Online Game: Starting With SSS-Ranked Summons
Chapter 338 - 338: The conclusion

The enhanced demon shifted tactics, launching coordinated attacks designed to force Jasmine into impossible choices.

Strike the knight and mage simultaneously, making her choose which one to save.

Feint toward the archer while actually targeting the mage's blind spot.

But Jasmine had learned something crucial during her time with Arthur—when facing superior force, survival trumped everything else. She didn't try to match the Prince's power. Instead, she focused on keeping her allies functional long enough for his enhancement to run out.

This is going to be an endurance battle. Outlast his burst phase, and we win.

Blood armour deflected what it could.

Blood healing sealed what couldn't be deflected.

Blood barriers bought precious seconds between attacks. She fought like someone who understood that temporary disadvantage didn't mean permanent defeat.

All I have to do is stay alive, keep them alive and wait for opportunity.

The Prince's assault continued for what felt like hours. Each strike carried enough force to level mountains.

Each spell he sent towards his attackers was either defended against or healed shortly after. None quite managed to deliver the killing blow he sought.

He's getting frustrated. His timing has been off, his attacks aren't as lethal as before.

Then Jasmine noticed something crucial—the Prince's movements were becoming slightly sluggish.

His perfect coordination showed microscopic flaws. The Demonic Descent was approaching its limit.

His skill is finally wearing off. He's burning out.

The Prince noticed, too, and his approach shifted to desperation. If he couldn't overwhelm them through pure force, he'd create a scenario where Jasmine couldn't save everyone.

This is the final gambit. This is where it gets dangerous.

He gathered power for one massive strike, not at all three targets, but specifically at the archer positioned furthest from Jasmine's main defensive grid.

You are forcing me to choose between perfect protection and distributed defence, huh?

The attack came as concentrated annihilation—demonic energy compressed into a lance that could pierce any single barrier Jasmine might create.

I have no choice. I need to put everything into the Archer's protection.

She poured ninety percent of her remaining blood reserves into a single, perfect shield around the archer. The Prince's strike hit like a falling star, testing every technique she'd learned.

Hold. Hold. HOLD.

The shield held. Barely. The archer survived with minor burns instead of complete obliteration.

Her defence was a success. All three targets were still alive and the demon had started weakening, which meant that everything was finally coming to an end.

But Jasmine's reserves were now critically low. Her mana couldn't keep pace with the expenditure. She was running on fumes and determination.

I'm almost empty. But his enhancement is failing too.

The Prince's transformed state began collapsing as Demonic Descent reached its time limit. His swollen muscles deflated. His enhanced speed faltered. The flames wreathing his form guttered and died.

He is in a weakness phase! This is our chance!

The knight, mage, and archer—battered but healed, enhanced by Superior demon blood, backed by hours of combat moved towards him immediately; they wanted to end the fight.

Perfect timing.

The knight's blade found the Prince's throat just as his defences failed. The mage's binding spell caught him mid-collapse, preventing any last-second escape. The archer's arrow punched through his chest with supernatural precision.

What an amazing execution.

But as the Prince's life ebbed away, his eyes fixed on Jasmine with pure hatred.

"You..." Blood frothed at his lips. "You're too dangerous to live."

What?

With his final breath, the Prince launched one last attack—not magic, not enhanced strength, just his dying body weaponised through sheer malevolent will.

Suicide strike.

The attack was simple but perfectly timed. Jasmine had just exhausted her reserves protecting the archer. Her blood armour was depleted. Her healing magic was offline.

She had no defence, no escape and certainly no other options.

Jasmine, who was incredibly close, tried to move away. After all, that was the only thing she could do, but her body refused to move. She had completely used her mana and stamina.

Her body was no longer listening to her command.

'Move!'

The Prince's claws punched through her chest just as his body hit the ground. Blood erupted from her lungs as supernatural venom coursed through her system.

Damn it. After everything....we killed each other.

Jasmine collapsed beside the Prince's corpse, her vision already darkening. The three priority targets had survived, but she died.

Did I win? Did I fail?

But consciousness was fading too quickly for answers.

The last thing she saw was the knight's horrified face as he rushed toward her failing body.

Too late. Already too late.

Darkness claimed her.

Light returned gradually, carrying warmth that had no earthly source.

Jasmine opened her eyes to find herself back in the chamber where everything had begun.

No wounds. No pain. No blood-drained exhaustion.

The trial space. I'm back.

Sylvia's spirit floated before her, with an unreadable expression.

In the Queen's translucent hands, she held the Guardian Staff that had spoken to Jasmine at the trial's beginning.

Back where it started. But did I pass or fail?

The silence stretched between them, heavy with judgment yet to be rendered.

Sylvia's eyes held depths that spoke of millennia spent weighing souls and finding them wanting.

"Child..."

Here it comes. Success or failure.

"Your trial is complete."

...

The chamber pulsed with ethereal light as Sylvia's spirit regarded Jasmine with eyes that held the look of melancholy.

The Queen of Healing's translucent form seemed to flicker between sorrow and something approaching hope.

The silence is killing me. Did I pass or fail?

Sylvia's gaze drifted past Jasmine toward visions only she could see—memories of her own trials, her own choices, her own path through darkness and light.

"When I faced my moment of decision," Sylvia began, her voice carrying the tone of regret, "I chose compassion over justice. Mercy over vengeance."

Her moment? What happened to her?

"I healed those who had betrayed my people. Restored those who had murdered my family. Choose forgiveness when hatred would have perhaps served better."