Chapter 37
Chapter 37
Chapter 37.
Dada-da-da-!
The few seconds running towards the feeding hall felt like an eternity to Rumarr.
He had only one hope to sustain him.
‘I must capture him alive!’
With the mother dead, that was the only way to make up for their mistake.
Rumarr knew all too well how terrible the price of this failure would be.
Their direct superior, the Prefect, was a man who harbored terrible cruelty behind a gentle smile.
He would rather be torn apart by the mother… than report a unilateral failure to him.
‘But if I capture the Night Crow alive, it will at least guarantee a minimal reprieve!’
Seeing as they had eliminated the mother, he must be of considerable high rank.
He would surely hold valuable information.
…All these thoughts pushed Rumarr’s back.
“Run! Run faster!”
After the battle with the mother. This moment, when they were exhausted, was their chance.
And so, Rumarr, along with about twenty gang members—
“Secure the intruder!”
He burst into the feeding hall, which was wide open without hesitation.
Sasa-sa-sak—
In the darkness of the feeding hall’s corner.
It was the moment a crouching spider was just releasing from its ‘Intimidation.’
Thump—!
Its eight legs, which had been curled up, sprang out, and its massive body leaped into the air.
A panicked scream erupted from the front line, caught off guard by the unexpected attack.
“Wh-what! What is that!”
“Uwaaaaaaah!”
“Fuck, it’s alive! They said it was dead!”
Though its Divinity was gone, its brain, far more developed than that of ordinary monsters, remained.
Instead of satisfying its hunger first, the spider…
Kieeeeee—
Accurately recognized the only escape route of the ‘diners’— and blocked the front entrance by crawling across the wall.
“……”
An ominous silence descended.
No one dared to move rashly.
Only Rumarr and Patrick’s eyebrows twitched violently.
They had no time to think about an unseen intruder.
Their minds were filled only with questions about the bizarre phenomenon before their eyes.
‘The mother is alive? But the signal was cut off?’
Unexplainable bewilderment.
…And relief.
But before they could even guess the situation, something black whizzed through the air.
It was one of its legs.
Swoosh—
CRASH!!!
With the first strike, three gang members were slammed into the wall, whole.
They were crushed without even a chance to scream.
“Wh-what?”
“Max…?”
When had these gang members, who only knew how to fight in dark corners, ever experienced fighting a great monster?
They stood frozen, staring at the monster before them.
Even when kicking sacrifices down the drop chute, they could never have imagined such a situation befalling them.
In fact, because they had witnessed that process, the fear seeped deeper into their bones.
“Ugh, ughh…”
The Boss snarled at his petrified subordinates.
“Fuck, what are you spacing out for? Attack! Kill it quickly! I’ll give 50 gold, no, 100 gold to whoever catches it!”
Just as the gang members managed to overcome their fear and raise their weapons—
“Stop! Lower your weapons!”
Rumarr shouted, his eyes wide.
“You lowly scum, that is the mother. It is the vessel in which a god resides. If you inflict even a single wound, I will have you all burned at the stake!”
These were not words to be said to those covered in their comrade’s blood.
A few gang members looked at Rumarr with flushed faces.
In their eyes, there was no fear or awe, only natural resentment.
‘What the hell is this bastard saying.’
The lower-ranking members, excluding the executives, knew neither Rumarr’s identity nor what the mother was.
They gritted their teeth and shouted.
“Boss! What do we do!”
But the Boss himself stammered, glancing at Rumarr.
“F-first, maintain a defensive formation! Stay outside of its… no, Mother’s attack range….”
The price of such a foolish order was severe.
CRUNCH!
CRACKLE!
This time, it was two.
It flung two gang members with its legs and bit through one’s waist with its teeth.
“Kuaaaaaaah—!”
“Jefferson! Damn it!”
In that moment.
Rumarr and Patrick looked at each other simultaneously.
Though no words were spoken, what they wanted to say was clear.
‘Let’s retreat for now.’
This was a very strange occurrence.
The mother was alive.
The parasitic core had not been physically destroyed.
But the Holy Power contained within had vanished without a trace.
‘It defies logic.’
The power built up by sacrificing countless lives could not disappear in an instant.
They firmly believed there was some trick involved, and a way to reverse it.
‘The Prefect would know how to solve it!’
He, who had presided over countless Incarnation Rituals on the mainland, would surely grasp and resolve such a variable in an instant.
The fact that the mother was not dead was already an achievement.
Therefore, they had to survive and report to him.
Swoosh—
A conclusion somewhere between rational judgment and rationalization born of fear.
Rumarr quietly turned his body.
“Kuaaaaaaah—!”
The gang members, flailing and being slaughtered by the mother.
If those bastards could just draw its attention a little longer, he and Patrick would be safe—
Slick—
“Kuaaak!”
With a pain that sliced through his Achilles tendon like lightning, Rumarr tumbled to the ground.
“Hey, where are you going after making such a mess?”
The Scarred Man, holding a strangely shaped dagger in a reverse grip, chuckled.
Seeing his own tendons dangling from the tip, Rumarr let out another scream.
It wasn’t just because of the pain.
The moment he realized he had fallen, unable to walk, in this place where the mother was rampaging.
A terrifying fear, unlike anything he had ever felt, washed over him.
It was a primal fear of being demoted from hunter to prey.
“You insolent trash!”
The only solace was that Patrick hadn't abandoned him and had charged at the Scarred Man.
He was a 3rd-tier paladin, a core asset of the diocese.
Rumarr’s eyes held a firm belief that he would deal with a gang executive in a single blow and save him.
“……!”
But his expectations were immediately betrayed.
The Scarred Man, with agile movements like a wild animal, calmly dodged the heavy sword strikes,
and pulled out another dagger from his waist, throwing it behind him.
Swoooosh—
…And the mother, who had been gleefully slaughtering gang members, had its eyeballs burst.
Kiiiiiiiiiiiek—!
Rumarr’s blood ran cold as he watched all of the mother’s remaining eyes turn towards them.
Now that the parasitic core was gone.
He knew better than anyone that to the mother, everything before her eyes was merely an object of appetite.
“Y-you crazy bastard!”
The Scarred Man calmly laughed as he lit a cigarette.
“I didn’t like these bastards anyway.”
His indifferent gaze swept over his torn subordinates before fixing on Rumarr and Patrick.
“Let’s play.”
.
.
.
It was a complete mess.
The three-way battle between the mother, the paladins, and the gang members was slowly drawing to a close without a clear victor.
Gunter, watching the entire process from the ceiling, quietly stood up and walked to the front of the drop chute.
Eddie looked at him with a puzzled expression.
“Wh-what are you doing?”
His question was valid.
If left alone, the situation would resolve itself.
But Gunter had no intention of doing so.
“I can’t miss the finishing blow.”
* * *
In front of the drop chute.
Gunter calmly surveyed the area below and began to calculate.
Yes, first, the mother.
‘Disgustingly strong.’
If it had been handed over to Rutien’s side without issue, it would have returned as a tremendous disaster.
Even with several legs broken from the combined attack and its armor-like outer shell tattered, it was still highly likely to be the victor of this three-way battle.
Even now, at this very moment, it was relentlessly overpowering the once-mighty paladin.
‘I can’t let it recover.’
Gunter leaped without hesitation.
Whoosh—
The second descent was even more daring and precise.
The moment the descent trajectory and the sword strike merged—
Gunter’s blade aimed for its head.
CRUNCH—!
The mother’s shell had reached its limit, unable to withstand the sword strike, amplified by the impact of the fall.
As the outer shell burst and the sword dug deep, dark green bodily fluid sprayed out like a fountain.
Simultaneously, a piercing scream erupted.
Kiiiiiiiiiiiek—!
The monster’s legs thrashed wildly in the air before collapsing.
“Wh-what….”
The paladin, who had been fighting the mother with all his might, froze with a bewildered expression.
Regardless, Gunter drew his sword again and landed softly on the floor.
Ting—!
Though only a 1st-tier in the system, Gunter’s feat of defeating the overgrown mother was evaluated by the status window as follows.
Ting—!
[You have overcome a significant gap and achieved a miraculous victory]
[Level Up!/Lv.45]
[Level Up!/Lv.46]
[Level Up!/Lv.47]
[Knight's Swordsmanship Lv.3 proficiency greatly increases]
[You have defeated a being in whom Divinity once resided]
[Damage and resistance against Divine beings and their followers increase]
-
Damage +5%, Resistance +1%
A welcome message filled his vision.
However, there was still an enemy remaining.
Gunter finished distributing his stats first.
[Strength 38 → 40]
[Strength has reached 40]
[Muscle fiber density increases abnormally. You can easily wield heavy equipment, and the power of strength-based skills greatly increases. The destructive power against some structures also noticeably increases]
[Stamina 32 → 33]
[The ‘Weaver of Despair’ gazes at you with hatred for shattering its vessel]
[The ‘One Who Flies Before the Wind’ sends you a wingbeat full of favor]
…The One Who Flies Before the Wind.
A Divine Rank whose name he knew.
A Divine Rank that was hostile to the Weaver of Despair.
In <Forgotten God>, one often gets caught up in the power struggles of gods like this.
However, thinking about it would have to wait.
Kagagag—
Gunter blocked a sword thrusting towards his side with his cheek.
A greatsword that looked at least twice as large as Rhadenbach's Steadfastness.
Under normal circumstances, he would have been unable to withstand the force and would have toppled over.
…Yes, under normal circumstances.
“Eeeeeek! You! You heretic trash!”
Gunter sneered, gesturing with his chin towards Patrick’s left arm, which was brutally mangled.
“Aren’t you the heretic? How was the experience of having a grand fight with the vessel of the god you served?”
“Kuaaaah—!”
Enraged, the man charged again like a wounded boar.
With his Stamina depleted and one arm not intact, his sword path was clearly readable.
A diagonal slash from his left waist to his right shoulder.
Whoooosh—
Gunter’s eyebrows twitched slightly as he prepared to counter.
‘Hmm….’
At first glance, he seemed to be charging in a fit of rage… but his eyes were as cold as ice.
A dissonance that struck his mind more clearly than the incoming greatsword.
‘A trick.’
The sword strike was a feint.
Then what was he aiming for?
‘It’s obvious.’
A paladin at the threshold of 3rd-tier.
A paladin of that level could use the ‘Power of Gluttony’ more actively.
If so…
‘That must be it.’
Having finished his thoughts, Gunter swung his sword.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t aimed at the incoming sword, but in a completely unexpected direction.
It was simultaneous.
“Kuaaaaaaaaah—!”
Patrick’s opposite arm, which had been hanging limply, stretched out as if by magic.
His blood-soaked palm was aimed at the pile of corpses in the center of the feeding hall.
Patrick snarled with mad eyes.
“O, Lord of Gluttony! Forgive me for offering the flesh of the impure!”
Chaaaaak—
His palm opened.
What emerged from the gap was an unbelievable number of thick, black tentacles.
Giant tentacles covered in slime flew in a swarm.
Swaaaash—
Their destination was the pile of corpses.
The tips of the tentacles opened again, revealing dense rows of teeth.
Gunter’s eyes grew serious.
‘As expected, Gluttony.Gluttony.
A skill of the Order of Abundance paladins, which restores Stamina and grants self-buffs by consuming organic matter such as blood and flesh.
It was a kind of ultimate skill, used only as a last resort because it caused the loss of some human form and left traces of its manifestation.
It was a decisive move that could instantly turn the tide of battle, but—
Snip.
Gunter’s sword, extended into the path of the tentacles, crushed the possibility of a comeback.
“H-ha…?”
Patrick’s eyes trembled violently as he saw the tentacle fragments, cleanly severed by a single blow, scattering.
“How….”
Before he could even voice the question of how Gunter had predicted the trajectory of ‘Gluttony’ with perfect accuracy, Gunter’s sword severed his head.
.
.
.
[Level Up!/Lv.48]
[Level Up!/Lv.49]
[Your level is close to the 1st-tier limit of 50. Prepare for rank assessment!]
[Agility 37 → 39]
[You have severed tentacles imbued with the power of an Evil God in a single blow. Your skills advance unprecedentedly]
[Knight's Swordsmanship Lv.3 proficiency greatly increases]
[Current Proficiency: 33.3%]
[Jan Daet’s gaze lingers on you for a moment… then fades as if losing interest]