Chapter 105
Chapter 105
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 105
Chapter Title: Hellhound (3)
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“Bombardment.”
The opening salvo was, as always, a bombardment. Even without long-range attacks or breaking their formation, they wouldn’t stand a chance anyway—but Rokan had no intention of half-assing it.
Total annihilation.
Not just crushing their will to fight—he planned to make them piss themselves at the mere sight of him from now on.
“Hold the line!”
They’d already seen footage of its power, yet astonishingly, Hellhound’s choice wasn’t evasion. It was a charge.
Scattering to dodge that one strike would shatter their formation bonus, but more than that, they were confident they could tank it.
It wasn’t a bad idea, considering their formation specialized in defense. But they’d picked the wrong opponent.
Even at similar levels, Rokan’s attacks were no joke—and right now, the level gap was massive. The hand axes they’d dismissed as mere thrown weapons slammed into them like mass-destruction spells, dealing catastrophic damage.
“Gahk!”
“Crazy bastard!”
“Keep pushing! Maintain formation!”
One of the frontline tanks turned to mush in an instant and collapsed, but they didn’t stop.
Gritting their teeth, they filled the gap and charged at Rokan.
To catch Rokan, who unleashed devastating ranged attacks every few seconds, they had to close the distance in one breath and rip him apart. That’s what they believed.
“Kraaaangh!”
But something halted their advance, regardless of their resolve.
A powerful shockwave infused with mana.
It rattled their brains through their ears, freezing their movements and slackening their bodies.
The only things twitching were their jaws, clattering noisily.
Rokan plunged into the gap like a falling star, slamming down his judgment hammer—no, his battle axe.
“Urk…….”
Splitting a helmeted head was par for the course. Rokan’s gear alone boosted his basic attack crit rate to 30%.
Add in his title effects, and he didn’t even need Fatal Blow—nearly every other strike was a crit.
That’s why Rokan didn’t bother with skills. He kicked a crumpling corpse toward its allies and swung his battle axe horizontally again.
“Block it!”
Goddog, who’d barely dodged the first strike, shouted—but no one left could move. They took the full hit, their armor shredding apart.
Even that was only because Rokan wasn’t targeting him yet.
“Scatter!”
Witnessing his expensive armor shatter without fulfilling its purpose, Goddog made a snap decision.
Abandon the formation.
Sure, there were other benefits, but defense boost was the main draw. If that was useless, no point huddling together.
“Where do you think you’re going!”
But Rokan wasn’t about to let them slip away. Gripping the axe haft short, he started bashing them with short swings.
Blade, flat side, haft—it didn’t matter. One hit, and they dropped like sacks. He stripped their mobility and whittled their numbers as fast as possible.
“What level even is this guy?”
“Did he pop Berserk before coming?”
“Bullshit. No Berserk effects! That’s raw damage!”
By now, Hellhound was going insane. Like prey animals watching a predator rampage through their herd, they could neither advance nor retreat.
Just approaching felt like getting shredded, so they pulled back and unloaded every ranged attack they had—but they couldn’t even scratch him. The reality was sinking in.
They couldn’t win.
He was on another level.
“Boss!”
With terror rooting deep in their hearts, all they could do was call for their guild master, Goddog.
If he ordered a retreat, maybe they could scatter and survive—that faint hope was the only thing left as they glanced his way.
“Fuckin’ idiots, you think that’ll make him go easy? We’re screwed if we don’t take him down!”
But his response was pure despair. And because it rang true, it gutted them even more.
Hellhound’s members charged in reluctantly. But as killers each more vicious than the average player, their offense soon sharpened.
“What now?”
Thwack!
But viciousness only worked against worthy foes.
No right arm? Use the left. No left? Kick. Can’t? Bite.
Yet against Rokan, who mercilessly burst heads and severed limbs, it was just a pathetic show.
“That bastard…… isn’t even using skills.”
And it didn’t take long to realize even this overwhelming violence was child’s play to him.
Crack.
In a flash, Rokan had butchered over half of Hellhound’s elites. He bared his white teeth in warning.
“One thing I’ll make clear: from this moment, if you cross my path, you die. Quit the guild, or hole up in the third sector cities until I move on. Your choice.”
It wasn’t mercy. To them, it was a death sentence.
They’d endured massive losses and sacrifices to reach the central continent, and now he was telling them to go back? With no clue how long Rokan would stay in the fourth sector?
Turning back now was as good as quitting the game.
‘They won’t obey like good boys, of course.’
Rokan knew that. He hadn’t said it expecting a meek “Yes, sir” and retreat to the third sector.
It was to cramp their style, to goad them into skulking like stray cats back to the canyon at dawn.
Especially after sinking a fortune into that Whitebone Steed.
“Why us…….”
“Does it matter?”
They made aggrieved faces, but Rokan just grinned savagely. Just like they’d done to others.
“Fine. We’ll retreat then…….”
“Gahk!”
It was devastating.
For a group that had dragged others down and steamrolled to victory after victory, this brutal defeat was incomprehensible. But the moment they admitted defeat to minimize losses, Rokan swung his battle axe again, decapitating the nearest one.
“What the hell! We’re retreating now…….”
“When did I say I’d let you live? You’re in my sight—time to die.”
“……Fuck.”
How could they fathom Rokan’s rage?
If he’d had more time, he’d have hunted them to the depths of despair. They should be grateful he stopped here.
Though this wasn’t the end, of course.
With that, Rokan slaughtered Hellhound’s elites and vanished.
He was tempted to stay and pick off every one exiting the docks, but they hadn’t even respawned yet.
Even revived, they knew Rokan would smash them anyway—self-defense or not.
‘See you later.’
After six total wipes that even dropped their average level, Rokan swallowed his anger and pulled back.
Partly because they’d signaled retreat, partly hoping they’d self-destruct sinking more into the Whitebone Steed.
If they crawled back anyway, he’d personally grab their collars and hurl them off the cliff.
“Hmm, performs well.”
Back in Rinai territory, Rokan circled the cave where Sinbi slept. The fight hadn’t properly warmed him up.
After clearing the dungeon lap after lap, he stepped out feeling refreshed.
* * *
“Lord Rokan, the lordship is summoning you.”
“The lordship?”
The soldier who approached was the one Rokan took monster hunting every time.
Soldiers could hunt monsters and level up too, but Rokan’s monopoly meant even after considerable time, the soldier had only gained one level.
That much was from regular training XP.
“Got it. I’ll head there now.”
Patting the soldier’s shoulder, Rokan made straight for the lord’s castle.
Selling the monster byproducts Rokan brought had improved the territory’s finances considerably, but the modest castle remained unchanged. All funds went to expanding welfare and facilities for the residents, and developing the mines.
There was a bit of savings, but it was emergency funds—far from embezzlement.
‘Good lord to the people, but…….’
That’s why he’d get swallowed by another territory later. Rokan didn’t like it, but what could he do.
“Ah, come in.”
Entering the office, Rokan gave a light bow.
A typical noble would’ve exploded, but Lord Rinai wasn’t one for formalities. To him, Rokan was a hero who’d saved the territory. He greeted him with a warm smile.
“You summoned me?”
“Yes. Wanted to discuss this.”
Rokan glanced at what the lord held out: a sheet of fine parchment. A letter, sealed with a wax stamp—likely from another noble.
‘This fucker.’
He hadn’t even read it, but sparks flew from Rokan’s eyes. He knew who sent it and what it said.
The lord of Remington territory.
A baron like Lord Rinai, but greedier, with a more prosperous fief. In his past life, he’d devoured Rinai.
Rokan could guess why this guy was making a move, even if it was early.
‘Testing the waters?’
Probably because Rokan had altered Rinai’s history.
Given the bastard’s greed, slobbering over Rinai was inevitable. Expanding elsewhere would be too costly for Remington.
Rokan took the letter with a stiff expression, his brow furrowing slightly.
‘As expected.’
No major issues on the surface.
Heard the joyous news of Rinai’s recent development.
Congratulates with delight.
But as a neighboring territory, there’s been no exchange.
How about starting some now?
We’ll send people, so you send some too.
That was the gist.
But Rokan saw through the implications.
‘Gonna spy outright, huh?’
With Rinai’s low transient population, sneaking spies risked detection. So, legal and above-board scouting it was.
To gauge how much it had developed and its potential.
Under the guise of exchange, they’d inspect the developing mines, check reserves and output.
Obvious ploy, but he couldn’t throw a fit in front of Lord Rinai.
Crushing the letter and handing it back, Lord Rinai gave Rokan an awkward look and asked his opinion.
“Someone who never cared before pulls this, and it’s confusing. What do you think we should do?”
The lord lacked diplomatic talent, but he sensed something off. Still, unable to decide, he seemed ready to follow Rokan’s lead.
‘How’d this guy get eaten again?’
Rokan racked his memory, fell silent in thought, then spoke with resolve.
“Invite him.”