Chapter 27
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 27
With death staring him in the face, Niphrim squeezed out every last drop of his strength to crawl across the floor.
A trail of blood marked the path he dragged himself along. His barely outstretched hand brushed against a corpse—one of the two Patrick had brought in earlier. He hesitated for a moment, his hand resting on the body. Then, a mad smile twisted his lips.
I have to live.
Strangely, the pain was gradually fading. He opened his mouth, the motion far easier than he’d braced himself for.
Squelch.
The wet, frantic sound of chewing. The greedy tear of flesh. The resistance of tough meat stretching before it finally gave way. The drip of juices from sodden tissue. The shifting of a not-yet-stiffened corpse under the assault.
The sounds of a starving beast gorging itself filled the cavern.
*
"Well, that's taking quite a while. You really should be more considerate of the person waiting."
Patrick, who had only been pretending to walk away, turned back around.
「What are you hiding?」
"Of course," he mused. "There was no way you had nothing up your sleeve."
In the Primordial Core, and even before he came here, it was a universal law when fighting humans. Eight or nine times out of ten, the ones overflowing with confidence were hiding something.
And despite trying to hide it, they were always so eager to show off that they practically broadcast their intentions. It was like a warning sign. For instance, they would chuckle and act completely relaxed—and if they let out a laugh like "Kaha," they might as well be shouting, "I'm hiding something amazing!"
Yes, they really spelled it out for you.
At the sound of wet crunching, Patrick looked back. Niphrim, who had been tearing at the corpse, was staggering to his feet.
His insides should have been so mangled that he couldn't even wiggle a finger, yet his body rose without any apparent restriction. His abdomen, utterly ruined moments ago, was perfectly intact. His fingers were fine, too. He looked brimming with vitality, like a wild beast feasting after a long fast. Even without clashing swords, it was obvious.
He had grown stronger. He was on a completely different level, even compared to when he was at his peak.
"Ha…"
Niphrim exhaled heavily, as if purging something from deep within. A mixture of blood and saliva dripped from his chin, carried on his hot breath.
"I see. Eating corpses makes you stronger and regenerates your body. But tell me, does that strength stack every time you eat? Does it only work with human flesh? What's the source of that power? A demon? Alchemy? Magic? Or something else I'm not aware of?"
"...I really didn't want to resort to this."
"Oh, wow. Another classic line. You're practically a cliché generator, aren't you? Did you take a creative writing class at some academy?"
"...Shut up. I am going to tear you apart. You keep calling us subpar, but why do you think we were sent here? Subpar? I've been slaughtering monsters like you for years. Did it never cross your mind that I was dispatched because I specialize in putting down arrogant bastards like you?"
"Why would I think that?"
As Patrick sneered, a sharp crack echoed as Niphrim kicked off the ground. The once-staggering man lunged forward in an instant. His speed was incredible, though his form was nonexistent. His movements were erratic and unnatural, as if he couldn't fully control his own body, but his eyes were locked onto his target with absolute focus.
Sweeping past Patrick in the blink of an eye, Niphrim whispered, "Let's end this."
"Wow, goosebumps. What era are we living in for you to use such a cringeworthy line?"
Niphrim spun back toward Patrick, raising his sword in a reverse grip before his chest as if it were a dagger.
Sub-Form Baekgyu Phantom Flash · Moon Wave.
This was on a completely different level from the run-of-the-mill swordsmanship of the Empire. It was the very technique he had used to slaughter dozens of dungeon boss monsters—an ultimate secret art that squeezed every muscle in the body to unleash a devastating strike. He stepped forward with his left foot to assume the stance, planting his right foot firmly as an anchor, and took a deep breath.
He lunged at the seemingly flustered Patrick. The opening move was a thrust several times faster than his usual speed. Though Patrick's armor absorbed most of the damage, the strike connected cleanly. Niphrim withdrew his blade, spun it once, and reset his stance.
Flawless execution. Now, he would finish this skeleton—Wait, he's gone?
"Uh, so... what kind of technique... was that? That was pathetic."
A chilling voice echoed through the chamber.
"You're painfully slow. Why does your wind-up take so long? Don't tell me that was your ultimate move. How am I even supposed to react to that? I mean, really."
Patrick, who had been standing right in front of him a split second ago, had vanished. Before Niphrim could even wonder where he had gone, the voice whispered directly beside his ear.
Niphrim’s breath caught. The aura radiating from Patrick, who now towered over him, was indescribably frigid.
All trace of emotion had vanished from Patrick's voice. In stark contrast to his previous mocking chatter, a low, gravelly whisper brushed against Niphrim's ear, the words echoing in his mind like a maddening hallucination.
"You're a disappointment."
A familiar sensation in a familiar place.
Once again, Niphrim's abdomen was impaled.
"You motherfucker…"
"What a fierce glare. You look like you're dying to know what just happened. Well, you definitely got stronger. I'd say you went from a 9 to about a 13. A solid four-point increase. But even with that boost, you're still far too weak to be spouting such embarrassing lines. By the way, if eating corpses makes you stronger… how many bodies do we have left here? Twenty-nine? I'll wait, so why don't you eat them all before we resume? That might bring you up to, say, a 90. At 90, you might actually stand a chance against me. Though you'd still be nowhere near strong enough to defeat the boss."
Resuming his cheerful chatter, Patrick yanked Tanabella out of Niphrim's stomach. The blade emerged coated in thick, dark fluids.
Patrick watched Niphrim stumble just as he had before, then casually severed both of his arms. Next, he sliced off both of his legs. Wet, sickening crunches echoed through the chamber. Having reduced him to a mere torso, Patrick scanned the room, picked up the most intact corpse, and tossed it right in front of Niphrim's face.
"Eat up. There's plenty left, so take your time. Your comrades laid out quite a feast for you, didn't they? Mr. 'I-Specialize-in-Putting-Down-Arrogant-Bastards-Like-You.' Now, I don't particularly pride myself on the Primordial Core being one of the Great Evil Caves… but still, how dare you compare a Great Evil Cave to ordinary dungeons? You should count your lucky stars that I was the one you said that to. I'm a naturally polite fellow, so I'm even serving you your meals. If you'd said something like that to one of the other Great Evil Cave bosses who actually care about their reputation… well, they wouldn't even treat you like a living creature. You'd experience every agonizing torture imaginable. Man, just thinking about it gives me chills."
Writhing in agony, Niphrim was in no state to feed himself. Losing patience, Patrick shoved the "food" directly into the man's mouth.
It was a sickening cycle of vomiting and gorging. Eventually, the flesh he chewed and swallowed began to regenerate his severed limbs. By the time he finished devouring the entire corpse, Niphrim's arms and legs had fully regrown. His wounds had vanished without a trace. Yet, Niphrim could not bring himself to stand. It wasn't out of self-pity. He knew that if he stood, a far more horrific death awaited him. Only now did true terror grip him. The title of Death Knight was no exaggeration. The oppressive, murderous intent rolling off the creature was thick enough to suffocate him. If he stood up now, he would have to look it in the face. Those hollow eye sockets would undoubtedly be staring down at him with cold, cruel amusement.
"...It's the same as before. I guess you don't get any stronger than this."
His tone was dead serious, a complete one-eighty from his playful banter.
Without another word, Patrick stood up and scanned Room 2, which was drenched in blood.
There were twenty-eight corpses left.
Endless screams echoed through the Primordial Core.
Phase. 7
「You're... not my daughter. Who... are you?」
「Do you see? These are the smiles of the people Lady Uin protected. This is something only Lady Uin could have done.」
She walked through Survey Rose, which had been transformed into a sea of fire. The raging flames that swallowed the antique buildings sent heat waves shimmering into the purple sky, as if welcoming her. The sight of decades of human achievement turning to ash was not so much tragic as it was breathtakingly beautiful. Had the smoke not been so suffocating, she might have stood there, utterly spellbound.
A passage from a book came to mind: All things are like stars. Humans, the creations of humans, and even non-humans—their end is always their brightest, most beautiful moment.
While everyone else fled Survey Rose, the girl alone walked toward the heart of the inferno. Though some of the fleeing citizens glanced at her as they passed, none tried to stop her. She should have been terrified by the screams echoing from all directions, yet there was no hesitation in Uin's steps.
Limping along, she dropped her staff and tumbled forward. She pushed herself back up, bracing her raw, scraped knees. The pain was already subsiding; Garot's magic seemed to be taking effect. Leaving her staff behind, she resumed her march. Aside from her throat burning with thirst, she was recovering remarkably fast.
Monster. The word people had thrown at her countless times came back to her. A monster. Well, at times like this, there was nothing more useful than a monstrous body.
She kept walking down the street. She walked and walked. Though she stumbled occasionally, she didn't fall again.
After walking for what felt like an eternity, she reached the area where the acrid stench of smoke was thickest. The girl raised her head slightly and looked around. The screams, which had grown sparser the closer she got to the center, had ceased entirely. There was only the quiet crackling of burning debris.
No one was running anymore, but there were those who would never move again. They lay scattered about, missing parts of their bodies—mostly their heads—some frozen in defiant final stances, others twisted into unnatural, broken shapes.
Judging by their gear and attire, most of them belonged to subjugation squads—and elite ones at that. Their numbers were too vast to count, yet the weapons scattered on the ground far outnumbered the bodies. Had some fled? Had they been vaporized without a trace? Or…
…was it both?
She raised her gaze higher. Through the flames, she saw buildings with collapsing roofs. She saw a hill overlooking the burning streets. And atop that hill, she saw the figure she had met for the first time today—the one she could never forget.
She clenched her fists.
"Did you come here to die?"
Swallow asked.
* * *
「Did you come here to die?」
The flat, surreal voice echoed in Uin's mind. Though his tone was utterly cold, the expression on Swallow's face as he looked down was one of pure boredom.
To die, huh…
Uin muttered so softly that no one else could hear. With no need to hide her emotions, she let out a self-deprecating scoff. She hadn't come here to die, yet death seemed to be the only option left.
"Who knows."
Uin kept walking forward.
There was no fear on the girl's face. With eyes full of quiet resolve, she simply marched toward Swallow. Her sky-blue hair, contrasting sharply with the roaring flames, seemed to be dyed crimson by the fire's glow.
The monster standing before her—the male figure who, according to Garot, was undoubtedly Swallow. How could she even describe him?
He was pristine. Even his right hand, which had taken her Shatter head-on, was completely intact. A fierce battle had clearly raged here just moments before her arrival, yet his body bore not a single scratch.
He must have regenerated.
Unlike her, who was merely "monstrous," the being before her was a "true monster."
Uin finally stopped when she was about twenty meters away. She squared her shoulders, took a deep breath to steady herself, and scanned her surroundings one last time. There was no sign of life. Only the remnants of humanity burned around them.
What kind of fire magic could possess such devastating power? None of the high-tier fire spells Uin had ever seen could cover an area this vast. To achieve this level of destruction, it would have to be something like a Draconic-fueled <Dragon Breath> or <Roar of the Angry Red Dragon>. Either way, it was clear that his magic, much like his physical prowess, was completely off the charts.
Which was why, more than ever…
"…I have to stop him."
Survey Rose was already beyond saving.
There was nothing left to destroy here, and most of the citizens had likely finished evacuating. The real problem lay in what came next. Once he was done with Survey Rose, where would Swallow go?
How much more of the Empire would he reduce to ashes, and how many more mountains of corpses would he pile up before he was satisfied?
She clenched her fists. Looking at Swallow, who was already yawning, Uin declared, "I am Uin Historia."
"Nice spirit. But you can't beat me."
Having read her intentions, Swallow gave a casual reply.
She didn't deny it. He wasn't wrong. She had never harbored any illusions of defeating Swallow. As she walked through the flames, she had wrestled with that reality dozens of times. Uin knew better than anyone that this was a battle whose outcome was decided before it even began.
Even so.
"...I am Uin Historia."
And Uin Historia was a Hero.
The moment the words left her lips, Uin kicked off the ground. She closed the distance she had kept for acceleration in the blink of an eye. Lunging directly in front of Swallow, she threw her entire weight into a punch.
Shatter—it was a bare fist, completely unarmored. Yet, the strike carried a devastating amount of force, aimed directly at Swallow's heart. Swallow twisted his body in response, effortlessly dodging the blow—