Chapter 127

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Translator: Ace

Chapter: 126

Chapter Title: The Pilgrim's Cart

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An android pulling an iron cart.

But one loaded with an Omega-class psychic, no less.

The Pilgrim, they called him.

He occupied the top spot in Jin's mental directory.

Right at the very top.

If you had to nitpick, just a smidge above even the Sword Saint.

If a bunch of pissed-off Purist KKK types had burst through the door, blindfolded him, and jammed a pistol against his temple—

"An Omega-class psychic stronger than the Family Head? Say that again."

Jin would've shot back:

What do you want me to do about it? I saw one block a Meteor Strike right in front of my eyes with my own two eyes! Did you?

Of course, Jin knew better.

He knew the Sword Saint had single-handedly protected ten thousand spectators while routing the Apostles in a display of transcendent might.

Thanks to that, the gossips had yanked the Sword Saint way up in their rankings.

Whatever.

All good.

But still, what could he do?

Unlike the Apostles who'd bailed midway to guard the relic and crashed the arena, the Pilgrim had stuck with them from start to finish.

No, the guy had piled up a mountain on the surface of the earth, for crying out loud.

Apophis's shattered fragments hadn't just pulverized the ground—they'd formed an artificial peak over a hundred meters high, a sight that defied human comprehension.

That colossal rumble shaking the earth.

It had been less than a day since he'd witnessed it.

So who could blame Jin for handing the top spot in his heart to the Pilgrim?

Step up your game, Sword Saint.

You came this close this time.

And so, right now.

"Know him?"

"I've heard of him, but not sure if he knows me."

Jin turned the handlebars with a dazed look on his face.

He couldn't just blow past his lifesaver without stopping, but he half-doubted if this was even right.

They'd vanished like the wind the moment the op wrapped.

Too rushed to even drop by the outpost.

The Colonel had said:

'That's just how they are. Don't worry about it. We just got lucky our paths crossed this time.'

So he'd figured that was that—no more run-ins.

p>World's a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠small place.

Still, what kind of mess has an Omega-class psychic calling for help? Apostles? Five of 'em?

His thoughts spiraled as the sidecar pressed on.

Headlights cutting through the dark, dust motes faintly sparkling in the beam.

Finally, the sidecar slowed to a stop in front of the android.

"What's the trouble?"

The android answered as Jin hopped out.

"Here."

"Hm?"

His gaze followed the android's pointing finger to the Iron Maiden on the cart.

Tilted at an unnatural angle.

What the...?

His eyes naturally dropped to find the cause—and caught the cart's right front corner hovering just above the ground.

The android's voice followed right after.

"The wheel's stuck in the mud. We can't move forward. Could you help?"

"...?"

Jin stared at the android, momentarily speechless.

The android stared back.

A brief silence hung between them.

In that time, Bagmar—who'd been poking around his first-ever sidecar ride—sidled up, tapped the ground with his foot, and spoke.

"Ground's sweating moisture. Doesn't look it, but it's all mushy underneath. Give it a bit, it'll flow like water. Better pull that cart back now. Want me to do it?"

"Whoa, hold up!"

Jin yanked the unlicensed dwarf off the driver's seat, tossed the wriggling pest to Chloe, and turned back.

"So the wheel's sunk, right?"

"Yes."

"Hang on. Let me back our ride up first."

Jin shifted the sidecar to safety, then hurried to the buried cart, prodding the ground with his toes like Bagmar had.

"Eugh."

It was true.

The ground had gone from solid to squishy without warning.

Liquefaction, straight up.

The kind that makes civil engineering buffs go, "No way?"

Simply put: intense shocks like earthquakes ramp up pore water pressure in the soil, turning solid earth into a half-liquid slop monster.

And that "intense shock"? Obviously Apophis's fragments slamming down and rumbling the planet.

Even weakened, it'd scaled down from cataclysm to quake-level.

But that wasn't the point.

"Eugh, hold on. Whoa, this... Suck—"

Jin scratched his head at the messier-than-expected situation.

No leverage anywhere. What now?

He poked around helplessly.

No helping it.

Pulling people from quicksand is tough enough. A cart? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠With an Iron Maiden on it?

Blink was out too.

His Blink only worked on non-external-force objects, and anything over a certain weight skyrocketed mana cost.

...Wait, isn't it sinking more?

While he pondered, the cart sank deeper.

Wheels fully gone now.

Had to act.

"Hands off."

Jin told the android, crouched, and channeled bioelectricity from his hands like a rope around the handle.

Then one step back, two—body twisting to wind the "rope" around himself as he lay back.

Weight fully on the line, two-point leverage.

Right hip to back to left armpit pressure grip.

Go time.

"Hnnnggggahhh!!!!"

The rope snapped taut; the axle squeaked in the mud.

Veins bulging on his hands, forearms swelling like hatchets.

Jin had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠long surpassed human muscle specs—4kgf per cross-section.

Even for him, solo tug-of-war was rough.

Crunch!

Every muscle straining for traction.

Toes dug deep into the earth, unmoving.

And so.

With each grueling step back, the buried wheel slowly emerged.

"Ooh! It's working! Working!"

Bagmar's cheer from behind, just as nosebleed trickled down Jin's philtrum.

Finally, mud tore with a rrrip, and the cart yanked free.

But no relaxing yet.

He dragged it way back to solid ground, then collapsed with an exhausted "Ahhh..."

"...Gonna die."

Body not fully recovered, overdid it—stomach churning, vision spinning, arms throbbing like hell.

But mission accomplished.

Thumbs-up to the android—

Thwung—!

Sudden whoosh.

The freshly freed cart toppled over.

Left wheel rolling off into the distance.

"Ah?"

Click. Popped-open can reveals two cooked sausages and risotto inside.

Jin stabbed them with a plastic spork, chewed steadily, and said:

"So the Pilgrim's out cold right now?"

"Yes."

"Used too much power?"

"Yes."

The android turned its head matter-of-factly.

Jin looked the same way.

Iron Maiden on the ground, busted cart.

Bagmar inspecting it.

Sigh-worthy sight.

Felt his gaze, maybe.

Dwarf looked up and yelled:

"It's trashed. Axle's loose, frame's warped. No wonder the wheel popped off."

He kicked a wheel and added:

"Steel rim's worn to a blade edge. And where'd the spokes go? Sold 'em? What the hell were you hauling it over...?"

Like a doc scolding a patient for ignoring symptoms—pity and reproach in his eyes—Bagmar had Chloe fetch tools.

Jin scraped the risotto clean.

"Hear that? Total wreck."

"Yes."

"Yeah, why not upgrade? Iron cart in this day and age? And you're hauling... you? Him? Her? Whatever—an Omega-class psychic, one of five in the city. National-power-level VIP. Ask for a top-tier ride, they'd hook you up no questions."

Jin cracked another can. The silent android watched him eat stew, then spoke slowly.

"That wouldn't be a true pilgrimage."

Jin chewed wordlessly, staring.

"Yeah. Fair enough."

He nodded readily.

True pilgrimage meant on foot, right?

Some saints had cut all worldly ties for solitary contemplation on endless roads.

Not his life, but respected it.

"...Pilgrimage, huh. Must be holy sites outside the city."

The android didn't reply.

Obviously outdated model.

Couldn't compare to Poh's hologram fingers. Even Hooker seemed cutting-edge next to it.

"What's your name?"

"None."

"Kim Cheomji?"

"...?"

"Kidding."

Kidding, but Jin filed it away as Cheomji mentally.

Yeah, that guy.

No offense—just rickshaw puller vibes.

Personal quirk: hated "hey you" for decent folks.

Android's opinion? Irrelevant.

Empty cans piling up.

"Jin!"

He looked up from his food trance.

Bagmar shook his head.

"No dice. Impossible."

"Eh? Dwarf can't fix it?"

"What?!"

Bagmar bristled, ranting:

"No materials, what do you expect? Skill's one thing—creating from nothing's another. And this ain't my workshop."

Artisans don't blame tools, but no tools or mats? Different story.

Jin crunched a cookie, pondering.

Head back to outpost for help?

Nah. Executors might be there.

Go alone?

Weirder.

Scratching his cheek in deadlock—

Clank—

Heavy sound. Everyone whipped around.

Iron Maiden doors flung wide.

Still surreal sight.

Giant tube filled with pale blue fluid.

Long, lush hair blending into shadows, undulating like waves inside.

Beyond: youthful face, no smile or scowl.

Just numb features refracted through the haze.

Faint eyelids, thick lashes, soft contours—like eyes might open any second.

Cheomji spoke slowly, eyes on Jin.

"Says he saw you from the sky."

"What? Me?"

Jin pointed at himself.

He'd seen android-relayed speech before. Surprise was Pilgrim recognizing him.

From the sky, even.

Not naked-eye 4,500m pierce—meant sensing within his domain.

What cheat is this.

Pilgrim eval maxed. Candle spiked red.

Step it up, Sword Saint.

"Who the hell's that guy?"

"Dunno."

Whispered with Bagmar, Jin cleared his throat.

"Says thanks for the help."

Jin waved it off.

"Saved my ass, it's nothing. Anyone from the squad would've. Body better now?"

"Needs more time."

"Damn."

Jin sighed.

Made sense. Unleash Apophis-level power freely? Not human anymore.

Though boundaries crossed ages ago.

"Can't be helped."

"Asks if you can help a bit more."

"Help how?"

Jin tilted his head—

"To complete this pilgrimage safely."

Right on cue, as predicted.

Dun dun dun.

Semitransparent rectangle only he could see.