Chapter 740
Chapter 740
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 740
Chapter Title: Escape Drama (3)
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1.
Sometimes, when humans confront something so enormously vast, they feel the utter insignificance of their own existence.
For instance, a tsunami.
A natural disaster that uproots breakwaters weighing several tons and sweeps entire cities away.
Or a nuclear weapon.
A man-made catastrophe predicted to one day hurl human civilization back to a primitive age.
But for a grand witch whose personal power defies the laws of nature to reach heavenly transcendence, such sensations are few and far between.
After all, a grand witch is a transcendent being who emerges unscathed from natural calamities or nuclear blasts alike.
So it had been ages since Si-woo last felt anything like it.
He'd sensed vast chasms and impenetrable walls before, but never this bone-deep helplessness—the conviction that there was nothing he could do.
Yet the kaleidoscope of mana fields filling the circular sky nearly a kilometer across dragged that long-buried impotence back to the surface.
It was no exaggeration to say Hexennacht's core forces were assembled up there.
Even one-on-one, these were foes who could leave him drenched in sweat or outright beaten.
And with his master at his side? Still no sharp path forward, just suffocating impasse.
Could Si-woo alone pull off anything in a spot like this?
Was there even room to speak of resistance or flight?
Strength drained from the hand clutching the red branch on its own.
Like the last dregs of humanity awaiting meteorfall, all he could do was stare blankly at the swarm of apocalyptic lights inching ever closer by the second.
Then.
-Whack!
"Snap out of it."
A spine-jarring smack to the back jolted him awake.
Turning, he saw Rinne standing sword-drawn, her composure unchanged as ever.
"Planning to throw in the towel just like that?"
Her words, laced with unyielding resolve amid the gloom, steadied the listeners' nerves a touch.
Even Zlata, gaping in panic with drool trickling down her chin, wiped her mouth clean.
"As if."
He tightened his slackened grip.
Give up? Fat chance.
Back when he could barely muster apprentice-witch spells—not even a stigma, forced to lean on mana counters as a slave—he'd faced off against the 21st Hierarchy, Ea Sadalmelik.
Pure risk-wise, this wasn't worlds apart.
"I'm seasoned in mad gambles by now."
Besides, didn't he have lovers pining desperately for him?
Too many souls would weep at his death without a fight.
"What what what!"
"As you can see, we're screwed. Time to bail."
"...We can escape this, right?"
"Gotta try."
Alice, who'd bolted out half-dressed in the chaos.
"Sis! You know I love you tons, yeah?!"
"I wanna be with you next life too!"
"Manya! You're a cheapskate, but deep down a great pal! I'll never forget those bed-filled days!"
"Malisha, you're a pain, but I envied your thick double-lids! Sorry for never owning up till now!"
Manya and Malisha, hamming it up with tears and snot streaming.
"Si-woo... No hard feelings. Glad I saw your face one last time. If I'd known it'd end like this, I would've..."
Even Yebin, face ashen, half-resigned.
"Quiet."
Rinne quashed the uproar in a word, then addressed Si-woo.
"Hexennacht's grand witches form factions."
In this do-or-die pinch, dredging up the obvious meant layers beneath.
Si-woo's wits clicked: he pieced the scenario from her cue on the spot.
"Then we've still got a shot."
"Right. Too soon to fold."
Definitely hope lingered.
Hexennacht split into New Clifford hardliners and Solidus Trading Company moderates, as everyone knew.
Plus roughly one-fifth playing neutral in the cracks.
Meaning that visible overwhelming force wasn't some seamless, unified dragnet marching in lockstep under one banner.
Here in this towering city, Si-woo and Rinne boxed in at Dignity Town were golden mice in a jar, plain and simple.
Capture itself took backseat to merit-grabbing frenzy.
Faction rivals—and even insiders jockeying for bigger cuts—were deep in nonstop calculus of gain vs. loss.
One more unmissable truth.
Like Lydia and Rinne: wanted folk brewed mutual distrust on autopilot.
Hexennacht's no-violence-in-house taboo lay shattered.
That fracture would fan already rife suspicions between bounties sky-high.
They all knew the subtext: lunge greed-blind at the prize ahead, and some wide blast from behind might "oops" you into oblivion.
Proof? Foes closing on Si-woo and Rinne lagged expectations.
Faster comers: local Dignity Town witches.
Prodding with half-hearted spells to snag the jackpot or scrape a spoonful.
-Piuuuung! Pabang-pabang!
Sparks shrieked skyward, bursting midair like white phosphorus shells to engulf the apothecary.
Flames belching white smoke: bona fide alchemy from torched real white phosphorus.
"That bitch Karla? Gave her next-door discount herbs!"
Zlata bellowed in rage.
Meantime, neighbor Karla's sloppy cast proved prime troll-bait.
A piddly 16th Hierarchy spark? Alice soloed it easy; residual haze blanketed alleys into perfect smokescreen.
Sure, smokes-and-mirrors alone wouldn't ditch top-tier witches.
But Si-woo's crew packed stealth pros plus Rinne's combo spells.
Firepower gap or not—in their own turf, civilians thick as thieves.
With live-capture jackpot Si-woo in mix, blind AOE barrages got tricky sans target lock.
"You two—recall that spell from before? Cast it now."
Quick orders tossed, he sheathed himself head-to-toe in armor.
Breakthrough formation scan: instant.
Alice—blaze output and omniguard—up front.
Needs-cover supporters Manya, Malisha, Yebin, Zlata mid-pack.
Rinne claimed riskiest tail-end watch.
Si-woo's dimension-hop scheme? Less key, more kernel-hack straight at the gate.
Forced tunnel to present world, bypassing immigration nod.
Frankly? Slave-era brainchild from zero know-how—bang-for-buck sucked.
'Gate' was Keter's distilled dimensional masterpiece; this was frontal hack sans security sidestep.
No time now for plan B anyway.
Stake it on the spell he'd brewed over five long years.
"Buy time first. I'll finalize off Gudo witch's formula."
Si-woo murmured, eyes flicking over phonebook-thick sheaf.
Week-long gig origin; no slack with snags piling.
He crammed the packed intel dense as lead.
Novel? Near impossible. Formula? Doable.
Magic flowed in sequences.
No need every twig; seize current, grok gist, lock it down.
"This'll really fly?"
"Make it fly."
"Say it works... door trek?"
"Stall here till ripe, then mass space-leap door-ward. Till then, hug witch crowds tight."
Straight-jump door? Straight exposure to core-ship sea lanes.
Density plummets; collateral-tolerant heavies rain likely.
Ocean buffers city hits, sure.
Better: zip residential weave, witches as meatshields.
"And spotting our getaway ride? They'll swarm harder."
Yet Gehenna-wise, even fringe-ville was witch hive.
No sit-pretty shields; witches first.
This horde? Unignorable force.
-Kwaang!
Compressed air pulped apothecary flatfoot.
Cleaner dust than any wrecking ball.
Party shades ghosted out mid-phosphor fog 'n' grit plume.
No breather: spell deluge omnidirectional nonstop.
No hotshots itching for scraps yet.
Rinne solo spooked exiles and bounties alike—content afar lobbing pebbles.
Trouble? Sheer volume.
Dozens probe-types nonstop inbound.
No instant kills, but wear-down like mizzle-soak.
"Infinite flux!"
Were't for Alice's mercury omniblock, Si-woo'd swat sparks nonstop, formula-foxed.
Push on.
Dodge-fix by zagging Dignity guts, calcs rolling.
Offload barrages to Alice/Rinne; tunnel-vision shift-seal.
Overclocked gray matter ballooned soufflé-hot.
"Hurry pleeease! I'm dying!"
"Don't hinder. I'll assist."
Alice's 30-sec wail.
Rinne's gale-split joins.
Untouched by Si-woo's zone.
Peak focus blurred sight/sound; vision: black void, lone fractal titan.
Sky-piercing tree sprawl.
Cross-Dorothy 'gate' data to spell.
-Click click click
Hairpin lockpick vibe.
Metal mesh crisp; key gripped.
"It's ready...!"
World-snap: Si-woo queued coord-warp gate-close.
Pop clean to present seasurface? Citizen pass to Gehenna bolt.
Dorothy's pin: some Pacific speck, prime bounce.
-Gugugugugu-gu-guung!
But.
World-quake roar heralded twist.
Epicenter: colossal gate hugging Hexennacht's round sea.
Golden frame—usual half-sunk silhouette—inky black overrun.
Instant: wake-snared megaships splintered on froth-mad waves.
"......"
No need spell out.
Si-woo clocked it.
Pocket-realm architect. World-anchor dimension distillate.
Gate—historic never-shut—slammed this tick.
Dorothy's prize formula? Scrap confetti.
Si-woo's shift-craft? Premise-flip redo, dead weight.
Plain English?
Game truly over.