Chapter 47
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 047
Chapter Title: Precious Talents. (1)
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What was about to happen next was all too predictable.
Woojin reflexively took a step back. At the same instant, the wooden door splintered with a sharp crack, and a massive hand thrust out from within.
Kwaak!
The hand clamped down on empty air. If he hadn't retreated in time, it would have seized him.
Moments later, the door's owner tore through the remnants and stepped out. He was a burly man, easily over two meters tall, with shoulders as broad as a wrestler's.
The thug grinned at Woojin.
“Heh... What a clown.”
“How so?”
Another voice chimed in. More of the man's comrades emerged from inside the building.
'Five in total.'
Woojin quickly scanned their appearances.
A witch dressed like a prostitute, a man with both arms wrapped in bandages, a black-haired woman clutching a chain sickle. And... a man wearing a silver iron mask.
These were no pushovers.
Even now, he felt an unidentified gaze upon him. A power reminiscent of clairvoyance. He guessed it belonged to the iron-masked man.
While Woojin sized up the Dark Cultists, they did the same to him.
“......What the hell? Who's this idiot?”
The black-haired woman muttered as she eyed Woojin. It was understandable. He was dressed in flashy clothes and a mask for the banquet, after all.
Naturally, he carried no weapons. He looked like someone who'd gotten the address wrong and wandered into the wrong place.
'They're underestimating me.'
It wasn't just the clothes.
Ever since tailing the witch, Woojin had moved with utmost stealth. A feat possible only by suppressing his innate power and presence to the maximum. He came across as a weakling not worth noticing...
Thanks to that, the cultists failed to gauge the strength of the foe before them. They were merely pondering how to toy with this frail spy.
'......Maybe I can bait them.'
Woojin backed away slowly, like a frightened man, then abruptly spun and bolted. He ran unsteadily, as if he might trip at any moment.
The thugs watched his frantic sprint with laughter.
“Whoa... He's pretty fast.”
“Yeah. Bet he'll faceplant and break his nose.”
The Dark Cultists snickered idly. The iron mask, who had stood silent until now, issued a command.
“Chain, Stone Hammer. Chase him down and kill him.”
The moment the words left his mouth, the black-haired woman and the hulking brute charged after Woojin.
Woojin glanced back over his shoulder.
'......The witch isn't coming.'
Unfortunately, the witch was clinging to the iron mask, coquettishly flirting. Only two pursuers trailed him. The enemies had fallen for his simple ploy, hook, line, and sinker.
As expected, the iron mask's eyes had a flaw.
'Inferior to true clairvoyance.'
Bow's clairvoyance was no common gift. A rare ability, possessed by only one or two in the Church Alliance.
If the iron mask's eyes matched that insight, he would have long sensed the predator hiding its claws. But no... he saw Woojin as nothing more than a helpless rat.
The others were the same.
Shweeeek—
A fierce wind howled. The weight on the chain sickle hurtled toward him.
Woojin pretended to stumble and ducked low.
Thwang!
The metal mass grazed his back and smashed into the alley wall. Woojin righted himself and dashed into the shadowed lane.
'......Did they notice?'
Honestly, that move was unnatural to anyone watching. Even if they realized he was luring them, it wouldn't be surprising.
But his pursuers weren't that sharp.
“Lucky bastard?”
The black-haired woman muttered with a laugh. Wondering why she was so careless, Woojin realized...
She trusted the iron mask's judgment more than her own eyes. The moment the mask misjudged Woojin as harmless, that error spread to his comrades.
Overreliance on a single gift could lead to irreversible consequences.
Thud, thud!
Light footsteps echoed rapidly behind. He glanced back to check.
The woman was kicking off the alley walls, leaping from one side to the other. Left wall to right, repeating the maneuver as she closed in.
Her movements were feather-light, like flight. The distance shrank in seconds. Soon, she leaped high, sailing over Woojin's head. Her shadow briefly eclipsed the full moon.
Shrrrrk—!
The trailing chain whipped around Woojin's neck. Landing on the ground, the woman smirked vilely and tugged the chain in her hands.
“Bark like a dog. Then maybe I'll— ”
Before she finished, Woojin yanked the chain. She flew toward him helplessly. Her light frame meant she lacked strength.
Crack!
He shot out his hand and seized her throat. Her eyes bulged in shock at the unexpected turn. Her face paled instantly. Her lips flapped futilely, no sound escaping.
Snap.
Her neck vertebrae shattered with a crunch. Her limp body slumped. Woojin tossed the corpse roughly to the ground.
As he unwound the chain from his neck like a leash, footsteps approached from behind.
“......What the...?”
The hulking man muttered. His slower speed had delayed his arrival by a beat.
Woojin gripped the freshly freed chain sickle. It didn't fit comfortably in his hand. He'd rarely used such crude weapons.
'Guess I'll practice a bit.'
Conveniently, a perfect target presented itself.
Woojin turned to face the newcomer. As if struck by the gaze, the man instinctively stepped back.
Shweeeek—!
Woojin hurled the weight at the man's head. He urgently tilted his upper body aside.
Kwaang!!
The metal buried deep into the wall, wrecking it. To retrieve it, Woojin gripped the chain and yanked hard.
The chain snapped. Broken after just one use. He missed the machete he'd left at the banquet hall.
'Have to make do.'
Though the chain was severed, the sickle blade remained intact. Woojin seized it and advanced on the man.
Faced with this, the brute clenched his fists. He was no amateur.
'Like facing a heavyweight boxer.'
The man stood with fists raised near his face. As Woojin took another step, the brute unleashed a punch, as if waiting for it.
Woojin brought the sickle down on his wrist.
Kang!!
A dull metallic clang rang out. Both men retreated a step. Woojin checked the sickle.
'......Broke on the first hit.'
The blade's edge was dulled. It barely held shape, riddled with fine cracks—unfit for another swing.
Meanwhile, the man's wrist, struck by metal, was unscathed. Woojin knew the name of that gift.
'Stone Skin.'
Far from ordinary. The man flashed a nasty grin and raised his fists.
Krunch!
Brown rock enveloped his fists. It didn't stop there, spreading across his body like mold blooming at accelerated speed.
His outer clothes tore, revealing a hulking, rocky form.
'......Haven't seen talent this potent in a while.'
Its caliber was obvious at a glance. The black-haired woman whose neck he'd snapped probably had something similar.
“Ready to have your limbs ripped off?”
The man growled as he approached. The air grew murderous. He was furious over his comrade's death.
Thud.
Woojin dropped the sickle. Seeing this, the man smirked.
“What? Surrendering now?”
In response, Woojin tensed his hands.
Crack, creak—
His finger joints popped noisily. Then gray scales covered his hands, gleaming like freshly oiled armor.
The man stared blankly. It looked anything but ordinary.
“......Hold on.”
Naturally, Woojin didn't stop. He strode toward the man.
The brute kept retreating until cornered against the dead-end wall. No escape. Sensing this, he swung with full force.
Woojin met it leisurely with his own fist.
Booom!!
A explosion erupted as fists collided. They locked in a momentary test of strength, then the rock on the man's fist shattered sequentially from the front.
“Wait... Let's talk!”
The man yelled desperately. Woojin had no time to waste and unleashed a barrage without pause.
Fists hammered the man's body relentlessly. No openings. Each strike sent rock shards flying, like demolishing a brick building.
“Y-You bastard...”
The man desperately summoned more stone from his skin. But Woojin demolished it faster.
How did this happen?
He felt utterly wronged, mind reeling. Where did this monster come from, and why had the iron mask ordered a pursuit?
But the greatest injustice was...
“......Hey, you sick fuck! Why'd you run in the first place?! We could've crushed you!!”
Even five against one would've been dicey. So why flee?
Woojin finally spoke.
“Too annoying to chase them all down.”
You couldn't hunt five weasels at once. Kill one, and the rest scatter everywhere.
Better to thin the herd first.
No matter how superior his gifts, Woojin had only one body. Facing five at once was a hassle, and chasing down fleeing stragglers mid-fight was tedious.
Anyway...
“......Gotta hurry. Time to grow up.”
Woojin cocked his fist. It was the last sight the man beheld.
Kwaaang!!
The punch caved in his face. The rock encasing it and the skull beneath burst like a watermelon.
Two pursuers down.
Woojin rummaged in his pocket, drew a hidden dagger, and swiftly sliced open the big man's chest to extract the inner core. He repeated the process on the woman's corpse.
Two inner cores secured.
'Time elapsed... about nine minutes?'
Most spent on the chase.
The fight ended quicker than expected. The black-haired woman died from overconfidence, a dog's death. The brute was a fool banking on one gift.
What of the remaining three? To find out, Woojin backtracked.
'They wouldn't have fled already.'
Killing the rocky one made noise, but the Dark Cultists would wait for their comrades' return. They couldn't imagine an upset.
Even if they had run, it was no issue.
So little time had passed; tracking them would be trivial.
'......Haven't scored this many quality inner cores in ages.'
Woojin's steps quickened on their own.