The Last Stand: The Fool and the Regressor

"Rrroarrr!"

The growls multiplied, deep and guttural, each one sending vibrations through the ground. The sound seemed to claw its way into Harry's chest. A moment later, an ear-splitting roar erupted, so loud and raw that Harry instinctively dropped to one knee, clutching his ears.

"WAHH!" someone screamed, their voice cracking with terror. Other panicked cries followed, rising in a cacophony of fear.

Harry's head throbbed, his vision swimming. Then it hit him. Pain lanced through his skull, sharp and unbearable. He stumbled, his hands shooting up to clutch his head. Whispers—cold, eerie, and incomprehensible—filled his mind, scratching at the edges of his sanity.

"Agh! What the hell…?" he gasped, his knees buckling.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the pain stopped. The whispers vanished, leaving a cold, hollow silence in their place. A faint blue message flickered into his vision:

[...You have overcome the Mental Attack: The Whispers of the Endtalkers.]

Harry blinked, wiping sweat from his brow. His voice came out hoarse as he muttered, "A mental attack… so that's what it was."

He glanced around, his pulse still racing.

The others weren't faring as well.

Some were on their knees, clutching their heads and groaning in pain. Others were frozen, their eyes wide with fear, like deer caught in headlights. A few stood dazed, swaying as if they might collapse at any moment.

Harry's hand tightened around his kitchen knife. His mind worked furiously.

How was he supposed to snap them out of this? In games, it was always a battle cry or some kind of cleansing spell, but he had neither.
"Battle cry..."
"!"

Then, inspiration struck.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted as loud as he could, his voice carrying a mix of urgency and Harry's trademark humor: "HEY! WAKE UP! THIS ISN'T A ZOMBIE MOVIE—MOVE YOUR BUTTS BEFORE WE BECOME MONSTER SNACKS!"

The ridiculousness of his words broke through the mental fog.

Tim was the first to react, blinking rapidly and shaking his head. "H-Harry… what are you—?" he started, but his gaze quickly locked onto the glowing red eyes in the distance.

"Oh, crap. Oh, crap!"

One by one, the others snapped out of their daze, confusion giving way to panic as they registered the approaching threat.

"W-What are those things?" someone shouted, their voice trembling.

The growls grew louder, and the shadows shifted as the creatures stepped into view.

They were massive—at least five meters tall—their hulking forms covered in mottled, grayish-black skin that looked as tough as stone. Their limbs were thick and corded with muscle, their hands ending in claws that looked sharp enough to cleave through steel.

Above their heads floated glowing red names, flickering ominously:

[ Endtalker ]

Harry's breath caught as he squinted at the text. "Danger level… high. Yeah, no kidding."

As far as he knew, only Boss Monsters or extremely dangerous monsters had red names.

He took an instinctive step back, muttering to himself, "Fantastic. Giant, nightmare monsters. Just my luck."

The Endtalkers moved with a slow, deliberate gait, their heavy footsteps shattering the thick, gnarled trees in their path as if they were twigs. Harry's eyes widened as he watched one of them swipe at a particularly large tree, its claws ripping through the trunk like it was paper.

His thoughts about them being extremely dangerous were confirmed on the spot.

"Harry! What are you doing?" Tim's voice snapped him out of his trance. He was tugging at Harry's arm, his face pale with panic. "Stop staring at them! We need to move!"

Harry blinked, realizing he'd been frozen in place, studying the creatures with a mixture of awe and terror. "Right, running. That's probably a good idea."

The others had already started moving, their fear overriding their paralysis. Screams and shouts filled the air as the group scattered, feet pounding against the uneven forest floor. Harry lingered a moment longer, still half-fascinated by the sheer power of the Endtalkers.

"Why do I feel like they're slow? Is it on purpose?" he muttered, his voice tinged with a nervous edge. "Or...?"

But Tim yanked at him again, harder this time.

"Harry, COME ON!"

"Alright, alright, I'm going!" Harry shouted back, finally turning and sprinting after the others.

As they ran, his vision flickered once more, and a message appeared in the corner of his eye:

[You have earned 5 End Points for rallying your group and taking action.]

Harry didn't have time to process it.

The forest was a blur around him as he dodged low-hanging branches and jumped over exposed roots. The distant roars of the Endtalkers followed them, growing fainter but no less terrifying.

After what felt like an eternity—though it was likely no more than five or ten minutes—the forest thinned out, revealing a clearing. Harry skidded to a stop, his breath coming in gasps. Tim nearly ran into him, stumbling as he tried to catch his breath.

"Why… why did you stop?" Tim wheezed, leaning on his spear for support.

"Look," Harry said, pointing ahead.

From two other directions, groups of people emerged, their faces just as pale and terrified as Harry's own group. The three groups stared at each other, their eyes darting around as if expecting another attack.

For a brief moment, the clearing was silent except for the sound of labored breathing.

After a few moments, two figures stepped forward cautiously from the other groups, their eyes scanning Harry's group.

The first was a young woman with short, spiky hair and sharp eyes that darted around like she was sizing up a battlefield. She held a dagger in one hand, her grip steady despite the fear etched on her face.

The second was a wiry, tall man, his clothes torn and his arms scratched as if he'd just escaped a fight. He clutched a crude spear tightly, his knuckles white.

Before Harry could process their appearances, a third figure emerged from his own group.

A burly, muscular man with broad shoulders and a scowl that seemed permanently etched onto his face. He carried a large wooden club slung over one shoulder and strode forward with an air of authority, his movements arrogant and confident.

"Heh," Harry chuckled under his breath, already dreading what was about to happen.

He'd seen this guy during the chaos—screaming his lungs out and tripping over roots while trying to run away. And now here he was, stepping up like some kind of leader.

'I see where this is going...'

Harry sighed inwardly, keeping his thoughts to himself as the conversation began.