Chapter 179
Chapter 179
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 179
Chapter Title: Enjoyable Daily Life
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1.
Today was a good day.
With a solid buzz coursing right up to the crown of his head, a male college student stood in a narrow alley branching off from the bustling main street, cigarette dangling from his lips as he chuckled away.
"How'd you even score her? She was fucking gorgeous."
His friend, leaning against the opposite stone wall, lit his own cigarette and shot back with a grin.
Both of them were nicely drunk, so every word dripped with the smug laughter of fishermen who'd just hauled in a prize catch.
"Told you, didn't I? Taehyun's got a knack for reeling in the ladies."
"Bringing three and all of them top-tier? That's the real mystery."
"Which one's your favorite?"
"That one, Soyeon? The short-haired girl on the far right. She's the hottest. Trust me, a girl who looks that prim and proper gets wild in bed."
Summer break Friday night.
He'd been bored out of his mind rolling around in his studio apartment when his friend called him out to a trendy bar.
Half an hour of hair styling, that pricey shirt he'd saved from the department store.
The effort in dolling himself up had paid off.
Taehyun, who didn't smoke and stayed inside (while also blocking any escape for the women they'd picked up), had brought some seriously high-quality catches.
Everyone had their own favorite, so the pairings clicked perfectly. They'd tested the waters with drinking games, and no one seemed to mind a bit of skinship.
"Admit it, I nailed the vibe, right?"
"What're you talking about? I was hyping you up the whole time. And you just take all the credit? Bullshit."
"Yeah, fair point."
Playful charm, smooth talk, and easy laughs to lower their guards, slipping into the cheeky guy-friend role.
Follow up with cocktails at a bar for round two, build that subtle mood, then lure them back to the apartment. It was his foolproof pattern.
Over forty girls he'd tangled with like this—his biggest brag among friends.
"Alright, time to head back in and ramp things up. Get too late, and they might bail again."
"Cool, just finishing this smoke."
As he fiddled with his phone while his friend puffed away, a sudden urge hit him.
"Dude, fuck, I gotta piss all of a sudden. Where's the bathroom around here?"
"Just go right here. No one's around. I'll keep watch."
"Holler if anyone shows."
He fumbled with his zipper and slipped into the narrow gap between the alleys.
Drunk, his mood was flying high, but his body felt heavy.
No point hunting down a bathroom when he could handle it quick and clean right here.
The moment he stepped into the alley, a chilling draft prickled his skin.
"Haven't even pissed yet, and I'm freaking out."
He aimed roughly at the drain and emptied his beer-bloated bladder.
"So, where we going for round two?"
He called out to his friend, head against the wall, standing just outside the alley.
No answer.
"Hey, where for round two?"
He wasn't that far, and at this volume, no way he hadn't heard.
He tried chuckling with a joke.
"You pass out or what? Sleep here and your mouth'll twist up, idiot."
Only dead silence answered.
Mid-stream, something felt off.
It was peak Friday night frenzy, around 1 a.m.
Even in this slightly off-the-main-drag spot near the studio apartments mixed in with the bars, the noisy chaos should've been audible.
Drunk girls collapsing in tears, guys pawing at them, hammered students turning the street into an open bar.
But it was library-quiet.
Not even a car horn or delivery scooter.
The disconnect hit him hard enough that even wasted, he noticed.
"What kinda bullshit is this."
An inexplicable unease crept thicker than the alley stink, but he forced a laugh, telling himself it was nothing.
The goosebumps? Just his boozed-up body glitching.
After all, it was the most ordinary day ever.
Booze, night, girls, buddies.
Burning through the short peak of youth like a shooting star.
Just enjoying it.
"Why aren't you answering, you dick."
This eerie silence blanketing what should be a rowdy night street.
He'd have a laugh about it back at the table.
Stepping out of the alley, he froze like an idiot.
"......Haha."
If the friend fiddling with a motel app just minutes ago now dangled like a haunted house prop...
Who wouldn't crack that laugh?
Impaled through the sternum, lungs, probably heart too on a blood-red skewer, floating 50cm off the ground, swinging limply.
Who wouldn't snort?
"What the fuck is this shit."
Pupils dilated like gaping holes.
Red tongue lolling from a half-open mouth.
Bloodstains soaking his shirt crimson from the chest wound, like rusting ink.
The grinning, chattering face was gone, replaced by a rigid mask of terror that looked like bad makeup.
No way his friend learned to levitate.
Something held him up.
Tilting his head back slowly, he peered behind his friend.
Cosplay? MMORPG knight? Lord of the Rings? Gundam?
First words that flashed when he saw the 2-meter hulking armor.
Full plate armor decked in excessive red ornamentation.
In the helmet's black void, countless red eyes twitched, staring him down.
Insectoid, spider-like gaze.
Cold, predatory stare piercing straight through him.
In that instant, it hit him.
This wasn't a prank.
No room for smug chuckles.
No hidden camera.
"He... hel..."
Help, he tried to scream, but his throat clogged like it was sealed with lead—only a wheezing rasp escaped.
Scan around: no one to help.
Run, just run.
Clinging to that vain hope, as he bolted—
A searing pain exploded in his chest.
He hadn't even seen the swing.
A fiery red spear transfixed his chest.
His friend, once skewered at the tip, now lay half-torso torn off, rolling like trash.
That was his last memory.
2.
The homunculus withdrew its spear after butchering the prey it had lured into this instant hunting ground.
No trace of the kill remained.
Stripped of all bonds and essence, the corpse crumbled to meaningless ash, mingling with the blood to stain the asphalt.
The Red Knight harbored no mourning, no emotion for it.
It wasn't designed for feelings in the first place.
Eliminate those coveting the legacy.
To sustain its existence, slay witches and steal their mana.
If that's not enough, raid humans, devour their "bonds," convert to mana, and replenish.
For centuries, it executed mechanically per algorithm.
The only difference with time: honed efficiency through trial and error.
Finishing its meager meal, the Red Knight assessed.
Insufficient.
Still hungry.
This wouldn't repair the damage from successive fierce battles.
The strongest pink-haired witch among centuries of foes.
Slicing mountains in one strike, quaking earth with a horn, enduring crimson branch distortions with sheer durability.
No matter how it evades pursuit with crimson branch disguises, she'd appear ahead.
Experience and logic circuits all predicted defeat.
Yet the Red Knight felt no emotion.
Merely calculated solutions methodically.
First, more mana—or more humans.
Current reserves: a fraction of normal.
Another clash with the pink witch? No fight, not even escape.
Hunting other witches in this state: high risk.
Unrecovered chassis limits targets to non-formal witches, like apprentices.
Thus...
The Red Knight promptly selected the final option.
Devour humans. More humans.
Calculated: mana needed vs. per human.
About 4,000.
That'd restore it to witch-hunting levels.
-Squelch.
Sticky blood puddle underfoot, like a reptile's tread.
The Red Knight turned, registering.
Under a dimming streetlamp, its life flickering out.
A witch stood in the unabsorbed blood.
Elegant in mourning-black dress.
Raven-black hair, deep green eyes like a crow.
By conventional standards, flawlessly beautiful.
But a fatal flaw marred that beauty.
A line down her face's center: one half grotesquely twisted.
Like fire-scorched earth or flesh melted by chemicals.
Irrelevant.
The issue: undetected entry into this barrier, now flanking it.
In current state, too powerful to handle.
The Red Knight didn't flee rashly, instead aiming its crimson branch.
Better odds exploiting a gap in standoff than clumsy escape.
"Hungry?"
Ignoring the hostility, the witch spoke softly.
Her uncanny kindness stalled it—unprecedented, hindering analysis.
"Very hungry, aren't you."
She stepped closer.
Spear range. One thrust for a sure hit.
She moved defenseless, unexpecting attack.
This negligence opened possibilities.
Reflex spear thrust to pierce heart—rusted gears grinding to halt.
Chassis locked tight.
Strength, mana, crimson branch powers mobilized: immobile.
The witch approached the frozen Red Knight, offering something.
A freshly extracted, twitching heart.
"Want to try eating this?"
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This is the third fanart from villain specialist fanartist "Mentally Shattered Delusion Fighter" nim, who previously drew Ea and Della.
They say it's Red Knight fanart lol intimidating
Does it look way cooler than what I pictured in my head...? Just my imagination...?
This one's armored Siwoo (pure imagination) dueling the Red Knight.
That chest is magnificent.
Thank you for the amazing artwork!
I'll treasure it in the gallery!