Chapter 147: The Black Tentacles
“I knew it. You lot look all fancy on the outside, but deep down, you're an ugly race through and through.”
“Shut your mouth!”
“Die!”
Demian's sneer enraged the North District awakeners, who charged at him in fury.
Whoosh!
Dozens of skills hurtled toward Demian, aiming to take his life.
True to their status as the North District's elite, each skill packed tremendous power.
Even a graze would shred Demian's fragile body in an instant.
Demian knew this all too well, as he was an awakener himself.
His ability was navigator.
In other words, a guide.
He had zero combat prowess.
He could slightly alter his guiding ability to disrupt an enemy's sense of direction, but killing someone with raw force was impossible.
Aware of this, he didn't even attempt any clumsy dodges.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A barrage of skills bombarded Demian, kicking up thick clouds of dust.
“Pathetic.”
“He's gotta be dead.”
The North District awakeners were convinced of Demian's demise.
Splat!
Suddenly, black tentacles burst from the dust.
One wrapped around a dwarf awakener's neck in a flash.
“Guh! What the...?”
Crack!
Before the dwarf could finish, the tentacle snapped his neck.
The awakeners cried out in alarm at the sight of their comrade's instant death.
“What the hell?”
“Everyone, be careful!”
Demian emerged through the dust.
His appearance was utterly transformed.
He was clad head to toe in pitch-black armor.
The black tentacle that had claimed the dwarf's life retracted into the chest of the ebony armor.
Demian stroked his chest and murmured.
“Prism Armor. An item I found in the same dungeon as the Spirit King's Crown.”
It normally took the form of an ordinary belt, but when infused with mana or in times of crisis, it morphed into armor.
The Prism Armor protected its wearer like a living being with a will of its own.
The tentacle from its chest was proof of that.
“He killed Yollo.”
“Careful, everyone. He's got some weird item on.”
“As if that matters.”
A few awakeners, unable to contain their rage, attacked Demian again.
Most were martial awakeners wielding cold weapons like swords or blades. As they closed in on Demian in an instant and swung...
Splat!
Black tentacles erupted from Demian's chest.
They lashed out like whips, ensnaring the attackers in a heartbeat.
“Gah!”
“This damn thing...”
The awakeners tried to slice the tentacles wrapping their bodies with their weapons.
But the tentacles from the Prism Armor didn't even have a single scratch.
The black appendages crushed them with terrifying force.
“Ignore the tentacles and go for the main body!”
“That cursed human bastard. Using a monster like this.”
The other awakeners attacked Demian to save their comrades, believing that felling the armored wearer would end it all.
Already over a dozen tentacles had extended.
They figured there couldn't be more. How wrong they were.
And they'd learn it the hard way.
Whoosh!
Another dozen tentacles burst from the Prism Armor.
They shot toward the awakeners like striking vipers.
“Shit!”
“Guh!”
The awakeners scattered like a swarm of locusts, dodging the tentacles. But the tentacles pursued them with eerie intent, as if alive.
Bang!
The tentacles broke the sound barrier, unleashing sonic booms.
The aftermath was devastating.
“Ack!”
“Hngh!”
The awakeners plummeted like flies swatted from the air.
And their conditions were just as pitiful—smashed as if struck by a giant flyswatter.
“This can't be...”
Serion Olia's face paled.
Those felled by the tentacles were among the North District's finest.
Yet they'd died like dogs without landing a single blow.
It was an unprecedented humiliation in North District history.
Awakeners weren't immortals.
They could die in battle, get injured, perish against monsters or in dungeon raids.
Death was closer than life for awakeners.
But this senseless slaughter right before her eyes was unacceptable.
“What in the world is that armor...”
“Q-Queen! It's a cursed suit of armor. We must kill him now!”
Alexandro's ongoing skirmish with Ilai was interrupted by her urgent cry.
Though her voice grated on Serion, now wasn't the time for grudges.
Serion urgently addressed a man standing at the rear.
“Broi! You're up.”
“I've been waiting, my queen!”
The man stepped forward with his reply.
He had an ordinary build. But his voice was gruff and resonant in an unnatural way.
The reason soon revealed itself.
As he shed his robe, his body began to change.
Crack! Crackle!
With ripping sounds, his size doubled in an instant, thick fur sprouting across his body.
His mouth protruded, sharp fangs jutting out.
Upright dog-like ears and madness-filled red eyes.
Broi was a werewolf.
The strongest among the beastkin who followed Serion.
“Grrrrraaah!”
Broi unleashed his howl.
The werewolf's signature wail carried a suppressive force on the mind.
Like the fear aura that only A-rank or higher monsters could emit.
Broi directed it straight at Demian.
Any ordinary awakener would freeze, their spirit shattered. But Demian stood unfazed.
The Prism Armor shielded its wearer from curses and status ailments.
At the cost of burning the wearer's life force and mana, of course.
That's why Demian had avoided using the Prism Armor until now.
It couldn't be sustained long with the constant drain.
But now that his desired scenario was unfolding, he had no reservations.
Demian glanced sidelong at Serion and said.
“You're not leading these heteromorphs. You're hiding behind them. Queen of the heteromorphs, last hope? How much do you dress yourself up in lies, and what are you even protecting? From now on, I'll tear down your veil of hypocrisy.”
Fwoosh!
An ominous black light erupted from his entire body.
The glow of the Prism Armor.
A light born from burning his life force.
The more it consumed, the stronger Demian grew.
Serion muttered at the sight.
“You're utterly insane.”
The deep hatred and rage from one human toward her filled her with dread.
But she couldn't back down.
If she yielded to Demian, life for North District's heteromorphs would turn hellish.
Even if the world heaped curses upon her, she had to protect them.
'Above all, I can't let that cursed monster loose upon the world.'
Her gaze shifted to the warehouse behind Demian.
＊＊＊
“Implementing a dungeon like this... Unbelievable.”
The High Elder murmured as he surveyed his surroundings.
He stood within the Spectrum Prison, specifically the violet death realm.
Even he, a barrier master, couldn't help but marvel at how perfectly isolated the death realm was from the outside.
The Spectrum Prison was a type of barrier.
Yet even he lacked the confidence to erect one so vast without an item.
“Must be the power of that Spirit King's Crown thing, right?”
Then.
“Shouldn't we intervene now?”
A low voice came from behind him.
The High Elder turned to see three men in black suits.
“Ho! My shadow was feeling cramped, eh?”
“Apologies.”
One bowed his head.
The High Elder flashed his signature smile.
“No need! You're human too—bound to feel stuffy.”
These were shadow unit operatives handpicked for the task.
A special forces team loyal only to the High Elder, like the mayor's direct execution squad.
Kidnapping VIPs, assassinations, surveillance—their specialties.
They could hide in any shadow, blending perfectly as long as one existed.
But the High Elder was the exception.
As a rare barrier master, his barriers severed all external connections. Without his permission, even the shadow unit couldn't hide in his shadow.
He had allowed it.
Their mission: locate and abduct the White Bear Caravan's navigator.
They'd hidden in his shadow near the caravan. But the Spectrum Prison trapped them in the violet death realm.
They weren't worried, though.
The High Elder was with them.
Dungeons and barriers were his domain.
No awakener in Neo Seoul could match him.
“Can you break it?”
“Tch! Of course, but it'll take time...”
The High Elder clicked his tongue.
As a barrier master, he was largely unaffected by the Spectrum Prison—he'd erected his own barrier to block external influences.
But dismantling or escaping the dungeon was another matter.
He could do it, but not quickly.
A shadow operative ventured cautiously.
“The mayor ordered us to secure the navigator at all costs. So...”
“Tch! No choice, then.”
The High Elder clicked his tongue again.
Infamous Numbers executioner or not, he was still Jin Geum-ho's subordinate.
For the mayor's command, he'd dive into hellfire if needed.
“I'm forcing open a dungeon exit now. The shock will be intense—brace yourselves.”
“Yes, sir!”
They replied in unison.
The High Elder closed his eyes and drew up his mana.
To force an exit, he first needed to analyze the structure and principles.
Resonating his mana with the dungeon's was the hardest part, demanding full concentration.
Hummm!
As resonance hummed and his hands glowed blue.
Rumble! Rumble!
The violet death realm shook violently.
“What the—?”
The High Elder startled.
An operative suggested hesitantly.
“An earthquake?”
“Dungeons are isolated worlds—no earthquakes possible.”
“Then?”
“Something outside is affecting the dungeon.”
“What? How? No monsters nearby. You mean a human's influencing this dungeon? Impossible...”
The man dismissed his own idea.
A dungeon was a vast world unto itself.
Influencing it required unimaginable power.
No such being existed.
Then.
Crack! Crackle!
As if refuting him outright, the violet death realm shattered like glass.
“What the hell!”
Roooar!
In that instant, an enormous wave of sand poured through the fissures.
The High Elder's eyes widened.
Atop the tsunami of sand stood a man, upright and defiant.
“Ze...on?”