Chapter 124
Chapter 124
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 124
Chapter Title: Crossroads of Revenge (2)
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[Master, be careful. That revolting stench is getting stronger.]
No sooner had the Unicorn's voice echoed in his head than the gunfire beyond the sewer grew more intense.
Du-du-du-du!!
It wasn't a pistol—it was the roar of proper automatic rifles spitting fire.
Sensing something ominous, Yeomyeong drew up a bit more mana. Each time his feet slapped against the sewer floor, his body shot forward like an arrow.
After rounding two corners in the sewer, he spotted a back in the darkness.
'...A beastkin?'
It was a massive bulk that forced Yeomyeong to crane his neck to look up, covered head to toe in gray fur, with a grotesquely emaciated frame that left bones protruding.
Had it noticed the glow of the hilt? The thing slowly turned its head.
Only when their eyes met did Yeomyeong realize it wasn't just any beastkin.
No beastkin could live with half its face melted away, exposing bone.
[A beastkin zombie? What kind of idiotic nonsense is this...]
The Unicorn spat out a brief reaction, and at almost the same moment, Yeomyeong swung his sword.
Just as the Tears of the Mountain sliced through the sewer's darkness toward the wolf's face—
“Kyaaah!!!!”
The creature let out a scream or howl—impossible to tell which.
It was nothing but a pure, raw shriek, free of magic or curses, yet its effect was immediate.
Beyond the beastkin zombie collapsing with its head cleaved in two, dozens of eyes hidden in the sewer's shadows all turned toward Yeomyeong in unison.
And...
Awoooo!!
Dozens of zombies howled at once. Their wails made the sewer pipes ring.
Damn, what a filthy racket. With the gunfire now drowned out, Yeomyeong grimaced and charged at them.
Not to be outdone, the zombies whirled around and lunged at him.
The moment they closed into each other's range—
The lead beastkin slashed with its claws. A hand longer than the average adult woman's height came crashing down toward Yeomyeong's head.
A simple but effective attack exploiting the reach difference.
But distance meant nothing to Yeomyeong.
He swung his sword, severing the creature's arm entirely. Mana surged like waves through the blade, slicing rotten flesh, and Yeomyeong advanced two steps.
Two down.
As the sword cleaved through not just the arm but the torso in one go, more claws, talons, and teeth lunged for his body.
Yeomyeong didn't dodge. He took a short breath, tensed his shoulders, and drew a crescent moon with his sword.
Empowered by the light of Uragan's Hilt, the blade traced a beautiful arc. Blood and chunks of rotten meat trailed behind it, shredding the zombies in its path.
Five down.
Yeomyeong didn't stop, and neither did the beastkin zombies.
Claws and sword crossed. Blood and flesh sprayed over the fetid sewer water.
Like rapids in a flood, like waves crashing on the shore.
The sewer filled with the corpses of the chaotically swarming horde.
Five became ten, ten became thirty.
Yeomyeong butchered the zombies methodically, like a slaughterhouse machine. Just as he had in Incheon, just as he had in Manchuria.
Even when their claws raked his thighs or teeth sank into his flesh, he paid no mind.
His regenerative power—beyond even that of living beastkin—sustained him.
How many had he killed? By the time counting felt pointless—
Yeomyeong realized the gunfire, once a background hum, was now sharply clear and close.
Just one more corner, and he'd reach whoever was firing.
He suppressed the nagging itch in his chest and swung his sword once more.
***
Deep in the darkness-shrouded sewer.
Beneath a stone altar wreathed in black miasma, the Butcher in the form of a boy spoke.
"No, fuck. Why is he so damn weak?"
His gaze was fixed on the hides scattered around the altar, which displayed real-time views from across the sewer.
It resembled CCTV footage, and its purpose was much the same.
Anyway, the Butcher sighed in frustration as he stared at the hides.
"...Is that kid just too strong?"
He narrowed his eyes and focused on the image floating over the hide.
The boy advanced, hacking through beastkin zombies in droves.
It wasn't some cheap horror flick—the boy shredded them live without a hint of hesitation or fear.
And above all...
'...Why isn't his stamina dropping?'
The Butcher—no, the Player—flicked his finger to check the stamina bar.
Snap.
A translucent window appeared—one visible only to him in this world.
A window where all the world's information was neatly quantified.
Through the window, the boy's stamina read...
[100%/100%]
As expected, not a single notch worn down.
It dipped slightly each time a beastkin zombie landed a hit...
But recovered in the blink of an eye.
"What the hell is that regeneration... Half-beastkin? Or did he bathe in dragon blood? He fought a dragon in Manchuria, so maybe..."
Muttering something only he could know in this world, the Player turned to the altar.
More precisely, to the massive lump of flesh atop it.
"Hey, can't you make something besides zombies?"
In response to his question, the lump twitched. Soon, a wolf's face slowly emerged from it.
The wolf's eyes pitch-black, it rasped in reply.
"Fend... can... make..."
A dazed voice, like that of the deranged.
Tch. The Player clicked his tongue. So much for a boss—barely a mid-boss. Even after devouring that huge Corruption Stone, this was all it could do.
"Then make a Fend instead of zombies. At this rate, we won't kill the Saintess."
"Saint...ess... can't... kill?"
At the word "Saintess," the entire lump shuddered. Amid the writhing mass, chunks of gleaming Corruption Stone peeked out.
"Black sheep...! Need... sheep's blood...!"
"Black sheep?"
"Blood...! Sacrifice...!"
The Player stared at the babbling priest for a moment, then stood and dusted himself off.
"Fuck, this conversation's going nowhere."
He tapped at empty air a few times, and a bottle of blue potion materialized in his hand.
No magic, no miracle—just bizarre technology.
But the priest showed no reaction to the sight.
"Ha, damn it. No choice."
Not expecting a response anyway, the Player uncorked the potion and downed it without a word.
As the refreshingly un-sewer-like scent wet his throat, his eyes turned green.
Like a beast piercing the darkness.
"...Guess I have to check myself."
After blinking to adjust his vision, the Player gave the hides one last glance.
More precisely, the two boys reflected on them.
***
At a narrow sewer intersection.
Bang!
The Saintess's shotgun roared. A hole punched through the chest of the beastkin zombie inches from her face, spraying blood.
"Kng, kng—!"
But another beastkin zombie instantly filled the gap.
She racked the shotgun again, but click—empty magazine.
"Ah, damn it!"
The Saintess tossed the shotgun aside and snatched up another gun from the floor. A slightly larger automatic rifle in her hands.
Du-du-du! Du-du-du!
Precise bursts followed. Zombies toppled like dominoes, but the damn magazines were the problem.
Before she could drop ten, it ran dry again.
Bang!
She drew a pistol from her bosom and fired while wedging the rifle upside down between her thighs.
'One-handed reloads... Never thought I'd use that here.'
Was it the fruit of her practice? She reloaded the rifle smoothly, then unleashed another barrage.
Fire, reload, fire, reload.
Countless casings clattered into the sewer, and far more beastkin fell, but the horde seemed endless.
At least they lacked the living beastkin's regeneration—that was a small mercy. But only for one or two at a time.
Glancing at her dwindling ammo, the Saintess bit her lip.
"Shit."
If she had time to bless her ammo, she could've saved more than half.
But the zombies gave her no such respite.
As if determined to kill her alone, they swarmed relentlessly.
By the time zombie corpses piled around her like barricades—
'I can't hold out like this.'
She gritted her teeth.
What now? Ditch the mags and weapons and run?
Or hold out and wait for someone?
As her dilemma stretched, she noticed the zombies' numbers suddenly thinning.
If the initial wave was a crashing tide, now it was a gentle stream.
Huh? What?
Even as the question arose, she seized the brief lull.
She blessed a fresh magazine and blew the remaining zombies' heads off.
Then reloaded.
As short silence filled the sewer, footsteps echoed from the darkness.
Step.
Not zombie shuffling—human steps. The Saintess blessed the new mag, aimed down the sewer.
Moments later, the figure that emerged was...
"Yeomyeong?"
Drenched head to toe in blood, but unmistakable. Only one person had eyes like that.
The Saintess lowered her gun and scrambled over the corpses to him. Arms wide for a reunion embrace—
"Stop."
Yeomyeong's stern voice halted her. Arms still outstretched, she tilted her head.
"Why?"
"...You really wanna get touchy-feely covered in this?"
Yeomyeong glanced between his blood-soaked clothes and her.
Instead of answering, the Saintess smiled and hugged him. Over something like that?
Blood reeked, but she didn't care.
She was slathered in zombie fluids herself, and above all, Yeomyeong's body was warmer than she'd imagined.
The embrace lingered in relief. Then, fondling his back, she asked.
"Hey, Yeomyeong, know where we are?"
"How should I? I was gonna ask you."
Yeomyeong eyed the pile of weapons stacked on the far side of the sewer.
"Those from Darulma's plane, right? How'd you grab all that?"
"Oh, that? Right after you left the plane, I felt something weird, so..."
"...You grabbed the weapons first?"
"Lady's duty."
Only after Yeomyeong let out a hollow chuckle did the Saintess release the hug and drag him to the weapon pile.
Unprompted, they sorted guns and ammo like it was routine, chatting as they went.
"Anyway, there must be a reason we got summoned here... Anything ring a bell for you?"
"One thing comes to mind..."
"What?"
Yeomyeong checked the shotgun she'd tossed and began explaining.
Tracking terrorists with Korbus, cornered guy smashing an unknown black gem.
Scarce had he finished when the Saintess tapped her temple.
"...Corruption Stone."
"Corruption Stone? You know it?"
Mm, fiddling her fingers, she paused before speaking.
"Yeomyeong, ever hear of the Doomsday Cult?"
"...What most people know."
"So, not much."
Click. She racked a rifle and continued.
"They're these lunatics preaching the world is false, so destroy everything and build a new one."
"...False world?"
News not in Baonic's notes. Yeomyeong narrowed his eyes, listening intently.
"They claim all this world's gods are fakes propping up a false realm. Meanwhile, they worship unidentified sludge blobs—demons or monsters."
"..."
"Corruption Stones... You get them by human sacrifice to those blobs. Prime catalyst for black magic? So this place is probably a barrier or something made with one."
Saying so, she shed her outer coat.
Yeomyeong coughed at the sight of her half-soaked uniform blouse, but she ignored him, bundling ammo and guns in the coat like a sack.
"Ahem, you know a ton."
"Before the dimensional gates opened, they were our Five Gods Church's arch-enemies. Thirty percent of temple histories are about killing them."
With that, she commandeered Yeomyeong's outer coat too, turning it into another sack.
Still not enough, she hung guns from her belt.
Click.
After loading her pistol last, she stared at the weapon at the bottom of the pile.
A massive warhammer evoking a construction tool.
"Why bring that? You can't even use a hammer..."
Yeomyeong asked puzzled, but she cut him off.
"Seti."
Ah. Yeomyeong recalled the black sheep and frowned.
"...Seti's here too? You sure? Precog?"
"No, precog doesn't work in places with this much warped mana. But... woman's intuition. Seti's here, definitely."
"Woman's... what?"
"Don't you feel it?"
Yeomyeong nearly called bullshit but shut his mouth, sensing the tickle in his chest.
Seeing him suddenly silent, the Saintess smirked knowingly.
"...Alright, shall we go find Seti?"
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