Chapter 203
Chapter 203
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 203
Chapter Title: 68. Transcender (4)
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The witch had been alone for an incredibly long time.
This deep, quiet place was far more boring than she had imagined.
Truthfully, she hadn't started out alone. She had brought plenty of toys with her. But even after carefully selecting the better ones, they eventually lost their appeal after playing with them for a while. She started handling them more roughly.
And inevitably, the weaker ones crumbled under the strain. It was regrettable. Then again, who could possibly handle someone who had once been a ruler? The witch often disliked her own strength. Sometimes, she even had ugly thoughts about releasing her seclusion and returning.
Then, during those endless days of boredom, a man came to visit.
The witch couldn't shake off her astonishment.
Look at the man before her.
He looked properly masculine.
His body was in great shape.
His height was just right, and his shoulders were broad.
When she sensed his mana as a mage, it was so vast and deep that it felt majestic.
That alone made him a toy as sweet as honey to her bored self. But there was something that made all those qualities ten times sweeter.
It was the innocence etched on his face.
The man was a boy.
How could a human so strong and exceptional, a being exuding the scent of a male, look so young?
He was different from the worn-out ones.
Different from those who strutted around arrogantly just because they had some power.
A few exchanges of conversation only deepened her conviction.
Baby.
You are so pure and untainted.
How about staining that pure white canvas with a touch of red...?
With that thought,
the witch couldn't suppress the thrill of budding interest.
He reviewed the memories passed from Clone 2. The witch's smile. The witch's voice. True to her name, the 'witch' crossed her legs seductively like she was tempting a child, her clothing slipping to reveal glimpses of skin.
Yoo Ji-tae slowly ran his hand from his forehead, brushing back his hair.
Why is that lady acting like that?
That was his honest impression. It was different from the time in another loop when Yoo Ji-tae had visited her himself.
The witch had changed.
She looked the same on the surface. A face frozen in her mid-thirties. A bewitching, relaxed expression. Arrogant gaze. Her revealing outfit was unchanged.
Since the witch was the same, the change had to be in the visitor.
The young Yoo Ji-tae? Ah...
Realizing something, Yoo Ji-tae pressed his temples. Then he spoke to Clone 2.
Wasn't there any adult man nearby?
'Ah, Sovereign...! Yes! Uh, no, there wasn't!'
Changing faces wouldn't fool her essence. Using Disguise (AA) to alter the skin itself might work.
None at all?
'Nope...!'
He sighed.
There was no one on Earth who could replace the witch. Finding a substitute from another dimension would take at least a few years. A former 'ruler' was that rare and valuable.
Besides, she had lived long enough that threats didn't work. In one nameless loop, she had killed herself immediately upon being threatened.
So she was someone who needed convincing...
'What should I do? H-Her eyes are weird!'
What can you do? If you're not prepared, get out. Stall for now and excuse yourself. Say you'll come back later.
'A-Ah! Got it!'
By then, Clone 2 was sitting next to the witch. He screamed internally as her hand naturally touched his face.
"There's something on your eye."
Her hand touched again, naturally caressing his cheek.
Her hand was so warm. His face flushed red. Clone 2 felt his heart pounding.
"What's wrong?"
"Wh-What do you want from me?"
"Even if my face looks like your older sister's, I'm quite a bit older. And my shoulders are always tense and knotted."
As if to show why, she leaned forward, her cleavage opening and something subtly swaying.
Clone 2, tense to the point of near death, had to fix his gaze on her forehead to keep his eyes from drifting down. Unaware that such innocent glances only excited her more.
"So, will you give me a massage?"
"A massage?"
"Yes. A massage."
A massage!
It was the latter of the advice Clone 2 had given himself: 'Don't go into the inner chamber' and 'Avoid physical contact.' Her hand on his face was already a breach, but he could excuse it as passive. Touching her himself would be riskier.
However, Clone 2 wanted to resolve this himself. He wanted recognition from the Sovereign and Clone 1.
"If I just give you a massage... will you grant my request?"
"No, that's not enough. The price doesn't match."
"Pardon? Then..."
"It would be a start. Hehe."
A 'start'... A chill ran down his spine.
The moment he heard that, Clone 2 shot to his feet.
"What are you doing? Where do you think you're going?"
"S-Sorry. I'll come back next time."
"Who said you could?"
"Sorry...!"
Then he bolted.
The witch frowned and reached out. She plunged her hand into empty space, and a rift tore open near Clone 2's nape, her hand emerging from it.
The moment it grabbed his neck, the startled Clone 2 swung his hand with all his might, slapping her wrist away. Bam!― Air was sucked in and exploded outward.
Clone 2 desperately fled the witch's chamber.
"Sovereign!"
The impact from Clone 2's strike wasn't light. The death knights flinched and approached her.
"Are you alright?"
"That insolent human dares!"
"Just give the order. We'll bring half his body."
The witch shook her head.
"Leave him be. He said he'd come back, didn't he?"
Then she fiddled with her wrist. It had swollen red in the meantime, and it hurt.
He dared injure my body? The thought came, but dwelling on it made it oddly endearing. To think he could injure my body...?
Soon, petals rose from the bed, covering her body. In the darkening space, a red tongue licked red lips.
"The kid's got some real strength..."
The witch laughed like a witch.
Clone 2 was hiding in a corner of the underground dungeon, waiting undetected. That matter wasn't urgent anyway. It needed a more delicate approach, even if it took time.
Meanwhile, the federation's clock ticked rapidly.
Over seven days, numerous strategy meetings were held, and unit compositions changed constantly. Conflicts arose from hastily meshing forces, with the conscripted units grumbling more under command authority.
They had wasted a full seven days. These were elite soldiers earning hundreds of millions weekly, capable of tens of billions in private gigs.
It was an era without war.
Superhumans didn't fight monsters.
They fought for more money.
The seven days announced by the Apocalyptic Clock passed in a flash.
The night before the predicted event.
Unlike Yoo Ji-tae's guess, the rift arriving rapidly from a distant dimension had no precursors, unfortunately.
The command center grew noisy.
"Is it really coming?"
"No precursor even a day before?"
Dawn of the event day.
Even then, no rift precursors appeared.
The command center grew louder.
"This is ridiculous! How can a rift have no precursor even this close to the time?!"
"Antonio Jefferson. Wasn't this your strong-arming?"
Jefferson couldn't respond.
Thus, the command couldn't confirm an SS+ rift would open until the troops deployed.
Jefferson grew uneasy.
Federation Central Command and Control Room.
Staff and executives suppressed their displeasure, awaiting the chairman's word.
But the federation chairman just sat with legs crossed and arms folded, watching.
Screens updated live: unit footage, Amazon terrain, mana graphs.
Why was he silent? The staff eyed the man curiously.
Among the ranker superhumans filling the room with massive builds, the chairman was relatively short and lean, though toned.
Yet his gaze was sharp and deep, fixed on the monitors.
Everyone watched his every glance and gesture by the second, gauging.
The little giant sat at the head.
"......"
But the little giant said nothing.
The quick thinkers exchanged glances.
Among them was one tied to the federation for over a decade as deputy secretary under Jefferson's shadow.
Jefferson's secret hobbies were ultra-classified, bolstering his position. Minor conflicts usually victimized the deputy. He craved revenge and the seat, but no chance to publicly tarnish Jefferson.
So the deputy had waited for a day like this.
"Chief of Staff."
In the quiet control room amid subtle power plays,
all eyes turned to the deputy as he spoke.
Jefferson, complex emotions churning, didn't reply.
"Chief of Staff."
"......"
"Answer me. Antonio Jefferson―"
The deputy raised his voice.
He subtly checked the chairman, who ignored them.
So he could push further.
Then Jefferson turned to the deputy.
"What is it, Deputy Kalon? In this critical situation."
"Critical situation? Does the Chief of Staff see this as critical?"
"What?"
"To me, it looks like you're mocking all these executives in the control room, the chairman, the entire federation."
His sharp words voiced everyone's thoughts. Someone whistled softly.
It was bold with the chairman present. No one else spoke, but nods of agreement rippled.
"Shut it, Deputy. We still have minutes to hours until the predicted rift. Screaming before it's over— you haven't changed in ten years."
Jefferson forced nonchalance.
But inwardly, no.
Why?
Still?
No precursors...
"Can't you even recognize that's suspicious?"
The deputy sensed the chief's anxiety. Blood was in the water—time to bite.
The deputy stood abruptly.
"Look, Chief. 92% of rifts show precursors a week early. 99.9% at least a day before. Space ripples. Mana spikes nearby. Exceptions are tiny or empty ones."
"Who doesn't know that?"
"Exactly! You know! So answer, oh wise one! What is this? No precursor for an SS+ dungeon?!"
"――."
"None a week ago? No! Three days? No! A day ago? Huh? A day?!"
Bam!
The deputy slammed both hands on the table.
"Repeat what you just said, Chief!"
"...What?"
"How much time until the predicted emergence?"
"......"
"Can't answer, Antonio?!"
As he bellowed, Jefferson spoke bitterly.
"Minutes to hours, I said..."
"And still no precursor! Explain if this isn't deception! If this isn't insulting the federation from your seat?!"
Jefferson had no reply.
The deputy's words were spot-on. He couldn't even believe himself anymore.
This would shatter his position overnight... Long loyalty to the federation, but a fatal mistake would tag him forever.
"Indeed, Chief Antonio. You'll bear responsibility."
"Regrettable. What possessed you?"
"Dragging our units needlessly. Tsk."
As they piled on to prove it, his heart raced. Sweat beaded coldly on his palms.
Seeing the chance, the deputy lunged, grabbing Jefferson's collar with both hands and shaking.
The mood prevented intervention.
"Cat got your tongue? Huh? That yap that yapped daily for ten years—now silent? Sodom and Gomorrah? Turned to a salt pillar in a blink?!"
The weakened man's body flopped.
Meanwhile, Jefferson glanced back. One had gone to the units. Season (Yoo Ji-tae) was in the control room. Despite the chaos, he looked serene, staring like the chairman.
Damn it, say something!
"Say something!"
Season. Please!
"Antonio Jefferson!"
Then.
"Oh."
A low exclamation escaped.
From the chairman.
Quiet as it was, his voice commanded attention, yanking eyes like hair.
The noisy control room fell silent instantly.
Oh?
What oh?
Staff widened eyes, glancing at screens with dread. Then groaned in shock.
"Ahh!"
"No way...!"
On screen.
Mana graph spiked unstably. Past 40. Past 100. Then broke 2500.
Simultaneously, terrain footage warped space wildly. Around 200 meters up. A 40-meter 'sky' slit vertically like a monster's maw, crackkk― yawning black void.
The control room fell briefly silent.
Negative air vanished like mist.
Deputy Chief, mind blank, forgot to release the collar.
Next moment.
Yoo Ji-tae from behind grabbed the deputy's head.
Thwack!―
And slammed it down hard.