The Strongest Player is a Demon Lord

Gerald the Vanguard

“Get up Merlin!”

 Gerald’s voice echoed through the empty training hall of Avalon. The walls are painted gray, with training dummies and other equipment being placed in a corner. 

It’s early. Too early for anyone else from the guild to log in to the game. Only Gerald can see the crimson that Merlin stains on the gray floor. Coming from the bloodied state of the Emperor of Requiem. A sight that pleases him who has always thirsted for power.

 If you hate your life so much, why don’t you just die? These are the words running through Merlin’s head as he slowly got to his feet.

He can’t say this out loud. Doing so would increase the level of his beating. That’s why he has to keep his mouth shut. Not that it’s that difficult to do in his current state. 

His vision is already blurry and his head isn’t in the best shape as well. Considering all the blood that’s coming out of his nose and lips, it’s already impressive that this is all that he can feel. It’s even more impressive that he can still stand up. Legs shaking and barely holding on – but nevertheless still able to stand up.

This is happening within the game. In Requiem, there is an option in requiem to increase or decrease the pain tolerance of a character. It can even be set to zero. But it isn’t allowed to go anywhere above fifty percent. That is the maximum. And even with the range being such, players won’t normally choose to take it. Those who love pain are few and scarce.

Merlin is an exception to the pain tolerance limit. Since the developers of the game are under the wing of the parents of his guildmates, they can tweak the pain tolerance of Merlin and Merlin alone. 

They’re able to maximize it. With the pain reaching a hundred at maximum. Gerald used this. He always does. The same as every other member of Avalon. Hence, Merlin’s experience of pain at that moment is as real as it can get. Every punch, every kick, every blow, Merlin is taking all of them at a hundred percent.

“F*cking hell!” Gerald kicked Merlin in the gut, his steel-toed boots digging deep into the skin of the sage. 

Merlin dropped to the ground again. Screaming with pain as if he has been kicked in real life. He could even hear some of his bones cracking. Some of these are fractured from the blow.

It would be easy for Merlin to cast spells to deceive Gerald. He can use a spell that can transfer all the pain and damage to a doll. He can also create fake wounds and blood through magic. But that’s the thing – his magic doesn’t work. All because of a special device that is placed on his neck.

[Heaven’s Restriction]

That is the name of the blue crystal-like collar on his neck. An item that nullifies the use of mana by blocking all mana passages in the body. Without mana, Merlin won’t be able to cast any spells.

Nevertheless, there is still a silver lining in all of this. That is, that Gerald is a [Vanguard]. A job class that specializes in raising defenses to the point that players who choose it won’t be able to deal damage. A tradeoff for the power to withstand an incredibly high amount of damage.

As such he doesn’t specialize in offense. Even with the buffed body that he has, the pain his punches can inflict will be the same as an average mage. That is how weak his damage is. In fact, it’s not just his damage that is weak. His character in itself is average, making him the lowest-ranking member of Avalon.

 “This doesn’t make sense you know? I’m supposed to be the leader of the group! Why do I have to follow that fucking Arthur?”

 This is the reason for the idiot's anger. He has been wanting to be the leader of Avalon all this time. Though Merlin is the Guild Master by title, the true person holding this power is Arthur. But it’s not like there’s anything he can do about this. The mere fact that Arthur is the son of the world government’s leader already secures the sword saint the spot as the true leader of Avalon.

Plus, there’s the ranking of the members. Without any attack power, he has no use at all. Even with him being the strongest vanguard, this only counts as being a beefy character. Sure, he can take a dragon’s flame breath head-on while only getting burnt a bit. But that means nothing to Merlin who can nullify the entirety of a dragon’s damage and shield all his allies the same way.

 “This is all your fault! If you just keep that barrier of yours to yourself, then my use as a vanguard would shine!” Gerald said as he kicked Merlin. Making Merlin roll a couple of times before stopping. Still conscious…barely.

 Gerald doesn’t seem to want to leave things this way though. He followed the fallen mage and began kicking him over and over again. With all the rage and fury he can muster.

 “What use are my taunts and shield skills if you just give me a barrier? How the f*ck am I supposed to shine?”

It can’t be helped. Merlin needs to shield his allies because if they get hurt in any way, then he’d have more people beating him up. This isn’t a better bargain compared to getting beaten up by the member with the weakest physical blows. Though it still hurts when it stacks up.

“That fucking father of mine just had to do things his way! Just because Arthur chose the sword, he automatically made me a defender!” Gerald complained, his feet still vigorously landing on Merlin’s body with all the force that can be mustered. “He really thinks I would still be best buddies with that bastard? Like hell I’d keep kissing his ass!”

If you hate him that much then you should just kill him yourself. Are the words running through Merlin’s head. He can’t believe he has to put up with all this bullshit. He’s not even actually part of the problem, he’s just being made to carry this burden. All because he’s the easiest target.

His body is at its limit as well. A lot of bones have been fractured and broken. Hemorrhages have formed and he is also bleeding on parts that would be dangerous if left unattended. Though he has already reached a point where the pain has numbed him, he can still feel his body burning up. 

If Gerald can have his way, he’d keep on doing this until he gets tired. But that’s the thing – he can’t have it his way. There are rules he needs to follow.

 [Warning. Any further damage and the player might be reduced to a state of coma]

This notification came out right in front of Gerald. Although Merlin is the guild’s personal toy and torture material, they cannot actually kill him. Even Arthur himself isn’t allowed to do so. That’s how valuable of an asset Merlin is to the group. That’s why a safety precaution like this has been added. A warning when things are being taken too far.

“F*CK!”

Gerald’s voice echoed once more. Louder than anything else he’s said thus far. Merlin can also hear it. That’s the only thing he can do now. Hear. His vision has gone away a couple of minutes ago and whatever consciousness he has left had been reduced to his hearing. Even his senses have been numbed. 

Gerald then lifted Merlin through his hair. Raising him high enough to hear the vanguard’s words. One which Merlin deciphered to mean: “If I could have my way, you’d be dead long ago you piece of crap.”

The vanguard let go of Merlin’s head that hit the ground. And with this, the session ended. Gerald made a couple of curses on his way out but paid no heed to Merlin anymore. He just spent the rest of his time screaming his curses before finally deciding to come out of the training room. Not noticing Merlin’s face that is directed toward him.

Barely conscious and beaten to a pulp, Merlin’s eyes are still alive. Burning with the thirst for revenge that cannot be quenched. With a single wish. That one day he’d be able to be strong enough to turn things around. That one day he’d be so powerful that nobody would even dare disrespect him.

When that happens, there will be nothing stopping him from letting all hell break on earth.