novelraw Chapter 30 : Chapter 30
Chapter 30 : Chapter 30
Chapter 30: Cruciatus (2)
Balzac’s eyes widened slightly.
With an expression mixed with surprise and interest.
The boy was clearly at the limit of the torture spell.
His flesh was being torn, his nerves were melting away, and it wouldn't have been strange if he had ended his own life with his sanity collapsed.
However, the boy did not break.
A steadfast expression was staring firmly at Balzac.
And above all, the strange power bursting out from the boy.
From some point, the boy was emitting an immense amount of energy.
‘What is this……?’
It was an aura similar to magic power.
However, it was definitely not magic power.
Something that seemed to mimic magic power. And at the same time, something very dangerous.
Balzac’s instincts smelled danger.
Squeeze-
The boy’s grip tightened on Balzac’s neck.
“Kuh, kwaak!”
It was truly an unbelievable thing.
How could he exert such strength while being consumed by Cruciatus?
‘Impossible.’
An incomprehensible emotion tightened Balzac’s chest.
Even though the pain must still be continuing, the boy did not yield at all.
A chill ran down his spine.
[Cruciatus] is the worst torture spell.
A spell that incapacitates the opponent and inflicts all kinds of pain that a human can feel.
No one could fail to break under that pain.
Because pain, in its essence, is a pure and overwhelming force.
But what about this boy in front of him?
Just as he was continuing with all sorts of thoughts.
“……!”
The boy’s form disappeared again.
Like a candle being extinguished in an instant.
The boy’s afterimage had disappeared like a heat haze.
Balzac’s trembling eyes turned behind him.
Because a creepy aura was suddenly emanating from behind him.
The boy was already standing there.
When? How?
And at that moment.
He heard something ‘snap’ in his ear.
Soon, his gaze fell downward.
A somewhat cool sensation flowed down his neck as if sliding.
Suddenly, the ceiling and the floor were misaligned.
The scenery that came into view was being swung around, and the focus began to blur.
Thump- something hit the top of his head.
When the focus was readjusted, he could finally see.
What came into view at that moment was a man in a black robe.
Strangely, the space above his shoulders was empty.
The head that should have been there was gone.
It didn't take long for Balzac to realize.
That the owner of that body was himself.
'Was my neck…… cut.'
He couldn’t even react, let alone feel it.
An incredibly precise and sharp strike.
The belatedly severed sensation seeped in from around his neck.
“I don't know what kind of whim possessed you, but.”
The severed head of Balzac began to open its mouth and speak.
A dark energy flowing from Balzac’s palm began to envelop the severed surface of his neck.
Soon, his head floated up and settled in his hand.
He placed his head on his neck as if putting on a helmet.
His wide-open eyes turned to the boy again.
“You cannot kill me. And the fact that you cannot return alive also does not change.”
Balzac, who had muttered lowly, held out his palm to the boy, and the eye that had emerged in the center of it slowly blinked.
It began to stare at the boy, full of curiosity.
Where its gaze landed, the hideous hands and puppet strings still shimmered in the air.
[Cruciatus], the curse of pain, was still biting him.
And yet, the boy was fine.
No, he seemed to have become even stronger.
A very menacing scene.
A gaze that contained the anger and hatred of pain was fixed on Balzac.
'A research subject, I see.'
Watching that, Balzac recalled the moment his own neck had been cut.
It was a strike that he couldn't follow at all.
Even with his Third Eye opened.
'It's not some kind of trick.'
The Third Eye sees through deception.
If some trick had been added, his eye would have noticed it first.
Then the answer was simple.
The movement the boy had just shown was just purely fast and sharp.
'And at an incredible level.'
Suddenly, a short thrill ran down his spine.
The boy’s physical abilities had changed in an instant.
He had become exponentially faster and stronger.
He didn't know how that was made possible.
What was certain was that what was in front of his eyes now was not the brat from before, but an existence that was beyond the norm.
At the same time, it also meant one other thing.
“Huhu……”
Balzac let out a low, deep laugh.
As if reacting to that laughter, the boy frowned.
Looking at him, Balzac let out a smirk.
“You seem to be asking why I'm laughing. I'm laughing because I acknowledge you.”
Balzac continued.
“I was surprised! I didn't see it at all. The fact that you were approaching me, and the moment you cleanly cut my neck. I missed all of it. To be able to move so fast! I was really surprised.”
At Balzac’s shout, the boy raised his sword.
As if he had no intention of engaging in idle chatter.
Even that sight, Balzac looked at with satisfaction.
'Good. In fact, it's better……!'
The stronger the opponent, the happier Balzac was.
Especially if they had a strong body.
What if he killed him and taxidermied him, then turned him into an undead?
A living weapon, a perfect puppet.
'No, it wouldn't be bad to live in that body at all.'
Balzac quietly looked down at his own arm.
What flowed out from the gap in his robe was a bloody piece of flesh.
The magic power used to open the Third Eye was beyond imagination, and the recoil was enough to break his body.
The current body, which was made by stitching together corpses, was barely maintaining its form.
How many more corpses would he have to absorb to completely seal it again?
He slowly raised his gaze.
A taut tension was transmitted from the boy facing him.
'It will be rewarding to make him submit.'
The one who moved first was the boy.
Kwaduk-!
With a rough bursting sound, the floor split.
The boy's body shot out like a flash of lightning.
Balzac lightly extended his hand.
The undead scattered around him twitched at the same time.
Bony hands and feet, twisted forms, raised themselves up.
The undead, which had formed a small legion, charged at the boy.
However, the tip of the boy's sword was sharp and smooth.
Swish- swish- swish-
As if cutting through clay, the bodies collapsed.
Waists were cut, chests were torn, and faces were split in two.
Balzac let out a snort, as if finding it pathetic.
“Hmph, useless.”
He lightly flicked his finger.
Wooduk-
The bodies of the undead all crumbled at once.
The dismantled meat and bones, the bloody pieces of flesh, flowed down like a wave.
Soon, the wave made of corpses rushed towards Balzac.
The feast of gathered corpses surged violently at his feet like a wave.
Soon, all those lumps began to merge into one.
A framework of bones rising like a pillar, massive muscles, and thick skin covering it like armor.
The form of a terrifying giant appeared in that spot.
Balzac, standing on the giant's shoulder.
From his heightened view, he looked down below.
“Now you are not even allowed to touch me.”
The giant's arm slowly rose.
Bones and muscle tissue intertwined and covered the giant's fist.
A huge fist as if wearing a gauntlet.
On its surface, a silver coating glistened and shone.
Hwoooong-!
The fist cut through the air. Like an explosion.
The surrounding air was torn apart as if a steel chunk were flying in.
“Be crushed.”
Kwagwang-!
One of the walls of the Mystery Hall collapsed.
A hollow was engraved where the huge fist had struck.
Debris flew everywhere.
“……”
However, in the wide and deeply hollowed-out spot, the boy's figure was nowhere to be seen.
The boy reappeared the moment the giant withdrew its hand.
He was already hanging onto the giant's fist.
With his sword stuck deep inside, and one hand gripping the hilt.
The boy, who was hanging and swinging like Tarzan, then gave a recoil and instantly leaped onto the back of the hand.
Thump-!
The boy landed on the flat fist, and he began to run without hesitation.
The target was, of course, the giant's shoulder, and Balzac on top of it.
The boy's eyes were staring at Balzac.
At that, Balzac let out a snort.
“Hmph, I expected that much.”
As Balzac swung his hand, the giant's right arm momentarily collapsed.
Kururuk-!
It collapsed from the right shoulder, and the boy lost his balance and was sent flying into the air.
A body left in the air without any foothold.
Balzac, as if he had been waiting, moved the giant's left arm.
Hwoooong-!
The huge forearm swung like a giant baseball bat.
A massive fist flying heavily towards the boy in the air.
“It’s over.”
Balzac’s sunken voice came down like a solemn sentence.
***
I felt a cool breeze in the floating air.
This is an emergency.
It was good that I got on the corpse giant's right arm and tried to approach Balzac, but Balzac was also prepared.
Balzac had dismantled the giant's right arm.
A foothold that scattered and disappeared in an instant.
And just like that, my body was completely left to the air.
A situation with nowhere to step, and nowhere to support my body.
The curse of [Cruciatus] was still injecting a thick pain into me, and in return, the Mimic was pouring the power created from the pain into me.
This strange state of overflowing with power while a fierce pain boiled up.
On the other hand, it felt like I would go completely insane if I went on like this.
I felt a sensation as if a faint line was barely holding my mind together.
Should I call it a ‘lifeline’?
It seemed like Balzac was saying something in the middle, but I couldn't hear it properly.
The whirlwind of power and pain being inflicted on my body was breaking down my mind.
Hwoooong-!
Something huge was rushing at me from over there.
The giant's left fist.
It would hurt like hell if it hit.
But is it good if it hurts?
For some reason, the Mimic seems to eat pain and create power.
But whether the power wells up or not, it's meaningless if my bones are broken and my muscles are crushed.
The physical impact will destroy my body.
It might even tear my limbs apart.
What's the point of gaining power in a state of being minced meat?
All sorts of thoughts came to me in a flash, like a revolving lantern.
'Come to think of it, there was a similar incident once.'
A situation where I was floating in the air, facing an attack, had happened exactly once.
The situation where the Sandworm, which had roughly shot up from the ground during the entrance exam, had rushed at me.
It was similar back then.
I had to cut the enemy while floating in the air.
One law I learned at that time.
'If you use a skill, the action will definitely be completed.'
Then what about now?
No, to go a step further, what would happen if I used a 'skill' in 'this state'?
I tightened my grip on the sword.
I pictured a vivid image.
The strongest thing I had seen, and the strongest thing I had.
[Hundred Night Yaksha]
Along with the beating of my heart, a familiar yet strange heat shot up from my right arm.
My muscles swelled up as if screaming.
And the condensed power writhed as if trying to burst out through my skin.
Wuduk-! Wududuk-!
From my forearm to my shoulder, and beyond my back to my spine.
My entire body contorted as if screaming.
White capillaries burst out as if gushing.
The scenery in front of me blurred.
In its place, the trajectory of a sword extending brilliantly filled it.
A gaze only for cutting.
An arm twisted only for cutting.
A body tuned only for cutting.
I understood the purpose of the 'change' that had occurred to me.
“……What is this!”
The moment Balzac's single shout brushed past my ear.
[Yaksha Style: White Lotus Dance]
My vision exploded.
Countless trajectories scattered before my eyes.
Sword lines that crossed, overlapped, and split.
And my sword cut through all those points.
Without a single deviation.
A silence that lingered for a moment.
My body was slowly returning to its original state.
And then, as I was left to the air and fell again.
A gentle tremor ran through the giant's massive body.
And soon, it began to scatter like pieces, like a shower of rain.
Like a spring rain falling in the deep of night.