Corridor of Sacred Blood (3)
"He ran."
A strange sense of déjà vu crept over me. I could swear I'd lived through this exact scenario before...
It didn't take long to place it. Naturally—that had been the first time I acquired Divinity, too. The gnoll dungeon. In that gate, the black magician had bolted the instant we saw through his trap, scurrying down to pull some trick before the altar of the Evil God.
"There! The heretics are over there!"
"Quickly, inform His Grace!"
Shouts erupted from behind us. Enough time had passed since we slipped out of the cells for the alarm to spread. The Archbishop had likely been en route to oversee our execution, which meant our prison break was now common knowledge.
Wuuung—
The instant I opened Subspace, I summoned Yongyong, whom I had kept tucked away to maintain our stealth.
"I'll go on ahead. Please watch our rear, Uncle. Keep your guard up."
I shot a quick glance at our NPC guide as I spoke. I couldn't bring myself to trust the man completely just yet. It wasn't mere paranoia; story-driven gates had a nasty habit of turning the initial helper into a traitor.
"Wait, what? Hey—"
Before Uncle Chulgi could finish his sentence, I activated Leap. Forty meters. It didn't put me in striking distance, but it brought his back into view. The interior of the old main cathedral unfolded before my eyes.
Familiar.
The layout was nearly identical to the temple where we'd confronted that black magician. At the far end of the sanctuary stood a statue of the Goddess, with faint evening light filtering through the tall stained-glass windows behind it. Twilight was in its final moments, casting only a pale, pastel-crimson wash across the stone floor.
Still, the Archbishop possessed a bit more backbone than our previous boss monster. At least he hadn't scurried into a basement.
Before the statue of the Goddess hung the Saintess, her arms bound and spread wide, her eyes shut. Her left wrist had been sliced open, and steady crimson drops fell into the basin below.
So that's why they call it Sacred Blood.
Beside her stood crates crowded with glass vials brimming with blood. It wasn't the sort of stash gathered over just a day or two. Even to my senses, the fluid was far from ordinary. The unmistakable resonance of Divinity radiated from those glass containers, identical to what I had felt in the past.
—It is blood imbued with Divinity. I implore you, take utmost care not to shatter those vials during combat.
Chunbae chimed in, confirming my suspicion.
"...How?!"
In the fleeting moment after my Leap as I surveyed the sanctuary, the Archbishop spun around, finally registering my presence. His wide-eyed shock mirrored the black magician's so closely that a dry chuckle escaped me.
Of course, this wasn't quite the same as back then. He was undoubtedly strong, but I was incomparably more powerful than the novice who had fought in that cave.
—He intends to draw upon that Sacred Blood in battle.
Why else would he rush straight in here?
The Archbishop. He was effectively the boss monster of this gate. Even if I had scrambled the intended dungeon progression with Subspace, he wouldn't have fled the instant he saw us without a plan. Being a vampire, it was only natural that he'd use blood laced with divine power to augment his strength.
Sure enough, the moment our eyes met, his gaze darted frantically toward the crates of bottled Sacred Blood.
A classic two-choice dilemma?
Shatter the vials, and I could fight a severely weakened vampire. Leave them intact and win, and I'd walk away with a treasure trove of divine blood.
Except I had no reason to play by those rules.
You asked me to fight without breaking them, right?
—Affirmative.
Then why leave them out in the open in the first place?
Flash.
The thought had barely crossed my mind before I triggered Leap. Naturally, I moved far faster than the Archbishop could react.
"What—?!"
His jaw dropped. In a single fluid sweep, I tore open Subspace and ushered every single vial of Sacred Blood inside.
As I gathered them in haste, my bracelet flared with light.
It was Chunbae's doing. Within Subspace, his telekinesis handled the vials with delicate care, arranging them neatly on the ground without so much as a hairline fracture.
I was fairly certain Chunbae had previously claimed his magic was terribly inefficient. Did he suddenly discover a surplus of reserves just because this was his next meal?
"H-Hey! Stop!"
"Stop?"
"Yes!"
"Why on earth would I?"
Was he an idiot?
Did he really think a polite request would work in the middle of a dungeon? Granted, even if he had lunged right away, my hands would have been quicker, but the sheer absurdity forced a wry laugh from my throat.
"..."
Looking at the vampire whose entire stash had just vanished into thin air, a strange sense of familiarity struck me once again.
Where have I seen that face before?
Ah. That was the exact expression Uncle wore when his entire investment portfolio went up in flames.
—Ah. To think such an elegant method existed...
Chunbae let out a belated murmur of admiration. Was he an idiot too? He wasn't usually this slow on the uptake.
So much for being an all-knowing ancient guide.
—Truth be told, I was fully aware. I merely wished to test whether Master Han Hye could devise—
Hush.
—Understood.
A sudden realization dawned on me.
Just out of curiosity... you didn't get so flustered over your precious Divinity that your brain short-circuited, did you?
—I assure you, that is not the case.
You positive?
—Affirmative. Utterly positive.
Pretty sure you told me once you were incapable of lying.
—...
Well, I could interrogate Chunbae later.
The vampire, who had looked utterly unhinged by my rapid-fire blinks, finally snapped out of his stupor.
"I don't know what vile sorcery you just used, but hand over that Sacred Blood peacefully—"
"What's there not to understand? I put it in my Subspace."
"..."
"Are you stupid?"
It occurred to me that his sluggishness might simply be the result of me completely breaking the gate's narrative sequence. He held the jail cell keys, yet here we were, escaped and standing in his sanctum. Then I had teleported out of nowhere and robbed him blind.
"..."
On top of that, if you looked at that Sacred Blood as his life savings—just like Uncle's investments—his state of mind was understandable. The poor bastard was in severe denial.
His brain seemed to blue-screen at my blunt question. His lips flapped silently for a moment before he defaulted to the standard boss monster behavior.
"Give back my Sacred Blood!"
Which is to say, exactly like Uncle screaming 'My money! Give me back my money, you scammers!', he lunged at me in a blind fury.
Fast.
Han Hye was privately impressed by the vampire's rush. It wasn't unwarranted; this was a boss-tier monster from a Level 36–40 gate. It packed genuine weight. Furthermore, having spent recent days clearing mundane gates purely for swordsmanship drills, the sudden spike in difficulty was immediately palpable.
Alongside that blistering charge, a crimson blade of condensed blood coalesced in the Archbishop's palm. It was fast, but not beyond Han Hye's ability to react.
Han Hye parried the thrust cleanly, but what followed caught him off guard.
The blood blade was harder than tempered steel, yet possessed the supple elasticity of a whip.
Shhhk—
From the point of impact against the Windflow Sword, the crimson edge bent like a serpentine lash, snapping directly toward Han Hye's eyes.
Han Hye snapped his upper body back, slipping the strike and kicking off the floor to open up distance.
Tricky trick. Should I just burn it with Incineration?
Right then, a spark of inspiration struck him.
Wait... Incineration?
It wasn't a random thought. It was an idea that had brushed past his mind just yesterday during Min-seok's enchanting session.
When the Windflow Sword had been imbued with the fire element through crafting, a new property had attached to it.
Until now, Han Hye had treated Incineration purely as a destructive tool—igniting raw fire to consume whatever was in front of him. Unlike traditional sword arts, he had no pre-imprinted repertoire of techniques for applying the flame through a weapon.
If I coat the blade in Incineration...
The thought was exhilarating, though a sliver of concern gave him pause. Wasn't Incineration a flame capable of consuming magic power itself?
There was a distinct possibility it might incinerate the sword itself. Han Hye didn't particularly care if the Windflow Sword turned to ash, but he hesitated at the thought of breaking Min-seok's heart after the kid had poured so much effort into it.
Well, if it burns, I'll just ask him to forge me a new one.
Han Hye decided to keep it simple. Hadn't his heart raced when he first experimented with wind-cleaving arcs? A blazing blade was simply too cool to pass up.
"Scoundrel!"
Misinterpreting Han Hye's evasive maneuvering during his brief contemplation as a sign of weakness, the Archbishop closed in with renewed ferocity.
In that exact heartbeat, Han Hye channeled Incineration across the Windflow Sword.
Fwhooosh!
Flames far fiercer than he had anticipated erupted along the steel, surging outward like the wind-scattered embers etched into the blade's surface.
"—?!"
The Archbishop recoiled in shock, but the distance had already closed. Han Hye slashed the Windflow Sword in a savage arc.
A broad fan of brilliant fire unfurled along the trajectory of his swing.
The Archbishop threw himself backward, narrowly evading a direct strike to his torso, but the crimson blade in his grasp brushed against the edge of the blaze and burst into ash with a violent hiss.
Han Hye, however, wasn't paying the slightest attention to the broken weapon.
Is this... Flame Breathing?
He was thoroughly captivated by the sheer spectacle of Incineration synergizing with the Windflow Sword. It looked like something ripped straight out of a battle manga.
After a brief, admiring glance at his blazing edge, Han Hye fixed his eyes back on the Archbishop. He was itching to swing it again.
"Wait!"
Sensing the sudden shift in the air, the Archbishop cried out in alarm, but Han Hye had no intention of waiting.
Wait for what? Do you have any idea how much mana Incineration drains?
Faking a frontal rush with two heavy strides, Han Hye triggered Leap. In the blink of an eye, he materialized directly behind the Archbishop.
Far too embarrassed to say it out loud, he roared the technique's name at the top of his lungs in his mind as he swung the sword down.
Fwhooom!
The Archbishop barely managed to evade—or rather, calling it an evasion was generous.
"Aaaagh!"
The blade sheared clean through his torso. Only by triggering blood magic at the razor's edge of impact—dissolving his flesh into liquid blood—had he minimized the damage.
The pool of living blood surged and reknit his form a few paces away, but the scorching agony of the wound was undeniable. And reconstituting his body had cost him a staggering volume of blood.
"Tough bastard," Han Hye remarked flatly.
The Archbishop bared his fangs, veins pulsing furiously across his temples. "Insolent pest! Do you truly believe those bottles were all the Sacred Blood I possessed? Look upon the living fountain!"
At his command, the droplets dripping from the Saintess's wrist lifted into the air as though guided by an unseen will, streaming across the sanctuary straight toward the Archbishop.
Han Hye's eyes widened. He could visibly sense the Archbishop's waning aura mending in real time.
Lee Shinhee isn't here... should I pull her in?
Rather than rushing in blindly, Han Hye paused to assess the situation. Since the blood moved under the Archbishop's control, the only permanent fix was to stop the bleeding itself.
Right then, Chunbae offered counsel.
—Even were your healer present, the wound would not knit. It is cursed by vampiric bloodcraft—expressly formulated to prevent the flesh from closing.
True. A wound bleeding drop by drop for weeks without clotting defies natural biology anyway.
In that case, the solution was glaringly simple.
Flash.
Using Leap, Han Hye flickered into existence directly in front of the Saintess. Conjuring a concentrated ember of Incineration at his fingertip, he pressed it against her bleeding wrist.
Tssss!
Flesh cauterized in an instant, and the foul vampiric residue clinging to the wound vaporized into nothingness.
In a single stroke, the Archbishop's endless blood supply was severed.
Cauterizing an open wound hurt like hell, sure, but it was far better than leaving her as a perpetual blood bag for a vampire.
"Now what are you going to do?"
"Y-You... you insolent little—!"
The Archbishop was practically foaming at the mouth. Hmm. Judging by his temper, patience clearly wasn't his strong suit.
Though if he had managed to climb all the way to Archbishop, he must have suppressed his true nature for quite a while...
Am I really that good at getting under people's skin? Surely not.
I didn't have time to ponder the thought, because several thick torrents of blood suddenly erupted from the Archbishop's body.
Splaasssh!
Hissing with the terrifying velocity of high-pressure hoses, the streams surged forward. I slashed the Windflow Sword toward them, sending ripples of flame billowing into the air, but the blood wasn't targeting me.
"I was supposed to save this!"
With that furious roar, the tentacle-like streams of blood whipped toward the Saintess. Naturally, I had no intention of standing by and watching.
Expending about a quarter of my remaining mana, I conjured a spherical barrier of flame around her.
Fwhoosh!
This was a flame that devoured magic power itself. The blood whips he had shaped from his own vital essence ignited before they could even breach the perimeter, dissolving harmlessly into ash and smoke.
"?"
He stared at me with completely blank, bewildered eyes.
"You said you were supposed to save it. Don't worry, I'll save it for you."
"...?"
Oops. Slipped out on reflex.
Unlike earlier, when my questions were genuinely innocent inquiries, that one was tailored specifically to provoke him.
It brought back an old memory.
From the days before I met Uncle. To be completely honest, someone had used those exact words on me once.
A rare good Samaritan had given me a single can of Spam. I hid it away to save it for a special occasion, only for some vagrant to snatch it right out of my hands with that very line: 'You said you're saving it. I'll save it for you.'
I got my revenge on that bum later, of course.
"You son of a bitch!"
While I was taking a brief trip down memory lane...
The Archbishop showered me with heartfelt compliments—just like fourteen-year-old me used to do—and charged straight at me.
Speaking as someone who had both taken and dealt plenty of beatings, dealing with someone in this state was child's play.