Chapter 247
Chapter 247
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 247
Chapter Title: Armageddon (1)
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[Server-wide notice. The spell of destruction, Armageddon, has been activated. In 12 hours, the being that will destroy the world via Armageddon will revive. Hurry. The Forgotten Race yearns for the world's destruction.]
[If you fail to prevent the revival of the Forgotten Race, the world may be destroyed.]
“Damn.”
The fact that Armageddon's activation timer was a full 12 hours was a good thing. Using teleport magic circles or other methods, 12 hours was more than enough time—plenty to spare.
The problem was that it didn't specify the location where Armageddon had activated.
Twelve hours was enough to head straight there once found, but pinpointing the location made it tight—bordering on insufficient.
There might not be much information available, but Rokan immediately scoured the homepage and all the communities to gather intel.
Keywords like corruption, destruction, Armageddon, ancient spell, and any suspicious movements—everything.
But as expected, nothing promising turned up.
Just like that, about seven hours slipped away pointlessly.
“Huh?”
Then, far off in the distance, a brilliant light shot up into the sky.
“Light of Corruption.”
A green light that muddled the mind. That light was undoubtedly the power of corruption at work.
“Great... like hell it is!”
Rokan’s face twisted as he gauged the location of the massive green pillar of light rising high.
It was terrain even he had never ventured into.
Not because he didn’t know about it, but because it was too uncomfortable and burdensome—he’d avoided it.
“Why there of all places...”
The site of Armageddon’s activation was none other than the Frost Mountains.
A place where blizzards raged 365 days a year.
Not only were tricky monsters with freezing attributes everywhere, but without special gear, the cold continuously drained your health, and in severe cases, you’d suffer “Freezing” that locked you in ice for a time or “Frostbite” that left you miserable. That’s why even Rokan had steered clear.
And it wasn’t just that. The monsters there were all Master-level or higher.
Ice-based skills meant efficient hunting if your setup was right, but the deep snow made it hard for melee classes to perform at full strength.
Even with the server-wide notice and the pillar of light as guides, whether anyone could stop Armageddon was anyone’s guess.
“Better to rely on myself than trust those other guys.”
After a moment’s thought, Rokan sprang into action.
At this point, the odds of a multi-race alliance forming—like during the ancient emperor incident—were high, but waiting for them wouldn’t guarantee success.
The Frost Mountains were uncharted territory that even the Golden Lion faction and Black Dragon Legion avoided.
No info meant banding together didn’t help, and while they’d send elites, it wouldn’t make clearing Master-level monsters any easier than Rokan solo.
Alone, he could dodge monsters as needed, but a group would inevitably draw fights.
“Damn place is far as hell.”
The Frost Mountains sat on the border between the Golden Lion faction and Black Dragon Legion, in an area that wasn’t even disputed.
No one went there.
He warped to the nearest outpost, but the destination was still a long way off.
“I can endure thanks to my elemental resistance... but no choice.”
Ziiiing.
Arriving at the nearby outpost, Snowstorm Village, the pillar of light was visible closer now. Along with a bone-chilling wind that cut like knives.
Thanks to his high elemental resistance, no health drain yet, but prolonged exposure deeper in would hinder even him.
Buying warmth-boosting “Cloak of Warmth” and “Scout’s Snow Boots” would help, but they weren’t perfect.
Wearing them would negate other gear effects, dropping his combat power.
Even without them, his combat strength was fine, but with Master-level and even High Master monsters everywhere, he needed to preserve as much as possible.
“Polymorph.”
So, reluctantly equipped with those, he left the village and used Polymorph.
Transforming not into his true form, but an undead skeleton warrior.
[Race effect of undead: Unaffected by cold.]
Instantly freed from cold-related issues.
Bones should ache in the chill, but undead were dead—no body heat to lose.
“Summon Skeleton Horse.”
And one more thing. He summoned his skeleton horse.
A mount immune to cold.
Flying straight with Kai might be faster speed-wise, but the fierce blizzards made sustained flight impossible.
So, reluctantly, he mounted the skeleton horse and sped off.
“Stealth Movement.”
One more on top. Stealth Movement skill.
To avoid aggro from ambush-type monsters, basic stealth slowed movement too much, so he used its advanced version.
Sadly, not learned via skillbook due to class mismatch, but a scroll sufficed.
Clop clop clop.
Ankles-deep snow, but the skeleton horse charged vigorously.
Slower than a phantom steed, but tireless stamina made it ideal for long hauls.
[The Emperor calls for you. Proceed to the palace within 30 minutes.]
Mid-gallop, a system alert appeared.
The Emperor’s summons.
Purpose obvious.
Multi-race alliance.
Join again to stop the world’s end.
‘Screw that.’
But Rokan dismissed it. Emperor’s call or not, ignoring it meant no real penalty.
He might be pissed, but what of it?
No stripping of ducal rank or other punishments. The Emperor’s trust in him was rock-solid.
Rokan ignored it and kept riding.
With under 5 hours left, gathering for talks and then mobilizing as a group was pure time waste—Rokan knew that better than anyone.
“Whew...”
His breath froze white.
Straight-line ideal, but too many obstacles.
Dodging fights with detours, it took two hours to near the pillar.
“No second chances.”
He was certain.
No room for error.
Two hours to get here—failure meant retrying with no time left.
Others might be bulldozing straight, but even joining them, no guarantee of two tries.
One shot to end it.
[Magical power dispels Stealth Movement.]
“Found the right spot.”
Some barrier already set—stealth auto-broke, position exposed.
Pushing further in, blockers appeared.
Protected by the same green power as the pillar.
Corrupted priests and followers barring his way.
“You shall not pass further!”
“The fated destruction approaches! Kneel and embrace death!”
Fanatics. No talking to them.
Undead form or not, they didn’t care.
Human, half-elf, undead, troll—didn’t matter. They craved all annihilation, so they attacked outright.
Igniting corruption, burning their own lives.
“Corruption Explosion!”
“...!”
KABOOM!
Explosion massive enough for avalanche.
Instead of skills, suicide chosen.
Not combat pros—better die together than clumsy fight.
“Playing dirty bastards.”
From the blast, Rokan strolled out unscathed.
Full health and defense, plus Lion King’s Breastplate halving all damage—minor hit.
Normal players? Heavy damage, or worse for casters. But not Rokan.
“Barrage!”
KABOOM!
Repay in kind—sacks full. Rokan’s way.
No hesitation.
Dashed in, hurled hand axes.
Bypassed followers, lunged at priests.
“Berserk Chariot, Shoulder Charge!”
BAM!
Shoulder collided—something burst.
Corruption-shielded body, but superior destructive power smashed through.
Chest caved, bones crushed.
No groan—internals wrecked, eyes wide in death.
“Let’s do this!”
That sparked it—Rokan ramped up.
Faster, precise lunges, battle axe swings.
Wasting 5 minutes on mere guards? Too much.
Just over 2 hours left. Minimize small fry time to reach pillar and halt Armageddon.
“Polymorph release.”
Fwoosh!
To max combat, dropped polymorph too.
Blizzards and gales still raged, but workaround.
Fire oil.
Enchant item for flames on body, but now anti-cold aid.
Rokan’s damage? Flame bonus negligible. Expensive consumable wasted on warmth.
“Whirlwind!”
Active movement perfect supplement.
Rotated with acceleration skills, sped inward—prompting swarm of corrupted priests and followers.
Seemed all with combat chops gathered here.
“Gonna be a slog.”
Hoping the multi-race alliance sped up hearing the commotion, Rokan gripped his battle axe tighter.
Fought like that for 30 minutes.
Saved Storm Incarnation for absolute last resort—overcame with gear, pots, control.
Luckily, most casters—easy pickings.
Especially title “One-Shot Man” clutch.
Most corrupted followers dropped in one hit.
“Knight, call the knights!”
Rokan’s insane attack plus title’s 80%+ HP drop instant-kill tilted it one-sided.
No recovery if insta-dead. Numbers plummeted. So they called melee.
Corrupted warriors—equivalent to holy knights—blocked him.
Couldn’t win, but stall tactic.
“Hmph!”
But not Rokan’s match. One hit to two, three.
Few survived ten strikes. Snowy ground turned red.
Then, tide turned.
“Rokan!”
“I’m here!”
“Damn corrupted scum. I’ll kill you all!”
Multi-race alliance joined.
Worse shape than Rokan from cold and fights en route, but all High Master+, dozens not eight like before—enough to sweep priests and warriors.
The great battle to decide the world’s fate began.