Chapter 49
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 49
Chapter Title: Valkeros (1)
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#49
The lightning finally died down.
"Ugh... is it over?"
Bran and Ilrak cautiously poked their heads out.
They had taken shelter in the hole connected to the audience chamber just before the bolt struck.
The cloud that had spewed the lightning was scattering at a rapid pace.
"......We survived."
Bran let out a sigh of relief as he looked around.
It had been a close call.
If they had been even a moment slower diving in, they would have met a gruesome end.
The heat rising across the entire rooftop attested to the lightning's ferocity.
Bent steel structures. A sizzling floor.
And Silien lay collapsed in the center of it all.
"Heh, she's completely smashed."
Ilrak laughed.
It was a pitiful sight.
Smoke rose in wisps from her charred black body.
Her beautiful silver hair had twisted into something like frayed wire.
Her torn and burst clothes had lost all function as garments.
The steel orb she used as her personal ride was melting away like ice cream dropped on summer asphalt.
And Bran’s longsword gleamed within that molten metal.
'Good thing I shoved the sword in deep.'
The five spiral lances had decomposed into massive fragments.
The steel spirit swarm, which had regenerated so tenaciously, had been forcibly unsummoned, leaving behind empty suits of armor like shed husks.
It was only natural.
The elemental power condensed in the Origin Core was beyond what any human could endure.
It wasn’t an item that only became acquirable in the mid-to-late game for nothing.
"Hic... ugh, kuhk."
Yet, astonishingly, she was still alive.
A faint groan leaked from the back of Silien's head.
She had avoided instant death, but in that state, she wouldn’t last even a few minutes before her breath gave out.
"Yeah. You need to die a lot more painfully, you bitch."
Thinking back to being chased by those spiral lances still made his teeth chatter.
As Ilrak mocked her miserable fate...
Thud! Bran suddenly bolted out of the hole.
"Gotta finish her off."
"Huh? Bran?"
Ilrak raised an eyebrow.
Even after their victory, his expression was grim.
She couldn’t understand why he was in such a hurry.
But judging that there must be a reason for Bran's actions, she started to follow suit.
Whoosh!
A deep blue wave erupted from Silien's back.
"Wh-what?!"
Ilrak cried out in shock.
The wave spread explosively, blanketing the entire rooftop in an instant.
Whatever bullshit this was, it didn’t feel good.
Suddenly, her right arm drooped heavily downward.
"Argh!"
Clang! The axe blade hit the floor.
Her eyes widened as she gripped the axe haft to lift it again.
"No way...!"
No matter how much strength she poured in, she couldn’t raise the axe.
The weapon she could spin with a single finger felt as heavy as a mountain.
It wasn’t just her arm—strength was draining from her entire body.
To the point where even taking a step was a struggle.
This was far too severe to be mere aftereffects from max-output heat emission.
And it wasn’t just Ilrak experiencing this.
Presence of otherworldly beings crushes down on you!
Emptiness of the Outer Sea overwhelms you!
Warning! All stats are greatly reduced!
Warning windows flashed repeatedly before Bran's eyes as he charged forward.
"Damn it."
His body grew heavy.
The sanctuary, swallowed by the wave, flickered out like a snuffed candle.
His worst fears had come true.
"Ilrak! Take cover!"
"Wh-what about you?!"
Instead of answering, Bran waved her off dismissively.
Ilrak cursed in frustration as she ducked back into the hole.
As irritating as it was, in this state, she’d only drag him down.
"Struggling to the bitter end...!"
This was beyond expectations.
He hadn’t anticipated her surviving the lightning strike.
This wave wasn’t Silien’s innate power—it was borrowed from an outer god.
Her final pattern in near-death state, straight out of the game.
A debuff-ridden outer god wave that polluted the area until her dying breath.
The sanctuary had vanished because the veil had suddenly thickened.
High mental fortitude partially overcomes the stat reduction!
Still, it was manageable.
He could push through to some extent with his mental fortitude.
Unlike Ilrak, who was half-crippled, he could still move at a normal person’s level.
Better yet, Silien was only about thirty paces away.
No longsword, but finishing off a dying Silien? His bare hands would suffice.
As he sprinted forward with that thought...
Splat!
Something shot straight at him, piercing his abdomen.
"Guh."
Bran’s brow furrowed.
Not a vital spot, but it hurt enough to nearly knock him out.
Looking down, he saw a thick spike protruding from his gut.
Finger-width in girth.
Suddenly, a split voice echoed from the direction he was running.
"This can’t... happen."
It was Silien.
A finger missing its nail pointed straight at him.
Scraaape. She clawed at the floor and lifted her head.
Her face emerged, a testament to how worthless appearances truly were.
"This can’t... happen."
"You monster."
Bran gritted his teeth.
Her skin, blackened like coal, was her least severe injury.
Half her face, pressed to the red-hot steel plate, was grotesquely burned and twisted.
One exploded eyeball had oozed out and stuck to her cheek.
"I can’t... see... anything."
Now he noticed her other eye had lost its sight too.
Of course, Bran knew that meant little for Silien.
Warning! The Outer Sea's wave has detected your presence!
This was another effect of the wave.
Within it, Silien could detect anything not aligned with the Outer Sea or otherworld— like sonar on a submarine distinguishing friend from foe.
Small metal scraps around her began floating into the air one by one.
Silien, catching her breath, turned toward Bran.
"You’re... there, right?"
"Ah."
Bran urgently threw himself aside.
At the same moment, the floating metal scraps shot toward him in unison.
Pew-pew-pew!
The metal projectiles whizzed past where he’d stood.
"Damn...!"
A chill ran down his spine.
Small, but lethal.
Especially for Bran now, soaked in debuffs with next to no regeneration.
And on a rooftop practically in the sky.
Plus, her casting magic in that state? Insane focus.
'Should I just stall for time?'
Honestly, not a bad option.
Anyone could see Silien was done for. No way she’d survive those injuries.
Get Ilrak to safety, hop around pulling aggro, and it might resolve itself easily?
"Heh."
But our chief mage-scholar wouldn’t allow such tricks.
A cracked smile formed on Silien’s lips.
Screeeeech!
A chilling metallic screech echoed.
Low and resonant, a tone unlike any before.
Bran and Ilrak froze, turning toward the sound.
"What."
A massive steel beam was ripping free from the steel tower’s side.
Even someone ignorant of architecture could tell something was very wrong.
Rumble.
Feeling the floor shake, Ilrak spat curses from the hole below.
"You crazy bitch! You trying to bring the whole place down?!"
"Heh... heh... heh."
Silien answered with a creepy chuckle.
Of course, yanking a few wouldn’t topple the entire legendary steel tower crafted by a master smith.
But the rooftop level? That could partially collapse.
'The lounge is in danger.'
Casualties could occur.
Just among people Bran knew, there were Leodorn and Kael—he had to kill her first.
But how?
Throw something? She’d snatch it.
Charge in? Get repelled.
No countermeasures for the wave he could use now.
He’d never even beaten Silien with such low specs in the game.
'Think.'
Still, he couldn’t give up.
After coming this far, losing lives to a last-ditch stunt? He’d never sleep again.
Bran’s forehead burned.
All his player experience flashed before him like a montage.
Desperately pondering what he could do now...
"Ah."
A bolt of inspiration struck.
Fumbling urgently in his pocket, Bran pulled out a small ring.
"This might...!"
The ring looted from Rudel.
The gem in its center flickered with a color matching Silien’s wave.
An unpurified ring dripping with Outer Sea aura.
He’d never tried it, but it was his only shot now.
"Hup!"
As Bran slipped it on while dodging iron shards...
Warning! Equipped gear contaminated by Outer Sea aura.
Outer Sea aura encroaches on you. Original gear performance not activated.
Sustained damage until unequipped!
Whoosh!
Amid the warnings, crushing pressure like being hurled into the deep sea overwhelmed him.
"Guh."
Bran’s face paled.
Couldn’t breathe properly. Darkness draped over his vision.
Felt like invisible hands gripped his body.
Just like the game—brutal debuffs.
Why purification was essential.
Pain like a sub crew in a sunk vessel back home.
Mental fortitude is high. Body resists this new type of pain!
Shoes made from Bloodfang leather assist your movement.
Not lethal, though.
Step. Squeezing his eyes shut then open, Bran took his first step.
Silien, firing iron shards wildly, tilted her head.
"Huh?"
It worked.
"......!"
Bran’s eyes widened.
His hunch was spot on.
Per lore, corrupted gear harmed because the wearer got encroached by Outer Sea aura.
Enveloped in the same aura as her allies, Silien hadn’t noticed Bran.
"Where’d you... suddenly disappear to?"
Silien scanned around frantically but couldn’t find him.
Her blind iron barrage pierced only empty air.
Step.
Bran limped forward, holding even his faintest breath.
"Come on out."
Thirty paces. Undetected.
"How long do you think... you can hide...?"
Twenty paces. Undetected.
"In the end... heh, you’ll all die."
Ten paces. Five paces.
"......"
Even right under her nose, Silien remained oblivious to Bran.
He spoke up.
"Hey."
"Wha...!"
The moment Silien whipped around...
Squelch.
A soft sound of flesh parting, and her eyes flew wide.
"Guh."
"......Hoo."
Bran exhaled the breath he’d held.
His lungs had nearly burst.
In his hand was the long spike—the one that had pierced his gut moments ago on his approach.
"H-how."
Now, that spike impaled Silien’s heart.
Blood gushed from her burst lips.
The floating metal scraps rained to the floor.
Clang.
The moment he yanked off the damned ring, Bran’s vision cleared.
"Told you it’d be the third time."
He said.
Silien froze as realization dawned.
But only for a moment.
Slowly, the corner of her mouth lifted.
"......As expected."
Her trembling hand reached Bran’s face.
Lightly stroking his cheek, she murmured as if exhaling her soul.
"My eyes... didn’t deceive me, af... ter all."
The light faded from her remaining eye.
She pitched forward, her forehead thumping against his chest and stopping there.
As Bran slowly pulled back and stood, the endgame message appeared.
Defeated Shadow of the Steel Tower, Silien Rua!
You have...
Achieved victory against an overwhelmingly powerful foe.
Overcame successive brushes with death.
Fought the inscrutable terror of the Outer Sea to the end.
Overcoming all these trials, Tenacity of the Weed activates!
Conditions met. Acquired new skill!
The settlement for the major episode had begun.