Chapter 138
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 138
Chapter Title: The Second Wanderer -4-
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'Even for a guy from the modern world on the brink of destruction, he's pretty decent.'
Meeting the real Deganello—not in a game, but flesh and blood—revealed a monster who killed people and toyed with them on par with the worst scum of mercenaries, setting aside raw power.
He could've landed another solid hit on Robert, but he'd held back.
Right on the razor's edge, just before death, he'd halted his attack to prepare his own twisted finale.
'Disguise? Not bad situational awareness.'
Stealing clothes could've been done easily before gutting him or chopping off his arm—it was a standard step if he planned it.
But Deganello had clearly been drunk on the thrill and pleasure of violence...
Still, snapping out of it before the finish to think ahead showed decent adaptability and survival instincts.
In the harsh Harun Empire, Deganello was definitely a better prospect than Robert.
Though that was just relative to the rotten Robert right now.
The actual Second Wanderer was nothing special either.
'Watching this live is just ridiculous.'
My life was in full swing, but in terms of progress in the game Akarite, we were still in the early stages.
Even newbie gamers playing Akarite for the first time rarely skipped the Bolt family tree in the Second Wanderer arc.
Reality truly outdid fiction in unimaginable ways.
'The Bolt family must be in an uproar.'
The family registry was probably shaking in real-time, Deganello's vicious info being etched in live.
Skipping class without permission and causing this mess— even with their clout, those two couldn't dodge consequences.
They couldn't pick fights with the academy like with the Third Prince incident that got me in.
When the family and academy grilled them on what happened, could they even spit it out?
With Dean Doran's remaining arm backing me full throttle, this situation was perfect.
'Isaac will survive as is... but Robert's done for soon?'
He was holding on with his naturally tough body and stamina.
Without a Church member rushing in with holy magic or top-grade potions, Robert would die on his own—even without Deganello finishing him.
Same with the severed arm.
Like scars on my body or Rike's, once enough time passed, normal healing wouldn't cut it.
Especially severing—without rushing to the Church or emergency measures, reattaching it gets dicey.
'The Bolt family has deep Church ties for generations... maybe they'll beg a high-up to reattach it if he lives?'
Even reattached, delays meant stronger aftereffects, making daily use tough.
But a cosmetic stump beat total loss for mental health. Even a useless decoration arm.
'Weak-minded kid—becoming one-armed might make him drop out or hole up in his territory...'
Then he'd have to keep opening portals with Isaac. If Akarite's protagonist lost the will to return, I'd regret it too.
Even after emerging from the forest and closing in, Deganello was too busy stripping them to notice.
Clap-clap-clap—
"Our friend did us a huge favor."
As I approached clapping to praise the Wanderer who'd culled the registry, Deganello's body stiffened.
I knew why.
A resonant repulsion, shoving away the unpleasant vibe.
You gain strong resistance to negativity.
The resistance that came with completing my first form, Raksha, alongside White Flame.
Just facing me made the things Deganello transferred from the Dybbuk Box cower.
Like a kid facing an unleashed mad dog.
'Does my body show something?'
Deganello might not sense it, but evil spirits could.
Those trapped in the evil spirit box weren't corrupted human souls. Mere human spirits couldn't wield horror-movie powers.
Deganello didn't build that foundation—the previous owner did.
Twisting spirits into evil ones granted them bizarre, superhuman forces.
"Who the fu—"
Crack!
Crunch—
A pure physical strike, no mana.
Deganello's face spun like wrung rubber from my casual punch, collapsing and twitching on the ground.
"Ooh, not dead? Even more impressive up close."
Sploosh—
Gurgle gurgle...
I poured potion into Robert's gutted abdomen, genuinely impressed.
"Fuck... Yeah, you're their buddy!"
Crunch-crunch!
Watching Robert regain color and breath from the premium potion overdose, Deganello struggled to twist his neck back.
"This? Nah, not buddies. Just useful for now—would suck if he died."
Splat!
As his neck snapped back, Deganello kicked off, gaining distance, water pooling slickly in his palm.
A translucent blob like slime formed, curling his lips.
'Motive was industrial water jet, right?'
The projectile he'd fired at Isaac gathered atmospheric moisture, compressed by pressure.
The devs said it drew from water-and-pressure machining.
Ssssh—!
Deganello blasted water like a cannon at Isaac-levels—but way higher pressure.
Splash.
"Not a kid playing with water... wait, headspace fits a kid though?"
"Crazy bas—!"
No matter the pressure, piercing fails and it's harmless moisture.
I shook off the wet palm, and Deganello's face darkened, bolting into the forest.
He vanished fast through dim trees.
'Hide-and-seek with a guy.'
Distancing from treated Robert and Isaac suited me, but soured my mood.
Deganello gave up fleeing, hands in pockets, seeing me casually tailing.
He stopped at one of the academy's outdoor training grounds, neatly paved with stone tiles overgrown with weeds from disuse.
'Gotta strip—don't want clothes shredded.'
His other powers might rip them despite intact body.
I neatly hung the shirt Rike picked as fitting on a tree and drew my weapon.
"Gleipnir."
Rustle—
Unlike endless air swings, weapons gain proficiency only in real combat.
Raksha or White Flame would melt Deganello instantly.
Too valuable a sandbag to waste casually.
Swing freely, no holding back—Wanderers leave no traces post-death.
Rare chance to swing Gleipnir with killing intent at a human.
Thud—!
Coiling the long chain in both hands, I landed on the stone.
Black mist erupted from Deganello's box, shrouding the area in darkness.
Fwoooosh!!
The mist swirled to afflict me, but...
Raksha's resistance parted it like fleeing as I advanced.
"Ready? Keep going if not."
"Fucking psycho. Heh heh..."
Deganello's eyes fully blackened, cackling. Looked decent now.
Pale skin, black-red blood streaming from nose and eyes—signs of heavy strain.
Burning life force for doping, akin to black mages. Almost endearing.
"Ready? Then squirm already."
Deganello's main evil spirit powers: water and wind.
Viscous black mist roiled, sharpening into blades.
"Kaaak—!!"
Splatter-splat—!
I took the slashing wind head-on.
This instant.
First thought: glad I stripped to save the shirt.
"Hah... Uhh?!"
Deganello, dripping gore, uttered a dumb denial.
Blood Ghost
'Can't expect more from him.'
All-out life-burning attack, yet wounds too shallow to scar.
Skin barely torn—stat boost barely noticeable.
Still, even paper-thin power might open new paths.
"Felt stuffy lately—wanted a real swing. Hold ten seconds? Nah, five."
Rustle! Rattle—
First real fight for Gleipnir—communing fully.
Our honed teamwork shone?
Enjoying the snug grip, I ramped speed.
Whoosh—whoosh! Sizzle—crackle!
Heavy air-cleaving turned shrill, aura flowing.
Sensing it, Deganello wiped thick nasal blood, backpedaling.
"Whew~ Refreshing."
New insights on chain-handling? Can't say for sure.
But swinging Gleipnir freely cleared my chest.
Deganello shredded into dozens post-pathetic hold, meeting Wanderer death.
Crumble—crunch!
Like first Wanderer Romerius, Deganello shattered and faded piecemeal.
"Yes! That's it."
Deganello fully evaporated; I picked the leftover.
This Wanderer's drop.
Dybbuk Box
▷ Corrupts contained spirits.
▷ Fully corrupted spirits become subservient to the user.
- Tool for exorcists to bind evil spirits, but control shifted over time.
- Known as the Box of Evil Spirits.
This ominous box rivaling black mages' sacrifice chests—what to do? Use fixed.
In-game, Robert takes it to Church; priests freak, perform holy purification.
Boosts Church intimacy, frees spirits, grabs key reward.
'White Flame surer than shoddy holy magic?'
Realistic option absent in-game tickles instinct.
No purer cleanse than White Flame, holding 'redemption' keyword—not holy magic.
Annoyance: dragging to Church drags story forever.
'They'll cling: "Brother~ Brother~" for good deed.'
Shiny-eyed good Samaritans harder than malicious foes.
Fwoosh—!
Crackle... crack...
White Flame from my hand ignited ownerless Dybbuk Box.
Wood burned soundless—no smoke, no heat.
Bang! Screech—screech! Bang! Screech!
Cabinet doors flung open-shut, poltergeist-style occult fury.
"Working great."
Same as game scene confirmed smooth sailing.
Shrieeeee—!!
Inhuman wails chilled forest, fading.
Box crumbled to ash; freed spirits swirled joyfully around me, dispersing.
Second Wanderer Deganello's reward.
Intimacy with spirits increases.
You can see spirits.