Chapter 62: Han-bin
Chapter 62: Han-bin
Translation: Godtl
Penelope had never known before that a single person's presence could be so overwhelming.
Even Archbishop Hamel, who had been effortlessly overpowering Isolde just moments ago.
Even the fanatical devotees who would throw away their lives like worthless weeds.
All were subdued by the aura of one man, holding their breaths.
In the heavy silence, Han-bin took in each figure around him one by one.
Isolde, half-unconscious from her injuries and completely drained of magic.
Hamel approaching that very Isolde.
And the seven devotees frozen awkwardly in place.
That was all, yet the air grew taut with indescribable pressure.
"The Lord has bestowed another trial upon us."
Hamel was the first to break the silence.
His trembling voice carried hostility, wariness, and even reverence.
To the faithful, a trial is not merely an object of hatred.
It is a challenge to be overcome.
"I remember you. The man who infiltrated the Riduan Diocese alone and turned it into a living hell overnight."
In that sense, Han-bin is like the tallest mountain.
"But today will be different."
The Han-bin who once made the Cult tremble was a 'knight.'
The current Han-bin is an alchemist, and Hamel still has three Demon Eaters remaining.
Moreover, what made him a fearsome presence was always his unpredictable methods of catching opponents off guard.
For instance, when slaughtering 200 devotees in the Riduan Diocese, he poisoned the communion wine and began his assault by blowing up the chapel.
"You, who are no longer in the shadows—"
Han-bin cut off Hamel's drunken rambling.
"Step aside."
His tone was dignified.
Like a refined waiter lightly reprimanding someone for a grave faux pas.
"My, even in this situation, you're worried about your comrade? That arrogant nature truly never changes—"
Ping!
"Just now, I—"
A ripple spread around Han-bin.
Four overlapping waves of Code, so fast they felt like one.
Simultaneously, the wind stirred.
—Boom!
Hamel was sent flying comically, like an exaggerated cartoon effect.
His body spun like a windmill blade before crashing into the massive cube forming the labyrinth.
"I told you to step aside."
His bones shattered to pieces. Amidst the excruciating pain, Hamel gasped.
'What kind of monstrous bastard...?!'
That spell was the 4th-Rank wind-attribute magic, "Roar of the Wind God."
A primal magic that strikes enemies with wind pressure—a fully manifested Roar of the Wind God can flip a speeding train.
In other words, its power is merely enough to flip something as insignificant as a train.
But the magic Han-bin unleashed was less "wind pressure" and more like "violent compression."
As if struck with full force by a giant's hand.
'And that was a spell cast without an incantation?!'
But it didn't matter.
His shattered bones had already begun to mend, and his battered organs were healing.
He still had seven devotees left to sacrifice.
"As expected, Han-bin is Han-bin, isn't he?"
Hamel rose from the pile of rubble.
The stabilized Demon Eaters floated above his shoulders, ready to absorb magic.
He was surprised, but that was all.
After all, he's just an alchemist, isn't he?
An alchemist standing before a black mage with multiple Demon Eaters is like trying to slay a dragon with a rusty sword.
Even if weakened for some reason, even the Witch who once wielded 7th-Rank magic freely ultimately had to kneel.
The method is the same.
Use the Demon Eaters to block "lethal magic."
Transfer minor injuries to devotees through "Substitution."
Like a snake slowly constricting and swallowing its prey whole, a drawn-out war of attrition will suffice.
Just how much power could be gained by offering someone like Han-bin as tribute?
How glorious a blessing would the Lord bestow upon him?
His heart trembled with exhilaration.
"Behold, on the day of reckoning, the unbelievers shall lose their way amidst screams. I shall quench my thirst with their blood."
As the prayer was recited, one of the dying devotees crumpled slightly.
Crunch!
The moment the "maw" that had received the offering swallowed the space where Han-bin stood whole.
Han-bin pulled out an alchemical catalyst and sprang forward with a bouncing motion.
"Ahh, I shall praise You amidst ashes and screams!"
Thudududung!
Once again, six consecutive waves of overlapping 'Codes' spread in rapid succession.
—Crash! Crash!
The 'Maw' repeatedly chewed through space along Han-bin's running trajectory.
To construct Codes while performing such intense evasive maneuvers—something difficult even while standing still—was astonishing even for an enemy. Admiration rose unbidden.
"Isolation."
The incantation began the moment the seventh Code overlapped.
Hamel immediately counted the number of waves.
Information about 'Alchemist Han-bin' was woefully lacking.
Not only had he rarely been deployed in actual combat as an alchemist, but his very strength was classified as one of the kingdom's top secrets.
"Transmutation."
The eighth Code.
A Unique Code.
Then was he at least 8th Rank?
"Plunder."
The ninth Code.
Again, a Unique Code.
"Collapse."
The tenth.
Yet another Unique Code.
Hamel was stunned.
To think he might be 10th Rank.
And to recklessly stack four Unique Codes on a single spell—that was absurd.
Though not entirely unexpected.
Had he not been at least 10th Rank, the title of 'Britannia's Greatest Alchemist' wouldn't have been so boldly bestowed upon him, no matter how much propaganda gold leaf they layered on.
The Demon Eater alone might not suffice, but with Substitution, he should somehow manage to endure.
Just as Hamel concluded his assessment—
"Radiation."
The incantation continued, stacking an eleventh Code.
Hamel felt terror freeze his spine.
"11th Rank? That's impossible...!"
Were there truly others on this continent besides the 'Grand Sage' and the 'Azure Dragon' who had reached 11th Rank?
"Melt-Through."
With that quiet declaration, Hamel felt the fear of death for the first time since joining the cult.
An 11th-Rank spell—perhaps even the Demon Eater in its entirety couldn't block it.
Immeasurable shock and pain would soon wrack his body.
And yet.
"..."
Nothing happened.
A shimmering, bluish glow flickered briefly before a gentle breeze brushed past, soft as a whisper.
A dud.
"Once again, He watches over His faithful today."
Hamel sneered with relief.
A stroke of immense luck.
Even Han-bin, for all his skill, must not have been able to fully construct an 11th-Rank Code while simultaneously evading attacks.
Then again, spells cast in a laboratory and those in the heat of battle differed vastly in difficulty.
Han-bin's magic had fizzled, and the unknown threat had vanished.
The proof was the Demon Eater's unnatural stillness.
Or so he thought.
"Guh—!!!!"
Suddenly.
Until the sensation of something surging up from the depths of his guts—
"Blegh!!!!"
Hamel vomited a thick, dark-red slurry of blood and flesh, catching a whiff of something foul.
A rusty, metallic stench—like rain-soaked iron left to rot—pierced through the blood's reek and flooded his nostrils.
"Gwaaaaahhhh—!!!!"
Hamel's body convulsed like a fish speared through by a harpoon.
An excruciating agony, as if his nerves were set ablaze—a torment he'd never once experienced before.
Veins bulged grotesquely across his face, stripping away any trace of his former beauty.
"Do you know what my first dedicated research was after becoming an alchemist?"
Han-bin spoke calmly, watching Hamel writhe like a drunkard stumbling through tap dance steps.
"How to effectively kill black mages like you."
The words never reached Hamel's ears.
His flesh was already crumbling apart, starting from the softest, most vulnerable places.
'Not yet, it's not over yet!'
Clutching his fraying consciousness, Hamel activated the 'Substitution' curse.
Through invisible spiritual chains, he transferred his injuries to loyal devotees, their fresh life force surging into him as dark energy.
'It's, it's working...!'
Whatever trick bypassed the Demon Eater, he could now rest eas—
"Ghk! Bleeegh—!!!"
Something was wrong.
Despite receiving life force, his body deteriorated faster instead of healing.
No matter how many times he switched Substitution's targets, the result remained the same.
Hamel raised his scorched eyes and scanned his surroundings.
"Ooh, Devourer... Please have mercy upon us..."
"Uwaaack!"
"It hurts, it hurts..."
All the devotees were writhing in agony, like insects sprayed with pesticide.
Hamel understood.
The Substitution had worked.
The other devotees had indeed taken on his injuries.
Yet, no matter how many times Substitution activated, Hamel's body refused to heal.
It was as if the very blueprint for his physical restoration had been destroyed.
"Y-you... damnable fiend...!"
Hamel collapsed onto the pool of blood he had coughed up.
The foundation of alchemy was imagination and knowledge.
How vividly one could visualize the intricate details of a spell in their mind.
Or how deeply one could comprehend and recall the principles behind a spell's manifestation.
These two factors were crucial.
Han-bin's strength lay in the latter.
If one understood the concept of radiation, it was easy to imagine a spell that fired minuscule, high-energy particles like a shotgun blast.
Melt-Through was a magical form of radiation, realized through the dual attributes of metal and wind, damaging the fundamental units of living organisms.
No matter how tenacious Substitution-based recovery was, in the end, it merely accelerated regeneration.
But if the blueprint for cellular regeneration had been incinerated, it was all meaningless.
Indeed, the moment Hamel's body attempted to heal, it crossed a point of no return.
"I should probably shelve this one..."
Though its combat effectiveness had been proven, Melt-Through was better off sealed away for now.
It was difficult to control, and adjusting its range was practically impossible.
Unless under specific conditions—an isolated location with no wind—it wasn't a spell worth using.
The only reason he had pushed himself to cast it was to end things swiftly before non-combatants like Isolde and Penelope got caught in the crossfire.
"...Hah."
A sigh escaped him.
A sigh laden with multiple meanings.
At the very least, he was glad he hadn't been too late.
Rushing straight to the depths of the Demon Realm the moment he heard Serena's story had been the right call.
With the sudden appearance of an Archbishop-level figure from the Cult and Isolde incapacitated, even a slight delay could have led to irreversible consequences.
Though Isolde's injuries were severe, she still had Life—given proper rest, she would recover in no time...
"...Um."
As he checked on the unconscious Isolde, a mosquito-like voice piped up from behind.
Turning around, he saw Penelope fidgeting awkwardly.
Well, there was no helping it.
She must have figured it out by now.
Under normal circumstances, he would have at least pretended to hide his identity, but the situation had been too urgent.
The Polymorph Potion only altered appearances.
His bone structure and voice remained the same.
And since he hadn't bothered to disguise his speech either, there was no room for excuses.
"Are you hurt anywhere?"
He made sure to scan the surroundings first.
Fortunately, there were no cliffs high enough for Penelope to jump off in embarrassment.
"U-uh... No."
Penelope was still stiff as a board.
Understandably so.
The person she had been bickering with as her "partner" until yesterday turned out to be her role model.
Not to mention, she had been openly fangirling over him right to his face.
Given Penelope's personality, it was a miracle she hadn't bolted for the nearest mousehole.
And Han-bin, for his part, was equally mortified.
He couldn't help but feel guilty for revealing that the reality of her idol was... well, disappointingly ordinary.
To be fair, Penelope's mental image of Han-bin had been inflated beyond reason.
"..."
"..."
Penelope's palpable awkwardness made the air between them unbearably stifling.
What would their relationship be like from now on?
It definitely wouldn't be the same as before.
As he pondered this...
"Um... I know this is really not the time, but..."
Penelope, who had been shuffling her knees restlessly, hesitantly held something out.
A pen. And a sheet of white paper.
Her pale face had turned as red as a raspberry.
"C-could you... sign this for me? Right... here..."
"W-well, I suppose it's not a problem..."
To think she hadn't run away but instead asked for an autograph in this situation...
He had underestimated the depth of Penelope's fangirling.
"Ah, my name is Penelope Rosemore."
"...?"
Only then did Han-bin realize.
Penelope, with her sharp intellect and keen perception—
'She didn't notice at all.'
Hadn't noticed. Not a single thing.