Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Step Up (3)
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Jeong Chan-woo's stellar performance.
With the rear holding strong and steady, Kang San could finally focus on his own situation.
Kwachuk.
Kwakwakwa!
Soldier ants swarmed in from all sides, shoving their faces right up close.
Their razor-sharp mandibles clacked relentlessly, targeting Kang San's flesh at every opportunity. He activated Iron Body and took every single blow. The front and rear were worlds apart. The back lines were a sane realm where friend and foe were clear, but the vanguard where Kang San stood was a hellscape smeared black in every direction. Look right, look left—nothing but enemies filled his vision.
Whoosh.
He deflected an attack.
And immediately followed up.
'Blood Demon Sword Art, First Form: Blade Kill.'
Flash.
Thwuck!
He decapitated the enemy.
The sword, soaked with bubbling blood, spewed forth a crimson aura.
Already ten of them.
He felt his senses expanding.
Kang San moved a bit more aggressively against the foes, and as the Blood Demon Art's stacks built up, he noticed a familiar phenomenon. It was the crimson aura. He'd fully recognized its existence while forging his weapon, but in truth, he'd experienced this oddity every time the Blood Demon Art activated.
A form of killing intent.
An ultra-heightened sense granted by the Blood Demon Art, revealing the most efficient way to drop the enemy right in front of him.
His past experiences had solidified his conviction about it.
Thus.
Shhh—
Sslash!
He followed the signal from the killing intent.
Whenever it traced a line around an enemy's vitals, Kang San seized those rare counterattack windows without hesitation. Each time his blade pierced flesh, the ants screeched in agony. These were devastating strikes that punched straight through their tough exoskeletons, letting him fell a good number of them.
Yeon Gyu-seong's test.
That experience proved useful now.
Pushing the Blood Demon Art to its limits, Kang San gradually adapted to fighting with killing intent.
Then, suddenly.
A thought struck him.
'Killing intent is power infused with murderous will. When facing enemies up close, it pinpoints their vitals. But when forging a sword, it guided me on channeling that will. It's an intangible force beyond skill description. So, could I reverse it—use that murderous will defensively somehow?'
A reversal of thinking.
If killing intent revealed vitals, maybe he could flip that ability for defense.
Just a simple question.
That was when it happened.
The moment he questioned this new possibility.
Snap—
A new world sucked into Kang San's vision.
It was a pitch-black space.
The old man he called Master led the way, halting right before a bottomless abyss.
"Down there lurk wraiths who lost their families to me, living solely for revenge. From now on, you'll descend into that hell and endure for one hour. No counterattacks allowed—you must survive purely on defense. Can you do it?"
"......I'll manage."
The old man's question.
There had never been a choice to begin with.
Say it was impossible, and he'd impose even harsher trials for lacking resolve.
"Good attitude. What you must engrave in this chance is how to wield killing intent. Fools think this Blood Demon Art—and the killing intent we emit—is just extreme power to take lives. But the pinnacle of Blood Demon Art is different. Killing intent can be interpreted variably by circumstance. Grasp its essence, and you won't just end foes in one stroke—you can preempt their murderous intent, their very purpose, and move first. That's why no counterattacks. When the world drowns in killing intent, you must survive that hell."
He chuckled.
Seemed delighted.
Each trial his new disciple overcame thrilled him with the thought of achieving great things. The world would soon learn: the ghosts of the past would bring hell upon it.
The old man stepped forward.
Gazing into the abyss, he bellowed.
"My disciple descends now. He is more precious than anything—touch him, and it won't end with me ripping your flesh apart. I'll extract your souls and hurl them to the inescapable depths of hell forever."
That was no assurance of safety.
It egged the wraiths seeking revenge on the old man to throw their lives at killing his disciple instead.
The old man turned.
His twitching lips betrayed his expectations for the disciple.
"What are you waiting for? Get down there."
A chill swept over his entire body.
He descended a full hour to reach the iron bars, infused them with Blood Demon Art, and they creaked open with an ominous groan.
Kkiiik.
Thud.
Another hour of walking.
After passing three doors permeable only to Blood Demon Art, the man arrived in a lightless unknown void. Darkness so profound it questioned if sight even existed. Faint clanks of chains echoed distantly, then exploded everywhere.
Kakakakang.
Dozens?
Hundreds?
Impossible to count.
Unknown entities raced through the dark, closing on the man in an instant and unleashing fierce killing intent.
"......Blood Demon's disciple!"
"Die!"
Mumbled speech.
But their will was crystal clear.
The intent to kill him without mercy drove fists straight at his vitals. No time to judge the situation. He dodged back swiftly, spotting an opening for a counter—
He froze.
His body stiffened.
The old man had forbidden counters, forcing him to halt inches from the fist.
Whoosh.
Kwang!
That marked the start.
The wraiths swarmed madly from all sides.
He could only dodge and block frantically, and once they realized no counters came, they pressed even harder. His backstory meant nothing to them. To these revenge-obsessed spirits, the Blood Demon scheming through him was insult enough.
The Blood Demon.
Had slain their families.
The lives they'd watched die bulging-eyed fueled their frenzy.
Sslash!
His forearm gashed.
Kwachuk.
Something bit his leg.
The world spun.
He'd trained relentlessly for revenge, but surviving this bizarre method was no easy feat. Still, dying here wasn't an option. Their tales? What did they have to do with him? That was their burden alone. He had goals requiring strength.
The Great Blood Tribulation.
Drowning the world in blood.
His will aligned with the old man's.
He existed here to serve that will, ready anytime to trample others' sorrows.
The man pondered.
Why this test?
What focusing on killing intent meant.
"Die!"
"Uaaah!"
Killing intent flooded from all directions.
Even in darkness, their gleaming eyes flashed as they clawed for his flesh in desperation. He evaded. His senses, burning at peak, reacted to attacks while his mind probed the old man's intent.
Long ago.
From his master, the Blood Demon.
To earn that moniker, he'd committed massacres. People called it horrifying. Lone wanderer, no allies or faction. The Blood Demon roamed, slaughtering pursuers indiscriminately—tearing limbs, beheading publicly. One battle forced even skeptics to acknowledge him.
The Tang Clan.
They unleashed hidden weapons everywhere.
Unfurled the Heaven's Net and Earth's Web—no one thought he'd survive. Yet amid the flood of killing intent, he deflected every assault and massacred them all. Mountains of corpses, rivers of blood—humanity embraced his title as terror incarnate.
That day.
Mere skill gap?
No.
The old man—the Blood Demon—had hurled him into hell with purpose.
Some special edge let him butcher encircled foes and return alive.
Wounds multiplied.
Death loomed.
Didn't matter.
He'd known strength demanded countless brushes with death.
Only when his body was drenched head to toe in blood did the man behold a new sight in the gloom.
"......So that's it."
Crimson aura flooding everywhere.
The man grinned.
Snap—
Dizziness hit.
Fragmented memories rushing back at once made Kang San stumble back.
"Hyung!"
"I'm fine. Hold your position!"
He urgently waved off Jeong Chan-woo's voice.
The line couldn't break.
The ants charged heedless of his plight, their steel-hard bodies slamming into him with thuds that drew groans he swallowed down. A few breaths steadied him, dizziness fading. Kang San blocked while retreating nonstop, then—judging he couldn't yield more ground—shoved with his shield.
Then.
Thwuck!
Kreeeek.
Jo Han-byeol's arrow struck true.
Assessing the scene, he'd sensed something off with Kang San and fired support immediately.
The ant staggered back.
Vital pierced, it couldn't recover—prime chance to finish it. Indeed, Kang San had dropped over ten this way, not just tanking but fulfilling his vanguard role. Yet now, he hesitated before this opening.
'Fuck.'
Just moments ago.
In the dizziness-hazed world, a message disorienting Kang San had rung out.
The Ninth Ordeal and Trial has been imposed.
Due to the villain's karma, the act of 'killing' living beings is now restricted. No one may be killed until the ant nest is fully subjugated. If a kill is deemed to occur, all prior rewards will be revoked.
🎁 Reward: Mental Strength +5, ???
An unusual trial.
Not like before, amping up foes to extremes—but restricting kills alone jacked the difficulty sky-high. Their force was already marginal for a C-Rank ant nest. Kang San's handicap was a massive penalty overall, and this trial squeezed him in a fresh way.
And something odd.
One reward.
Marked as ???.
First time the system left a reward vague.
He wanted to refuse, but choice wasn't his.
Didn't the trial say it?
On failure.
All revoked.
'Damn bastards.'
As always.
Kang San just endured.