Chapter 227
Chapter 227
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 227
Chapter Title: Hall of Death (2)
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Death Knight.
A terrifying existence born from resurrecting a knight who had reached the Master level or higher, dying with grudges in his heart, using necromancy.
True to their name as Death Knights, it was said that no grass grew where they passed, shrouded in the aura of death—and now they were clustered thickly in one corner of the Hall of Death.
“Bone Crusher!”
Whoosh. Crack!
Another skull shattered under Rokan's savage swing.
A black crack like death itself spiderwebbed across the bone as white as if it had been bleached, soon revealing an empty void within.
The soul essence that writhed inside, defying the laws of nature to grant it power, burst with a pop and vanished.
The longsword carrying an amateurish aura had already been snapped in half, rolling across the floor.
Clatter.
Another pile of bones joined the heap in the corner of the field.
[You have leveled up.]
The terror of the living, Death Knight, was no match for Rokan.
Bolstered by multiple title effects to the max, Rokan’s stats were high enough to overwhelm most Master-level foes without even using Gale Incarnation—unless they were a High Master. Only a Death Knight of High Master grade, found deep in the Hall of Death, might pose a challenge.
And besides, these were undead that gave generous experience points despite low item drop rates.
By pushing hard and picking up the pace, he’d leveled up in less than a day.
“Whew, levels are climbing nicely…”
Boom!
In that instant, a surge of mana erupted right in front of him from outside his field of vision.
Burst Flare!
The powerful flame explosion spell blinded Rokan’s eyes.
“Damn it, you bastard!”
But Rokan wasn’t affected at all.
His title effects already granted high elemental resistance, and the Wings of Gale boosted it even further.
“Flight mode!”
That wasn’t all. The cape transformed in an instant into blood-red Wings of Gale, granting him terrifying propulsion.
They weren’t fast for long-distance flight, but for instantaneous acceleration, no mount could match their speed.
Rokan spread the blood-red wings wide and hurtled toward the spell’s caster, the Specter, in ultra-high-speed low-altitude flight.
“Gale Slaughter!”
Burst Flare was a spell that could deal massive damage even to Masters, but to Rokan, it was just a warm flush and a jab-like impact.
Enraged by it, Rokan unleashed Gale Slaughter the moment its cooldown ended, shredding the ghostly bastard’s body into dozens of pieces.
Splatter!
One-shot, one-kill.
The Specter’s ethereal body, which had just manifested the spell, evaporated from a single skill.
A lesser Wraith might be different, but Specters had decent physical resistance too—yet Rokan’s attack power outclassed it.
“Pretty juicy.”
In truth, these Specters were the top contributors to Rokan’s level-ups.
Thanks to his elemental resistance slashing the damage, and their spellcaster nature meaning low HP, they were perfect for quick, low-risk kills.
Plus, as spellcasters, Specters dropped valuable gear embedded with magic skills—great for profit.
“Did you hear an explosion just now? Maybe someone got here first?”
“No way. Who’d come to this insane difficulty hunt zone? Probably monsters fighting over territory. Or some idiot here to off himself!”
“Damn. Sending us here… quest difficulty is straight-up brutal.”
“Shh! Don’t yell, or we’ll get spotted. Move quietly!”
As Rokan kept hunting, something reached his ears—voices of users that shouldn’t be here.
Among them, the clacking of skeletal undead users made Rokan swap rings and activate Stealth on the spot.
He wasn’t afraid of them, but he needed to check their purpose here and whether they’d stick around, disrupting his hunt.
‘Well, well.’
Shifting silently to a spot perfect for observing them unseen, Rokan soon spotted them.
Peering through with his all-seeing eyes, he clearly saw five Master-level users around levels 300-305, tense as they moved deeper into the Hall of Death. He could even make out their gear.
Every piece was Unique-grade at minimum. Even the worst-equipped had only a few Rares mixed in—impressive stuff.
“Damn, without the Camouflage Veil, we’d be dead for sure.”
“It’s not foolproof, so shut up. If we get caught, it’s game over.”
What especially caught Rokan’s eye was the “Camouflage Veil” draped over them like an invisible cloak.
It didn’t hide them perfectly like a Cloak of Invisibility or Stealth, but for undead that detected foes via mana or life energy, it made them register as “inanimate objects”—a special item.
Of course, that was just how the monsters perceived them; to other players, they looked like new brides wrapped in cloth.
‘Coming here with just this level of gear?’
But setting the Camouflage Veil aside, they were objectively undergeared for this place.
They relied on its effect to barely avoid aggro, but it looked precarious.
At that state, pushing deeper would fail against High Master undead that sensed enemies by presence alone—combat was inevitable.
And if it came to that, death was all that awaited them.
They seemed to know it too, miming wiping nonexistent sweat as they dodged each monster one by one—but Rokan didn’t strike.
Not because he lacked confidence in winning.
As if. Even without skills, he could take them; Berserk alone guaranteed victory, no need for Gale Incarnation.
Yet he held back because their conversation felt off.
“Still, last quest—gotta tough it out.”
“Yeah, clear this and…”
“Our undead eat them all up.”
What was that? Quest where undead eat everything?
An unease stirred in Rokan from their chatter. What quest let them speak so boldly?
The answer was obvious.
‘Undead faction quest!’
Only that could upend the balance.
‘What was the undead faction quest again?’
Turning suspicion to certainty, Rokan quietly recalled.
For the Golden Lion faction: humans revived the ancient emperor, gnomes rebuilt the ancient city, half-elves birthed the World Tree, dwarves crafted ancient weapons.
For the Black Dragon Legion?
‘Goblins summoned the Goblin High Priest, orcs and trolls crafted special items to elevate their leaders to Grand Master—and undead… right, revival of the Death Lord.’
After dredging up hazy memories, Rokan remembered: the undead faction quest was the Death Lord’s revival.
Death Lord, ruler of death.
Easily mistaken for a lich, but known for strength far beyond lesser liches.
Grand Master realm, yet immune to spellcaster weaknesses.
In his past life, even an incomplete revival caused massive casualties—despite not being in a regression scenario like now.
‘Forgetting this… I’m an idiot.’
Golden Lion users swarmed it and still took heavy losses; at this stage with fewer seasoned players, the damage would be incalculable.
Rokan hadn’t clashed with it directly during other quests, but just recalling the devastation made his body shiver lightly.
‘And it’s completing already? Undead must be desperate.’
Their recent lull in aggression made sense—they’d been grinding the faction quest.
‘Wait, if I play this right…’
Watching them quietly, a fun idea sparked in Rokan’s mind.
Did he really need to shut down an enemy faction quest completely?
As someone who had to hunt monsters or equivalents to level up, more prey—as long as he survived—was a boon.
Might even be worth encouraging.
“Polymorph.”
Rokan’s eyes gleamed slyly.
He cast Polymorph instantly—into an undead warrior.
Of course, he had zero intention of joining them. Instead, he trailed behind slowly, maintaining Stealth.
He’d step in at a crucial moment.
When they wiped—or tried to claim something.
“Phew, entering the center now. No chatter. Watch every step!”
Too tense to notice Rokan tailing them, they crept cautiously deeper into the Hall of Death.
Their goal was obvious: the Temple of Death at the center.
Moving to claim something there.
‘Probably the Hall of Death.’
The staff item said to condense death energy. Rokan had heard rumors, so he could guess.
He followed carefully.
Swish.
Were they wearing special boots? They moved like ghosts, silencing even footsteps.
No sound, no presence—unless watching closely, you wouldn’t spot their path.
But Rokan was skilled at pursuit.
Stealth slowed him, but his base speed let him keep up without losing them.
They moved so cautiously, fearing detection by other monsters anyway.
For high-level Rokan, low risk of detection unless too close—he just needed to map monster positions and paths ahead.
At least until the Temple of Death.
[You have entered the Temple of Death.]
Finally, they slipped inside.
He should’ve gotten first-visitor bonuses, but they led, so he forfeited them.
Hunting here was burdensome for Rokan anyway—no big loss.
Catching his breath in a safe spot, he followed as they resumed toward the center.
[Death Knight Hanribal][Lv 353]
[Arch Lich Dorant][Lv 354]
Monsters patrolling the Temple of Death interior were impressive. Weakest at 340s, High Masters 350+ common.
They gulped audibly upon spotting them but hugged walls, avoiding combat.
‘They’ve got a map or something.’
Even Masters should falter here, but they found a slow but sure route.
Clearly moving with prior intel.
Unclear if it’d reach the end, but they advanced cautiously and steadily.
‘Whoa, they might actually succeed.’
And finally, they reached the far end of the Temple of Death.
Spotting the ornate yet sinister throne—and atop it, the “Hall of Death.”
Naturally, Rokan had no intention of letting them succeed.