Chapter 198
Chapter 198
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 198
Chapter Title: Festival (4)
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It was hell descended upon the mortal realm.
A musty stench that made his head spin mingled with malice-laden darkness, clinging to his nostrils like the perfume of the Grim Reaper.
A little carelessness, and he'd crush severed fingers, chunks of innards, or limbs underfoot.
Guidance broadcasts and classical music emanated from speakers that hadn't been powered off yet.
The dissonance with this horrific scene was enough to induce nausea.
The new floor was the same.
Dozens of piranhas flitted about, eyes bulging.
Even with their maws caked in blood, they lunged hungrily at the fresh prey that had appeared, bellies still empty.
"...You fucking bastards!"
A truck-sized monstrosity swam through the air, barreling toward him.
A sight that would make any human instinctively cringe or flee—yet Siwoo didn't flinch in the slightest.
He calculated the timing of its charge and swung both longswords.
-Shwick!
The sword in his left hand sliced smoothly through the piranha's flank, spilling its coiled innards.
The one in his right shot straight forward, shattering dense teeth before plunging into its maw.
Despite the vast size difference, Siwoo didn't budge an inch.
These things were weak in raw strength.
The shadow armor reinforcing his body like an exoskeleton powered suit easily withstood the charge of over 200kg.
-Thud! Thud! Thud!
Siwoo twisted the ribbons like Ea's earlier technique, using their elasticity for propulsion.
The supple curves whipped out rapidly, skewering several piranhas in one go.
The momentum was so ferocious it punched clean holes through them.
-Flap flap flap
Instead of screams, the dying piranhas gaped their mouths silently.
In the heat of battle, all that echoed was the sound of flesh bursting and innards crushing.
And the dry thuds of fallen piranhas slapping the floor.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck..."
Even without looking, his eyes were drawn to the corpses strewn everywhere like background scenery.
Among the victims were children.
Infants who hadn't even opened their eyes in strollers.
Middle-aged couples around the same age as Siwoo's parents, if they'd lived.
These weren't lives that vanished lightly, like mere prey or a quick meal.
His body and mind, hardened by war, didn't erupt in wild rage.
Blinding fury only created openings in battle.
Instead, a quiet ember burned—a somber, simmering grief.
Siwoo muttered curses as he grabbed the jaw of a charging piranha with his gauntlet, halting it.
Its knife-like teeth looked sharp, but they couldn't pierce his armor.
-Flap flap
The piranha thrashed desperately, but it was like a butterfly with one wing pinned.
Futile struggling before overwhelming strength.
"Die!"
Siwoo yanked the jaw downward with all his might. The thrashing piranha's mandible crumbled, its maw tearing apart top to bottom.
He flung the dangling lower jaw away like trash.
"Anyone hiding, come out! I've cleared all the monsters! I'll get you out!"
Siwoo bellowed the moment he roughly cleared the floor.
"Come on out! It's safe now!"
Worried his voice might not reach the outer edges, he dashed corner to corner, even checking bathrooms, shouting all the while.
"Hey! Anyone! Say something!"
Nothing.
Not a single response.
Not one survivor from all those people.
"........."
Siwoo's face was stone-cold.
His expression twisted enough to make the twins burst into tears as he gazed toward the rooftop and moved on.
After that, ascending floors brought no major changes.
Piranhas rummaged through clothes racks and mannequins like seaweed beds, and Siwoo smashed them all.
With hammers, spears, longswords.
Slashing, stabbing, piercing, crushing, shattering as he advanced.
Siwoo handled the routine effortlessly, not even breathing hard.
Any weapon in his hands grew familiar instinctively.
Like his body remembered forgotten skills before his mind could catch up.
He chose not to question it now.
After cleaning each floor, he called out for survivors.
But no echo ever returned, not once.
By the time he neared the rooftop, Siwoo stopped searching.
"They're probably hiding anyway. Why would they trust some random guy and come out?"
No one would step out into this nightmare on one man's word.
Better to prevent further casualties than hunt survivors one by one.
That's what he believed.
Meanwhile, the closer he got to the rooftop, the clearer it became.
The unpleasant mana flow blanketing the building overflowed from here.
Black, murky, heavy mana dripped like a mudslide from the rooftop down the structure.
The thickly sealed rooftop door blocked his path, but he was certain.
Behind it lay the holy relic called Dagon's Flute.
And crossing that threshold meant even Siwoo wouldn't be safe.
Unknown danger lurked with jaws wide.
"........."
-Creak... thud!
Siwoo shoved the steel door.
A light push crumbled the cement frame entirely.
Cool, sweet air—utterly unlike the blood-and-fish reek inside—brushed his ears.
Before him stood an altar.
A flute rested atop it, meticulously arranged as an offering to a god.
"What the hell are you?"
Guarding the altar like a sentinel was its protector.
A 2-meter-tall suit of pristine white plate armor.
A 3-meter lance gripped firmly in hand.
A kite shield covering from upper arms to below the knees.
The ornate, intricately engraved armor looked too thick and heavy for any human to wear and move in.
The white knight's helm flashed four eyes the instant Siwoo ascended, instantly assuming combat readiness.
A homunculus.
A chill raced from his toes up his spine to his crown and back down.
His instincts, honed through countless limbs and battles, screamed.
This one was leagues above the rabble below.
From here on, it was life or death.
Yet Siwoo didn't retreat.
He had some confidence.
He wasn't powerless like before.
Even with bad matchup and post-battle exhaustion, he'd beaten 20th rank Della Redcliffe.
He'd slain the mother beast rampaging through the neighborhood.
Above all, this thing lacked Ea's overwhelming pressure.
He could take it.
-Click!
Siwoo dismissed one longsword, mimicking the white knight to form a shield.
Better a solid defense and counter than half-assed dual-wielding.
To stop that flute, he had to get past this guardian.
Siwoo first twisted the ribbons midair.
A ranged check from safe distance to probe before engaging.
-Screeech!
The two strands, twisted to their limit, sprang forth like released springs, slicing the air.
The white knight reacted swiftly.
Vanishing from the target point, it effortlessly dodged the subsonic ribbons.
In that split-second lapse, the knight closed to Siwoo's face.
Speed unimaginable for 2 meters of heavy plate.
"Fuck!"
Siwoo spat a curse and twisted away hastily.
The long white lance thrust from below upward.
He instinctively thrust out his shield.
The white tip blurred, tricking the eye into thinking it vanished.
But he wasn't too late.
Siwoo caught the attack in time.
A thrust's trajectory was inevitably linear.
The full-body shield was perfect defense.
Blocked.
Brace for impact.
Or so he thought in naive overconfidence—then a chill hit.
An inexplicable split-second instinct.
Siwoo abandoned defense for evasion.
And saw it.
The straight-flying tip bent.
Like a coiling serpent, from mid-shaft it curved, doggedly tracking his retreating heart.
-Clang!
Only by swatting the shaft with his sword did Siwoo escape the relentless strike.
Had he stood firm, the curved lance would've slithered through the shield's gap, piercing his unguarded right side.
One exchange, and he'd nearly died.
More shocking: that reality-warping thrust wasn't magic.
Siwoo had watched the knight's strike from start to finish.
Pure physical technique.
Spear mastery honed to deceive senses like illusion magic—a pinnacle of personal skill.
Clearly beyond the mindless homunculi he'd faced.
Not something judged by eye count alone.
This one was different.
Siwoo backpedaled steps as the white knight charged.
No time to panic—it raised its arm overhead.
A whale-hunting harpoon smash, overhead downswing.
Exposing its armpit, torso open.
A side flank might exploit it.
But rattled by the first uncanny spearwork, Siwoo held back the gamble.
Cowed.
Instead, he observed cautiously, countering deliberately.
-Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Proving his caution right, the overhead seamlessly shifted to underhand, piercing space thrice in rapid succession.
Fierce thrusts punching holes in the air.
-Clang! Clang! Clang!
Barely discernible strikes blocked by shield—pure reflexes and instinctive body movement.
Siwoo retreated, feeling the shield's buzzing vibrations.
His hands ached.
The knight's strength matched his own, at least.
No awkward stance dispersing force—every blow landed like full body weight on the tip.
Less lance, more pile driver.
Trouble.
Siwoo's edge against witches or homunculi came from exploiting magic matchups.
Shadow's laws held advantage over most spells.
But the knight's power was raw physics and spear mastery.
No tricks or wits would suffice.
No breather, not even for ribbons.
Now the knight charged, shield forward.
No more backing up.
Counter before losing all initiative.
Instinct's whisper.
Siwoo thrust his shield ahead and kicked off with his back foot, charging.
-Boom!!!!!
Impact and roar unbelievable for cold weapons.
Concrete under man and homunculus cracked like cookies.
It connected.
First gap in the homunculus's offense.
As it tried another shield bash, Siwoo met it with brute body charge.
"Urk!"
No sound this time.
Siwoo's gritted jaws parted slack from the helm-ringing shock.
The knight, feigning mutual charge, subtly withdrew instead.
His forceful step lost balance.
Body pitched forward.
Tilting vision caught the blade arcing toward his face, waiting.
"Guh!"
In the dire moment, two ribbons saved him.
Using them like arms, he propped the ground forcibly, whipping his body out of range.
"Hah... hah..."
Caught off-guard perhaps, the knight held distance, leveling its lance.
The blade had gashed his eyelid deep.
Blood soaked his right vision red.
Thankfully no eye damage, but with such skill gap, impaired sight was a massive penalty.
Perfectly cornered.
A do-or-die crisis.
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