Chapter 148
Chapter 148
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 148
Chapter Title: Capturing the Bounty Target (2)
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Brainwash.
It was a basic manipulation-type black magic similar to Obedience, which seized control over revived corpses.
The difference was that Brainwash dominated living creatures rather than corpses, making it one of the most crucial black magics, just like any other foundational spell.
"Grurrrr...!!"
"Gu...rk!"
"Kwelelelelek...!"
"Chik...! Chik...! Chik...!"
"Chii. Chii. Chii. Chii."
"Chikchikchikchik."
The polluted creatures already under Brainwash and obeying orders froze in place, emitting strange noises like a malfunctioning car when a new layer of Brainwash was overlaid on top.
Usually, the first caster to apply black magic held the advantage, but if there was a significant skill gap, control could still be stolen away.
And that seemed to be the case here.
"Grrruuu...!!!"
"Zzzzzzt...!"
The crocodile-frog hybrid polluted creature and the hairless rat switched targets, charging toward the Kell Free Independence Army instead.
The enemies, caught off guard by the sudden rebellion of the polluted creatures, panicked.
"Huh? Wh-what...?"
While everyone was still grasping the situation, a muscular man over two meters tall barked an order.
"What are you waiting for? Fire!"
His shout snapped the remaining forces back to attention, and they opened fire in unison.
Dudududududududu——!!
The gunshot echoed through the sewers as the polluted creatures were riddled with bullets, quite literally.
Holes pierced their bodies like honeycomb, flesh, blood, and bone fragments flying off. Some tried to flee as the black magic broke under the agony, but it was far too late.
Most collapsed mid-charge or mid-escape. Only two made it near the Kell Free Independence Army.
"That's it—we're exposed here! You lot, get out first! Protect Hewitt!"
The towering muscular man yelled into a crude communicator before stepping forward and casting black magic on himself.
His skin glowed red-hot, his musculature swelling grotesquely. It looked like disease-type black magic—and a highly skilled variant at that.
His height had seemingly doubled, his muscles tripled in size as proof.
"Hmph—!"
The disease-type black mage snorted and swung a massive fist.
The two polluted creatures slammed into the wall like ground hamburger.
Despite Oliver hijacking them, they hadn't accomplished much before being taken out. Still, it had been enough.
"Melee units, advance! Everyone else, provide support! I'll finish them o—huh?!"
Before the disease-type black mage could finish, something zipped toward him at blinding speed.
Clack-clack-clack—the sound of chattering teeth from the Rag Doll Zombie.
With its filthy matted hair and cloak like a filthy rag, the rag doll charged madly using its multiple limbs.
"Corpse Doll?!"
He roared and swung his brutal fist.
Bwak——!!
So powerful it was like striking industrial steel—the doll's torso shattered and flew off.
Its loosely attached limbs went flying too, including the one with the blade.
"Huh?"
The disease-type black mage voiced his confusion, but it was already too late.
The blade infused with Exhaustion—which drained the target's stamina and dulled both body and mind—embedded itself in the enemy black mage's flesh.
Puk—! Puk—! Puk—! Puk—! Puk—! Puk—!
The sudden turn of events. But it wasn't over.
Dartboard-like marks appeared on the panicked enemies' bodies, followed by a swarm of black blades pouring down like mosquitoes, stabbing into them.
A few dodged, but far more failed to.
"Seems like there are grunts alongside the executives. Try to subdue without killing if possible—the bounty drops if they die."
"Yeah!"
"Got it!"
"Understood."
Jo, Sam, and Owen answered in unison and charged.
The enemies, their bodies modified by black magic, suddenly hefted massive claymores and rushed forward, but Owen's full-force swing with his iron club snapped the blade and sent it flying.
Sam suppressed with gunfire, while Jo probed for openings with his sword.
The foes weren't pushovers either—they blocked or dodged Sam's bullets, checked Jo's advances, and stalled by ganging up 2-on-1 against Owen.
Meanwhile, the disease-type black mage shook off the hit and tried to aid his allies.
"Pardon the intrusion."
Oliver—bolstered by Black Suit, Burning Life, and Muscle Up—leapt up and cracked the disease mage's temple with his quarterstaff.
His brain rattled; he staggered and collapsed.
Jo, Sam, Owen, and the others stared in shock.
It was like Goliath felled by David in one blow—quite the size disparity.
Oliver glanced at them and spoke.
"Kell Free Independence Army. Disease-type black mage Damon. Pollution creature handler Alistair. World Tree magic hacker Hewitt... All three are key executives. Damon just ordered a retreat, so the other two should be nearby. I'll pursue Alistair and Hewitt—hold here with the corpse dolls."
Oliver addressed Jo before dashing into another sewer tunnel.
But Jo didn't complain or grumble.
Damon, Alistair, and Hewitt here were all wanted criminals with bounties over 100 million each, after all.
Beyond that, Oliver's command sparked no resistance.
Overwhelming power had that effect.
Jo muttered unconsciously.
"Let's wrap this up quick."
With Oliver gone but Damon knocked out cold, things got much easier.
Even outnumbered by tough foes, Jo, Sam, and Owen handled them with room to spare.
Gunfire from distant enemies was a nuisance, but they had support fire too, so no real complaints.
"Grrowrrrr!"
"Kyahahahaha!"
The Corpse Doll—Black Mage activated black magic, binding the enemies' feet.
Shadows sprouted like weeds, grabbing their legs. The claymore-wielding foe mid-step froze, and Jo exploited the gap, slamming his knuckled fist into the man's side with all his might.
A crack echoed; ribs shattered.
He swiftly downed two supporting shooters from behind with punches and kicks, then scanned around.
He'd help if needed, but it looked unnecessary.
The Corpse Doll—Sniper, despite its name, supported everyone with eight arms firing guns—covering rear threats and even aiding Owen elsewhere.
But the standout was approaching Sam's opponent and blasting each barrel of its sawed-off shotgun in turn.
Blamm—! Blamm—!
The enemy trading blows evenly with Sam couldn't block the sudden close-range shotgun blasts and burst like a tomato.
No ordinary shotgun power—he'd infused bullets with black magic like Sam did.
Chilling.
Not just the firepower. Despite Oliver's no-kill order, it unnecessarily executed the foe to flex its power.
Jo's shallow, biased knowledge of black magic couldn't confirm, but it felt different from standard zombies or corpse dolls.
The Corpse Doll—Sniper even smiled awkwardly but clearly, satisfied with its output.
"Ke...! Ke...! Ke...! Ke...!"
What was it? Beyond a mere zombie—it felt like a living being brimming with malice, human-like.
A chill raced up Jo's spine.
Sam sidled up cautiously.
"I don't know much, but are all corpse dolls like that?"
"Dunno."
"What the hell is that Dave guy even making?"
His grumbling masked a lament, drawing a low growl from the Corpse Doll—Black Mage as it eyed them.
No words, but it felt like a warning: don't badmouth Dave.
Having witnessed their prowess, Jo distracted Sam with another topic.
"Work first. Owen, grab the binding cords."
Owen, who'd felled three with his club, hustled over and pulled out the ropes.
Special knots—just loop around wrists and pull.
Surprisingly handy; widely used hereabouts. DIY or store-bought.
Rumor was some weird brothel made them for "service." Who knew if true.
'Even pervs have their uses?'
Jo bound the survivors' arms behind their backs with the cords and yanked.
Then dragged and piled them up.
The stingy city skimped on most things but paid bounties properly. Handing over these grunts could net hundreds to a thousand at least.
Sam was already tallying.
"Grunts at minimum 100k each... one, two, three... Wait, exclude the dead?"
"Half price at least, right?"
As Sam and Owen finger-counted, Jo cut in.
"Skip the small fry—that one's already 150 million downed."
Jo pointed at Damon, bound and sprawled with his black magic dispelled.
Dave's intel detailed his feats: wiped out over ten kingdom squads via guerrilla tactics.
No exaggeration, given his spells.
Turning into a 4-5 meter giant with ballooned muscles evoked primal terror just watching.
150 million felt cheap.
Owen ventured carefully.
"But... didn't Dave say earlier he was chasing the others?"
True. Oliver had said he was pursuing pollution handler Alistair and magic hacker Hewitt.
Their bounties: 110 million and 300 million respectively.
Owen exclaimed at the topic.
"Th-then we should help, right? What if he loses them...?"
Jo just shook his head. He couldn't pinpoint when he'd started trusting the guy, but failure seemed impossible.
Because he taught black magic? No. It was overwhelming power and presence breeding faith.
Sam felt the same.
"You think that monster would let war-refugee scum slip away? ...Hey, it's a compliment."
Sam excused himself to the two glaring Corpse Dolls—tending the rag one.
Jo's cursory black magic knowledge confirmed they were high-end.
Acting independently without orders... Impressive, personal feelings aside.
'Shouldn't think this way...'
Sam continued.
"Anyway, jackpot. Big shots total 560 million. Our cut...?"
"Half."
Sam nodded, satisfied.
"280 million. 40 each for you and me, 20 for Owen—I'm netting at least 112 million."
Jo nodded.
Sam whistled "fuck." Rightly so—over 100 million was rare in X District. Hell, for most in Randa.
'Enough to escape Labor Zone for a new life, if you're the type. Not that anyone is.'
"A year of splurging without worry. Suddenly fucking thrilled. Owen, you're getting 56 million too—what's your plan?"
Owen scratched his head with a shy grin unfit for his bulk.
"Dunno... Pay up to Fighter Crew first, then hospital bills for my siblings and tons of food."
"Classic you. Jo?"
As Jo opened his mouth, a fourth voice intruded.
Kell rebel exec, disease-type black mage Damon.
"You filthy bastards... Attacking us just for money?"
Black magic dispelled or not, his glare and build intimidated.
"Woke up quick."
"I asked if you scum raided us for a few dirty coins."
Ignoring Jo, Damon ranted.
Sam scowled.
"What the fuck's he saying?"
"If not money, then what? Family? Kin? Hometown? As if trash like you have any."
Not just his tone—his eyes viewed them as garbage. Pure sincerity.
Not a great feeling. Like he scorned their desperate struggles to survive.
"Only fucks who don't know money's worth say shit like that."
Sam, who'd scraped X District's bottom like Jo, shot back.
In this city, money was everything—human or bug.
Damon sneered.
"See? You're trash. Money-obsessed trash."
Sam, irked, ordered Owen.
"Gag that fucker. Wanna kill him, but bounty..."
Owen approached as told.
No one tensed. Multi-layered binding cords held firm.
But it was a mistake.
[Madness]
[Unleashed despite bindings]