Chapter 38
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 38
Wave Walker and Mimic.
Turan frowned at the two unfamiliar titles.
Could these be bloodlines that haven't awakened in me yet?
If it was a combination of two distinct bloodlines, it would mean he belonged to a Great Family...
[Will you enter?]
The question repeated.
It was then that Turan realized the eye’s gaze was fixed on his chest. He pulled out the relic and waved it from side to side. As expected, the eye on the gate tracked the movement perfectly.
When he lowered it, the voice spoke in a dry, mechanical drone.
[Error. Wave Walker, Mimic: Missing.]
It seemed Wave Walker and Mimic weren't traits Turan was born with, but powers originally belonging to the owner of the relic. For some reason, the gate was identifying them as part of Turan’s own bloodline.
"What are Wave Walker and Mimic? And what is this gate?"
Instead of answering, the bulbous eye simply stared down at him with blatant arrogance. Despite having no eyelids, the sense of contempt it projected was palpable.
Turan raised the relic again. "Tell me about Wave Walker and Mimic."
[Wave Walker: Type 1. Underwater breathing, underwater physical enhancement, fluid manipulation. Mimic: Type 1. Flow detection, absorption, and copying.]
As he suspected, the gate wouldn't deal with anyone who didn't possess four specific bloodlines.
More importantly, even with the relic, he had never felt like he’d gained abilities like underwater breathing or fluid manipulation. Did the relic only serve as an identification card without actually replicating the powers?
However, since the "flow detection" ability seemed to be functioning, there might be a specific way to trigger the others.
"What are you?"
[Spirit of the Gate.]
As he thought—the eye was something akin to the Librarian.
Compared to the Librarian, however, everything about it—from its appearance to its temperament—was far more inhuman. If the Librarian was essentially a human with slightly skewed sensibilities, this Spirit of the Gate felt rigid, like a machine reciting pre-programmed responses.
"What is this labyrinth? What is its purpose, and how do I escape?"
[Labyrinth of the Night Hunter. One becomes the Night Hunter by possessing the four required types and slaying the Master. Upon the Master's death, the exit shall open.]
To become the Night Hunter... does that mean one can become a god?
Turan’s eyes widened at the thought of something so far beyond his imagination. At that moment, the eye embedded in the gate suddenly began to spin wildly. Its deep, heavy voice distorted into a grotesque warble.
[Error.]
[Hunter, Pursuer, Wave Walker, Mimic.]
[2-type error. Shadow, Alchemist: Absent.]
[4 types satisfied.]
[Error. Does not match Night Hunter types.]
[Labyrinth opening error?]
[Error. Unable to close. Personnel remaining inside.]
[Unauthorized personnel entry.]
[Contacting creator.]
[Error. Creator absent.]
The eye on the gate began to spout incoherent gibberish. Sensing the atmosphere turning dangerous, Turan took a cautious step back. Suddenly, the eye’s iris split vertically, glaring at him with sharp hostility.
[Self-diagnostic complete. Labyrinth Master deployment. Objective: Eliminate all remaining personnel.]
With those final words, the gate swung open. A monster inside immediately registered on the relic’s senses. It felt as if a barrier that had been blocking his perception had suddenly vanished.
That is...
Judging by the silhouette visible through the darkness, it looked similar to the other monsters, except it was nearly twice as tall. The real difference lay in the sheer volume of mana flowing within it. Even at a glance, he could feel a powerful flow that was easily ten times that of its kin.
The massive monster, the Labyrinth Master, stood up unsteadily and spoke to Turan.
[You.]
[Are not.]
[The Night Hunter.]
[Fakes.]
[Must die.]
A woman’s voice echoed like a haunting refrain. It was exactly the same as the hallucination he had heard when he first entered this place.
The moment he was certain the creature was an enemy, Turan hurled a stone he had already prepared. It was a strike infused with a massive amount of mana, the momentum built through several rapid swings.
The attack, powerful enough to pierce the forehead of an ordinary monster, bounced off the creature's hide with a hollow thud.
It’s that tough?
He immediately fired a fireball followed by a bolt of lightning, but these too failed to inflict meaningful damage. Judging by the slight dip in its mana, he had landed a hit, but it was nowhere near enough to kill it.
The monster chuckled as it strode forward.
[That tickles.]
It seemed this creature, like its smaller kin, possessed physical abilities that far outweighed its mana capacity. Realizing a direct confrontation was suicide, Turan turned and bolted.
[Get back here!]
Thump, thump. Heavy footsteps followed him, accompanied by a primal roar.
Even though he had put considerable distance between them while using stealth, the massive monster was closing the gap with its enormous strides. It clearly knew exactly where he was.
And that wasn't all—
[□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■—!]
The monsters that had been lazily roaming the labyrinth were now screaming in unison, running in all directions. It was impossible to avoid all of them while being hunted by the Labyrinth Master.
"Ugh!"
A monster lunged from the shadows, swinging five hooked claws. Turan raised his arm to block, drawing out the maximum power of his Guardian Magic Tool.
Thuck. The claws dug into his forearm, but they only managed to graze the skin, failing to inflict a fatal wound. While blocking with one hand, he drew his dagger with the other and slashed the creature's throat.
[□□□!]
An ordinary dagger wouldn't have pierced its hide even with mana, but Haram’s dagger was a magic tool. As the monster retreated, its throat half-severed and twitching, Turan plunged back into the pitch-black labyrinth, his mind racing.
Labyrinth of the Night Hunter...
A place where one could become a god. Who on earth could have built such a blasphemous place? The first name that came to mind was a member of the Frea Divine Clan—the Lame Goddess.
But why would anyone need a facility designed to manufacture a god?
"Whoops."
Before he could sink deeper into thought, another monster lunged. Turan slid between its legs, used his mana to spring back up, and kept running. The situation was far too dire for contemplation. He couldn't run and hide forever.
One thing is certain: I have to hunt that thing.
If the Spirit of the Gate was telling the truth, he had to kill it to leave. Even if it wasn't, he needed to eliminate the predator relentlessly pursuing him. The giant monster wasn't exceptionally fast, but as long as it was on his trail, he would never be able to rest.
However, as their brief clash had shown, he stood no chance alone.
The solution was Perga’s group, whom he had been observing for the past few days. Of course, pitting them against that monster would result in heavy casualties...
But it’s not like we’re on good terms anyway.
Since he had been mistaken for an assassin, Turan couldn't just show himself to Perga’s group to form an alliance. Given Perga’s personality, even if they cooperated temporarily, the man would likely stab him in the back the moment the threat passed.
In that case, it was better to use them as pawns.
Let's try fighting together for once, dear cousin.
*
"Agh!"
"Yoznil!"
Perga shouted the young man's name as he fell, hurling his chakram in the same breath. The upper body of the monster pouncing on the youth was sliced clean apart.
"Status?"
"He's hurt! He's out of the fight!"
"Tell Ubo to heal him!"
Ubo, a noble of the Healer bloodline, approached the wounded man with a weary expression. As mana seeped in, the wound that had split the man open from shoulder to chest began to knit back together.
"Is he stable?"
"For now."
Perga, spinning the chakram on his finger as he scanned for the next enemy, realized there were no more foes in sight. A noble of the Berserker bloodline, gripping a massive axe, muttered under his breath.
"Is it... over?"
"Don't let your guard down. More could come at any moment."
Dozens of monsters had suddenly ambushed them while they were resting. They were growing accustomed to the combat here, but even for nobles, facing over a hundred monsters attacking simultaneously was overwhelming.
Fortunately, Perga, the strongest among them, had fought like a demon. No one had died yet, but the exhaustion was visible on every face.
"Wait, I hear something."
"What is it?"
"A thumping... like footsteps..."
Before long, the sound reached everyone's ears. The sensation of something impossibly massive approaching.
"S-should we run?"
"Don't be stupid. Where would we go? Get ready to fight!"
In a place where they couldn't even tell if a wall was ahead of them, the probability of a successful escape was zero. If they were to face an enemy, it was better to do so in a place where they weren't cornered.
As the seven nobles who weren't injured or drained of mana prepared for battle, a massive entity emerged from the darkness. One noble gasped, his voice trembling.
"What the hell is that..."
The giant monster looked similar to its kin, but it stood nearly five meters tall, its head brushing the ceiling. The amount of viscous fluid dripping from its body was several times greater, leaving a thick, sticky trail behind it.
[□■, □■, □■—]
It was a roar similar to the smaller monsters, but it sounded like it was speaking an incomprehensible language. For some reason, Perga’s group could intuitively understand the meaning.
"Night Hunter... Silver Sun... Fury of the Frost... Half-breeds... Enemies of the children... Kill them all..."
"What is it talking about?"
What kind of entity was this, invoking the names of the Frea gods with such hatred? Before they could question it, the monster lunged.
Because the creature was twice as tall, its reach was far beyond what anyone had anticipated.
"Gah—"
"Ubo!"
"Lord Rosmun!"
Ubo, the Healer, and Galten Rosmun, the master of Banipel, were skewered through the chest and abdomen respectively.
Seeing this, Perga’s group launched a desperate counterattack. A chakram infused with immense mana sliced into the creature's right forearm, and a long arrow embedded itself in its forehead. Flames erupted on its chest, and an arrow of light struck its neck.
However, the monster ignored the damage. It brought the two men impaled on its claws to its saw-like teeth and crunched down, swallowing them whole.
[■■!]
Delicious!
As the meaning of those words reached them, Perga’s group trembled. The enemy before them was undoubtedly a being on par with the Mythic-class magical beasts of legend—creatures that appeared once every few decades, which only a Family Head could hope to face.
"W-what do we do, Perga!"
"I told you, we can't run! Attack!"
With a shout, he threw his chakram. The metal disc curved in an arc and dug into the same spot on the giant monster's arm he had sliced earlier. Powered by mana, the chakram didn't stop; it continued to spin, grinding through the bone. A screeching metallic sound echoed, followed by a loud crack as a large chunk of flesh fell away.
"It worked!"
"As expected of Lord Perga!"
Rejoicing at finally landing an effective blow, the nobles followed up with a barrage. Their strikes weren't as potent as Perga’s, but they were enough to steadily deplete the creature's mana.
[□■□!]
That hurts!
With a sharp cry, the left arm swung out again. Perga realized the creature was targeting him and dove diagonally. In his path stood his younger cousin.
"B-brother—"
"Forgive me!"
Perga didn't show a flicker of guilt as he used his own cousin as a human shield. He threw his chakram again, but the monster raised its left claw to block. His cousin, still impaled on that claw, was struck directly by the chakram and sliced in two.
"Woooooah!"
At that moment, the noble of the Berserker bloodline roared and swung a massive axe, striking the monster's shin. It was a bloodline ability that granted immense physical power at the cost of sanity. Combined with the weight of the magic tool, the shin buckled, and the monster's knee gave way.
"I did it! I broke its knee—"
His joy was short-lived. With a thunderous boom, the Berserker noble was sent flying dozens of meters, vanishing into the darkness. The enraged monster had kicked him with its other foot. Only the masterless axe remained, clattering pitifully on the floor.
[□■■□■!]
The battle that followed was a brutal tug-of-war. The giant monster, hobbled by its injured leg, staggered and swung its claws, while Perga’s group dodged and counterattacked to wear it down.
The difficulty was the smaller monsters that occasionally pounced, preventing them from focusing. Strangely, some of the smaller monsters that lunged would suddenly turn their gaze toward empty air or collapse lifelessly. It was the assistance of someone unseen, but the battle was too fierce for anyone to notice.
"Huff, huff..."
Ten minutes later, Perga realized he was the only one left alive. Everyone else had been impaled or killed by ambushes. Elite nobles, who would have been respected anywhere, had died like curs in this godforsaken hole.
What the hell is this thing? What does this have to do with becoming a Family Head?
Perga thought of his grandfather, the Head of the Zahar Family. If he hadn't listened to him, he wouldn't have fallen into this hell. Even if he survived this, his claim to the succession was effectively dead. The relatives of those who died here would never support him.
No, none of that mattered now. He had to survive first.
"Ah..."
Dizziness washed over him, likely from blood loss. In that moment of weakness, a hooked claw pierced through his torso. Blood welled up from his throat and spilled over his lips.
As he sensed his impending death, the monster that had impaled him suddenly spun its eyes as if it had seen something else.
[□□□!]
Fake Night Hunter?
Why is it looking at empty space? Who is it talking to?
As the thought crossed his mind, a human figure materialized from the void. It was a young man clad in strange, foreign traveler's garb.
The weapon in his hands was very familiar. It was the massive, heavy axe used by the Berserker vassal—a weapon so heavy it was unusable by anyone without a specialized bloodline.
The grey-haired youth swung the massive weapon with effortless grace, burying the blade deep into the giant's mangled neck.