Chapter 207
Chapter 207
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 207
Chapter Title: Dollhouse Delirium
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The further we pushed beyond the coastline, the more bizarre it felt.
It was a different vibe from the Black Sea. That place screamed outright, "This is dangerous territory, and we're gonna drive you insane!"
But the scenery right in front of us now didn't give off that kind of vibe.
"It's like a theme park."
I nodded in agreement with Jeong No-hoon's assessment. Streets paved with vibrant, multicolored blocks and quaint buildings in soft pastel tones.
It felt like a dollhouse or an amusement park.
"If you ignore these things, that is."
Choi Yeoreum pointed at the maggots wriggling beneath the flower beds. They looked cheerful enough on the surface, but something was just... off.
"Look closely at the walls too..."
Here and there, flakes of dried blood and skin clung to the surfaces. Even in the sweetly pervasive fragrance hanging in the air, the stench of rotting corpses and the coppery reek of blood lurked like hidden assassins.
The Black Sea had been like a chainsaw-wielding psycho in a hockey mask charging straight at you.
By comparison, this whole district was more like a wife pretending to adore her husband while slipping antifreeze into his dinner to snag his inheritance—or a kid with an innocent grin ripping the legs off bugs.
♪♩♪♪♬
"Scattered us, huh."
A faint nasal hum echoed as thick fog surged in, swallowing my vision. Suddenly, I was alone. The other hunters had probably been separated too.
In front of a street vendor stall sat a mannequin dressed as a chef, hawking hot dogs to a crowd of other mannequins.
"What a profound world of cuisine."
Tucked between the hot dog bun in the chef's hand wasn't a sausage—it was a massive centipede. A real appetite-killer.
Its neck snapped around toward me with a jerk.
"What do you want."
—Have one on your way out.
The mannequin's mouth corners lifted into a grotesque leer, less a smile and more like someone had forcibly yanked them upward.
"Pass."
—Come on, just one! It's delicious!
Persistent as that cult freak I ran into on the subway.
"I said no."
—Eat it, you fucker! I'm telling you to eat!
The mannequin suddenly revved into overdrive, yanking out a cleaver and charging me.
—I'll rip out your guts and turn 'em into sausages! Gouge those useless eyes that can't appreciate real food and deep-fry 'em! Graaaaaah! Ehehehehe! Let's see you strut around with fried eyeballs! Yeah, let's see it!
Harsh words. The cleaver-wielding freak's eyes gleamed maniacally, the blade flashing even brighter.
—A carrot's got a carrot's worth of vitamins! The riper the tomato, the greener the doctors turn! I'll make your ugly mug green too! Heekeeek!
The swinging cleaver sliced precisely along the grain of my muscles.
"You little shit?"
This wasn't about killing—it was butchery. Strikes meant to separate bone from meat on my body.
And that meant it saw me as livestock. Getting treated like prime cuts by a damn mannequin? Pissed me right off.
"Well, well."
It vanished in a blur, popping out from a wall corner to slash at me again. I swung my spear; it vanished, reappearing from another corner to go for my throat.
Now down on all fours, crawling like a beast, its head spun wildly as it cackled. A weird shimmer rippled around its body, flickering on and off.
—After school, hehehehehe!
"Corner monster, huh."
I swung a fist at the charging thing; it backpedaled, dodging.
"Limited to inanimate objects, looks like. Restricted by distance and the length of the escape route too."
I muttered as I shortened my spear and hooked it to my belt.
"No way I'm losing to a power with that many limits."
The thing let out a low growl at my words. Then, more mannequins like it started pouring from the corners.
Going for numbers, eh?
"Had a run-in like this recently."
Let's see how many it could spit out. With that thought, I gripped my spear and charged. It tried ducking into a corner like it was nothing; I snatched its head mid-escape and smashed it to bits.
Headless, but not dead. Not a living thing—just a mannequin. Like a lizard ditching its tail, it left the rigid fake noggin behind and bolted through the corner.
"Could just burn the whole concept of 'corners' away..."
I'd fought those scrawny rat-dog things before. In that other world, I'd torched without a second thought. They came at me hell-bent on killing or dying, so I granted their wish.
Without corners, these bastards couldn't escape. The freaks from that world couldn't either.
But sadly, this was Earth. No clue what nuking "corners" would do to the planet, so I wasn't pulling that trigger unless shit really hit the fan.
A world without corners? Couldn't even build proper buildings. No interest in remodeling Earth into that kind of madhouse.
So, no choice.
"Gonna catch 'em one by one and smash 'em."
If I moved faster than they could flee to corners, problem solved. And I had the speed for it.
"Theme park vibe, and now it's whack-a-mole?"
Pop in, pop out. I'd go to smash its head, it'd desperately dive away.
Of course, like most whack-a-mole games, no matter how hard the moles tried, they couldn't dodge the hammer crashing down.
Thwack-thwack. Plastic shattering echoed as heads flew from every corner-spawning mannequin.
—Ow...
Dozens of cleavers slashed at me. A wall of blades. But I spotted the gaps between.
My spear wove through slyly, prying space open. I slithered out like a snake, smashing another three or four.
I flung my hand sideways; the pavement ripped up, sucked toward my palm. Gripping the chunk, I hurled it at a fresh corner-spawner in the distance.
The meteor-like fragment pulverized it, ricocheting to wreck another for good measure.
"What, that's all?"
Moments later, I kicked the skewered mannequins off my elongated spear like shish kebab and scanned around.
All smashed to bits. I picked up a stray arm rolling on the ground, shook it around, then chucked it.
It sailed into the fog with a thunk. Not a sound for hitting empty air.
—Baby, baby. When he hears your cry, he'll rush home and tear your limbs off in one go. Beat you to a pulp and devour you. Piece by piece.
A limp wooden puppet shambled toward me. A massive cross strapped to its back. Crudely painted red eyes stared my way.
Blush rouged its cheeks like it fancied itself a lady. Black lipstick scrawled a mouth below.
Nails and screws riddled its body, teetering on collapse. It rattled closer in a comical pose.
And in its hands: enormous, rusty shears. Get caught in those, and "cut your head off" would be literal.
Its gait was funny, but the speed? Blindingly fast.
Like a wind-tossed kite, floppy and trailing, yet it closed the gap in a blink, snapping those hideous blades around me.
"Wonder if calling you a cheap knockoff would hurt your feelings?"
No reply—just the shears clamping down like they meant to bisect my waist.
I leaped back, evading, and countered. It flopped away again.
Its waist twisted unnaturally, like it couldn't control its own speed, then slowly righted itself.
—Poor thing. I'll make you perfect. Way cooler. Reborn.
"Looking at you, hard not to doubt that promise."
No sense of aesthetics whatsoever. Ugly as sin.
"Scissor blades."
Couldn't block those blades. Whatever they touched teleported elsewhere.
No matter how sturdy my spear, a teleporting chunk meant it'd snap.
"Lately, why so many unblockable attacks?"
Wasn't like this before crushing Gon Sal-ok. Was "unblockable" a Shardai Club monster trademark?
But only the blades had that freaky power.
I kicked the swinging shears upward, then shot my spear straight at its gaping chest.
"..."
In that instant, the damn puppet's body crumbled to pieces. My spear stabbed air as the fragments swirled back, reassembling.
—Dirty nape line. A blunt cut on the neck would clean it up. I'll tidy those convex bits on your torso too.
Convex? It kept distance, pointing the shears at spots on my body. From the angles...
Sounded like it meant my limbs.
"Just say you're gonna chop my arms and legs off."
Why beat around the bush? Annoying as hell.
—You could be so much prettier. Trim the convex, dye it dark tulip—gorgeous.
Conversation going nowhere. Typical with lunatics—they just spout whatever.
"Worried about the others."
As the rusty shears snip-snipped, I thought of the other hunters.
Scattered meant they were probably each dealing with pests like this.
"And time's not on our side. This is bullshit."
I dodged the lunge and struck back; it crumbled again, trying to flee.
"Psycho."
Worked once, so it spams the same trick? Treating me like an idiot.
As it tried reassembling, I attacked; it aborted, scattering pieces everywhere.
"Yeah, keep it up."
You'll tire or slip eventually. I settled in, patiently disrupting every recombination.
And on its 47th try, it slipped. My spear impaled its torso.
—Pretty...
"Shut up. Die, then take a good look in the mirror."
I channeled Paradox Flame into the spear's embed point.
Paradox Flame
Black flames erupted, devouring the target utterly.
The black flames exploded, consuming it. The fog lifted, and I was back in that theme-park-like spot from moments ago.
Looks like the others were taking longer.