Chapter 82
Chapter 82
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 82
Chapter Title: The Warrior Obtains What He Wants
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Around the time Arethia and Anima met the boy and left the blood-drenched site behind.
The information Anima had gathered thus far had safely reached Balak.
"The gods' current disposition is a mild flavor of Greek and Roman mythology..."
"Balak hyungnim, what's wrong?"
"I'm reviewing the info my son brought."
They seemed like genuinely decent personalities, at least on a personal level.
But the emergence of demons suggested the gods had already royally screwed up this world once before.
Even so, they'd swiftly cleaned up the mess and somehow managed to drag things to this point.
"You're reading about the gods."
"Yeah. From what Anima brought back, they seem like tolerable sorts."
"...So you don't hate the gods, Balak hyungnim?"
"Aren't they the ones who locked us in this dungeon, like Ferguson hyungnim said?"
"Honestly, I'm pretty resentful about them shoving us in here. But what do you think would happen if I were wandering around outside, from your perspective?"
"Uh...?"
"I'm a demon lord, after all."
If they thought I'd just casually descended from the mountains without getting thrown in here...
Ugh, horrifying.
And back then, I was ambiguously strong in a way that would've been even worse.
I wouldn't have met the dungeon merchants, wouldn't have reached this level of growth with the outside world's power and civilization levels as they are.
His brothers seemed to grasp exactly what chaos would erupt the moment he roamed free outside.
"...It's because you're too strong that this happened, hyungnim."
"All I can think is that it'd be a total catastrophe."
"That's why I figure we ended up benefiting each other."
If I hadn't been stuck in this dungeon, I couldn't have kept my promise to the old man, for one thing.
Endless near-genocidal battles would've raged outside nonstop.
But being cooped up here blocked all that off, and beyond that, I've gotten this peaceful life and good connections. So now, I'm willing to let it slide.
"The gods out there have probably seen up to this point. Or maybe even further ahead."
"That's a 'god' for you."
"Pfft, gotta give 'em this one."
Still, if I meet the gods, I should ask why they stuck us in this dungeon.
There must be some seriously compelling reason!
*******************
Regardless of whether the gods were listening to Balak and his sworn brothers chatting inside the dungeon and breaking out in cold sweats.
Balak skimmed through the accumulated intel with satisfaction and rose from his seat.
He grabbed his weapons and headed to the center of the training grounds.
"Balak hyungnim, starting from stage 50 again this time?"
"Nah, warm-up's over. Set it to infinite regeneration at stage 100."
"Full details included?"
"Yeah, run it on random auto-regen. And activate the second supreme training after a bit."
"Th-that too?"
Balak, who believed training should be brutal or not at all, took his position dead center.
As Ferguson activated both training devices per Balak's instructions, a massive roar erupted, and spacetime began to warp.
Soon, constructs far surpassing the level of those old knights who'd previously challenged Balak appeared one after another.
Moreover, an assortment of mismatched weapons, tools, and tactics would swarm toward him.
"Hah, I hated getting raided so much, and here I am training raid-style. Ironic, huh."
"Hyungnim!! Here we go!"
"Yeah, start it!"
Longswords, daggers, spears, axes, gauntlets—every manner of weapon aligned neatly around Balak.
With Ferguson's declaration, the training grounds reconfigured into a vast labyrinth.
The space shuddered, deploying hundreds of constructs in varied formations.
No holding back—the first wave charged straight in.
Fifteen that looked like rogue-types spun left and right, closing the gap.
Balak dropped low on his heels and dodged the storm of slashes.
Then, with a thought, he levitated a single sword into the air.
It streaked through the sky in a massive black diagonal arc, slicing into three rogues' necks.
And slotted neatly back into its sheath overhead.
The freshly drawn blade began emitting silver-white waves.
Soon, the secret technique that had silenced the Iron Labyrinth's hidden master—
'Violet Silk Sky'—unleashed, crumbling the enemy lines in an instant.
And this technique, originally Lionel’s, had transformed utterly in Balak's hands.
Catching the airborne sword spewing silver-white waves, Balak swung once more, unleashing black waves that swept the foes away.
Black waves spread like the moon's shadow, engulfing the battlefield.
The front-liners crumpled without a trace.
But countless more constructs remained.
Shrrrrrk!!
Others appeared from all sides, binding Balak's body with chains.
Shield-bearers advanced slowly, tightening the noose.
Rear-line spearmen and archers prepped covering fire from behind the shields.
Spotting it, Balak snapped the chains with raw strength, snatched a massive warhammer,
And slammed it down.
KABOOOOM!!
The training floor quaked, shockwaves rippling out.
He didn't miss the stumbling constructs, diving into the flock like a wolf among sheep and beginning the slaughter.
No matter how tough the constructs, they shattered futilely before Balak's monstrous swings.
As the second wave vanished, tens of thousands of magic bolts rained down, hundreds more surging like a tidal wave.
"Hahaha!! Now this is training!!"
With his gravity-enhancement belt kicked in too, Balak savored pure bliss.
Thus, as his sworn brothers' work shifts came and went.
Ferguson secretly amped the mid-boss output and blocked shortcuts to let his hyungnim focus fully.
Kairel and Ophelia watched him fight nonstop without rest and were left speechless. How much time passed?
This session finally brought 'real' hardship to the weary warrior.
The unrelenting ordeal began yielding light at last.
Mana as fine as thread spooled from the telekinesis necklace under Balak's will.
He held no weapons in hand right now.
Yet it felt as if he gripped dozens with his own hands.
Grinning as he locked onto the sensation, Balak watched.
Thread-thin mana coiled around swords, spears, axes, hammers.
The floating weapons hummed with delicate mana harmonies.
Subtle light gleamed on their edges—Balak had finally gained the technique he'd sought from the start.
Beholding the stars swimming freely in the air, Balak shed the telekinesis necklace, illusion-splitting bracelet, and other magic tools.
"No more training wheels."
Whoosh!
Mastering true ego-sword arts—controlling weapons by will alone—Balak floated them to the training hall's high ceiling.
Just as constructs closed in.
The weapons split into dozens, hundreds per his command.
Faint stars poured down like a meteor shower in his hand's wake, erasing every construct without trace.
Among the reverting weapons, Balak drew a greatsword one-handed, layering and compressing mana threads into his fist like stars descending—raw and brutal.
The result!
Viiiiiiiiing!!
Balak had successfully forged complete sword aura in his grasp.
***************
The dungeon bosses, confirming Balak's sword aura breakthrough from the training chamber, applauded.
"Weaker than before, sure, but now those death stars won't burst from his fist—they'll launch from weapons."
"Heh heh, looks like not exploiting the champion was the choice that changed our fates."
"How'd he even dream up a technique like that..."
"The guy who modded the first floor that hard. Basically has it all."
"Not genius (天才)—disaster (天災)?"
"And that disaster's on our side."
The dungeon bosses celebrated their choice to let Balak do as he pleased once more.
Since Anima's intel came with Balak's approval and Elder Council review.
They moved straight to the next agenda.
"The gods told them not to touch Anima... That's unexpected."
"I figured they'd snatch her like a mouse."
"What are they even thinking...?"
"Honestly, at this point, it feels like the gods did this for us—tucked us in a safe spot free of outside threats, posted a champion at the entrance, and gave us a comfy rest area."
"Then why a dungeon, of all places...?"
"And why'd the admins jump us back then?"
The Elder Council faced a tangle of twisted causality, utterly baffled by the gods' intentions.
What scheme had the gods woven in crafting this Abyssal Pit?
They'd even announced ten years ago that "they'll enter the dungeon," giving the Council—included all bosses—plenty of time.
The first floor guarded by a being that even they thought, "Why the hell is that there?"
In short, this was totally!!
"Maybe the gods gathered us here to try getting along somehow?"
"Those cold gods who've ignored us till now? And one of us even tried to─"
"Sh-shut it! Don't drag up someone else's dark history!"
"Keukekeuk, where'd that era's romanticist go, the one who said if you can't have it, destroy it? And she's the same gender, even."
"So what! The champion said it—gender identity's your call!"
"Sure, bet being gay feels great."
"Lich... that an insult?"
"Just saying it sounds nice."
"It's an insult."
"Insult."
"Insult indeed."
"Gyaaaaaah!!"
BAM!!!
Soon, the 99th-floor boss.
The yandere she-devil who'd crushed on Heavenly God Illusia flipped the conference room.
How much time passed?
Amid the old timers' roaring laughter, the she-devil finally calmed.
"Alright, one of us is suffering hard, and we need more intel anyway, so let's table this."
"Now, about the admins."
"Alterion, results from last check?"
"Yeah, got 'em. But something weird turned up."
As Alterion analyzed the dungeon's anomalous vibrations internally, the watching bosses spotted the oddity at once.
"Anomalous shakes detected across all floors... except the very entrance?"
"Lich, don't tell me..."
"No admins in the dungeon's entry zone right now."
"So all this time, they've never interfered there because they flat-out lack access?"
"But that's fishy. Keeping the entry special I get... but stripping access entirely?"
"You feel it too, huh. Think back to the dungeon's early days. Another clue pops there."
Recalling the dungeon's inception per the lich's words, the bosses' gazes snapped to Balak, still goofing off with sword aura.
"The 'armor' and 'weapons' the champion has now... where the hell'd they come from?"
"Definitely bizarre."
"That's the key. Gear like that—we should've detected it the instant we entered. But we only recognized them after prepping defenses for every entrant, then spotting the champion."
"We still don't know what power forged those arms, or their origin."
"So someone deliberately hid them before we arrived... Huh?"
Everyone gathered in the Elder Council were supreme beings who'd survived eons outside.
Holy power, magic, alien forces, etc.
Veterans of all world-shaping authorities. United now for survival.
They should've identified any armament's lineage or source from its power alone.
Yet not one had pierced the power in Balak's gear.
Meaning, like the seal blanketing the entire Abyssal Pit, someone had manipulated the dungeon's providence to lock away that info.
"Thus, admins might not be elsewhere in the entry zone—but wherever the champion is, one exists."
"...Things just got complicated."
In other words, before the bosses entered, someone invoked mighty authority to conceal Balak's armament intel.
But floors 1-10 show zero traces of admin movement.
So, the entity wielding seal-level authority on floor 1... where is it now?
The Elder Council began racking their brains for answers.