Chapter 37
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Translator: True Detective
Chapter: 36
Chapter Title: No Way Out
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“Keurk!”
The sorcerer, whose nose had been crushed, toppled backward without even putting up a fight, and the Fixer ground his heel down hard on the writhing man's hand.
Having pinned the hand to keep him from fleeing, the Fixer yanked the axe free from his own right shoulder.
Anything that came to hand became a weapon for him. No, he didn't even need a weapon. He possessed the power to shatter and tear human bodies with effortless ease.
Even so, the Fixer rarely flaunted that strength. There was no benefit in staining his hands with blood, so he forgave most offenses and let them slide.
He'd forgiven the blow to his head from the steel pipe. He'd forgiven the ambush. And in everyday life, he restrained his power to ensure no one got hurt.
Some might find the Fixer's ways frustrating or naive. Even so, he stuck to his principles.
Granted immense power in an environment ripe for evil deeds, he had resolved to do good instead.
He'd strived to use this undeserved strength to save people and bring a sliver of hope to a grim world.
Until now.
“You know, I really didn't want to kill anyone if I could help it. Since I'd been given this strength anyway, I wanted to live a life of doing good. And killing people? It just feels dirty, doesn't it? You might have nightmares or get haunted by guilt.”
He raised the axe high and brought it down on the sorcerer's arm.
That arm had no doubt committed countless atrocities. It belonged to a man who had harmed others to boost his divine power.
The explanation window that naturally popped up at the sight of the sorcerer confirmed it.
[Description: Sorcerer who killed 6 children to increase his main power]
To strip away the sins he had committed, the Fixer indifferently hacked off the pleading sorcerer's arm.
Splat-!
Like severing a pig's foreleg in a slaughterhouse, the axe tore through with a dull ripping sound, claiming the sorcerer's arm.
The Fixer winced during the process. Cutting into a human body still didn't sit right with him.
But if this was necessary to better the world, he swallowed his disgust at butchering a person and continued.
“That's why I really wanted to avoid killing. Why do you people force blood on my hands? Huh? Tell me, Sorcerer Lee Su-jong. Answer me.”
“H-heuk... H-heuk... P-please... spare me... It hurts... Ahh...!”
“Exactly. If you didn't have the skills, why come at me? You should've just hidden in the storage room when I gave you the chance. Why get greedy and cause this mess? It's all your own doing...”
“M-my arm... My aaaarm-!”
“Only now realizing it's gone? Too late to staunch the bleeding.”
As the sorcerer wailed in agony from his severed arm, he stripped off the blood-soaked, half-torn bread bag from his head.
With the ruined bag discarded, the Fixer impassively scanned the terrified survivors.
“Everyone's seen my face now, right? This is what I look like. Name's Lee Do-hyun. I'm a Fixer in Seoul. There, my info's out. And I can see all of yours too. You can drop the masks. They're useless anyway.”
At the Fixer's words, the surviving spirit arts users gradually succumbed to terror.
He'd revealed his own face voluntarily.
And deliberately shared his personal details.
This meant he would hunt them to the ends of the earth.
Even more chillingly, every time he killed a spirit arts user, he recited their affiliation and name as they died.
Like a grim reaper calling from the ledger of the dead.
He uncovered names regardless of masks and nailed their group affiliations perfectly.
It was becoming impossible to tell if he was human or monster, and the spirit arts users began realizing they weren't facing mere novice shamans, but something anomalous.
“How... How the hell do we fight this...”
“F-first, keep up the coordinated attacks...”
“Didn't you see? Spells don't work! Nothing does! Not swords, spears, or axes!”
No one dared approach the Fixer. Step within a certain distance, and necks snapped or hearts were ripped out.
He dissected people barehanded. Twisting and breaking them like crafting art.
“What are you all doing? Decided to stop attacking altogether? Why just stare? You wanted the nameless tome, right? Take it then. If you keep eyeing me without attacking, I'll come grab you first.”
“You bastard! Threatening us...!”
One Taoist fell for the Fixer's taunt, wrapping himself in wind and charging.
A practitioner of considerable Taoist power, he rocketed toward the Fixer at blinding speed, swinging a kick with enough force to crater flesh on an ordinary person—aimed at the Fixer's face.
“Wh-what...!”
The Taoist's foot was caught midair before it connected.
The Fixer twisted the ankle until it snapped, then seized the leg and slammed him into the ground.
Unable to resist the overwhelming force, the Taoist's body crumpled, eventually reduced to an unrecognizable pulp.
Another spirit arts user perished. Now, they abandoned the fight for flight, scrambling around the venue to evade his grasp—in a pathetic display.
The venue's entrances were sealed too tightly.
“Uncle...”
Nam Yu-ha, watching from behind Kang San-jung, trembled.
In the world of spirit arts users, it was an unspoken rule: those who attacked with true killing intent out of personal greed or desire were killed or crippled.
Especially since these weren't acting for some 'greater cause'—they targeted the nameless tome out of selfish desire, trying to kill the owner, the Fixer, and even his companion Oracle.
Moreover, the Fixer had given them two chances.
He'd asked if they truly wanted to trade, and told those uninterested in fighting to flee to the storage room.
He'd provided an out, yet they'd foolishly stepped into the trap. What reason was there to spare them?
They weren't like Oh Se-eun, who was just hysterically lashing out.
Oh Se-eun had a clear, deranged reason—delusions of grandeur—and hadn't even intended to kill Nam Yu-ha.
She'd merely sealed her mouth with shadows as a warning, without true murderous intent.
That's why he'd spared her with a beating. But these people here were blatantly different.
They harbored killing intent solely for the tome, targeting the Fixer himself and Nam Yu-ha.
Beasts willing to kill over a scrap of paper deserved no mercy. Spare desire-driven killers, and who knew what they'd do next?
Besides, mercy would let survivors plot revenge later.
So they all had to die here.
Nam Yu-ha knew this, yet the unprecedented carnage shocked her into panic.
Blood and death everywhere.
This wasn't the bumbling uncle she knew.
The Fixer who smiled and shared snacks was gone.
At the center of the blood sea stood a demon resolved to kill.
A monster tearing people apart barehanded and shattering incoming spells.
Nam Yu-ha, seeing the Fixer fight like this for the first time, was stunned.
With her lack of real combat experience, it was far too intense a shock.
This was why the Fixer hated getting blood on his hands in front of Nam Yu-ha.
Lest it scar her mind or leave trauma.
“Hey, don't freak out too much. This world's always been like this. If you're slinging killing intent, be prepared to take it back.”
“I knew the rules of this world... But I didn't think it'd be this brutal...”
“You have to eradicate the ones who need killing. Otherwise, who knows what crimes they'll commit later. Anomalies are dangerous, but empowered spirit arts users are just as bad. These ones need to be wiped out. Without self-policing, horrors unfold.”
Spirit ability users had to watch each other to prevent corruption.
Individual powers were so vast that lax oversight led to frequent falls to temptation.
“I... I get it. I know, but knowing in your head and feeling it in your heart... are different.”
“Yeah. I understand how you feel. Everyone goes through that before they toughen up. Still, hey—don't hate or fear that man too much. He just shouldered a burden he couldn't avoid.”
At Kang San-jung's words, Nam Yu-ha rubbed her eyes and nodded.
She knew too. The Fixer was taking responsibility, cleaning up trash.
It was the same with Oh Se-eun's provocation, and here too—his principles were simple.
Trying to steal the nameless tome wasn't evil enough for death by his standards. If they'd only gone for the tome, he might've beaten them short of killing and opened negotiations.
But they'd tried to eliminate witnesses by taking Nam Yu-ha's life too.
That crossed the line, turning his head.
Forcing the man who avoided killing to draw his blade.
“Damn it! Block it! That's no human! It's a monster!”
“Kyaaah! The entrance! Open the entrance! We have to get out! We gotta escape!”
Before the rampaging monster, spirit arts users sought escape, and the hidden Yul-ryeong, realizing they'd all die, flung open the venue's entrance—sealed until now.
The sole path to life opened. Slip through that door, and they'd flee the massacre.
Or so they believed.
“Sowol.”
In an instant, every light in the venue winked out.
Darkness descended, the air grew heavier, and wails of deep-seated grudge echoed from all sides—surpassing mere killing intent.
Soon, shadows darker than pitch blackness rippled into view beside the Fixer, freezing the fleeing spirit arts users in place.
A snow-white face and hollow eye sockets.
Unnaturally long arms, grotesquely twisted neck, and blind rage toward the spirit arts users.
A disaster-class anomaly.
The White-Faced Bride.
This place shouldn't allow anomalies inside—why was that here?
Everyone present questioned it, trembling as the disaster-class anomaly clung to the Fixer's side.
Now he commanded disaster-class anomalies too?
“My lord... You finally called for me... I've waited so long... Wondering when you'd summon me...”
No one there understood the anomaly's words.
Except one: the Fixer.
“Close the entrance. The pests are escaping.”
“Yes... my lord. Um, can I help exterminate the pests too?”
“You can, but don't kill them too cruelly. Got it? Yu-ha's watching.”
“Of course... Just the skin... I'll just peel the skin...”
“Yeah, that'll do. Oh, and no need to leave any alive.”
“Yesss... my lord. As you wish...”
Thrilled at returning to her true calling after so long, the White-Faced Bride beamed.
In the Fixer's eyes, Sowol's smile was heavenly; to the watching spirit arts users, it was a vengeful woman's fury pouring from eyes and mouth—a horrific sight.
“How is the White-Faced Bride...”
The Yul-ryeong recognized her.
And pissed himself, baffled at how the 'spirit medium killer'—bound as a guardian spirit and sealed—had emerged.
How many shamans and onmyoji had died by her hand?
Sorcerers who'd tried taming her were skinned alive and devoured.
Even among disaster-class anomalies, she had ranks.
This one teetered on calamity-class.
Her 'trait' gave overwhelming advantage against spirit arts users, forcing them to seal her instead of exorcising.
The Korean Buddhist Association had barely bound her—and now she was unleashed here, unleashing rage.
Unable to flee the venue, the spirit arts users—and even Black Night Society observers—became sacrificial lambs in the gruesome slaughter.
“Kieek! M-my aaaarm!”
“Run! If her hand grabs you, skin peels and bones twist!”
“Heavens and gods protect meee!?”
“Jachun, baby! Ahh! Baby's face...”
Failing to escape meant the White-Faced Bride's claws stripping facial skin.
But with the monster blocking the entrance, no way out.
In the end, spirit arts users and observers alike were shredded by the disaster-class anomaly. Having delegated pest control to the White-Faced Bride, the Fixer slowly approached the Yul-ryeong cowering behind the altar.
“Hiding there, huh? Smells like piss—crawl out already, Yul-ryeong. Or should I say Chae Ju-yul? Let's talk.”
Despite perfect concealment, he'd been found.
Only then did the Yul-ryeong realize:
They were the rats in the trap.
The ritual hall was shrouded in heavenly veils, invisible even to gods.
No calling for outside help. No leaking word outward.
Survival was hopeless.
This was hell.
A hell punishing sinners blinded by desire and fallen to corruption.