Chapter 25
Chapter 25
VROOOOM—!
A motorcycle roared across the stone pavement of a medieval fortress, creating a scene so absurd it was almost comical. The one responsible for this spectacle was none other than Joo Do-gyeom.
With a massive battle-axe in one hand, he charged forward, utterly indifferent to the orcs swarming around him.
"Skree—! A human?"
"How dare he?!"
The orcs, fearless as ever, rushed at him from all sides.
The outcome was brutal.
The first orc to leap at him was split clean in half by the sheer force of Do-gyeom's swing, amplified by the motorcycle's momentum.
"Skreeee—! Arrogant human...!"
Another orc snorted, hefting a massive glaive—only to meet the same fate. Do-gyeom's axe swung like a hammer, reducing the creature to pulp in an instant.
And so, the storm of carnage continued.
The relentless swings of the axe.
The roaring motorcycle.
The splattering of green blood.
"Skreeek—! Get him!"
"Just one human... Gahk—!"
"Ugh—!"
Snorts, roars, screams, death.
From the shadows of a collapsed building, Kim Han-yul watched the scene unfold, her body trembling involuntarily.
'This... this can't be real!'
She had seen him in action during the Zombie Burst, but this? Riding a motorcycle with one hand while wielding a massive axe in the other? It defied all logic.
This wasn't just about raw strength.
Shaking her head, she snapped herself out of her daze.
'I can't just stand here. I need to move.'
The longer she delayed, the more pressure Do-gyeom would face.
And right now, he was fighting blind.
'...This is insane.'
Still, she had a job to do.
When he had told her to prepare poison, she had assumed the plan was to poison the orcs—maybe taint their water supply.
But Do-gyeom had shot that idea down immediately.
"Poisoning the well won't work. Orcs have muscular digestive systems—they can break down most toxins. Unless it's a high-grade venom crafted by a real poison master, it's useless."
And even if it was potent enough, the moment a few orcs started convulsing, they'd stop drinking the water.
Sure, it might wear them down eventually, but who knew how long that would take? The hunters would collapse from exhaustion first.
No, Do-gyeom had a different plan.
"See that? Over there, Han-yul."
"Where—? Oh, that white building?"
"A temple."
"A temple?"
Though crumbling, it was unmistakably a place of worship.
"Deep inside, there's a statue of a goddess. Place a water purifier filled with poison in front of it as an offering."
"...That's it?"
"That's all we need."
An offering.
To the goddess—of poison.
The deity would accept the tribute and, over the next few days, rain it down upon the entire dungeon.
Offer water, and gentle rain would fall.
Offer poison, and the skies would weep venom.
The stronger the poison, the deadlier the rain.
A hidden dungeon mechanic, unknown to most.
"Got it. But... why a water purifier?"
The answer came instantly.
"Offerings must be given in a vessel. And that purifier? It keeps whatever's inside in its purest form. It'll amplify the potency of your poison."
Finally, she understood.
Why Do-gyeom had gone through the trouble of securing an expensive, magitech purifier—weeks in advance.
This had always been the plan.
As she ran, another question nagged at her.
'How the hell did he even know about this?'
This was an undiscovered strategy. If word got out, the dungeon's difficulty rating would plummet. With a proper poison master, it might even drop from the 11th worst B-rank dungeon entirely.
Just as her thoughts deepened, a memory surfaced—Do-gyeom's voice, calm and assured.
"Hmm. Han-yul, with your poison, I think we can at least summon a rain of weakness."
Her blood boiled.
'Who the hell does he think I am?!'
She bit back the urge to yell.
After all, who was the one currently drawing the aggro of hundreds of orcs single-handedly?
A hunter who could pull off something like this in the Occupied Frontier Lord's Fortress?
Even among B-rank hunters, there wasn't one.
She was sure of it.
'Absolute fucking monster.'
Despite her internal grumbling, exhilaration surged through her veins.
Complaining was just her way of coping.
At her core, she thrived on challenges—on shattering what others deemed impossible.
And Do-gyeom?
He was the perfect leader for someone like her.
'So damn cool.'
All her earlier worries and discomfort had vanished.
Not that she'd ever admit it out loud.
Someone had to be the nagging voice of reason in the team, right?
'...Our leader really does have everything planned out.'
But still—what if?
Lost in thought, she barely noticed the orc until it was too late.
"Skree...? Human?"
One of the orcs, drawn by Do-gyeom's chaos, had spotted her.
Han-yul raised her gun with a dry expression.
A magically enhanced pistol, fitted with a silencer. Normally, she loved the loud bang of gunfire, but stealth demanded compromise.
The privilege of an Implementation Artist—imagination was her blueprint.
Pew! Pew!
Two suppressed shots. The orc's knees buckled.
Balance lost, she fired again—three rounds straight into its skull.
Thud.
No orc, no matter how thick-skulled, could survive that.
The massive body collapsed at the alley's entrance.
A thought crossed her mind.
'Summoning Mark Two would make this a hundred times easier.'
But she couldn't.
The mechanical golem was too big, too loud—its presence would give away her position instantly.
'...Leader promised Mark Two would get its moment later.'
Who promised?
The leader did.
And no, she couldn't summon a motorcycle either.
'Because he's already riding one.'
One of an Implementation Artist's limitations—she couldn't create a duplicate of something that already existed.
The lone motorcycle had been claimed by Do-gyeom, leaving her to sneak around on foot with nothing but a gun.
'Such is my fate.'
Yet despite the hardship...
She found herself smiling.
Ahead, the ruined temple came into view.
Thanks to Do-gyeom drawing all the aggro, the area was eerily quiet.
Not a single orc in sight.
VROOOOM—!
'Well, I can still hear his bike from here.'
Half-collapsed stone roof.
Moss-covered pillars.
A yawning darkness beyond.
Han-yul didn't hesitate.
'In I go.'
She didn't know if this would really work.
But if the leader said so, she'd follow through.
She stepped into the shadows.
Meanwhile.
Do-gyeom was still tearing through the fortress.
"Skreeek—! Block him! Trap him in the plaza!"
"Warriors, raise your spears! Destroy the iron horse first! Skreeeeek—!"
Orcs weren't mindless zombies.
They had intelligence, language, tactics.
Already, they had formed a wall of spears in his path, with axe-wielders lying in ambush down every alley.
A proper military response.
Fitting for an army that had conquered this fortress.
Too bad their opponent was worse.
'A spear wall, huh.'
Do-gyeom didn't slow down.
Instead, he gathered internal energy in his dantian and forced it into a violent collision within his meridians.
CRACK—!
A sound like thunder in his mind.
Divine Beast Potential Art.
[Skill: Divine Beast Potential Art (3-Star) upgraded.]
[Temporary Strength Rank increased: D- → C-]
The divine beast's power exploded through his muscles.
Recoil?
There'd be hell to pay later.
But he'd be holed up for days anyway—plenty of time to recover.
The axe, infused with this explosive force, came down on the center of the spear wall.
KABOOM—!
"SKREEEAAAK—!"
"W-we can't stop...!"
Shattered spears.
Bent shields.
An entire frontline obliterated.
The motorcycle slipped through the gap effortlessly.
Behind him, the orcs' fury echoed.
"What kind of human is that? Skreeek!"
"Not human! A demon in human skin!"
A demon.
Not entirely wrong, Do-gyeom mused.
The unwelcome guest in his brain had been stirring excitedly since the fight began.
'Quiet.'
Suppressing the madness with a single thought, he recalled the origin of this strategy.
The Poison King.
In the distant future, among the hunters of the Unified Asian Fortress City, he had been one of the top ten strongest.
A Chinese man who claimed to be the last descendant of the Tang Sect—Dang-ho.
The undisputed master of poison, nicknamed the Poison King.
It was during a drunken conversation that he had casually revealed the secret of this dungeon.
"The Occupied Frontier Lord's Fortress? Heh. For poison masters, that place is a goldmine."
Offer poison to the goddess statue.
Summon a rain of venom.
Then sweep up the weakened orcs.
Only two things were needed:
A bait strong enough to lure the orcs away from the temple.
And a potent enough poison.
The rewards?
High-grade magic stones, rare even among B-rank dungeons.
And the occasional useful magical artifact, dropped only by the orc champions.
(No guarantees on the latter, of course.)
'If it doesn't drop, we'll just run it again.'
Han-yul probably thought this was a one-time clear.
Sorry, but Do-gyeom's plan was to farm this place dry.
She'd get used to it soon enough.
Despite her grumbling, he could see it clearly—
'She's enjoying herself.'
Was she, like him, cursed with something lurking in her mind?
He'd have to ask later.
A thought that would horrify Han-yul if she knew.
Amidst the slaughter, Do-gyeom's head suddenly snapped to the side.
"SKREEEEE—! Make way!"
The orcs near the inner fortress suddenly parted.
From their ranks emerged a figure twice the size of an ordinary orc—covered in scars and black tattoos.
An orc chieftain.
White Fang.
The chieftain slammed his twin axes into the ground and roared.
"Human! I, Karga of the Red Tusk Tribe, will take your head!"
"SKREEEENG—!"
"The chieftain has arrived! Skreeek!"
"Ooooh—!"
The orcs' morale soared, their cheers deafening.
In that moment—
WHOOSH—!
A fireball streaked from above.
An orc shaman, hidden on the rooftops, had struck.
But Do-gyeom's Ripple Perception Qi Art (4-Star) traced its trajectory through sound and vibration.
And his Mandatory Death Eye marked the weak point—a single red dot hovering in the flames.
Without even looking, he swung his axe casually.
SHINK—!
Like shattering glass, the fireball split in half and vanished.
Only embers remained, scattering uselessly across the ground.
Silence followed.
"...He cut through magic? Skree...?"
One of the orcs muttered in disbelief.
Even Karga, who had been marching forward confidently, froze.
Magic couldn't be cut—not without an aura blade.
That was common knowledge, even among orcs.
How?
The question hung in the air.
Do-gyeom, however, remained unfazed.
Heaven-Slaying Star—the absolute power to kill anything.
Cutting magic was trivial.
'Honestly...'
He sometimes wondered if he could even kill the rules of the dungeon itself.
Before the thought could finish—
"SKREEE—! Shaman, retreat!"
Karga's bellow rang out.
But Do-gyeom had already flicked his finger.
[Skill: Shadowless Finger Bullet (2-Star) upgraded.]
SWISH—!
A gust of wind, sharp as a blade, pierced the shaman's forehead.
"Skr...!"
The orc didn't even finish its scream.
Staff still clutched in hand, it toppled forward, rolling off the roof before crashing into the plaza below.
THUD.
As all eyes turned to the corpse—
SWOOOSH—!
Another sound.
Do-gyeom had kicked off his motorcycle mid-air, soaring high with his axe raised above Karga's head.
The chieftain's eyes widened.
"You dare...?!"
He raised his glaive in defense—
SHLICK—!
A single, clean cut.
Karga's body split vertically, collapsing in two perfect halves.
The glaive, held horizontally, suffered the same fate.
Just like that—
The shaman.
The chieftain.
Two of the dungeon's elite monsters, slain in seconds.
Do-gyeom kicked off the ground, using Lightning Flash Step to vault back onto his still-moving motorcycle.
A seamless aerial stunt.
As he gripped the throttle again—
VROOOOM—!
The engine roared, now a sound of terror to the orcs.