On top of the mountain of loot dropped by the boss, Henry was stooped, picking through one item after another.

He picked up the head of a horned demon with one-eye that had been fashioned into a helmet. At his touch, the helmet's eye opened and fixed on him scornfully, trying to hex him but lacking the mouth or hands to spellcast.

The Head of De’Ahirewera (Legendary)

STR: 4715 | VIT: 4780 | TECH: 4676 | mCOM: 2848|mAFF: 2911| Magic Resistance: 901

Effect: Sprout ten extra arms.

Level Restriction: 230 (Tier-11)

Weight: 2.199 kg

Restrictions: ??? (Ineligible)

'Forged from the severed head of the Firestorm Demon, De’Ahirewera. It doesn’t seem completely dead.'

He recognised the name. This dude had been one of The Redeemer’s commanders. It’d vanished mysteriously halfway through the reign. His lord must have eaten him.

“But you’re not what I’m after." Henry flung the helmet behind him.

His Skeleton Archers had joined him, helping to disassemble the loot mountain and bring items to him for inspection.

A Legendary bull-mask that transformed the wearer into a herd of Tier-10 Ironbulls - nope.

A Legendary beret that allowed one to time-travel to the place where a painting had been created for an hour - nein.

A Legendary bishop’s headdress that tripled one’s spellcasting range - nyet.

“Oh, there it is, still in its original form!" Henry spotted an obsidian great helm with angel wing ears resting on a mat of straw.

He scrambled up the loot mountain to reach it, the Legendaries crunching beneath his feet and raining down like sad pieces of trash in an over-filled garbage truck.

Grabbing the obsidian great helm and throwing it aside, Henry uncovered the straw sun hat it'd been covering.

On first sight, the sun hat was less than unremarkable. Its crown was filled with holes where straw was missing, and the straw itself had turned a greyish green from years of mould damage. Shabby, cheap, it looked like the type of item even the most compulsive of burglars leave on a shelf, a waste of inventory space.

Nevertheless, Henry took great care before handling the decrepit item, removing his bloody gloves and wiping away the excess that'd soaked through the leather. Only when he’d cleaned himself did he dare to pick it up.

He took a deep breath, the hat, despite its lightness, feeling heavier in his fingers than a crown of gold as he lifted it and inspected.

Straw Sun Hat (Legendary)

Level Restriction: 0

Condition: 1%

Material: Unknown

Weight: 111g

‘An old sun hat. It seems to have sat on many heads.’

Henry re-read the description twice, then closed his eyes, a warm sensation suffusing throughout his exhausted body, a second wind of life.

His only regret was that he hadn't found it earlier. Maybe he—but no. Late or not, it was still something worth celebrating.

From out of his mouth flowed a long and heavy sigh of relief, which, like a flood passing through a neglected city, carried out the dirt and garbage that’d been accumulating inside his heart over this long quest.

No tricks this time.

He’d found it...he'd finally found it...

BANG!

The snap of a gunshot roared in his ear, the explosion deafening him. Simultaneously, over the subsequent ringing in his skull, the world became eerily silent. Everything aside from him had frozen, the Skeleton Archers sorting through the items motionless as mannequins, the donkey stuck with its head thrown back and a baked wolf leg floating above its waiting mouth, the river snaking from his man-made lake ceasing to flow.

Henry, not himself stuck, turned his head to see two figures standing beside him on the loot mountain within strike range.

The first was a human like himself, a pasty guy in jeans and sweater, a smoking party popper in his hands, the confetti raining on Henry's hair.

"Onneksi olkoon!" the guy congratulated him in Finnish. "We should upload a clip! I’m sure the fans of The Cripple will appreciate it a lot. Hahahaha!"

This laughing buffoon was Hannes, the ultimate 'god' of this universe, Saana’s lead game developer.

Henry removed a string of confetti sticking to the blood on his face and peered over the dev's shoulder. Behind him was a second figure, a tall, thin, man-like creature whose body was made of shadows, an Imbahalaala - The Great Black One. The creature, facing away from them, was admiring a frozen Jadewing Butterfly, whose wings were part-way through a downward stroke.

Henry couldn't spot, unlike with the other monster kings, a crown on its head.

So...he wouldn’t have to fight it?

The shadows around the back of the creature’s head morphed into a pair of human lips, which answered Henry's thoughts in a monotone English. “I am a 'monster king', Tyrant, but you would not be my opponent any more than this insect. Your trial has come to its end. Enjoy your 'loot'.”

“Sweet,” Henry gave a relieved thumbs up.

Frankly, putting this Imbahalaala aside, he couldn’t even figure out how The Redeemer was supposed to be beaten by anyone without the help of something like the donkey's one-shot bite, especially if the Yin-phase increased the monkey's strength.

This time, Hannes was the one to read his thoughts. “There’s no way to beat this boss directly; his speed multiplies by 249 in the Yin-phase. But, if the group of five million players that are supposed to be transported here can stay alive long enough by dispersing through the jungle, his heart will eventually fail of old age right before he’s about to eat the last survivor.”

“Cool,” replied Henry.

What atrocious, uninteractive game design. These retarded Finnish developers were always pulling such annoying stunts. If they didn't have the crutch of European super A.I. creating their hyper-realistic virtual space, they would no doubt have gone bankrupt due to their sheer ineptitude, their haphazard, goofy, poorly-thought-out, lazily-made ideas being quickly snuffed by the unforgiving free market.

Hannes blinked. “Can you not insult me to my face?”

“Don’t read my thoughts, then.”

Henry, confirming that he was no longer in danger, returned to the matter of his reward.

“Wait," Hannes raised a palm, "stop. I'm not finished.”

First, Henry—finished with this Finnish guy—spun the ring on his left pinky finger a quarter turn.

The Rusty Ring responds to your call.

The creepy sensation crawled from his finger up to the centre of his brain.

Menu for the Armament of The Syncretist

Eligibility Criteria: Scholar with

Equipped pieces (1/13): Ring of a Thousand Souls

Options: Soul Transformation

Next, he raised the shabby sun hat and donned it like a crown.

This sun hat, like his ring, was another piece from The Armament of The Syncretist.