I, the Final Boss of the Beta Server!

Chapter 22: The Value of Eight Thousand Rewinds

“You actually know of my existence?”

A hoarse voice rang out by Rast’s ear.

Accompanied by ripples like those on the surface of water, a figure bearing an iron cross quietly emerged from what had previously been empty space in front of Rast.

It was a middle-aged man dressed in a military uniform, and the iron cross etched into his forehead was far deeper and darker than any Rast had seen before.

The bullet fired from the sniper rifle was currently embedded in the muscles of his left chest, and his skin gleamed with a diamond-like sheen.

That sharp-tipped bullet, powerful enough to pierce through steel plating and had previously blasted through the hearts of several Iron Crosses at a hundred-meter distance, now hit him at nearly point-blank range—yet it couldn't even pierce his flesh.

In the next moment, his muscles surged and bulged, forcing the bullet out from his ashen-grey skin.

The deformed, yellowish lump of scrap metal fell to the ground with a crisp clang, while the wound rapidly healed.

Rast was very familiar with the figure before him, both before and after he had become infected by the Iron Cross Plague.

Back when he was still human, he was the captain of the Deep Blue Port Royal Marine Corps.

Much of Rast’s rampage in Grand Theft Auto: Vice City had been put to an end by the Marines under this man’s command.

After becoming infected by the Iron Cross Plague, he became the leader of the port district’s Iron Crosses—the most powerful mutant of them all.

There were a few rare Iron Cross mutants who developed special abilities, but until now, Rast and Shiltina hadn’t encountered even one.

That wasn’t because of luck—it was because every mutant that emerged in the port district had been devoured by the Iron Cross before him.

The leader’s mutation ability was devouring.

He gained the special abilities of any mutant he consumed.

Whether it was the “Invisibility” used when he ambushed Rast, or the “Hardened Skin” that let him take a sniper bullet head-on—these were all abilities he had gained through devouring.

If Deep Blue Port were likened to a dungeon game, then setting aside the Descent of the Evil God which merely served as a narrative backdrop, the Iron Cross leader was the final boss of the Deep Blue Port.

In past loops, Rast had reached this final stage over eight thousand times—and failed all eight thousand times.

Nearly every death of his was connected to this Iron Cross leader.

“I smelled the scent of our kind in your blood, but you’re clearly not a regular infected.”

The Iron Cross leader’s figure flickered in and out of the air around Rast, slowly circling him.

He had arrived long ago, but had remained invisible, silently observing and waiting for the right moment to reveal himself.

“That strange marksmanship of yours earlier, and the way you saw through my invisibility—I believe you’re also a special mutant.”

“And unlike other mutants, your mutation and uniqueness lie in the spiritual domain. That allows you to suppress the urges and impulses, instead of being controlled by sadistic desire…”

“Additionally, it seems you can predict the future to some degree.”

It was difficult to imagine that under the dual stimulation of Rast’s blood and the Evil God’s sculpture, this Iron Cross could still maintain such rational analysis.

Given time, if the plague swept across the continent and Iron Crosses became a new race, then perhaps he could become their king.

“A spiritual mutation… The ability to suppress sadistic desire. That is important to us.”

“A species whose desire and beastly instincts overpower reason cannot survive long, nor can it build a structured society.”

“If your ability can resolve this flaw, then the Iron Cross will be the superior evolutionary form of humanity.”

“Perhaps we could join hands to build a new civilization above humanity itself—and you would be our prophet.”

The Iron Cross leader spoke sweetly, yet all the while watched closely for a crack in Rast’s defenses.

He didn’t care about prophets.

If he could devour Rast, then he would become the prophet himself.

He had no doubt he could devour Rast, just as he had easily devoured countless other mutants.

Thanks to the devouring ability, the Iron Cross leader had gained a type of sensory power.

He could clearly sense that Rast’s life was like a candle in the wind, on the verge of burning out.

The serum’s effects were beginning to fade, followed by its side effects and backlash.

Rast’s organs were groaning in fragile protest—a prelude to total organ failure.

Still, the Iron Cross leader hesitated because of Rast’s uncanny ability to seemingly predict the future.

He decided to wait for Rast to show signs of exhaustion before striking.

After all, with his physical condition, Rast wouldn’t last much longer.

And soon, that chance arrived.

Rast’s legs buckled.

He could no longer maintain the combat stance with his military dagger, collapsing weakly to the side.

At that moment, the Iron Cross leader struck, blade flashing toward Rast’s abdomen.

He could no longer suppress his craving to see the boy’s belly split open, intestines and blood spilling across the ground—a scene he had long fantasized about.

The blade pierced Rast’s soft belly.

The blood that had long enticed him now sprayed into the air.

The Iron Cross leader gazed into Rast’s face, hoping to witness the fear and despair of a dying prey.

But amidst the rain of blood, Rast’s pale face curved into a faint smile.

What was he smiling at?

That thought had barely risen when the Iron Cross leader suddenly heard a metallic creaking sound above his head.

It was the six pistol bullets Rast had fired in rapid succession earlier.

At the time, the Iron Cross leader had easily dodged them.

But now it was clear—the six full-metal jacket rounds weren’t aimed at him at all.

Even the sniper rifle’s sharp-tipped bullet was merely a temporary hindrance that dealt minor injury.

Rast would never have wasted his final handgun rounds on meaningless shots.

Above them was a metal platform weighing tens of tons.

Rast had aimed all along at the weak points of its structural joints.

His plan to collapse the structure had begun with the very first shot he fired in front of Shiltina.

The platform had already been on the verge of falling, and those six bullets hit the final six stress points.

To carry out this plan, Rast had factored in even the precise timing of the metal’s break and the Iron Cross leader’s psychological reactions.

He had failed this boss fight thousands of times, yes.

But that was because in those previous loops, he was always alone.

Rast had needed to preserve his strength to plant bombs and retreat from the port area.

Even if he defeated the boss, it would’ve been meaningless if he couldn’t escape.

But in this loop, he was no longer bound by those limitations.

Because he now had Shiltina as a teammate.

So he could go all out—trading injury for injury, life for life—using battle strategies he had never dared before.

Boom—

With the final support beam breaking, the steel structure collapsed from above.

Along with it tumbled dozens of tons of rebar and fuel drums stored on the platform.