Chapter 156
Chapter 156
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 156
Chapter Title: Assault on the West Palace
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That stupid emperor must have made up his mind to turn the entire nation into reds.
*Richard Nixon's response upon hearing about the Blood Tuesday incident one year after Stalin's disappearance.*
***
“…How?”
The moment he spotted the intruder landing on the stairs, the West Palace Lord muttered without thinking.
It was a question loaded with multiple meanings.
What happened to the countless guards protecting the sewers? And how on earth did he punch through that massive concrete wall?
The answer to those questions came crashing down from the ceiling.
Two women wearing masks that exposed only their eyes, each armed with a massive hammer and an anti-tank rocket.
Only after seeing them covered head to toe in blood and concrete dust did the West Palace Lord realize what had happened up above.
They killed anything in the way and smashed through the concrete floor with the hammer and rocket…?
It was unbelievable, but there was no other explanation.
As the West Palace Lord swallowed hard and backed away, Horse Head—who had been sizing up the intruders from a short distance—finally spoke.
“You lot, you’re all Earthlings.”
None of the three intruders responded.
Instead, one of them moved. The male intruder who had landed first.
His sword gleamed with milky sword energy as he charged straight at Horse Head.
The strike came in a straight line, no tricks or feints. It was a simple attack, but brutally fast.
By the time Horse Head reflexively deployed his shield, the blade was already right in front of his face.
Creeeang!
The shield crumpled like paper, and Horse Head’s body flew backward as if struck by a cannon shell.
In midair, Horse Head desperately reached out and grabbed hold of anything he could.
His fingers snapped and his palm tore open, but he barely managed to stop himself from plummeting down the concrete stairs.
Dangling precariously from the stair railing, Horse Head caught his breath.
Normally, he would prepare the next spell or transform, but he couldn’t collect his thoughts and just glared at the intruder.
Was it because the opponent’s skill was beyond imagination? No, it was because the intruder’s stance on tiptoes felt all too familiar.
“Flying Leg Art…? Flying Leg Art?!”
How could the martial art of the Patriots, woven from the blood and sweat of the Korean people, be unfolding from an intruder’s feet?
Horse Head felt confusion, followed by an overwhelming rage he couldn’t suppress.
“A dwarf-forged sword and Flying Leg Art… You’re American lackeys, aren’t you?”
“…”
“Ha! Jeon Yong-seop…! That traitor to his nation went and sold even what he shouldn’t have!”
The intruder, Cheon Yeomyeong, didn’t bother correcting the misunderstanding. What use was the truth to a dead man?
He unleashed Flying Leg Art once more and swung his sword. This time, the surging mana of Wave Yang Art coated the blade.
“Immortal King!”
At that, Horse Head wove his spell as if he’d been waiting. Crimson flames twisted with corrupted mana spewed from his mouth.
Yeomyeong neither stopped nor dodged. Instead, he tensed his shoulders and brought his sword down on the flames.
The swordsmanship and sword energy stolen from the Player, combined with Wave Yang Art’s mana, sliced through the pouring flames and warped mana, embedding itself in Horse Head’s shoulder.
He barely dodged a strike aimed at his throat, but it was no meaningful resistance.
Yeomyeong simply added his weight to the blade and severed the arm.
Splurt! The foul blood unique to Shepherds soaked the concrete, and the severed arm flew into the air.
As Yeomyeong swung his great sword for the finishing blow, Horse Head triggered an instant spell.
The target wasn’t his foe, but his own severed arm. The spell’s name: Corpse Explosion.
Moments later, mana and air were sucked in, followed by a boom as it detonated. Blood and flesh erupted like a grenade, shoving the two men apart.
In that split-second gap.
Horse Head immediately drew up his mana to prepare his transformation. If he could just transform, losing one arm wouldn’t matter…
“…Guh!?”
His thoughts cut off there. An invisible force had seized his neck as he flew backward.
“Teleki…nesis…?”
Magic? The moment Horse Head belatedly focused his anti-magic power.
Yeomyeong hurled him down the stairs.
You fucking bastardaaaaah—!
Horse Head screamed—not a scream, but a scream—as he vanished into the depths below.
Yeomyeong wiped the blood from his face and peered down the concrete stairs. They were so deep that he couldn’t even hear the bastard hit the ground.
“Guys who fall like that always come back alive later, somehow.”
“…”
Park Neti’s voice shattered the tension. Yeomyeong looked up at his companions.
Seti and Neti had already bound the West Palace Lord tight. Surprisingly, the lord maintained a composed expression.
“…You’re really Earthlings? Americans, even?”
“…”
Had Horse Head’s misunderstanding spread? Well, from the Palace Lord’s perspective, it was an understandable mistake.
“I am… Jo Pantoriano, West Palace Lord of this city.”
“…I know.”
“You know? Then this will be easier. By the authority granted to me as Palace Lord by the Emperor…I formally request your cooperation with me and America.”
He was trying to appear composed, but his voice betrayed unmistakable fear and anticipation.
No idea what he’s thinking… but this could be useful if played right?
Yeomyeong signaled Seti with his eyes not to say a word, then replied to the lord.
“Cooperation? You’ve got some nerve, talking like that, terrorist.”
“T-Terrorist?! I was only being used by those bastards against my will!”
He could hear the Palace Lord’s heartbeat quicken. A lie.
Yeomyeong crossed his arms and fell silent, as if to say, go on, keep talking.
The Palace Lord, as if trying to hide his trembling voice, continued with fervent zeal.
“I’m telling you, I had no choice. They took my beloved citizens hostage and blackmailed me!”
“…”
“H-Ha! But I wasn’t just sitting idly by. I pretended to cooperate with them to extract information, waiting for a chance to strike back…”
Brazen lies, sly glances. Yeomyeong bit back a bitter smile and clamped his mouth shut.
Did he take the silence as agreement? The Palace Lord licked his lips and added.
“Aren’t you curious what information? If you promise to cooperate with me…”
“…No, wrong order. Prove your value first.”
“…”
Squeeze. Matching Yeomyeong’s performance, Seti yanked hard on the ropes binding the lord.
Caught off guard by the sudden pressure, the Palace Lord gasped for air but kept talking.
“They’re after the underground armory! The armory…”
“We already know that. Tell us something more useful.”
The ropes tightened further. The Palace Lord’s face turned red.
“Th-The passwords they know for the armory are all fakes!”
Only then did the ropes loosen.
“…Fakes?”
“I-I gave them fakes on purpose! So I could punish them at the crucial moment…”
More like he kept an insurance policy until the end.
Yeomyeong let out the bitter smile he’d been holding and glanced down the stairs.
If the lord was telling the truth, the ones who’d gone ahead would be stuck at the armory entrance, unable to proceed.
“…What now?”
Seti, who’d been applying pressure, asked. Yeomyeong shook off his sword and answered.
“Nothing more to squeeze out. Toss him.”
“What? Wait! Without me, the real password to the armory is…!”
As the Palace Lord’s protests began, Seti snapped his neck. Crack. He collapsed like a wooden doll.
As the group prepared to head down the stairs, Neti, who’d been watching, spoke up.
“…We don’t need the armory password?”
In response, Yeomyeong pulled the golden imperial seal from his pocket and shook it.
A magic tool capable of opening any locked door in this world.
It was a more certain gesture than a hundred words, but Neti only looked more puzzled.
“Uh… what’s that?”
***
Duncan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
When he’d gathered his men and descended into the western sewers, he’d been full of dreams.
Find the secret vault in the sewers, grab a huge haul, snag the previous tower lord’s secret relic, and return to the Magic Tower in triumph.
But the reality he found in the sewers was far from his sweet fantasies.
The corpse of an unidentified Pig Head, the acrid smell of gunpowder stinging his nose, and the sewer crawling with lowlifes.
And the biggest problem among them was, as always in this city, other people.
“Boss, uh… shouldn’t we just retreat? This isn’t our fight.”
By the time angry shouts and agonized screams echoed from deeper in the sewers, one of Duncan’s underlings spoke up.
Even a mana-blind civilian could tell the situation was shit.
Duncan knew it too, but he couldn’t bring himself to order a retreat to the surface.
His organization had shrunk after some unknown assailant broke his limbs not long ago, and his wealth had dwindled even more.
If he returned empty-handed from here, who knew how much further he’d fall?
Drunk on greed, false hope, and the stubborn pride of a man backed into a corner, he yelled.
“Quit your bitching and find the vault! What do you have to worry about with me here?”
His underlings followed orders reluctantly. The mage right in front of them scared them more than the screams echoing from ahead.
But it didn’t take long to realize that judgment was wrong.
“Huh? What’s that sound?”
As the organization member scouting farthest ahead strained his ears, countless footsteps approached.
Splash, splash. The footsteps trampling through the sewer water were astonishingly rhythmic.
“Boss! Weird guys coming th—!”
The moment the perceptive underling called for help.
The leisurely footsteps turned into the pounding of sprinting feet.
Thud thud thud thud! Like thousands of rats scurrying at once.
The underling whirled in shock, but it was far too late. A blade flashed from the darkness and plunged into his throat.
—Stab, slash! Kill them! Kill them all!
—Revolution! The time for revolution has come!!
—Ura! Ura!!!
The last thing reflected in the dying man’s eyes, foaming at the mouth as he collapsed, was the sight of the sewers filled to the brim with Ratkin.
* * *