Chapter 123
Chapter 123
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 123
Chapter Title: Saint's Appearance (4)
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Necromancer! That was the true class of the one called the Saint. The general term for those who revived the dead and drew power from death itself.
Ironically, the class of the Saint—who healed people and brought them back to life, earning that revered title—was Necromancer.
‘If I can just take this guy down.’
Of course, he wasn’t your average Necromancer.
Typical Necromancers had skills to heal their summons, but nothing to restore normal living beings.
Fallen power.
Yet that fallen power made it possible.
Though its mechanism differed greatly from standard recovery spells, the end result was the same—in fact, it even appeared more efficient at first glance.
But its side effects wouldn’t show up for quite some time, which was why no one had caught on yet.
“Necromancer.”
“What the hell kind of bullshit is that?”
Rokan’s single remark sent ripples through the crowd. It might’ve been dismissed from anyone else, but this was Rokan speaking.
The man called the Saint was the one flustered by the awkward atmosphere—believable yet unbelievable.
“No matter what you say, it won’t make a difference! All I want is to save more people!”
‘He’s still playing innocent.’
It was a clever bit of wordplay.
A heartfelt plea that neither confirmed nor denied being a Necromancer, and it swayed some hearts.
“Yeah! What kind of trash talk is that to someone volunteering without a single coin?”
“Who cares about his class when he has such noble intentions!”
To be precise, it was due to the inciting effect of the fallen power he wielded.
“If anyone here received something from him, check yourselves. Your potions might be less effective, or your healing spells might restore less.”
“……!”
But Rokan’s words were enough to shatter all that incitement. Reduced potion and healing efficiency! That was a massive long-term loss for players.
Far too steep a price to trade for free heals and buffs.
“Hey, cast a heal on yourself. Right now!”
“Potions……. Damn it, full health anyway.”
“Let’s duel, let’s duel. Plant that flag quick!”
The Saint’s diehard followers clung to their faith, but the players turned serious in an instant. Whether the Saint lived or died, they were too busy checking their own statuses.
“You fools……. If only you’d accept it, we could build a world united beyond race……!”
The Saint’s eyes flickered with a dangerous glint as he glared at Rokan’s sneer and the players no longer defending him. He stopped hiding and unleashed his power.
[Fallen Dark Saint Partan][Lv 261]
The greenish glow overflowing from his eyes marked him as a truly corrupted monster. He was finally tapping into his fallen power for real.
Yet oddly, Rokan just watched.
Truth be told, he could’ve unleashed a barrage and ended it ages ago if he wanted. But he knew what the guy was about to do next, so he gave him a moment.
“Those who have eaten my flesh and drunk my blood, become one with me!”
“Ugh!”
“Wh-what the hell’s happening?!”
Soon, a sinister green radiance shot from Partan’s hand, transforming everyone nearby. No outward changes, but control over them all shifted to Partan.
NPCs and players alike.
[Fallen-Controlled Soul Clinging to Sword Tip][Lv 208]
[Fallen-Controlled Faker][Lv 213]
[Fallen-Controlled Soul of Kakalot][Lv 212]
The treatments and buffs he’d provided were a kind of seed.
Seeds forged from his own flesh, blood, and fallen power.
Mere fragments of power at first, showing no immediate signs, but they’d gradually erode the host—mutating their constitution, body, and even race with terrifying potential.
Now those seeds sprouted all at once, seizing their hosts’ bodies.
‘Stealing control from players…….’
A quick glance back showed the names above the players’ heads had changed.
Veins of green bulged grotesquely across their skin as they gripped their weapons and closed in to surround Rokan.
“Thanks.”
A siege net so dense it was impossible to count the layers.
The Saint had drawn crowds from the entire village, and those seeking heals and buffs kept coming even now, making their numbers incalculable.
Partan manipulated them like limbs, glaring murderously at the interrupter of his grand work, but the sole free mover, Rokan, remained utterly calm.
He even flashed a grin of gratitude.
“Looks like I’ll earn some pocket change for once.”
“No, don’t!”
“Stop! I’m not trying to attack!”
The players caught on immediately.
The moment control slipped away, their name colors shifted en masse. Past lawful self-defense, into criminal gray.
In Criminal status—the mark of a criminal—they’d suffer penalties on par with Murderer.
Level gaps were huge, so experience gains would be negligible, but at around Lv200, they’d all have +5 enhanced gear. Plump pickings indeed.
Even Rokan himself was still rocking gear enhanced from early Lv200, before hitting Lv250.
For others, replacing gear was tough not just because it was rare, but pricey. Dropping items here would sting.
“Wheel Wind!”
But that wasn’t Rokan’s problem. He’d lured them, sure, but chasing freebies without checking was on them.
Rokan’s merciless axe began spinning ferociously.
“Kraaaagh!”
“Urgh…….”
Those who even screamed were the lucky ones.
Thanks to his One-Hit Man title, critical hits dropped most instantly, without so much as a gasp.
Optimized for farming as it was, Wheel Wind turned them into a blender, shredding every foe it touched.
The controlled ones weren’t holding back either. They threw combo skills and creation skills at him, but their opponent was just too much.
Plus, Rokan held multiple titles that grew stronger with more foes.
Numbers meant nothing against him—not when he smashed combo and creation skills with plain attacks. A hundred or a thousand, made no difference.
“Surrender your bodies to the great cause!”
Unable to land so much as a speck of damage, Partan ground his teeth and played his next card.
He seemed to gather the surrounding thralls—then poured out black mana laced with fallen power.
Squelch, squelch, squelch.
“Grk! Grrgh…….”
The bodies of those encircling Partan like a shield crumpled like wet clay.
Clay Play.
The Necromancer power to mash corpses like clay and mold new beings.
One difference: these were living bodies.
Flesh mashed, muscles twisted, bones shattered and reassembled—all while the victims’ minds stayed fully aware.
“Bombard!”
Spotting it, Rokan hurled a hand axe, detonating them into chunks.
The victims wore serene expressions at the moment of death.
But Clay Play wasn’t limited to one spot.
“Groooar!”
Gigantic undead, drenched in blood like sweat, rose here and there.
Screaming or shrieking—they charged at Rokan.
Boom!
“Ah, already?”
But that was it. Mashing and boosting early Lv200s topped out at Lv230-240. As if that could touch Lv250 Rokan.
No need for Massacre—he kept Wheel Wind spinning and hopped right into them.
Piercing straight through the giant undead.
“Corpse Explosion!”
Boom!
But it didn’t end there. The moment Rokan wrecked the giant undead, Partan’s magic signal turned the crumbling corpse into a bomb.
[You are poisoned by Composite Corpse Toxin.]
[Nullified by Hundred Poison Immunity. No effect.]
Followed by the poison message.
This was why Corpse Explosion outdid normal bombs: corpse toxin poisoning.
Luckily, the toxin from these makeshift undead was weak enough to nullify, but poison was still something even Rokan treated cautiously.
“That all you got? Come on!”
Confirming the blast did little and the toxin failed, Rokan beckoned mockingly.
Yet he was ready to bury an axe in Partan’s skull if he bolted.
Only one reason for the time granted.
To ensure Partan threw everything at him, not a single one spared.
“You! For disrupting the great cause, heaven’s wrath upon you!”
Rokan smirked at the rage-fueled power surge. Just one word.
“Still playing innocent.”
A Necromancer who deceived, controlled, and drove others to death—daring to say that to him?
He could’ve smashed his skull right then, but this once, Rokan magnanimously let it slide.
Luring all his puppets to him, reviving the dead as undead to serve till the end—surely he could spare some mercy in delaying the death.
‘Perfect timing.’
With the last one slain, Rokan breathed easy.
Partan was a tricky one with that fallen power.
Had Rokan waited blindly without knowing, he’d face high-level players, NPCs, and forces from multiple cities—not just one village.
Even without Rokan’s freakish growth, it would’ve been a headache.
But meeting too early led to utter annihilation.
“This can’t be. I wielded the power of the gods……!”
“Yeah, yeah. Go dance with your god or whatever.”
Crack.
And so, the Necromancer with his twisted justice and desires met a pathetic, premature end.
He tried mustering fallen power for a final rampage, but Rokan forbade it. He died without accomplishing a thing.
Without summons, Necromancers were inevitably frail.
“That do it?”
Having swept the village and its teeming players solo, Rokan checked his quest window for confirmation.
The Investigation Team quest to hunt three fallen monsters showed complete. Situation over.
Confirming it, Rokan headed to Taimura and turned in the quest.
[Completed quest ‘Deeper In.’]
[Investigation of the Fallen Seed begins.]
[Promoted to Senior Investigation Team Member.]
[Acquired Investigation Team Bracelet.]
Quest complete triggered auto-investigation on the remaining villagers and players hit by Partan.
Still tiny seeds, removable via magic or holy power, but players would pay a hefty price.
“Heh heh.”
Whatever. Rokan slipped on his shiny new item with a dopey grin.