With him in incognito mode, the fish were like fish on a chopping board. They snapped at illusions, charged at phantoms, and tore through empty air while Reever moved among them unseen. The docks had turned into a slaughterhouse, and the Boeerahnas never understood why they were dying. They lunged, screamed, and thrashed, but their attacks met nothing. Their deaths, however, were precise and merciless.
They were still in the hundreds at first. Then dozens. Then clusters. As the timer neared zero, only a few remained scattered across the docks, confused and frantic, snapping at shadows that no longer mattered.
The skills could only be used for five minutes. That limitation shaped everything. Mirage mode kept their attention split, while Phantom mode erased him from their senses. They attacked clones. They attacked echoes. Reever attacked reality. Every second mattered. Every bullet had purpose.
One shot. One kill.
That became the rhythm.
He moved in silence, gun steady, breathing controlled. Water type bullets pierced scales like they were made of paper. Heads snapped back. Bodies dropped. Blue blood sprayed and pooled across the metal docks, mixing with seawater and reflecting distorted images of the carnage.
At some point, the act of killing became mechanical. His hands moved before his thoughts caught up. He reloaded without looking. He aimed without hesitation. He fired without doubt.
He tried to flex, just for himself. A foolish moment of confidence. He closed his eyes, trusting muscle memory and instinct to guide the shot.
The result was immediate regret.
Bullets flew wide. A few hit. Too many missed. The waste stung more than the recoil.
"Idiot," he muttered, opening his eyes and refocusing.
The timer blinked.
Ten seconds remaining.
"I have to finish the last twenty monsters before the boss enters the arena and eats me," Reever said under his breath as he checked the display. "I still have around four hundred water bullets left. This will be enough for the boss and his minions, if he decides to come with them."
He did not slow down.
The final Boeerahnas died quickly. One after another, they fell without ceremony. When the timer hit zero, the docks were silent.
Moments later, every remaining Boeerahna lay motionless.
The docks were covered in bodies and blue blood. Scales glistened under the dim light. The smell of salt and iron filled the air. Reever stood among the dead, gun lowered, chest rising and falling as the adrenaline began to fade.
Then the sea moved again.
This time, the wave was larger than before. Much larger. It rose like a living wall, towering into the sky, blotting out the horizon. The water twisted and curved unnaturally, as if guided by intent rather than physics.
It was running toward him.
Reever scanned his surroundings. The nearest intact container was a hundred meters away. With his speed, ten seconds would be enough to reach it. The wave would reach him in five seconds.
There was no escape.
"Brace yourself for impact," he told himself, planting his feet. He lowered his center of gravity, tensed his muscles, and tried to root himself like a mountain embedded into the docks.
The wave stopped.
It halted twenty meters before him, water suspended in a massive, unmoving wall.
"F**k," Reever muttered. "I am sure this wave is sentient."
He stared at it, eyes tracing its impossible height. It stood at least a hundred and fifty meters tall. The surface rippled slowly, as if breathing. He had no doubt that if it chose to move, it could erase him without effort.
Then the water split from the center.
The wave parted smoothly, forming a wide corridor. From within it, a platform of condensed water emerged, solid enough to stand on, floating effortlessly above the sea.
"What an entrance," Reever thought. "I hope the boss is not sentient."
The platform finished forming.
The boss arrived.
It stepped forward with deliberate confidence, each movement heavy and authoritative. In one hand, it held a massive trident, its prongs glowing faintly with condensed water energy. In the other, it held what appeared to be a water cigar.
The creature raised it to its mouth and inhaled.
Bubbles drifted out as it exhaled.
"How the hell does this beast smoke," Reever cursed quietly. "Or drink. Or whatever that is."
The boss shared the same hideous features as the others. The boar like head. The snapping teeth. The eel like body. The piranha aggression. But this one carried presence. An aura that pressed down on the air itself.
It wore a chain of pearls around what could only be described as its neck. A clear shirt clung tightly to its massive torso, revealing blue tattoos etched across its chest, symbols Reever did not recognize but instinctively disliked.
"Yap," he muttered. "This is a mafia boss. And I just killed its henchmen. I am doomed."
The boss examined him slowly, head tilting slightly. Its eyes narrowed. A smirk spread across its face.
Then it looked around.
Its gaze swept over the docks, over the scattered corpses of its kind, over the blood soaked metal. The smirk faded. In its place, a smile formed. Wide. Wrong. A smile that reminded Reever of something he had seen once in an old horror clip. A clown welcoming children inside a place they should never enter.
The beast stepped off the platform.
As it did, the wave behind it retreated smoothly back into the sea, as if it knew that what followed would stain the waters. It left the battlefield clean and empty, untouched by the chaos that was about to unfold.
"Gugli gugly guglu gigloe glblerfg," the boss screamed.
"What," Reever shouted back. "I cannot hear you."
He exaggerated the gesture, spinning his finger near his ear, pointing at himself, shaking his head.
The boss stiffened.
It took the gesture as mockery.
It growled, then calmed itself, drawing another puff from its water cigar before speaking again.
"Gugly gugli guglu gigloe glblerfg."
Reever repeated the same gesture.
The boss's expression darkened. Its grip on the trident tightened.
"I guess we have a language barrier," Reever thought. "I wish the system could interpret what the boss Boeerahna is saying. Maybe I could explain that I had no other choice. Maybe even try paying it with COD points."
The boss slammed its trident into the ground.
The docks shook violently. Metal groaned. Cracks spread outward from the impact point. Reever stumbled, nearly losing his footing as the shockwave rippled beneath him.
He steadied himself just in time.
"I guess another showdown is about to be unveiled," he muttered. "I hope the system pays me for the lost water bullets. Otherwise I am never doing any practice matches again."
He raised his rifle, cocked it smoothly, and began creating distance between himself and the boss.
The battlefield was ready.
So was he.