Chapter 206
Chapter 206
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 206
Chapter Title: Tentacles and Cursed Dolls
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Dealing with countless tentacles is generally a pretty annoying affair. They whip around wildly on their own whims, and from my experience, these bastards...
As I sliced through the tentacles surging toward me, the severed parts plummeted into the sea, only for new ones to sprout right from the cross-sections.
"Of course."
They carry regeneration around like it's as natural as people toting smartphones. Just as I'd suspected, this one's cut from the same cloth.
The tentacles themselves aren't all that sturdy when swung. They're incredibly fast, sure, but not strong enough to bind or smash anything solid.
"No poison, no electric shocks or anything like that."
Which means they're not for physical attacks. Has to be mental assault, then. In that case, bring it on.
The hundreds of writhing tendrils moved like a bundled mass of noodles. The thing was aiming straight for my mouth, ears, nose—the openings to my head.
Clear as day: it wanted to slither in and mash up my brain.
"Nah, pass."
No thanks. I grabbed a fistful of those noodle strands. At the same time, a filthy sensation crawled across my skin. Forced emotions being injected.
"Other hunters might struggle... but for me?"
These countless tentacles were all just fuses. My hands were already blazing with Paradox Flame.
The flame raced up the tentacles from my grip like a fuse, reaching the creature's round main body in an instant.
"Driving me mad to erode my sanity?"
Why go the long way around? Just burn the thoughts away. The Paradox Flame coiled around it greedily devoured the creature's very mind.
No hunter weak enough to get tagged by these mindless tentacle scraps would be here in the first place. And honestly, I've outgrown struggling against this kind of nonsense.
I seized dozens of its slender tentacles, clenched my fist tight, and spun my body with full force.
The tentacles stretched taut, dragging its main body into a high-speed spin matching my rotation.
"Jang Tae-seok, smack it!"
Like he'd been waiting for my cue, Jang Tae-seok leaped up and smashed his tonfa into the whirling orb.
The sphere crumpled on impact with a series of thud-thud-pop sounds. The tentacles I gripped tore free, and the thing plunged into the sea.
Right after, Han Sang-ah sheathed her blade in its lightning-charged scabbard, then yanked it out and whipped the ocean. Savage blue bolts raged across the spot where the orb had sunk.
As crackling filled the air, the sphere slowly resurfaced. It didn't look normal anymore.
"Not even running."
"It can't even think to run."
Thanks to the burning flames, the bastard couldn't form proper thoughts.
No instincts to flee or fight—just hazy instinct driving endless, aimless tentacle flailing.
"Let's just beat the crap out of it."
No sooner had I spoken than one of Jeong Oh-hoon's missiles rocketed toward it. Mid-flight, it split apart, spewing hundreds of flechettes.
The flechettes rained down like a storm, embedding in the orb before detonating in unison.
"For an octopus, it's got a lot of legs."
Flames conjured by Choi Yeoreum wrapped around the ragged wounds. She balled her fist, and the fire exploded outward, devouring the surrounding air and swelling massive.
Once the blaze died down, the monster that had been thrashing moments ago was reduced to charcoal.
"One down, at least."
A few more of these lurked in the sea. Nothing we couldn't handle. We kept moving, picking them off as we went.
"The vibe's getting heavier by the minute."
Sung Si-hoon muttered. The sky over the Black Sea resembled shattered stained glass.
Prismatic shards floated above, glinting ominously in the sunlight.
"Headaches are starting to feel normal now."
Choi Yeoreum pressed her temples, looking a bit queasy.
"Doubt you've adapted."
I wrapped everyone in Paradox Flame.
The searing black fire purged the madness and fear burrowing into their minds. Some residue might linger, but fear and insanity fade with time anyway.
The scraps left behind would dissipate naturally.
"Fuck, feels like being reborn."
Jang Tae-seok muttered, patting himself down. It'll get contaminated again eventually, but hey, a brief reprieve.
"Can't we keep this up?"
"If I hadn't used Paradox Flame on those tentacle freaks, this fight would've been a nightmare. Plus, constant exposure means no adaptation."
Like hitting the sauna with Dad as a kid—endure till the hourglass runs out.
"Land ho."
"If you can call this land."
The place called Zonguldak. Sail south from Odessa, and you end up here.
Our first stop after fully crossing the warped Black Sea. Stepping off the ship, we were greeted by dolls scattered everywhere—broken and defiled.
Ball-jointed dolls with heads twisted grotesquely, long insect antennae wriggling from empty eye sockets.
Smashed rag dolls.
Wooden puppets with snapped strings fluttering eerily in the wind.
Faded bisque dolls with legs sawed off and cloudy blue glass eyes where arms should be.
Matryoshka dolls staring wide-eyed with creepy grins.
Porcelain dolls with one side of their heads shattered.
"Better if they'd used action figures."
Might've felt less gross.
"That doll's head just moved."
Choi Yeoreum said in a tense voice.
"Obviously."
Does it look like some horror flick prop? Problem is, she's reacting pretty sensitively.
Scared of dolls?
"Wanna play house?"
"Cut it out."
She realized I was teasing and gritted her teeth. Classic case of pride conquering fear.
"Eek."
A nutcracker doll worked its jaw with clacking sounds, and Choi Yeoreum let out an involuntary squeak.
She really hates them.
—Warm blood flowing beneath the skin. Plump, warm flesh and soft skin. Eyes brimming with life.
—I want it too. I need it. This isn't a body. I want one.
—Why do only you have it? Why only you...
I clicked my tongue at the doll spinning its eyes while ranting, then smashed its head.
"Goddamn."
The doll, mid-rant, lunged at me with its shattered skull.
—Give it baaaack!
"Nooooo!"
I grabbed the headless doll by the collar, ignited Paradox Flame, and it shrieked as fire engulfed it, thrashing wildly with a piercing screee.
"Pathetic thing."
I shook off my hands, picked up the now-still doll, and tossed it to Choi Yeoreum.
"Fuck, I said don't!"
She blasted it with flames in panic. The lifeless doll incinerated mid-air into scattering ash.
Afraid? Burn it. Amateurs messing around would get roasted alive.
"Get a grip. Shaking over dolls—how you gonna handle the rough road ahead?"
She ground her teeth in response.
"I'll find something you hate and make sure to use it."
Petty over a little teasing. Doing it on purpose. Fear usually stems from atmosphere, unlike madness.
Lighten the mood, and the fear shrinks. With enough spare capacity for clowning, I'm the only candidate.
Grinning, I snatched a chattering doll, yanked off its head, and jammed it on its ass.
"Whoa, check this out. Talking out its ass."
"So is it a fart or a voice?"
Han Sang-ah chimed in seriously with that nonsense out of nowhere. Everyone else chuckled in disbelief, but she looked dead serious.
As the hunters snickered, she glanced at me.
"Why's everyone laughing? I'm serious."
"Yeah, right."
Keep it up. Gotta keep ventilating the mood.
These dolls aren't threatening per se. It's the oppressive vibe plus filthy, broken dolls muttering that makes it gloomy.
—I need legs too. Your eyes are so pretty. Give them to me? Come here. Just one. Come on. Come heeeere!
The doll thrashed, but with a head on its ass, it was just funny.
"It's farting nonstop."
I said to Han Sang-ah, and she replied readily.
"Too soon to call it a fart."
"Call it an ass-fart, then. Good?"
She pondered briefly and nodded.
"That works for now."
Meanwhile, I grabbed a baby bottle from a nearby abandoned shop and shoved it into the mouth of a shrieking, cursing doll.
"Here, suck on it. Suckle-suckle. Want more milk?"
I swaddled the freaking-out doll and patted its back a few times.
Still grinning, I ripped heads and arms off other dolls and jammed them onto this one.
"Ehehe. Behold, the ultimate blue-eyed white dragon."
I detached the hand from the embedded arm, stuck more doll heads on, and cackled while wiggling it.
Once we started messing with the dolls trying so hard to build horror, the atmosphere flipped to comedy.
Whatever controlled them realized it and pulled all the coastal dolls back. No point fighting here anymore.
Turning playthings into horror? That's Hitchcock territory.
I tsked at the fleeing dolls.
"Daring to psych me out with this crap."
Try that shit again, and I'll turn every hideous one into a clown show, no survivors.
The more they push scary vibes, the more vicious comedy I'll unleash.
Whoever's puppeteering them—better drop the petty mind games.