I, the Final Boss of the Beta Server!

Chapter 19: Not a Single Tear Shall Be Shed at the Time of Parting

‘My own route map?’

Shiltina was slightly taken aback: “What do you mean?”

“In the steam factory, the task of planting and detonating the timed bombs according to the route map has to be completed by you alone, because from now on, we must act separately.”

While answering, Rast’s hands did not stop moving either—he took out the gun components one by one from the briefcase, then swiftly assembled, fitted, and calibrated them with expert precision.

It turned out to be a long-range sniper rifle, equipped with pointed sniper rounds, and the long, slender optical scope reflected a cold gleam in the pouring rain.

“The Iron Cross aren’t mindless zombies—they possess full human intelligence. Timed bombs are not hard for these military-born Iron Cross units to comprehend. Once discovered, they’ll dismantle the bombs, and our plan will be completely ruined.”

“And we don’t have enough time to clear out every Iron Cross in the factory one by one… The only remaining solution is for one person to lure the Iron Cross out of the steam factory, delaying and obstructing them, while the other takes the opportunity to plant the bombs.”

“That person can only be me… My blood has a fatal allure to the Iron Cross, and I can’t keep up with your speed. If we act together, I’ll only be a burden that slows you down.”

Rast took out a glass test tube from the briefcase, which contained some kind of amber-colored liquid.

“At your speed, how long will it take to plant the bombs at all the designated points on the blueprint?”

Shiltina glanced over the structural map of the massive factory and calculated silently for a moment: “Including the time needed to plant the bombs, and assuming no delay, if I go all out at full speed, it should take about twenty minutes.”

“You’ll have twenty-five minutes.” Rast smashed the seal of the glass tube and used a syringe to draw the amber-colored serum.

He then took out another test tube—this one containing blood from the Iron Cross that Rast had collected along the way. The amber liquid and the pitch-black, ink-like blood merged in the syringe, undergoing a violent yet silent chemical reaction.

“What is this?”

“Stimulant for beasts. Originally prepared for the bulls in the arena.” Rast stared at the reaction in the syringe. The merged liquid turned a dark brown, settling at the bottom of the barrel.

“Fighting and fleeing are two different things. Direct confrontation is unavoidable. This hybrid serum can help bridge the physical gap between me and the Iron Cross to the greatest extent… Of course, the side effects are also significant.”

“I only figured out my body’s drug tolerance limit after dying of organ failure more than a dozen times. This dosage is just enough to keep me alive for two to three hours after injection.”

After the reaction in the syringe was complete, Rast slowly pushed the hybrid serum into his vein.

Throughout the process, Rast’s expression remained stoic, but the Iron Cross brand on his skin began to spread even further, densely crawling up his face, making him look as though he had been cursed—those pitch-black crosses were the markings and spells.

Rast moved his body slightly and looked at Shiltina beside him: “If you’ve rested enough, we can just about get started—let’s take down this final end-stage boss.”

As if remembering something, he added: “As for the evacuation afterward, you don’t need to worry. There’s a ventilation duct in the steam factory that leads directly outside the port district. I’ve calculated your speed—you should be able to get out of the port just in time when the explosion goes off, staying outside the core blast zone.”

The strong wind flipped the blueprint in Shiltina’s hand.

On the back of the architectural diagram was a hand-drawn sketch of the port area by Rast, clearly marking an escape route from the factory to outside the port district with a green line.

With her strength, as long as she avoided the blast center, her life would not be in danger.

But Shiltina still didn’t move.

She stared at Rast: “And you? What about your own escape route?”

“I didn’t prepare something like that, but it doesn’t matter.”

Rast replied, his voice calm and flat: “I won’t truly die anyway. After death, I’ll simply enter the next cycle.”

“This cycle—from discovering you to making a decision—everything happened too hastily. There wasn’t time to prepare thoroughly… Given our current circumstances, there’s no possibility that both of us can make it out alive. Not even a one in ten thousand chance.”

“So from the very beginning, every action and plan I’ve carried out in Deep Blue Port was for the sole purpose of ensuring your survival.”

“If you feel you owe me, then after leaving the Remnant of Nightworld, improve your strength. Seek outside help. Prepare tools that can counter the Iron Cross and the Evil God… And only return to the Nightworld to save me once you are fully ready.”

“I don’t know exactly when you’ll return to the Nightworld, so in every cycle from now until then, I will prepare ahead of time.”

Shiltina stared into Rast’s eyes and spoke, word by word: “The time flow in the Nightworld Remnant is not aligned with the real world. Perhaps I’ll return here ten or so days later in the real world, but within the Nightworld, it may have gone through dozens or hundreds of years of resets.”

“I know. But it doesn’t matter.”

Rast’s voice was chillingly indifferent: “I’ve already spent hundreds of years here. Waiting a few more centuries doesn’t faze me.”

Shiltina remained silent, her brows tightly furrowed, never giving a reply.

“Strange. Based on my previous observations, I thought you weren’t the indecisive type.”

“Honestly, I hate these scenes of life-and-death partings.” Rast raised his revolver. “Every time I read them in novels, I can’t help but curse the author for being so cliché. Instead of wasting energy on sentimental farewells, it’s better to focus on what’s next—that’s the only way not to waste someone’s sacrifice.”

Bang—

A gunshot rang out.

The connection joint of the metal grating on the bridge they stood on was shattered by the armor-piercing round, sparking a brilliant flash.

Right after, came the creaking of the compromised bridge structure, tottering on the verge of collapse.

“By the way, if you do manage to leave the Nightworld, could you help me check on a place?”

“It’s a border town called Canaan. From afar, you can see ranges of snow-covered mountains. Next to the town is a giant white waterwheel. The locals seem to be skilled at playing the wind flute.”

“That place might be connected to my past… to who I was before coming to Deep Blue Port, before entering the Nightworld…”

Boom—

A thunderous crash erupted.

Rast hadn’t finished speaking when he, along with the section of the metal bridge he stood on, fell downward.

The noise and smoke completely separated Shiltina and Rast into two different spaces.