Tap the text to show or hide reading controls.
“Frozen earth, pierce my foe! Reinforced Tracking Icicle! (Ice attribute, 4th level)!!”
Kakakakakakakakakak!!
Dozens of razor icicles swarmed toward me like guided missiles.
“Oh? Not bad.”
From the splashing water at my feet, ice spikes as thick as a man’s arm shot up, aiming straight for me. I slipped past them with a few light steps, only for more jagged icicles to sprout like branches from the ones already standing, stabbing at me from every direction.
Kwakwakwakwakwang!!
“Oh…”
Pretty threatening, actually. But for a supposed tracking spell, it was too slow, and for an area attack, its range was too narrow. Step out of its zone and that was that.
And so, when I pushed off the ground and vaulted into the air, the mage grinned in triumph.
“I was waiting for this! Burst! Sound Vortex!!”
Kwaaaaaaaang!!
An earth-shattering roar exploded above me. At point-blank range, the blast could pulverize concrete. No doubt his aim was to knock me out of the air and into the forest of icicles—or at least rupture my eardrums and shatter my balance.
Unlucky for him, though, I already knew exactly what he was casting the moment he chanted. I’d studied enough magic to counter it blindfolded.
Sseuuu…
I drew back my staff and poured strength into my arm.
The moment his spell screamed into the air, I swung.
“Hup!!”
The heavy staff ripped through the air with a sonic boom, tearing the sound itself apart.
Kwaaaoooong!!
The deafening roar unraveled, shredded to nothing by the shockwave, leaving only distorted ripples of air.
As the backlash lifted me briefly in midair, I drew my Recall Dagger and hurled it with all my strength.
Shwak! Puk!!
Thud!
The mage’s triumphant grin froze, then crumbled as blood ran down his face. He touched his forehead—where the dagger’s hilt jutted out—and his eyes rolled back.
Thud.
“Come back.”
The dagger tore back through space, dripping blood, and snapped into its sheath at my belt. I resumed my steady advance.
Step. Step.
My footsteps echoed against the walls and ceiling of the spring chamber, heavy enough to crush the air itself. Unable to bear the pressure any longer, one of the orc tanks suddenly bellowed and charged forward, spittle flying.
“Dieee! Kutok’s vengeance!!”
“You idiot, Guki! Get back here!!”
The bearded leader howled as the two-meter brute barreled forward with his tower shield raised.
“Oh…”
With that hulking body, layered plate, and the mass of the tower shield, he had to weigh at least 250 kilograms. Add the yellow glow of mana fortifying his shield and you had yourself a two-legged truck. Most Steel Body fighters would be crushed flat on impact.
But that only mattered if he actually hit me.
I’d already flipped the switch. For me, these clumsy slobs moved in slow motion.
My staff crushed through the steel boot beneath the shield, then pinned itself into the ground. The orc staggered, shield slamming off balance, and toppled forward. I pivoted lightly, vaulted, and spun a full circle.
The staff whipped around with me and smashed into the back of his skull.
Thwack! Kwangchangchang!!
Like a kicked can, the orc tumbled, lost his shield, and skidded across the stone floor before crumpling lifeless against the wall.
Kwoooong!!
His corpse slid down, limp.
“Next.”
“…!”
“…!!”
“No one? Then I’ll come to you.”
The bearded man gritted his teeth and shouted.
“Shit! He’s coming! Block him!!”
The black-haired youth strolled casually forward—then vanished with a thunderous crack of stone.
Kwaang!!
And reappeared an instant later.
Right in front of the bearded leader’s nose.
Jjjjeooong!!!
The staff and spear clashed.
“Ghhhk…!”
The young man grinned as he looked at the spear that had just stopped his strike.
“Oh? Not bad—it didn’t snap. Your aura’s not terrible.”
“Shut your mouth!!”
With a growl, the bearded man dropped his warped spear and yanked a shortspear from his belt, swinging it down.
“Jisca Style! Sand Splitter!”
It was a strike he had drilled into his bones during his Imperial Knight days—so perfect that for a moment, even he believed it would land.
And then—
Jjeojjeong!!
The shortspear, aura blazing, shattered with a sharp crack.
“…What?”
For an instant, the bearded man forgot the danger, staring dumbly.
He could accept that a secondary weapon might break. It was only a decent make, not an artifact like his main spear.
But why…
“Why is the broken half of my spear… in your hand?”
“Because I grabbed it and snapped it.”
“You’re saying… you caught an aura technique bare-handed? With one hand? That’s impossible—”
“You wouldn’t get it even if I explained. Just accept it.”
“Wh-what…!”
The youth hadn’t even meant to taunt him—just stated the fact. But a stone tossed carelessly can still kill a frog.
The insult crushed the bearded man’s pride. Overcome with rage, he clutched the broken half of his spear and lunged again.
“Take this, then! Jisca Style! Whirl—”
Crack! Crunch!!
The youth’s palm smashed into his face before the attack even finished. Bone shattered. The bearded man toppled, eyes wide with stunned injustice.
“U… unfair…”
Thud.
“Why the hell do you idiots shout your techniques out loud? What are you, children?”
With their leader floored before they could even react, the rest of the thugs fell into panic.
“D-don’t come any clo—gghhkk!!”
Smash!
A thug’s skull caved in as he swung his sword like a stick.
“Shit! I’m out of here—”
“You think I’ll let you?”
Thwack!!
His spine snapped as he tried to slip toward the exit.
“I’ve got a hostage! Back off or I’ll kill your leader here!”
“Oh?”
“This one! I’ll slit this brat’s throat if you don’t—”
“Oh, him? Go ahead. Kill him.”
“…What?”
“Do it. Kill him. Actually, if you do, I’ll let you live.”
“…Wh-what…?”
“Tsk. Can’t even kill someone when told to?”
Shhhik! Puk!!
The Recall Dagger buried itself between his eyes before he finished.
And so, aside from the priest trembling at the rear, the rest were slaughtered in less than a minute.
I set my staff on top of the priest’s bowed head.
“Hey.”
He wet himself instantly.
“Y-yes…?”
“I’m curious about something.”
A flicker of hope lit his eyes—perhaps he might live.
“W-will you spare me if I answer?”
“We’ll see.”
He scrambled to his knees, bowing low.
“A-ask me anything, sir!”
“Good. First off—what’s that Divine Mark on your chest?”
“H-huh?”
He glanced down, paling as he realized his robe had slipped and revealed it.
“No, no, how did it—!? It wasn’t showing—!”
“As far as I know, no legitimate Divine Mark looks that grotesque. What is that hairy abomination?”
“…Th-that’s…”
“Hey. That’s an Outer God mark, isn’t it?”
“…!”
“So you’re a cultist? No—priests of the Outer Gods are called ‘Apostles,’ right?”
“…!!”
“Well, well. I just poked at random, but it’s true. Rare catch.”
…
The man clenched his jaw, then slumped as if defeated. His words stumbled out.
“…I didn’t choose this. I only got lost in the labyrinth… and wandered into their temple.”
“And?”
“Since that day, my life has been hell. This body, trapped within the dungeon… these holes in me where tentacles crawl out whenever my focus slips… sometimes even my mouth and nose fill with them, choking me until I wished for death.”
“…”
“I only began to live again when the leader found me and took me in. Since then… I survived as one of them, ambushing adventurers.”
So, an Apostle of an Outer God, huh? And you can still use divine power?
Nice. Join our party as the healer. Even bandits like us deserve a priest.
Inquisitors? Who cares? If we feared them, would we be here?
Shia stroked her chin, listening.
“That man must’ve been chosen by the labyrinth’s master.”
“Labyrinth master? The Outer God ruling this dungeon?”
“Mm. Sometimes the master’s shrine appears within a labyrinth. If a creature with the right resonance enters, the Outer God offers them the role of Apostle. Rare, but not unheard of.”
“And if I kill him, will that god retaliate?”
“Of course not. No god descends just because a single priest dies—especially not a parasite like an Outer God. The resources required to intervene directly would be absurd. They won’t waste them.”
“So, it’s fine to kill him?”
“Certainly.”
Even as Shia and I talked, the cultist priest blinked dumbly, our artifact’s interference keeping him unaware.
When I raised my staff, he flinched.
“Y-you’re not going to strike me with that, are you?”
“Mm? That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“B-but you said if I answered—”
“When? I only said ‘we’ll see.’”
“P-please! Spare me! I answered everything! I can serve you—do anything! I can heal, fight, summon tentacles—”
“Shut it. Trash.”
“…!”
He clawed at his throat, suffocating under my killing intent.
“Don’t bother acting pitiful now. When your victims begged for mercy, did you ever spare them? Not once, huh? So why should I spare you?”
“…!!!”
Before he could reply, I swung.
Smash!!
Thud.
I kicked his corpse aside, sneering.
“Rot in hell, scum.”
Two hours later, the others began waking. The mana intoxication wore off naturally.
When they opened their eyes, they froze in disbelief—alive, unharmed… while their would-be killers lay stacked in a bloody heap like discarded garbage.
“…What the hell happened here?”
Reading Settings
