Chapter 137
Maybe it was because those bodies weren’t live sacrifices, but the spire’s Magic Circle only came alive after swallowing a ridiculous number of corpses. The crimson glow spread across the altar floor, filling the invisible lines of an ancient sigil. By the time the markings fully lit up, Do-Jin was already moving toward the next spire.
He traveled underground, burning through monsters and blowing up every major structure along the way. After the third one, he started feeling like some kind of terrorist. He would crash through a corridor, torch everything in sight, take a quick nap in a dusty corner, and get right back to it. By the time he reached the fourth spire, something finally changed.
Swish, boom!
A massive arrow tore past his head and detonated against the stone behind him.
Do-Jin cursed loud enough to echo down the hall. “What the fuck kind of arrow hits that hard?!”
“That’d be Melina.” Matthew’s voice floated over, calm as ever. “Her arrows pack a punch. She’s an archer, but she uses earth mana instead of wind, so every shot hits like a boulder.”
Do-Jin leaned out just enough to catch a glimpse into the altar chamber. There she was, the half-destroyed archer sitting at the far end of the room, one leg missing, half her face gone, still nocking arrows with one good arm.
She’s missing a leg and an eye, and she’s still shooting? She should’ve just died before ending up like this...
The next arrow whistled past his ear, grazing the wall close enough to sting his cheek. He ducked back immediately. Even with level and stat scaling, the raw power behind those shots was no joke. Getting hit once would’ve caved his chest in.
Mana arrows or not, there’s no way she can keep firing forever.
He glanced toward the far corner of the hall, thinking quickly. There was no world where anyone could rush her head-on, not him, a tank, or anyone else. That meant the fight was designed to be solved another way.
Do-Jin crouched behind a thick slab of wall and began crafting a decoy, a cluster of condensed psychic energy shaped into a shadowy specter. He sent it floating into the open, and sure enough, Melina turned her bow toward it.
Each shot came with a thunderous crack, and Do-Jin watched carefully as her mana flow began to thin. He downed a mana potion and made another decoy, then another. Three full mana pools later, her arrows finally fizzled into nothing.
“See? Sometimes you just gotta use your goddamn brain.”
Matthew laughed in disbelief. “You’re insane, you know that? Melina’s arrows usually last way longer than that. I’ve only ever seen her go down when someone smacked her head-on... and that someone was me.”
Rather than use his brain, Matthew was the type to smash things until they stopped moving.
This munchkin ghost... Do-Jin thought as he peeked around the corner.
Once he confirmed she was out of mana, he raised his hand and fired off a spell. With no chance to recover, Melina’s already ruined body shattered under the impact. But even as her arm broke apart, she kept pulling at her phantom bowstring, her head twitching like she was still trying to fight. It was clear she didn’t even understand what she was doing anymore. She was moving purely out of habit, locked into a mission she couldn’t let go of, even in death.
Do-Jin watched for a moment before firing the finishing blast. Her torso exploded, and what was left of her collapsed in silence.
He lowered his hand slowly. “This quest is fucking miserable.”
Everything about the setup, pacing, and atmosphere felt deliberately cruel. It wasn’t just difficult; it was designed to turn stomachs.
Matthew floated closer, his expression darker than usual. “Thanks. She can finally rest.”
Do-Jin didn’t have anything worth saying back. Some things didn’t need comfort or pity. They just needed to end.
***
Do-Jin wasn’t sure if he should call it fortunate or just plain fucked up, but the rest of the spire activations went surprisingly smoothly.
None of the other so-called guardians were in as good shape as Brakin had been. Just as Melina had been missing her lower body and an eye, every one of the fallen heroes left to guard the spires had been mangled beyond recognition. The fifth spire’s guardian, a mage named Colin, didn’t even have a head.
“He used to be fine, but after the world went to shit, he kept trying to kill himself,” Matthew explained as they approached. His tone was oddly casual, like he’d already grieved all this centuries ago. “When that didn’t work, he finally decided to take off his own damn head. Said if he couldn’t die like the others, at least he could make sure his brain went first. Figured if the brain’s gone, the rest of him would go too. Don’t know if that’s smart or just stupid as hell.”
Headless or not, Colin was still dangerous. He blasted raw mana in every direction the second anything moved near him. There was no chanting or aiming, just pure blind destruction. With no brain left to calculate or focus, all he could do was nuke everything around him like a broken turret.
Do-Jin used the same trick as before, baiting out the attacks until Colin burned himself out, then put him down without much trouble. He then moved on to the sixth spire, which was mercifully uneventful. All he had to do was activate the Magic Circle and clear out the remaining monsters.
When the last sigil flared to life, a deep, thrumming vibration shook through the ground, and a wave of pressure rolled out across the entire ruined city. The air itself seemed to hum with mana.
“That’s it,” Matthew said, his ghostly form glowing brighter. “The preparations are complete. All that’s left now is to trigger it from the center of the circle.”
Do-Jin noticed his HP bar ticking down by fractions. Even the activation alone was eating away at his life force. “If we take too long, I’ll end up as the fucking sacrifice instead. Let’s move.”
“I’ve got this part covered,” Matthew said confidently. “Back in the day, I tore this whole place apart looking for the Emperor’s secret escape route. The tunnels should still be intact.”
They cut through the underground passages, emerging into a long-forgotten corridor that led straight to the imperial palace. The air grew heavier the closer they got.
“The big ones are all dead.” Matthew went on as they climbed a cracked staircase. “I took care of them myself when I came for the Emperor. What’s left now is just scraps. Don’t waste your time worrying about them.”
That, of course, was a lie. The ‘scraps’ Matthew mentioned were far from weak. Their flesh was half-rotted and blackened with mana burns, but their movements were fast and vicious, like starving predators fighting over meat. Every swing and bite carried enough force to crush bones.
Do-Jin pushed through them anyway, flinging fire and wind like a one-man army. Flames crawled across the palace halls, climbing up ancient pillars and tapestries until the whole place looked like it was collapsing under the weight of centuries of rage. By the time the monsters stopped coming, he was half-convinced he’d accidentally burned down what was left of the imperial palace.
Then, Matthew stopped in front of a massive set of golden doors, or what had once been golden. “Here, this is it. Our final destination.”
The hallway was enormous, almost too grand to belong to a mortal palace. The ceiling stretched upward more than ten meters, the marble walls still faintly gleaming despite centuries of decay. At the far end, the great doors stood shattered, their fragments scattered like broken teeth. Beyond them lay what must once have been the audience chamber, now nothing more than a nightmare given form.
Do-Jin’s eyes narrowed as the scene came into focus. The room was overflowing with flesh. Pulsing, heaving, grotesque masses of meat stretched from wall to wall, spilling into the hallway like a living tide. The surface of it twitched and shifted, veins pulsing beneath layers of muscle that no longer belonged to any one creature.
“Holy shit,” Do-Jin muttered. “So that’s what’s left of the Emperor, huh?”
Even Matthew’s voice came out quieter than usual. “Yeah. What’s left of him, anyway.”
The air reeked of blood, rot, and mana. It felt like standing in the throat of some colossal beast that was still breathing, still waiting.
Do-Jin, already soaked in sweat and ashes, stepped forward with grim resolve. “I guess it’s time to finish this fucked-up story.”
The place looked like the inside of some colossal beast’s stomach, wet, pulsing, and alive. Every breath burned like acid. Through the writhing walls of flesh, Do-Jin’s Magic Eye caught a massive core of power deep within the chamber, thrumming like a heartbeat.
He focused his vision with a spell meant to pierce distance, and the scene came into view in grim, perfect clarity. A woman knelt in the middle of the carnage, clutching a corpse in her arms. From her body, chunks of raw, twitching flesh kept spilling out, slithering down her arms like molten wax before merging with the floor.
“That’s... healing,” Do-Jin muttered under his breath.
She wasn’t attacking but trying to heal the corpse that belonged to Matthew. Despite her desperation, no amount of divine energy could restore the dead. Instead, the spell was running wild, feeding on itself, chewing through both her body and his remains, spitting out endless abominations in the process.
This wasn’t the light of holy restoration but a regeneration that had gone past its limit and turned into something monstrous. It was the kind of healing that had lost its purpose and became a curse instead. Even so, the sight of her, kneeling in that mountain of flesh, her hands trembling as she tried to breathe life into the dead, carried an almost sacred stillness.
There was something heartbreakingly human about it. Do-Jin found himself frozen for a moment, unsure if what he felt was pity or disgust.
Then Matthew’s voice broke the silence. “She’s the Emperor’s daughter.”
His tone was low and bitter. “The one who drove him into madness. The princess born with immortality in her blood, Lemain.”
Matthew looked down at the woman embracing his corpse, his eyes full of something close to sorrow. “She gave up everything to try and stop her father. I didn’t realize how she really felt until after I was already dead. I guess that’s fitting for a fool like me.”
He paused, his voice softening as if the weight of centuries hung on every word. “Her name’s Lemain. She fulfilled her duty, even when it killed her. But she couldn’t let go. That’s what you’re seeing now.”
Do-Jin said nothing. He understood enough.
The least I can do is remember her name, he thought. If I make it out of this world alive, maybe that’ll count for something.
He exhaled slowly, the sound harsh in the stagnant air. “I guess killing her quick will be the better mercy. No one should have to stay like that.”
Matthew gave a faint, tired smile. “Yeah. You’re right.”
Although he knew it had to be done, his voice still carried regret as he said, “Lemain was nearly immortal even before death vanished from this world. Not even someone who carries death itself will kill her easily. So take my sword. The same blade that struck down the Emperor and, in the end, cut through the very concept of death in this world. It’s the only thing that can give her peace.”
Do-Jin nodded, then drew the blade from Matthew’s phantom grip. He felt the cold, endless weight settle in his hand. The air around it shimmered faintly with something far beyond mana, something final.
“I guess this is goodbye, huh?” Do-Jin muttered, downing potion after potion, loading himself with every buff and stimulant he had left.
“Yeah,” Matthew replied softly. “Thanks... for everything.”
Neither of them said anything more. There was no point pretending that either of them believed in miracles.
This isn’t the kind of fight that drags on, Do-Jin thought, gripping the sword tight. Thirty seconds... or maybe less.
He activated Psychokinetic Artistry to its absolute limit. The world vibrated under the sheer surge of power. Golden mana burst from his body like fire, flooding the room in a blinding haze. The Grimoire of Truth spun beside him, its pages burning with light. With a deep, earth-shaking roar, Do-Jin launched forward, each step detonating into a shockwave as he tore through the air, leaving trails of gold dust behind him.
The sea of flesh stirred. Every piece of it, every grotesque lump of muscle and bone, reacted to his presence like it had sensed a threat worth killing. And as the world began to tremble, Do-Jin tightened his grip on Matthew’s sword and charged straight into hell.
The mass of flesh surged at him with terrifying speed and weight, crashing toward him like a tidal wave of meat and muscle.
Do-Jin raised his hand and fired a Fireball straight into the densest cluster of tentacles. The explosion tore through the chamber, flinging chunks of burning flesh in every direction. The shockwave ripped open just enough space for him to slip through, and he sprinted forward without hesitation.
If I try to block everything, I’ll get swallowed whole. I just need to carve a path forward.
He dashed past the chamber’s ruined archway and into the heart of the hellscape. The walls, the floor, even the ceiling were coated in writhing meat. The deeper he went, the worse it got, until it felt like the room itself was breathing around him.
Thwack! Crash! Boom!
Tendrils burst out of the wall, forming pulsating hands that slammed down at him with bone-crushing force.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Giant hands now?!
Do-Jin threw his palm down and roared, “Earth Spear!”
Sharp stone pillars erupted from beneath him, skewering the flesh and pinning the grotesque limbs mid-swing. He dodged between them, every step leaving a crater in the pulsing floor. His movements were fast, sharp, and completely unlike those of a mage. Yet the way he bent the battlefield to his will and chained his spells together seamlessly was pure mastery.
Just fifteen more meters...
Matthew’s sword was just ahead, still clutched in the decayed remains of his hand, half-buried in the fleshy mass. He could almost feel the end within reach when a violent wave of psychic force slammed through his head.
“Don’t come any closer!” The voice hit like thunder, laced with rage and grief.
Lemain’s eyes snapped open. The ground beneath him erupted as cords of flesh coiled around his legs, dragging him down.
“Shit!”
He struggled against the crushing pressure as the living floor began to pound against his body, trying to crush him flat.
“Enough!” her voice screamed inside his mind. “Isn’t this enough?! I just want to stay with him! For once, just once, let us have this small piece of happiness!”
Her psychic wail was soaked in sorrow and desperation, a mixture of sobs and madness that cut deeper than any blade.
This fucking quest just keeps getting worse, Do-Jin thought bitterly as he forced his arm up through the writhing mass.
“Anemone! The sword! I need that sword!”
“I was already on it!”
Anemone burst from his palm in a surge of golden mana, streaking toward the blade. For a split second, the monstrous flesh froze, almost confused, like it hadn’t expected something to slip past its madness.
That was all the time she needed. With one clean motion, Anemone reached the sword and bit down on its hilt. The blade slid free from the flesh, gleaming faintly in the dim, blood-red light. But before she could retreat, the abomination reacted and its tendrils snapped around her, swallowing her whole.
“Do-Jin! Catch!”
Her voice rang out just before she disappeared beneath the living tide. She hurled the sword upward with all her strength, flinging it high into the air. The weapon spun and flashed twice before Do-Jin caught it midair with a burst of Psychokinesis.
The blade fell perfectly into his grasp, humming with the cold, divine weight of finality. The Sword That Cut Death itself, finally in his hand.
