The Limits of Punishment

The blood-red system message that floated up over his retina was unbelievable.

It said Censure Punishment wouldn’t work?

Hurriedly, he called up the detailed description of the skill he possessed in his mind.

So it only worked on humans?

Su-hyeok clicked his tongue softly.

Through his God’s Eye, he had clearly seen the crimson sins hovering over their heads.

-Impious being

-Cannibalism

-Gluttony

He had seen sin, so of course he’d assumed he could send them straight to hell.

But the explanation for God’s Eye said otherwise.

The activation condition for Censure Punishment clearly says “sinner,” while the target of God’s Eye is the broader term “opponent.”

It was a blind spot in his skills he hadn’t noticed because until now, he had only hunted humans.

So I’m supposed to hack my way through this disgusting swarm with nothing but a scythe and brute force?

Charging through this long, winding cave relying on nothing but the Reaper’s Scythe would be moronic.

Then a skill he had purchased at great expense flashed through Su-hyeok’s mind.

Let’s try Karma Requital.

He went over the description again.

Unlike Censure Punishment, which was limited by the word “sinner,” this one clearly specified “target.”

Staring intently at one of the giant spiders within view, Su-hyeok muttered inwardly.

Karma Requital.

It happened the moment he did.

Kieeeeek—!!

The giant spider, which had been quietly clinging to the wall only a moment earlier, let out a grotesque shriek and began trembling all over.

As though crushed beneath some invisible giant weight, the thing spewed yellow foam from its hideous jaws.

Then, losing its grip, the spider dropped from the cave wall and landed upside down on the sticky floor, flailing its eight legs wildly in the air.

Fear.

It was the primal fear of a living creature, plain and simple.

Before Su-hyeok’s eyes, the thing spasmed as though on the verge of collapse, writhing in some horrific hallucination, before dissolving into tiny black motes of light that drifted away.

“Oh⋯.”

A deep smile spread across Su-hyeok’s lips.

He could actually farm Hell Points.

That gave him a reason to come into Gates.

So it’s a superior version of Censure Punishment.

Unlike Censure Punishment, which inflicted physical pain and drained life force, Karma Requital completely shattered the mind, forced the target to taste the fear of hell, and then erased it from existence.

Above all, the fact that it could be used on monsters as freely as on humans was an enormous advantage.

Without hesitation, Su-hyeok cast Karma Requital on another giant spider.

Chirik!

Kieek!

The targeted spider convulsed as it fell into hallucination and crashed to the floor with a thud.

At that instant, the faint vibration in the spider silk beneath its feet spread throughout the entire cave.

Shaaaaaaak!

Detecting the vibration with eerie precision, the surrounding giant spiders all turned their heads at once and began spitting indiscriminate venomous webs at the one writhing in hallucination.

Fshhhhk—!

“Kyaaaagh!!”

The one that had been trembling in terror as it stared into hell in its mind now suffered a second torment in reality, as the acid webs spewed by dozens of its kin melted its body from the outside in.

Twisting under the double torture of mind and flesh, the creature soon disintegrated into black motes of light, dying a miserable death.

Disgusting bastards.

Su-hyeok coolly analyzed the situation.

Kin or not, once a vibration hits the web, they instinctively attack until it disappears completely.

He had experienced it once already, but the monsters’ blind survival instinct was still enough to make his skin crawl.

Su-hyeok decided to turn their vicious habits against them.

With the Judge’s Robe erasing his presence completely, he walked leisurely through the cave and calmly placed Karma Requital on every spider he spotted.

Thud.

Crash!

Each time a spider dropped to the floor, the web trembled, and the creatures in their hallucinations thrashed in panic only to be blasted alive by their kin’s venomous crossfire, dissolving into light as they died.

Hell Points were steadily piling up.

But this hunting method had one fatal flaw.

Chiiiiiik!

The acid webs and venom they had sprayed so mercilessly at their own kin melted the floor black, filling the cave interior with a nauseating acidic haze.

In a sealed underground space with no ventilation at all—

“Cough, ngh⋯.”

Even Su-hyeok, with the undead body of a Reaper’s vessel, was getting to the point where his eyes stung and his breathing was being cut off.

Pushing through the revolting stench that might as well have been a poison gas chamber, he finally made it deep into the cave.

The floor had already turned into a swamp of sticky webs tangled in layer ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠after layer, mixed with melted rock, so every step required careful balance.

And just as his vision seemed ready to open up, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a series of branching tunnels appeared before him, like the galleries of some gigantic anthill.

Su-hyeok came to an abrupt halt.

“⋯You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Five enormous tunnels split off in different directions.

And each one was packed, ceiling and walls alike, with far more of those red eyes than the entrance had held.

At a rough estimate, there were hundreds.

The sound of their disgusting legs scraping made his eardrums itch like an auditory hallucination.

Why the hell are there so many of these bugs?

Only then did Su-hyeok feel the regulations in his bones.

Why the government and the Awaker Association had made a party of at least five mandatory for Gate entry.

Why lower-ranked Awakers were strictly barred from entering higher-tier Gates.

The reason was simple.

There were far, far too many monsters.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Back when he was still an ordinary person, Su-hyeok had once clicked his tongue at news reports saying ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠an A-class Gate had opened, but that the Awaker Association and guilds couldn’t close it for over a month, sometimes not even for nearly a year.

How do they make that much money and still work so damn slowly?

But now he understood.

It wasn’t something you could blame them for closing slowly.

The monsters inside Gates keep multiplying endlessly.

When they reach saturation inside the cramped space, unable to endure it any longer, they burst out into the real world.

That phenomenon was called a Gate Break.

If a Break Wave ever occurred—multiple Gates rupturing at once in the middle of downtown Seoul—then that city would become hell itself, an utter madhouse, by the end of the day.

The reason Awakers risked their lives and kept entering Gates to cut down monsters was not merely to make money, but to serve as a desperate bulwark against the expansion of that hell.

With them pouring out endlessly like this, even reaching the boss room won’t be easy.

Suppressing a dry laugh, Su-hyeok headed toward the tunnel on the far left.

Deep in the darkness, the giant spiders that had no idea he was there kept licking their lips, waiting only for the faint vibration of spider silk.

Ignoring the acidic stench rising all the way to his throat, Su-hyeok prepared his skill once more.

Karma Requital.

Kieeeeeeeek!

One spider shrieked and fell, and once again the terrible feast of kin-slaying venom began.

But Su-hyeok’s expression gradually hardened.

Hundreds of monsters packed the tunnel wall to wall.

Designating them one by one and casting Karma Requital on each was far too inefficient and grueling, both physically and mentally.

I need an area skill. Desperately.

Then it happened.

Voices drifted from the way he had come.

While Su-hyeok was still deep inside the Gate, outside it the emergency lights were flashing nonstop.

Soldiers were hastily erecting cordons and barricades to evacuate civilians, and in the middle of the chaotic scene stood ten A-class Awakers, all summoned by the Awaker Association’s emergency call and wearing grim expressions.

“Judging by the Gate’s mana wavelength and size, this looks like a fairly high tier even among A-class Gates. Since it manifested in the middle of downtown Seoul, we’re asking the vanguard to open up as much of a path as possible and push the clear forward.”

The Awaker Association employee handling the briefing wiped away the sweat beading on his forehead and spoke urgently.

At that outrageous request, one of the A-class Awakers let out a hollow laugh and asked in disbelief, “You want the ten of us to do that right now?”

The complaint was entirely justified.

Because the Gate had opened in Seoul, they needed to close it quickly, but telling a hastily assembled team that hadn’t even worked together before to enter an A-class Gate and push as far in as possible was basically the same as telling them to kill themselves.

The employee, flustered under the Awakers’ sharp stares, hurriedly added, “W-we’re currently assembling a second assault team in emergency mode. If you enter now, a large reinforcement force will be deployed in a day.”

Only then did the ten A-class Awakers nod with heavy sighs.

If this had been a Gate in some outlying region, that would have been one thing, but this was a disaster that had broken out in the nation’s capital.

The vanguard’s mission was to seize control of the interior before a Gate Break unleashed monsters into the city, and to push as deep as possible in order to reduce variables.

“All right. We’ll do what we can. Still, there are quite a few people here we know by face from working the same ground.”

Since A-class Awakers were the main combat force of their guilds, many of them at least knew each other’s faces and names.

“Then please proceed after sufficient consultation.”

Having finished the briefing, the Association employee stepped back with a relieved sigh.

From here on, the Awakers would choose an interim leader among themselves and proceed with the Gate assault under that person’s command, so there was nothing further for the employee to do.