Chapter 72
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Meaningless Yoke
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Yes.
Back then, Ju Gonghyeok was there.
This is a tale from before the 13th regression.
The Company was burning.
Darkness and flames, screams and mad laughter scattered chaotically across its seven floors.
The master of legions, Isaac Jerolbane.
The black iron mad knight, Sergio Valentin.
The necroengineer, Yabon Doctor.
The blind wolf, Guyuk.
The white man's fist killer, Wayne Zhao.
The cannibal king, Pilate.
The giant of ruin, Surtr.
The apostles, renowned for their infamy, held a feast of madness.
Zombies smashed through shop doors.
Beasts wandered with human corpses impaled on their horns.
Those who resisted were crushed by contractors who reveled in the fight.
The mercenary division, responsible for the city's defenses, was annihilated first, and the surviving fighters gathered at the fountain for a public duel.
Crack!
Wayne Zhao's 'Twin Fist Acceleration (S++)' erupted, snapping the division chief's neck and spine in two blows.
"Insufficient. Still insufficient."
Before his grumbling ended, three more bodies were sliced into six pieces.
"Heh heh. Pathetic fools. You thought this would drive us off?"
The blind wolf Guyuk shook the blood from his blade.
Blood droplets splattered on the face of the next duelist—no, the next sacrifice—before it froze solid.
Those gathered at the fountain were hunters renowned as powerhouses in the Company.
Right up until their heads were severed.
"Humanity... what the hell."
The Company, the heart of Babel's economy.
The Company had branches in seven cities, maintaining close exchanges.
"What about the Wolf Fortress guys?"
"No contact for the past fifteen minutes."
"They were cornered in the alleys. In the end..."
Rondelstadt, branch chief of the Borderless Knights, swallowed a sigh.
He glanced at Amit, the Deus branch chief.
"The other branches seem completely wiped out, as you can see."
Boom!
The bunker in their underground sector shook from an explosion.
Dynamite zombies led by the necroengineer Yabon Doctor.
The mad knight Valentin and the giant of ruin Surtr were surely with him.
"Amit. Contact with HQ done?"
"Uh..."
The knight Rondelstadt asked the Deus branch chief about contact for one reason.
Deus was currently the closest city to the Company.
Cities moved in two ways.
Warp or bridges and engines—powered mechanisms.
There were no warp points from other cities around the Company, and the apostles' interference made it impossible for the Company to open any.
In other words, only Deus could help the Company.
Kabloom!
The bunker shook violently from another explosion.
Dust trickled down; it wouldn't hold much longer.
"No time. What's Deus HQ's decision? Tell us."
Death approached step by step.
Amit spoke gravely to the knight who accepted it calmly.
"HQ... isn't coming."
"I see."
"They've finished talks with the other cities too."
An indescribable silence descended.
An atmosphere where no one could speak.
But Rondelstadt quietly reached a conclusion.
"Deus, humanity, has abandoned the Company."
Kabloooom!
The ceiling collapsed.
Thud!
A giant in black armor and a red-haired man who had discarded his upper body clothing dropped down.
"Adversaries of the Reaper. Vanish from this place."
"Are you strong?"
A storm of blood raged in the tiny bunker.
＊ ＊ ＊
The Company's 70th-floor administrative office, the tallest building on the 5th floor.
Decorated with glass walls like a modern skyscraper, this pinnacle of Babel engineering—powered by magic and avatars—was sliced diagonally from the 40th floor up.
The upper administrative office, shattered like a dropped cake.
Yet amid the fall, an unscratched silver vault remained.
The 'Absolute Vault,' which had existed alongside the Company from the start.
After becoming Company president, Almog lived inside the Absolute Vault.
It shielded him from most assassination threats.
Alfred, the executive director, procured what he needed.
If he ever had to go out, he did so with hordes of guards and ironclad security.
Of course, now that the Company was annihilated.
The Absolute Vault was no longer a vault.
Just an indestructible coffin for the president.
The pounding and roars that had battered the vault for days finally quieted.
Some rationality returned to Almog, who had been trembling idly in terror.
'What happened to the Company?'
It had been over a week since contact with Alfred cut off.
Sensing something wrong, he called his secret guards.
But they didn't respond.
He tried the third and fourth backup lines, but no replies came.
This level of cutoff wasn't mere coincidence.
Something was definitely wrong.
'Damn it. Should I have gone out then?'
The thought crossed his mind, but even if time rewound, Almog wouldn't have gone out.
Rash action out of anxiety was forbidden.
Venturing out sloppily could mean getting surrounded or assassinated the moment the door opened.
'Whether it's a rebellion or some riot, I don't know. But stay cautious and wait.'
If the directors won, they'd contact him eventually. Even if the enemies took the city, they'd approach him.
His ability was 'Midas' Hand.'
The power to convert items into coins.
Turning goods into cash was invaluable anywhere in the human world, and it allowed him to found the Company, the center of Babel's economy.
'Enough rations for a year left?'
He eyed the piled food in the vault corner.
'Never lose dignity, no matter the times. Lose dignity, and sovereignty passes to the opponent—I'll become a mere tool.'
'I must be the master, not the tool.'
Almog moved his frail body to sort the rations by date.
Clank.
The metallic click of gears meshing rang out.
Like hearing his daughter's scream, cold sweat soaked Almog's back.
This was a sound that shouldn't be heard now.
The sound of the Absolute Vault's door opening.
[User fingerprint authentication.]
[Company Executive Director Alfred confirmed.]
[President's guards Jendro, Smith confirmed.]
[Final procedure. Company President Almog Biton confirmed.]
[Door opening.]
Whirr.
The door glowed and opened.
Black ink-like footprints stained the vault's pristine white interior.
A hound mask and a blood-soaked dark red hood.
Almog's jaw trembled.
"You are the monster from the 7th Great Summoning that cleared the 30th-floor mission.
Urben's first apostle.
Laplace's mad hound, Omer Ashq.
Behind the mad hound, the ruined Company skyline loomed.
"How did you get in here? To enter this place..."
He tossed three bound wrists at the puzzled man.
Hands of the guards and executive director.
Almog's face twisted in horror.
But one question lingered.
"Then, where did you get my fingerprint?"
"That..."
For the first time, a voice leaked from the hound mask.
"About the seventh time, I stored it in the GM's database."
"The seventh?"
'Fucking lunatic. What nonsense is this?' Almog swallowed the retort and pointed his finger at the hound.
"Doesn't matter. Right? What should I call you? Mad Hound? Omer?"
"Call me whatever you want."
"Then, Mad Hound. I am the Company president, Almog Biton."
He puffed his chest and planted his legs firmly.
The dignity of a master who had ruled over hundreds of thousands of hunters emanated naturally from his aged body.
"Mad Hound, take me to your master. That's where the talks begin."
"That's fine, old man."
The mad hound grinned at Almog, who pointed at him.
"But you'd better move that finger before I snap it off."
"First, I want confirmation."
"I'm telling you to move the finger now."
A battle of nerves between president and mad hound.
The magic circles engraved in the vault emitted a faint glow.
"The basis of any deal is a promise. Why street thugs stay thugs is because they scorn promises, cling to their stubbornness, and are petty fools blind to consequences."
"Old man."
Gray smoke leaked from the mad hound's mask.
"Guts depend on your opponent. Here, you beg. 'Spare me just once.'"
"No reasoning with you. Fine, I'll threaten too. If you don't want to die, bring the one in charge. I won't be responsible for what follows."
"Old man."
The mad hound drew his sawblade sword.
US+ grade growth weapon. 'Neck-Cutting Ghost Saw.'
"Fuck off."
Negotiations broke down.
The vault's magic circles blazed with blinding light.
[All magic circles convert to holy attribute.]
[Reserved magic. Lance of Holy Light (A+).]
[100-round salvo loaded.]
[Target - Enemy 1.]
[Reserved magic. Holy Light Barrier (S) generated.]
[Reserved magic. Land of the Red Cross (S+).]
"Arrogant bastard! Die!"
Almog's furious shout.
Lances of light shot from all directions, piercing the mad hound.
Explosions and blinding flashes erupted in succession.
"Reload! Reload! Relooooad!"
[100-round reload. Fire.]
[100-round reload. Fire.]
[100-round reload. Fire.]
"Cast all reserved holy attribute magic!"
[Executing 17 reserved spells, excluding Blood of the Saints.]
He smirked triumphantly.
Holy attribute, devastating to demon contractors and apostles.
Even a heavenly knight would suffer fatal wounds here.
First apostle or not, he wouldn't lose to some idiot who came alone.
[Mana fully depleted.]
[Switching to reserve mana cells.]
[Recharge in approximately 20 minutes.]
As the magic barrage ended, Almog cautiously opened his eyes.
Vision blurry from the unfamiliar flash, but his hunter stats sharpened it soon enough.
Where the mad hound had stood, embers crackled, proclaiming the destruction's might.
"Heh heh, hahaha! Serves you right! Know your place, punk!"
Almog twisted in ecstatic laughter.
Someone grabbed his hand.
Crunch.
"Wha?"
Alien pain.
Almog saw his index finger's white bone protruding.
The finger that had pointed at the mad hound.
"Said I'd snap your finger, right?"
The mad hound stood behind him.
Above the upturned hound hovered three avatars.
Archangel Michael, Maitreya Tathagata, God King Indra.
God-tier avatars unbeatable in holy attributes anywhere.
And the Reaper's first apostle. Mad Hound Omer Ashq.
The impossible equation blanked Almog's mind.
"Old man."
"Uh, so, you see..."
"Truth is, never planned to let you live from the start."
The GM floated behind the mad hound.
"Just needed your ability."
＊ ＊ ＊
The city's master died.
The successor executive director was long dead, and rights flowed to Ju Gonghyeok per the system.
The second-tallest spire, once the mercenary division building.
Ju Gonghyeok stood atop it.
"Lilianne."
Stroking the broken horn summoned the one-horned succubus beside him.
He held one of Lilianne's horns.
Using it as a medium, he could summon her at will.
[Unbelievable feat 'City Rebellion' achieved!]
[Achievement rate 211%!]
[Rewards: 200 green coins and...]
Rewards poured into his inventory.
He watched her distribute them.
Tight leather restraints bound her body, a gag sealing her mouth.
"Kneel."
"Mmph!"
Ignoring the furious one-horned succubus, he sat on her back.
She became such a slave due to an unfair contract with Ju Gonghyeok.
But backing the wrong horse left her abandoned by the Four Heavenly Kings' Cluesti and hated by Hydrich's demons—no options remained.
Lost in thought amid the smoking ruins.
Killing and being killed.
The endless yoke of surviving and respawning.
Kill the laughing one, they revive and laugh again.
Kill the crying one, they revive and cry again.
Embrace the one abused for pleasure, then torment the embraced.
No matter how many deaths, how much care or injury—everything resets, meaningless.
'I want to end it.'
Give meaning to his past comrades' pointless deaths.
And to himself at his limit.
Only one way: save humanity and meet death.
'End the regressions.'
Then, having slain all hunters.
He met a hollow death at the demon king's hands.
The meaningless yoke rolled once more.
The weary one shoulders the devil's karma himself.