Chapter 19

“O-of course the largest magic stones belong to you, Guild Master. I’ll just take the small scraps around them.”

“You can take them all.”

“Really?! Can I really take everything?”

Nam Shin-hoo nodded. The items dropped by regular mobs were only fragmented magic stone shards or junk like leather anyway.

“Instead, I’ll take whatever materials are gathered in this dungeon.”

“Of course! I don’t have any gathering skills anyway!”

Shin-hoo plucked the cacti sprouting sparsely between the sand. By the time they arrived, his inventory was packed with the cacti and seeds he had gathered along the way.

He proudly ran his hand over the materials—the very purpose of his visit, and ingredients that would be of great help in the future. He felt a slight prick of conscience wondering what face Gwan Seung-ya would make if he knew that one of these dry, rough cacti was worth more than a hundred magic stone shards combined.

Shin-hoo turned his gaze toward the sandcastle looming right in front of them. A massive, rough-textured gate blocked the two men.

“Wait at the entrance.”

“You’re going in alone?”

“It’s more efficient that way. We’ve dealt with most of the monsters on the way, so your stealth skill will be plenty to keep you safe.”

Seung-ya possessed a Rank-B stealth skill. Even though this was a Rank-A dungeon, they had already cleared the named monsters on their path, so there shouldn’t be any danger.

“S-still, clearing it solo might be dangerous…”

“Should I confiscate your loot?”

“No, sir! I believe you will return safely, Guild Master, and I will support you from behind right here. Have a safe run!”

Seung-ya bowed at a ninety-degree angle and activated his stealth skill. After confirming Seung-ya had vanished with only a faint presence remaining, Shin-hoo stepped into the sandcastle alone.

Rustle.

Sand fell from the ceiling. Shin-hoo moved inside, avoiding the falling sand as much as possible.

The most dangerous thing in this desert dungeon was neither the unique monsters nor the powerful boss. It was this very sandcastle. Because this place was…

‘Not a real, physical structure.’

That was the terrifying part of the desert dungeon. Every sense of touch, smell, and sight Shin-hoo experienced right now was a mirage. The moment he rested his back against a pillar, he would be swallowed by sand and vanish into an inescapable antlion pit.

The building that looked like a castle was a space crafted by desert delirium. It was an oasis that devoured travelers seeking shelter from harsh sandstorms, and the scattered tomb of an ancient king. Anyone who brought down the sandcastle was immediately transported inside the king’s coffin to be buried alive. Even if rescue teams arrived later, all they ever found were dried-up mummies.

Having walked through this sandcastle several times in his past life, Shin-hoo navigated it with practiced ease.

Walls disguised as doors, windows disguised as walls, motionless fountains, and golden butterflies that vanished upon approach. Mirages and parched gravel wove together an eerie, beautiful space.

There were no monsters inside the castle. Its purpose was not to defeat hunters, but to consume them as living sacrifices. Instead, minor traps like explosive booby traps and curse tiles lay scattered everywhere.

Knowing the dungeon’s layout like the back of his hand, Shin-hoo disarmed the traps one by one and pushed forward.

Reaching the center of the sandcastle, he came upon a massive hall with an open ceiling. In the middle of the hall, where bright sunlight poured down, a massive five-meter-tall sand statue sat on a throne, waiting for Shin-hoo.

A low voice echoed through the hall. The sand statue on the throne stamped its foot. Stained glass made of colored sand vibrated.

Glowing red eyes looked down at the human as if staring at a pebble.

“Nothing.”

The color of the blazing sun shifted. An orange glow covered the sky like a sunset on the horizon.

“I don’t need the throne. What I want is buried underneath it.”

He needed to defeat the boss quickly and get back to the treatment room. Since he slipped out at dawn, he had to wrap this up and return within twelve hours to avoid getting caught by Choi Kang-hyun.

The statue stood up. Its cracked face twisted menacingly as its red eyes flared.

Shin-hoo summoned his weapon, Luin Buada.

“Luving. Charge output.”

“Cancel analysis. Set to 30% Water attribute, 55% Ice, 15% Wind, and Holy attribute Aether. Maximum output.”

He had no time to waste analyzing a boss whose raid mechanics he already knew.

“Do it anyway.”

Demanding maximum output took time. Energy was sucked out of his right hand gripping Luin Buada in an instant.

Meanwhile, having fully risen from the throne, the statue swung its wide palm toward the sky.

—The Desert’s Verdict

The deafening roar was blinding. The downward wind pressure weighed heavily on Shin-hoo’s shoulders, and a shadow instantly crashed over his head.

Boom!

The spot where Shin-hoo had vaulted off was gouged deep into the ground. The wide sand floor hissed with steam.

The next attack began. The area around the statue shook violently, and the sand floor rippled like water.

—Crown of Delusion

The boss cast its skills in succession. With the statue’s roar, the ground surged, pulling everything toward the central throne like a vortex.

Shin-hoo leaped into the air again. The rule of never touching the sandcastle remained active during battle. He couldn’t cling to the walls, nor could he stand on the floor once the boss room skill was triggered.

‘In that case…’

When the statue slammed its hand down once more, the impact rattled the entire hall. Shin-hoo seized that split second to step onto the grounded hand and leap. The only thing he was allowed to touch was the statue itself.

Whoosh!

Cutting through the raging sandstorm, Shin-hoo’s silhouette charged toward the statue. His feet landed on the statue’s right shoulder. Riding up the slamming arm, Shin-hoo tightened his grip on his weapon.

The statue’s massive head turned. Red eyes flared right in front of Shin-hoo as he perched on its shoulder.

Just as Luin Buada had noted that a 60% output would suffice to incapacitate it, the statue’s physical defense wasn’t remarkably high. Instead, it possessed near-infinite regeneration.

Even if its arm was shattered or its head severed, it would regenerate. However…

“That might be true for you.”

The tip of Luin Buada flared. The fully charged magic stone shifted colors, rippling with a brilliant glow.

“You were never my target to begin with.”

Dodging the downward strike of the statue’s left hand, Shin-hoo vaulted above its head.

“Take a rest.”

He launched himself straight toward the back of the statue. The sharp spearhead struck a single point.

Crack.

The spearhead pierced dead center into the throne. Blinding light centered around Luin Buada engulfed the hall.

The ominous, pulsing throne split in half and collapsed, soaking and freezing over at the same time. Crystal-clear, icy blue fractures spread across the floor.

Kraaaagh!

The sand forming the statue broke apart and scattered. The collapse was so rapid that its supposed infinite regeneration proved utterly useless. Endless showers of gravel and damp sand crashed onto the floor. The crystal frost blanketing the throne froze the ground, drilling deep into the fissures below.

Shin-hoo’s target from the start had been the throne. More precisely, the king’s sarcophagus buried beneath it.

The swirling sand cleared. From the cracked earth below, a marble sarcophagus completely foreign to the desert landscape was revealed. The resting place of the desert’s master and the architect behind the sandcastle’s illusions. Without hesitation, Shin-hoo raised his spear and aimed at the sarcophagus once more.

He gripped the fully recharged Luin Buada with both hands. His palms tingled from the rapid drain of energy.

Drawing maximum output twice in a row set the nerves along the back of his neck on edge. But he had no choice—he planned to bypass Phase 2 and Phase 3 entirely through pure damage.

Shin-hoo drove the spear straight down into the sarcophagus. Tearing through the air, the spear shattered the lid and pierced the heart of the corpse lying with its hands folded beneath the marble.

The space around the spear discolored as it discharged maximum output. Beyond the stained glass, the sky turned stark white.

[………]

No sound came from the corpse’s slowly parting lips. Without even a struggle, the area pierced by the spear turned blue, then purple, and finally pitch-black.

Faced with overwhelming power, the corpse failed to put up any resistance, crumbling into black sand inside the white marble sarcophagus.