Chapter 121: Foreign Healer (4)

Part 10

“■■■■■■!”

With an incomprehensible roar, the madman aimed his blunted spear at the challengers again. Blood, pale red like moonlight, flowed freely. Any normal human would’ve died from such blood loss, yet the madman’s movements didn’t falter.

Fueled by growing rage, he rose again, ensuring this vile challenge never reached his revered master.

His tattered body screamed its limits, but his grip on the spear held firm, driven by a fanatic devotion bordering on insanity.

Enemies stood before him—blasphemous challengers daring to raise their blades against his sacred lord. They still breathed, weapons in hand. For the madman, no further reason was needed.

“He’s nearing his limit! The vessel’s starting to crumble! This is truly the final stretch!”

The white-haired girl, a spectator, shouted. The challengers tightened their grips on their weapons. The madman lacked the intellect for words, but not the wisdom to understand. As she said, a few minutes remained at most. Shamefully, he could no longer serve his revered one after today.

Even so, until his last breath—

Beneath the supreme glory of the Crescent—

Chapter 11

—Wow, we’re actually seeing Phase 3 dialogue.

—RainCloud-nim’s carry is insane;

“Told you I’d record the dialogue for upload. Read the damn notices,” BeefRibs said.

—Forcing us to read notices for raid management? Tyranny!

—For real~

“Tch… I’m holding back ‘cause we’ve got a guest, you brats.”

Chugging from a 1.5L water bottle, BeefRibs’ fingers returned to the keyboard. The cutscene, with its impressive CG and camerawork, was nearing its end.

The screen, flashing with red streaks, calmed briefly before erupting in a scarlet blaze. BeefRibs mused it was like a flashbang. The spear-wielding boss, coated in a furious red aura, appeared a beat later, practically screaming, “I’m pissed.”

“Cutscene’s ending. Everyone, focus up,” BeefRibs said.

—Only the tank needs to focus, right?

—Do these DPS jerks know a tank’s pain?

Light laughter rippled through the voice chat. Were they truly relaxed, or just pretending? BeefRibs, seeing only avatars through the monitor, couldn’t tell.

But—

“We made it this far, our raid,” BeefRibs said. They felt gratitude—at least they had to.

“Others are barely clearing Phase 1 and starting Phase 2, using our strats. Meanwhile, we’re watching Phase 3 cutscenes.”

—Why’re you getting all sappy, hyung?

“Shut it, let me talk.”

BeefRibs’ lips curved into a faint smile. They’d thought games wouldn’t spark achievement at their age, but they were wrong. Not just data bits or fiction—this was more.

What they’d built wasn’t mere code but memories and bonds. Invisible, yet no one would call it unreal. The scene on the rectangular monitor was a monument to those efforts.

“Thanks, you bastards. For sticking with me. For grinding like hell.”

—Raid leader, image management with a guest around?

“Screw it, too late. You cool, RainCloud-nim?”

Cumulonimbus: lolol, do your thing.

The fallen madman rose through red mist. The silver-haired girl, tailing players since the story’s start alongside the saintess, shouted, “Ready your weapons! This is the end!”

“Let’s save the saintess!”

The cutscene ended. The top-down view returned, familiar interfaces settling in.

Part 12

—RainCloud-nim, you’re unreal…!

Could clicking a mouse and keyboard tire you out? Friends grinding for tiers, gaming eight hours and complaining of low stamina—BeefRibs used to scoff at that. It wasn’t physical exertion, after all.

Fatigue came from mental strain. Gaming was a mental sport. That’s what they’d believed.

“Wow, Noona, you’re a freak,” Sanghyun said.

“Quiet. Miss a buff, and the cycle’s screwed,” Yoonseo snapped.

Glancing at Sanghyun munching a sandwich with a dazed look, she threw out a curt reply.

“Who plays an RPG raid with a stopwatch and three notepads open?”

“Me.”

Her wrists ached. Her eyes felt dry. Was it her imagination, or was breathing harder? Just focusing this intensely was exhausting. Two minutes into Phase 3, she mentally reviewed changes, no time to jot them down.

Basic attack intervals dropped from four seconds to three. The sixth attack’s special pattern rule held, but the shortened six-second window meant even Swift Chant’s cooldown reduction couldn’t sustain DPS past the fifth attack.

Cumulonimbus: So

Cumulonimbus: Cut DPS at fifth

Cumulonimbus: Go

—Got it. Don’t miss the order. Pull DPS when told. Phase 1 and 2 patterns mix, so if a puzzle pops, go to 12 or 6 o’clock, push the orb.

—No puzzle at fifth—can we skip it?

—Don’t assume, idiot. Wipe from stupidity, and we’re sorry to our healer!

Tighter buff management. Inevitable gaps between buffs. Unavoidable damage piling up. Prioritizing HP recovery cut MP skill use, rapidly nearing potion limits.

Yoonseo bit her lip. Scenarios raced through her mind. If Phase 3 was just amped-up Phase 1 and 2 patterns, with or without a groggy phase—worst case, they’d have to maintain this tempo to the end.

—Sorry!

—Healer-nim, Thief, heal up! Heal up! Tank! TripleWhite! Chug potions! Heal’s on cooldown! Eight seconds, no heals!

—DoT heals and potions aren’t enough!

A DPS took a full hit from a normal pattern, triggering a reflex heal. The tank’s remaining potions were insurance—how many were used? Three? Four? The boss pulled its spear back. Thrust. Fifth attack.

—Fifth! Cut DPS and pull back at sixth motion!

DPS potion use was a last resort. All they could do was rely on trickle heals and pray for natural recovery, hoping for no mistakes.

They hadn’t wiped yet. But the real issue was her own margin shrinking. If her character’s MP ran dry, or the DPS’s HP potions hit zero, and the raid wasn’t cleared—

—Sixth!

As the boss attacked, Yoonseo cast a temporary defense buff on TripleWhite. MP costs, once ignored, now weighed heavily. This pace wouldn’t clear—the boss’s HP wasn’t dropping fast enough.

“Failure” crept into her mind, but her eyes tracked the boss. Cross pattern from Phase 1? Fan attack with random lightning from Phase 2? Donut shape? A puzzle? Or—

“Whose eyes were stolen by the Crescent?”

A new text appeared on the blood-red screen.

Part 13

—RainCloud-nim, one more try?

Cumulonimbus: Sure.

She’d hoped it wasn’t just relentless enhanced patterns, but this was beyond expectation. Stopping the stopwatch, Yoonseo refocused. The screen shifted from the ruined mansion to an open plain under moonlight. Her lone character stood, a crescent-shaped shadow nearby.

The task was simple: press the interaction button as prompted, watch the close-up crescent shadow, and fit glowing pieces like Tetris.

That was all she had to do.

—I’m losing it.

—How do you time this?

—Maybe trigger the counter to see what happens? TripleWhite, full buffs, keep hitting?

—Three seconds, I’m dead.

—Ugh… sorry, RainCloud-nim. One more try?

Cumulonimbus: Sure.

She couldn’t see exactly, but her character, sent to a separate space, had to complete the puzzle while the boss, still with the team, unleashed an unavoidable AOE after a brief window.

Pooling information suggested that completing the puzzle and triggering a counter might activate a mechanic. The problem? No chatting during the puzzle, and random piece shapes made timing impossible.

—RainCloud-nim, how many potions used?

Cumulonimbus: Ninth, so six left.

—Tch… even if we don’t clear, I wanna know this pattern.

Each try drained her character’s HP. Failing the counter damaged the team. Solving this would open a path—they’d come so far.

Cumulonimbus: One more go.

The jagged light pieces filled the crescent. One-third. Half. Two-thirds. Her mind raced. Could I be satisfied saying, “This was fun enough”?

Staring at the three remaining gaps, she swallowed dryly.

She unmuted her mic.

She’d never sleep easy tonight if this failed.

“Two pieces left.”

—Huh?

A faint voice responded.

“One piece.”

The final gap. A glowing piece fell, guided by her controls. Her character’s blank expression stared. Taking in the screen, she spoke softly.

“Now.”