Chapter 392
‘Curse it, faster!’
*Whiiiiish!*
Jin Tae-Kyung pushed himself to the limit, using all his strength to enhance his movement technique. As the ruined city loomed closer with each passing second, he knew the outcome before even arriving. Or rather, someone had already informed him.
*Beep.*
– [?? has completed their objective and disappeared.]
– The emergency quest, [Unexpected Attack], has been canceled.
– You failed to complete the quest. As a penalty, 10 points of a random stat will be reduced.
– [Strength] has decreased by 10.
The moment he heard the system notification, the tension that had been gripping his body eased.
It wasn’t the quest failure or the stat reduction that brought this strange calm. It was what those messages implied.
As the city grew closer, the eerie silence and the scene that unfolded before him turned his suspicions into certainty.
Blood was everywhere. The bodies of the dead were scattered across the battlefield, brutally mutilated. Even Jin Tae-Kyung, who had become accustomed to death from countless battles, felt his body freeze momentarily.
‘Slaughter…’
Yes, this was pure slaughter. The victims were torn, crushed, and obliterated. The traces left behind showed that humans had been killed like ants, their lives snuffed out without mercy.
If even he, an outsider, felt this suffocating sense of horror, the pain and anger of the Public Security Armed Forces hunters who followed him must have been unimaginable.
“Captain Zhang Wei!” one of them cried out.
“Who the hell did this? Who…! Argh!” Another sobbed uncontrollably.
“No! Noooo!”
The comrades who once watched each other’s backs now lay cold and lifeless. Among the fallen were their brothers and lovers.
As the endless wails and cries of rage echoed through the ruins, one person, standing silently amidst the chaos, suddenly took a step forward.
*Step, step.*
The sound of his footsteps seemed unusually loud, perhaps because his face was devoid of any emotion. His usual expressions were replaced by an empty, hollow look.
Next to Jin Tae-Kyung, Captain Choi spoke in a low voice.
“Tae-Kyung… you see it too, don’t you?”
“I do.”
As much as he didn’t want to, there were things that had to be done.
Right now was one of those moments, and with great difficulty, Jin Tae-Kyung forced himself to speak.
“Shen… Xiao Shen!”
*Step, step, step.*
Despite his loud call, Xiao Shen’s footsteps didn’t stop. He continued walking in search of the monsters who had killed his subordinates, heading toward some unknown destination.
In the end, Jin Tae-Kyung had no choice but to rush forward and grab Xiao Shen by the shoulder.
*Thud.*
“Stop.”
The voice that came out was dry, drained of all life.
“…Let go. I need to go.”
“Where?”
“Where?” Xiao Shen muttered, looking around with vacant eyes.
“I don’t know. But they’re out there somewhere.”
“I’ll find them. I’ll use whatever it takes to track them down and get revenge.”
Jin Tae-Kyung was at a loss for words.
The person standing in front of him wasn’t Xiao Shen anymore. He was looking at the same person he had been several years ago.
Because of this, Jin Tae-Kyung found it hard to speak the words he needed to say.
‘Because I know exactly how he feels.’
Xiao Shen didn’t just want revenge. He wanted to kill, and he probably wanted to die as well. The emotions left behind by the death of a loved one aren’t just rage and sorrow. For the survivor, there’s an even heavier burden: guilt.
The guilt left behind by a hundred lives was far too heavy for a 21-year-old to bear.
‘Damn it.’
Swallowing the curse that threatened to spill from his lips, Jin Tae-Kyung tightened his grip on Xiao Shen’s shoulder.
“It’s too late.”
“….”
“It’s already too late. You can’t find them now. That’s not a guess, it’s a fact.”
The system notification had made that clear. As Xiao Shen met his determined gaze, he mumbled in a daze.
“Too late… It’s really too late.”
“As much as you don’t want to admit it… that’s the reality.”
Jin Tae-Kyung expected Xiao Shen to explode with the anger and grief he had been holding in. Just like Jin Tae-Kyung himself had done years ago, he thought Xiao Shen would scream, cry, and smash everything in sight.
But he was wrong. Xiao Shen’s desire for vengeance wasn’t aimed solely at the monsters.
*Rumble, clang.*
In the distance, the tanks that had been slowly entering the city became more visible, their once tiny figures growing larger. Xiao Shen’s eyes burned with intensity as he stared at the approaching military convoy.
“Then I’ll kill *him* instead.”
There was no mistaking who he was referring to.
General Liao. The man responsible for issuing this cursed order.
Because of that damned order, a hundred hunters and hundreds of soldiers had died. Jin Tae-Kyung agreed—General Liao was definitely someone who deserved to pay.
But…
“Shit, I’m sorry.”
Feeling deeply conflicted, Jin Tae-Kyung reached out his hand.
Xiao Shen, sensing something was wrong, tried to dodge, but Jin Tae-Kyung’s hand moved smoothly, brushing against his pressure points.
*Tap. Snap!*
Jin Tae-Kyung struck the *Ma-hyeol* (Numbness Point), the *Ah-hyeol* (Mute Point), and finally the *Su-hyeol* (Sleep Point).
Xiao Shen’s entire body went limp, his voice silenced, and his consciousness began to fade as sleep took over.
His eyelids fluttered, trembling as he struggled against the overwhelming drowsiness.
“For now… just sleep. Their deaths aren’t your fault.”
*Swoosh.*
His eyelids finally shut, and the last thing in Xiao Shen’s eyes was clear confusion.
‘Why… why are you doing this?’
And that question wasn’t his alone.
“Commander!” one of Xiao Shen’s subordinates shouted.
“Tae-Kyung, what are you—?”
*Woosh! Swoosh!*
Five streaks of energy surged toward Jin Tae-Kyung, filled with rage.
These were A-rank hunters under Xiao Shen’s command, furious at what they had just witnessed.
Without hesitation, Jin Tae-Kyung waved his hand toward the incoming attack.
*Boom!*
The air exploded with compressed force, sending their weapons flying off course.
The hunters, knocked back by the shockwave, skidded to a stop. Had Jin Tae-Kyung not held back, the outcome would’ve been far worse.
“Calm down, all of you. I didn’t want to do this either.”
“Grr…”
“What the hell are you doing?!”
“How could you dare do this to the commander…!”
“Is this how you repay our commander’s kindness?!”
Amidst the rising tension, Captain Choi stepped forward, speaking in a calm, low voice.
“Tae-Kyung was repaying your commander’s kindness.”
“What… what did you say?” one of the hunters stammered.
“If left alone, Xiao Shen would have killed General Liao.”
“And what if he did? General Liao deserves to die. If not by our commander, we would’ve done it ourselves.”
“I agree. But how do you think your country’s Central Committee would react? Especially considering General Liao’s connections to the Crown Prince Party?”
“…!”
“The man is the commander of the entire front. Killing him would bring consequences far beyond a personal matter.”
Captain Choi turned to look at the Public Security hunters.
There were nearly a thousand of them. Jin Tae-Kyung hadn’t even considered that if they became involved, they too would face disastrous consequences.
“I’m not telling you to forget what happened today. I’m just saying… now isn’t the time.”
The tension began to dissipate as the hunters took in Captain Choi’s words, a mixture of practicality and emotion.
One of the squad leaders, who had stayed out of the conflict, finally spoke up.
“I agree. It wouldn’t be difficult to take him down, but… dealing with the aftermath would be.”
“…”
“Remember. General Liao wasn’t the only reason our comrades died.”
As he glanced at the gruesome scene of slaughter around him, the squad leader ground his teeth.
“Let’s wait. Just a little longer.”
“Damn it,” someone cursed, gazing up at the sky.
While some cursed and others trembled with rage and grief, it was clear that everyone had come to a silent agreement.
When the situation finally calmed down, Captain Choi let out a relieved sigh.
“We narrowly avoided disaster. Thank you, Tae-Kyung, for stopping Xiao Shen.”
“…Don’t mention it.”
‘Avoided disaster, huh?’ Jin Tae-Kyung thought bitterly. Should he really call this a relief?
Even though he knew it had to be done, he couldn’t shake the bitterness. He understood the rage and sorrow Xiao Shen must have felt all too well.
“By the way, I heard there are survivors.”
“Yes, a middle-aged couple and a child. They passed out from extreme tension, so they’ve been moved to a safe location to rest.”
“What about other survivors?”
“We’re still searching.”
Captain Choi frowned as he glanced past Jin Tae-Kyung’s shoulder, glaring into the distance.
“If that incompetent commander gives us any more idiotic orders, we might not find any more survivors.”
*Rumble.*
The loud roar of armored vehicles echoed through the city as one came to a halt about twenty meters ahead of them. A moment later, General Liao stepped out, surrounded by a heavily armed escort.
His face, once plump and ruddy, turned pale as he took in the horrific sight before him.
“W-What is this…?”
His body shuddered as he gagged, almost vomiting at the carnage surrounding him. Watching him retch, Jin Tae-Kyung felt a mix of disgust and a sudden realization—*even this bastard had a limit to his humanity*.
‘Damn dog. So you *do* feel guilt.’
It wasn’t just Jin Tae-Kyung who had this thought. Everyone present seemed to share the same silent observation.
But in the very next moment, General Liao’s words shattered any illusions they had about him.
“This… this operation can’t fail! It was supposed to succeed!” he shouted, his voice full of desperation.
Time seemed to slow. Jin Tae-Kyung saw the faces of the soldiers and hunters twist in shock and fury. The disgust on their faces was palpable.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Captain Choi reach out toward him, shouting his name.
“Tae-Kyung!”
But it was too late.
By the time Captain Choi had called his name, Jin Tae-Kyung had already leaped forward, closing the 20-meter distance in an instant. He now stood right in front of General Liao.
*Operation?* Jin Tae-Kyung couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore.
As General Liao stared up at him in shock, Jin Tae-Kyung reached out, his hand moving swiftly.
*Crunch! Snap!*
It all happened in a flash. Without using a single drop of his internal energy, Jin Tae-Kyung broke both of Liao’s arms and shattered his kneecaps.
“You should be grateful I’m still holding onto the last bit of my sanity,” Jin Tae-Kyung muttered darkly.
General Liao’s mouth gaped wide open, and his eyes bulged as he let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“AAARRRGGGHHH!!!”
The scream echoed through the ruins, but Jin Tae-Kyung simply spat on the ground and turned away, leaving Liao convulsing on the ground in agony.
As he passed Liao’s stunned aides, Jin Tae-Kyung addressed one of the shell-shocked staff officers, “If you don’t like this, go ahead and report it to your superiors. I’m sure they’ll love hearing how you idiots let this happen.”
Captain Choi, who had approached with an advanced healing potion in hand, shook his head in disbelief.
—
The throne was massive and grotesque.
It had been crafted from the bones of both humans and monsters, a chilling symbol of power. But even the throne didn’t seem as terrifying as the one seated upon it.
*Click, clack.*
Bony fingers, devoid of flesh, tapped rhythmically on the skull that decorated the armrest.
The figure seated on the throne was over three meters tall, draped in a black robe that rippled like mist. It had the form of a king sitting on a throne, and in a way, that wasn’t far from the truth.
This was the Arch Lich.
The undisputed ruler of the undead and a being deserving of the title “King of Death.”
However, the Arch Lich himself did not see himself as a true king. He knew there was another—a true king. He was merely a loyal servant.
But still…
‘Perhaps I was premature.’
A sense of regret washed over the Arch Lich.
Despite possessing overwhelming magical power, he knew he was still far from regaining his full strength. The battlefield had proven to be more challenging than anticipated.
After a moment of silence, the Arch Lich spoke, his voice like the scraping of bone.
“Are you listening, my servant?”
A figure, kneeling in the shadows, responded immediately.
“Yes, my lord.”
“Withdraw our forces. Draw the human armies in further.”
“As you command.”
“Go now. Deliver my orders to all forces under my control.”
The black knight who had been kneeling rose and slowly withdrew, moving silently into the darkness.
Before leaving, the red glow of the knight’s eyes briefly flickered as they landed on the skull-decorated throne where the Arch Lich sat.
*Click, clack.*
The Arch Lich’s skeletal fingers continued to tap on the skull armrest, the hollow sockets of the skull gazing forward as if silently screaming. It was unnervingly small, too small to have belonged to an adult human.
