Chapter 99
Chapter 99
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 99
Chapter Title: The Night Raven
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Beyond the writhing mountains.
Thousands of crow heads that had revealed themselves were clustered together in one place.
Beneath those thousands of crow heads loomed a massively swollen black upper body.
And sprouting from that upper body were six enormous wings, each covered in countless arms.
Caw! Caw! Caw!
At that instant, the thousands of crows began screeching in unison.
The sheer sound shook the mountains and toppled trees.
The sun itself cowered at the thunderous roar and hid away.
Darkness swiftly filled the sky, blanketing the world in night.
The red eyes of the thousands of crows gleamed ominously through the gloom.
In the landscape that had transformed in a heartbeat, Ridark—cloaked in shadow armor—asked,
“...Havel, did you summon that thing?”
Ridark knew full well how idiotic the question was.
“It’s the Tower.”
So Havel decided to snap him back to reality.
“The trial it bestowed to stop me.”
The trial of the seventh hierarchy.
The Night Raven.
The crow that had devoured the god of night.
Ridark’s crimson gaze hardened.
Even at a glance, the Night Raven screamed danger.
Naturally, no records of it existed in any intel on the floor.
Which meant this abomination was a special creation of the Tower—just for today.
What variable could have influenced the floor to this degree?
Only one possibility.
The man standing right in front of him: Havel.
The Tower escalates difficulty based on who enters.
Ridark had known that from the start.
That was why he’d assumed the maximum difficulty would hit once Memento Mori stepped in.
But he’d been wrong.
Staring at the Night Raven now, he finally understood.
The Tower’s true peak difficulty.
‘The Tower jacked up the challenge and unleashed a trial just to block one guy?’
Even dozens of Ridarks couldn’t handle a monster like that.
It was calamity incarnate.
A beast that made him look utterly insignificant in an instant.
Gazing at the Night Raven, Ridark stood there in a daze.
His fighting spirit shattered in a heartbeat.
Misfortune had its limits.
He’d finally devoured enough to awaken as Miseria.
But this? This was misfortune too vast to swallow.
‘Fucking unlucky,’ Ridark muttered hollowly to himself.
‘Really.’
Havel brushed past him.
He walked with the same casual ease he’d shown when facing Ridark himself.
Ridark couldn’t wrap his head around it.
“Shouldn’t you be thrilled? It’s exactly what you wanted.”
Ridark’s goal had been to pin down Havel.
And sure enough, he’d succeeded—at least on the surface.
Havel was here to deal with the Night Raven.
But in another sense, his plan had crumbled.
If Havel couldn’t beat it, the floor was doomed.
Memento Mori’s members wiped out, no question.
A chill ran down Ridark’s spine.
He reflexively raised an orb.
An emergency escape tool to bail from the Tower on the spot.
But its glow had faded.
The damn thing wasn’t working.
“...What the.”
Ridark’s red eyes shook wildly.
The floor was sealed shut.
‘Which means...’
He tilted his head skyward.
‘We’re trapped unless we take down that monster.’
Slaying the Night Raven was now part of the clear conditions.
That realization drained the color from his face.
He whipped around toward Havel.
The Night Raven had crested the mountain and was surging toward them.
Havel met his gaze, having reached the same grim conclusion.
“With a trial like that, looks like this floor’s a bust.”
A sly grin crept across Havel’s face.
“If I feel like it, I could bolt from that thing anytime.”
He meant it.
Havel could pull it off, no doubt.
In other words, Memento Mori would have to face it head-on to clear the floor.
And the outcome? Catastrophic.
A bloodbath.
“Y-your comrades are on this floor too!”
Havel tilted his head at that.
“I already told you.”
Ridark’s breath hitched.
Havel had flat-out said he’d ditch Baria without a second thought.
And he would—if he chose to.
Ridark could read people.
Havel was absolutely capable of it.
But Ridark? He couldn’t abandon Memento Mori.
They were the Armed King’s apostles, after all.
“...Are you even human?”
In other words: psycho.
“Lost those feelings ages ago. But I don’t slack on my duties.”
Havel tapped his foot against the ground.
Poised to sprint at any second.
“And at my level? I could wipe out just your crew while keeping my people safe.”
Spare his allies, pulverize Memento Mori alone.
That’s what Havel claimed he could do.
And he was dead serious.
“Then, casually...”
Before Ridark could respond, Havel shifted into a starting stance.
“...maybe a stroll back to the kingdom?”
“Wait!”
Ridark grabbed at him desperately.
The Night Raven descending the mountain would hit them any moment.
And as Havel said, it’d rampage all the way to the kingdom eventually.
Ridark led Memento Mori.
No clear in sight, no escape possible.
He couldn’t lose every last member.
“Let’s deal.”
Ridark plunged his hand into the shadow.
His Miseria-empowered giant fist rummaged inside.
Moments later, he yanked something out.
“Ugh— L-Lord Havel?”
It was Baria Graiza.
And he wasn’t alone.
The unconscious scorched monk, spearman, and old crone tumbled out.
Moebius followed, dragging the skeletal priest Edler.
Ridark released his grip, and Baria leaped free.
Moebius hauled the trio out after him.
“I’ll send them back safe. And I’ll tell the main force to halt the floor clear right now.”
Ridark freed the hostages to prove his sincerity.
He threw in scrapping the original scheme too.
“Help us take down that monster together.”
Basically: don’t leave the Night Raven hanging.
Havel stared up at him silently, then turned to Baria.
It’d been a while, but the guy looked unscathed.
If anything, his aura burned brighter—honed through inner training, no doubt.
Grinding even in captivity. Impressive resolve.
‘Not like Dante, at least.’
He’d been a dick, sure.
But Ridark wouldn’t dare touch him.
Baria was Graiza blood—one of the Five Great Families. Leverage for deals.
“You good?”
“Yes, sir. Fine.”
Havel nodded at Baria’s words.
If the man said so, that settled it.
Moebius, though, bowed deeply to Havel upon eye contact.
Guilty conscience, clearly.
‘I’ll sort that out later.’
Havel scanned the area.
One was still missing.
“Baria. Where’s Azaris?”
The pyromaniac. Azaris Ignor.
Direct scion of one of the Five Great Families’ Ignor line.
He’d climbed with Baria.
Figured he’d be a hostage too. Nope.
No sign of him.
“Uh, another Ignor direct grabbed him personally. Penbola too.”
Baria scratched his head awkwardly.
“They’re probably on 76 by now.”
That tracked.
Explained why he was MIA.
Havel got the picture.
He drew his sword, leveling it at his side.
The Night Raven loomed right on them.
“Baria. Ping Owen. Tell him you’re back safe.”
“Owen?”
Baria blinked in shock.
No way Owen was rolling with Havel.
“Yeah. He tore the place apart looking for you. Ease his mind.”
Havel stepped forward.
“And Moebius.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll talk later.”
With that, Havel’s form blurred.
No one—not even Ridark—tracked him.
KWAAAAANG!
A deafening boom echoed as the Night Raven’s upper body, descending the mountain, caved inward.
KAAAAAK!
Thousands of crows shrieked as one.
The beast’s body reeled back, shattering the mountainside.
One blow, and the monstrosity was mangled.
It happened in a flash.
Ridark gaped, slack-jawed—then spotted Havel.
Dawn aura cloaked his blade. His eyes burned with unprecedented focus.
And that’s when Ridark sensed it.
Havel’s calamity unfurling—not just across the mountains, but the entire space.
“Ha... haha.”
A vacant laugh escaped Ridark.
Belated clarity hit.
His “opportunity” today? That trial right there.
Without the Night Raven, he’d have tangled with Havel.
Chills prickled his spine at the thought.
He dismissed the Miseria shadow giant without a word.
Back to normal, utterly deflated.
He’d scraped together misfortune for that power-up.
Lost the will before even swinging.
Moebius strode past the broken man.
“Why you scoffed when I called you arrogant.”
He smirked faintly.
“Getting the idea now?”
Ridark had seen Havel up close now. Felt his power.
No room left to argue.
“You weren’t wrong.”
He thought of the Armed King—pacted with the Whisperer and God’s venom.
‘Even he might need to rethink things.’
Havel wasn’t some foe to blindly oppose.
First priority: alliance.
Ridark was reaching for a comm to the main force when—
[Ridark.]
A voice boomed in his skull.
He knew the owner. Froze solid.
[‘Foldron’ heads for the Tower.]
His skull’s red glow thrashed wildly.
The Armed King’s emergency decree.
Havel flickered back into view.
Foldron.
Memento Mori’s Specter.
Specter versus Havel—what then?
Ridark wouldn’t bet on it.
The Specter: calamity-spawned horror.
Their clash could rock the whole Tower.
‘What’s the play here?’
Today’s glimpse of Havel screamed recruitment.
But the King’s orders stood absolute.
‘Pull back. Now.’
Get the main force out, fast.
‘Playing him?’
Havel would hit 76 for sure.
Run smack into the Five Great Families.
Not even them—sans heads—could handle him.
‘Add the Specter...’
Their core strength might vanish that day.
The Armed King always despised those families.
Classic move.
‘If it goes down...’
Tower and outside world—balance shattered.
“Guess small fry like me stay outta whale wars.”
Ridark chuckled bitterly.
Forget misfortune. Just keep his head down.