren't you overestimating yourself?"

Jut seemed unhappy and started boasting about his abilities and potential, but One Hundred-One didn't listen. He welcomed the respite. Like his enemy, he stayed in position and replenished his energy. Every few moments, Jut would attack, recover, and repeat the process. Blow after blow, he chipped away at his opponent's defenses. One Hundred-One endured twenty strikes before his defenses finally shattered.

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From a distance, One Hundred-Sixteen's eyes burned red as he watched his brothers fall one by one, buying him time. He was furious, but there was nothing he could do. He pushed himself harder, moved faster, knowing there weren't many human players left. Eventually, he felt his connection to One Hundred-One sever.

Looking up, he saw Jut straightening his posture and wiping blood from his lips. He had absorbed One Hundred-One's blood, restoring some of his lost energy. Now, his green eyes were locked onto him.

The Werewolf moved. But just as Jut closed in, a message echoed in One Hundred-Sixteen's mind.

"Backup is on the way," Sora said in his mind.

'Already? Backup? But from who? The others said they were busy dealing with the enemies' reinforcements all over the continent... No one should be available now... ' He frowned, confused.

One Hundred-Sixteen didn't stop what he was doing and reached another unconscious captive with his shadows.

Every fifty eliminations, similar notifications appeared. He gritted his teeth and ignored them, but he could feel the effect of the debuff.

He didn't need the description to know his connection with the Dark and Shadow elements was significantly weakened.

'I don't care. This won't stop me...' Trusting Sora's words, he ignored the Werewolf's presence. He could feel his aura from a distance, but it wasn't close enough to stop him.

'I can get another 10 by the time he reaches me... And if the backup is reliable, maybe I'll be able to finish my mission.'

However, before he could move again, a terrifying aura locked onto him. Turning his head toward Jut, he immediately sensed something was wrong.

'It's not him… or his allies?' He quickly noticed the shock and fear on Jut's face. One Hundred-Sixteen followed the energy signature and his mouth fell open.

'What the hell?!!"

Somewhere near Jut, a blinding sun had appeared, radiating an unimaginable quantity and density of energy. Traces of a collapsing dimension flickered in the air, hinting at a phenomenon he recognized.

'Someone was hiding inside a pocket dimension… And they've gathered so much energy that it's tearing the entire thing apart. It happened a few times during training, but this… This is on another level!'

Jut and One Hundred-Sixteen, standing on both ends of the stadium, could read the glowing words floating midair, between them.

A moment later, the 'sun' spoke.

"OF ALL THE BROTHERS, WHY ME FIRST?! AND WHY WAS IT A ONE-HIT KILL?! THIS IS BULLSHIT!" Sixty shouted, furious.

Jut barely had time to react before the attack was launched. Sixty's outrage filled the battlefield, but the power surrounding him was anything but comedic. It was earth-shattering.

One Hundred-Sixteen stared at his brother in shock.

'He's self-destructing?! Didn't he see me here?!!'