Chapter 172
Chapter 172
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 172
Chapter Title: For Whom Does the Bag Open? (3)
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“Everyone, get down…!”
The moment Seti’s voice rang out, Yeomyeong reacted instantly. He kicked off the floor and drew his sword in one motion.
In the flash of the blade, Yeomyeong’s time accelerated. His thoughts outpaced his senses, capturing the incoming spears all at once.
Five spears hurtled toward the group.
Two of them were aimed at the Saintess.
There was no time for hesitation. Yeomyeong envisioned the optimal path to block them and thrust his sword forward like lightning.
The sword, cloaked in sword energy, sliced through the shaft of the lead spear and pressed on.
Before the fragments of the shattered spear could scatter, Yeomyeong wove a spell toward the next one.
Crack! Telekinetic force twisted the second spear’s trajectory. In the next instant, Yeomyeong’s advancing sword clashed with the blade of the third spear.
The magic embedded in the spear tip exploded against the sword energy, and the blade shuddered. Rather than withstand the impact, Yeomyeong released the sword and twisted his body slightly.
Fortunately, the fourth spear was coming straight for him. It grazed his earlobe by a hair’s breadth.
Even without direct contact, a long gash appeared on his cheek, and a chunk of his ear was sliced off.
Gritting his teeth, Yeomyeong hurled himself toward the final spear, reaching out desperately, pleadingly.
But the spear indifferently brushed past his fingertips.
As Yeomyeong collapsed to the floor, he heard the sound of it piercing someone’s body near his ear.
He didn’t need to look to know what had happened.
His senses, honed to the extreme, told him that Seti had shoved the Saintess aside and taken the spear instead—and that her breathing was growing faint.
A piercing ring echoed in his mind, like a hammer blow to the head.
A silence where his mouth refused to open.
Before the silence could stretch on, a scream tore it to shreds.
No, sister, Seti—
And amid the screams came the decadent voice of a woman.
“…Tch, what a shame.”
Yeomyeong sprang to his feet and charged toward the voice—the direction the spears had come from.
Ekaterina’s face rapidly filled his vision. He swung his fist straight at her face.
Boom!
The translucent barrier before her blocked Yeomyeong’s punch but shattered in an instant.
Immediately after, his fist slammed into Ekaterina’s face.
Thanks to her mana, her head didn’t explode, but that was it. The massive impact wrenched her neck with a sickening crack.
Yet she didn’t die. With her head twisted around, she even burst into mocking laughter.
“Ahaha, so that was your lover?”
Blatant provocation. Yeomyeong didn’t suppress his killing intent.
“Guess I still came out ahead.”
Whether those five spears had been her full power or not, Ekaterina offered no resistance.
“Kid, fighting is all about…”
She started to taunt him, but Yeomyeong gave her no further opening.
He slashed with his hand blade, pierced with his fist, grabbed and twisted until it tore free.
He pressed the assault relentlessly, leaving her no chance to resist or mock. Until her body no longer held a human shape.
Finally, what had been Ekaterina slumped into the pooling blood with a wet thud.
But Yeomyeong’s rage hadn’t subsided. He glared beyond the steel door, down the corridor.
The frantic footsteps echoing from the far end… undoubtedly the South Palace Lord fleeing.
Yeomyeong halted mid-stride, about to pursue. The Saintess’s sobs had seized his ankle.
“Seti, please, please…”
Only then did his mind, consumed by bloodlust and fury, cool to ice.
His limbs grew weak, his breathing ragged.
Yeomyeong turned toward Seti. Seeing her with the spear embedded in her abdomen stole his words.
No matter how hard he strained his ears, he couldn’t hear Seti’s heartbeat.
All he heard was the pounding of his own heart.
The Saintess beside him was squeezing out her mana, pouring healing miracles into her, but it had little effect.
Even a Saintess couldn’t revive a heart torn asunder.
Yeomyeong felt a dreamlike dissociation. Was this reality?
No scream, not even a sob escaped him.
The Saintess’s tears soaking her eyepatch, Neti’s wails—none of it reached him.
He was numb. To everything in the world.
Yeomyeong knelt beside Seti and placed a hand on her cheek. Her body was losing its final warmth, cooling rapidly.
Once that warmth faded, it would be gone forever.
“…Seti.”
The word came out strained. Yeomyeong gazed at Seti’s closed eyes for a moment, then turned toward the shadow pooling in the control room’s corner.
Meeting the shadow’s gaze, Yeomyeong drew a sharp breath.
If he begged Mignium right now to save Seti.
Mignium would surely revive her. In exchange for countless offerings.
Would she demand dozens of innocent lives?
Or perhaps launch the nuclear weapon before them, claiming tens of thousands, maybe millions.
Seti’s life versus the lives of countless nameless innocents.
Yeomyeong closed his eyes and weighed them. As his anguish deepened, the World Tree’s words suddenly resurfaced.
—As we did in the past, you too will one day weigh the value of lives. Hundreds of millions against one million… no, perhaps even more extreme. Billions against one.
Was this the moment the World Tree had foreseen? The instant of weighing lives?
He clenched his teeth. The many against the one—saving the many was obviously right.
But what if that one was Seti?
Better to kill a million than endure a world without her.
Losing family once was enough. Why sacrifice his own for nameless strangers?
Maybe Mignium would ask for a light offering.
Yes, better to beg mercy from Mignium. That was the wisest choice.
With his mind made, Yeomyeong parted his lips toward the shadow.
“Mignium, I offer everything I have…”
He couldn’t continue. Miridis’s voice echoed in his mind.
‘I believe in your choice.’
Yeomyeong turned from the shadow to the Saintess.
Her face was a mess. Her tear-soaked eyepatch had half slipped off, blood streaming from her eyes, nose, and mouth from mana overuse.
Yet she hadn’t given up.
Instead of calling to her god, she called Seti’s name, wringing herself dry.
Yeomyeong looked down at Seti. He gazed at her peacefully closed eyes, then shut his own.
Arrogant as it was, he delved into his own heart for the answer.
Not from Mignium or the World Tree, but from within himself.
This was still the moment before Seti’s warmth faded completely.
***
In the corner of the control room, where Yeomyeong’s group was lost in grief.
Bikov quietly crawled across the floor.
His broken, mangled body screamed in protest, but his revolutionary will drove him onward.
If he could just reach the steel door, summon the Ratkin legion, and escape his body…
‘…I can get away.’
Who knew the South Palace Lord, that idiot, would be useful at the critical moment.
As the saying goes, you can make kvass from leftover bread—and this was exactly that.
Of course, time was not on his side. He had to open the door before Cheon Yeomyeong regained his senses.
Leaving a long trail of blood on the floor, he crawled on.
At last, Bikov reached the steel door. Instead of blindly calling the Ratkin, he tapped it in Morse code.
—Save me, now.
Fortunately, an officer-class Ratkin seemed to understand, and the other side grew busy.
Amid chittering, the door slowly creaked open, creating a gap wide enough for one person.
Seeing the gap, Bikov grinned. The victor’s smile.
Now, the revolution would begin.
The imperial capital would burn, and comrades lurking worldwide would rise.
He would resurrect a true Soviet on this land, replacing Moscow’s trash…
As Bikov dreamed of a sweet future and let the Ratkin pull him out the door.
The world stopped.
First, the hands of the Ratkin holding him froze.
Then the telekinetic girl’s wails, the Saintess’s tears—all halted.
‘What… what is…?’
As Bikov swallowed in fear and bewilderment.
Cheon Yeomyeong’s body trembled. As if exempt from the frozen time, he slowly rose.
Soon, the massive shadow on the control room floor writhed, engulfing everything around.
As if to ensure no one witnessed what was happening here.
Feeling an indescribable dread, Bikov wanted to look away, but his frozen body refused.
Bikov screamed silently with his unyielding mouth.
‘What the hell is going on? Someone, anyone, cover my eyes! Marx! Please!’
Moments later, his wish was granted. The instant Yeomyeong opened his eyes, something that must not be seen reached out, claiming his left eye as tribute.
***
Enlightenment is like a dream—you only realize it came after it’s passed.
“You… you bastard, I clearly cut your throat…?”
The Player’s dying words.
『Never compromise. The gods of this land are watching you.』
Mignium’s final advice he’d heard.
—Inventory… take it out… Elix…
And the Cleaner’s words from the secret relic.
In a space indistinguishable from dream or awakening, countless words drifted by.
Yeomyeong didn’t dwell on them.
Just don’t forget. Chew them over, remember, and press on.
Thus, he confronted the bag within his inner self.
The first he saw was the grotesque leather bag made from the Player’s skin. Instead of a zipper, it bared teeth and spat curses.
As Yeomyeong took a step closer, the bag changed.
Now it was the money bag from killing the Director, stuffed with his cash. It vomited dollar bills emblazoned with Benjamin Franklin, shrieking.
One more step.
The body bag from his Cleaner days.
One step.
The weapons bag from the black market.
One step.
The academy backpack.
And finally, the weapons bag Elder Jang had packed when leaving Incheon.
“…Yes, this bag is the most precious.”
The moment Yeomyeong grasped the handle and said so.
A flood of information poured into his mind.
Giant’s Strength Potion, junk, Lerak family heirloom, dimensional gate guard ID, thug’s identification, golden beetle shell, imperial palace blueprints…
From trivial trash to criminal tools, even priceless treasures.
Dozens, hundreds of items the Player had hoarded piled into his head.
It wasn’t convenient. Yeomyeong felt his brain being crushed, his veins twisting in agony.
On the verge of blacking out, he bit his tongue and clenched his fists.
If this pain was to revive Seti, he could endure it a thousand times over.
…How much time passed? A long time if long, short if short—then the torment ended.
Yeomyeong slowly opened his eyes. The bag before him was gone, but he didn’t mind. It had already taken firm root in his heart.
The Player’s all-purpose subspace, commonly called the inventory.
Surely within it…
Reaching that thought, Yeomyeong extended his hand and ‘grasped’ empty air.
Instantly, a glass vial appeared in his palm. A small, unadorned one.
The liquid inside resembled clear water—so much so that the unaware might mistake it for plain tap water.
But Yeomyeong, having absorbed the memories, knew. This was the Elixir.
The potion that halted aging, extended life, and could even revive the dead.
The item the Player had cherished to his last breath but couldn’t use after Yeomyeong severed his arm.
Stealing the enemy’s treasure to save family—now that was perfect revenge.
With that thought, Yeomyeong awoke from enlightenment.
And greeting his opened eyes was an utterly unexpected presence.
[Player! We cannot allow you to disrupt the scenario any further!]
A massive red arm bursting from Bikov’s eye. It pierced the frozen world, lunging at Yeomyeong.
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