Chapter 123

Follow the absolute order. 

That meant they were required to dismantle the boss by destroying the jewels in a predetermined sequence based strictly on their colors.

Haeju immediately adjusted his grip on Jinmu. The greatsword form of Jinmu rapidly mutated into a massive ballista.

Planted firmly against the floor, the tip of the ballista aimed directly at the front of the boss’s ankle. With a thunderous crack that tore through the air, an arrow flew toward the bright red ruby embedded in the center of the anklet—the jewel matching the color of the boss’s eyes, representing the first hue of the hieroglyphs.

The mass of sand enveloping the King’s instep violently exploded outward. It was a definitive, devastating critical strike that completely overshadowed the relentless barrage Da-on had poured out thus far.

Without missing a beat, Haeju located the next color in the sequence and practically simultaneously shattered the jewel embedded in its knee.

[Not yet. Not yet. Your proof is still lacking.] The boss monster’s mechanically synthesized voice boomed across the chamber. Simultaneously, a ferocious sandstorm whipped up, violently engulfing the colossal entity. The sudden, raging tempest was so incredibly dense it completely obscured not only the colors of the remaining jewels, but the very silhouette of the King itself.

It had entered the next phase.

“Both of you, get over here. Luin,” Shin-hoo commanded, summoning the two Hunters to his side while simultaneously calling forth Luin Vuada.

Instantly, the tip of Luin Vuada’s spear flared with brilliant light. Sand naturally sinks when mixed with water; the moment the abrasive grit swirling in the air collided with Luin Vuada, it merged with water-attribute ether and plummeted heavily to the floor. As the wet mud piled up like a defensive barricade to protect the three of them, Shin-hoo injected a second burst of power.

With the sudden introduction of fire-attribute ether, the mud instantaneously flash-baked into a solid, impenetrable earthen wall. Leaning against it, Shin-hoo rapidly calculated their next move.

Defending against and dodging the sandstorm was easy enough. The boss was as sluggish as it was massive, relying primarily on manipulating the ambient sand or swinging its gargantuan body in wide, predictable arcs. Because the King’s attack patterns were simple, countering them was trivial for Shin-hoo. But that was the extent of their advantage. The destructive output of Shin-hoo’s abilities severely diminished the further they traveled from his target, and Haeju’s ranged weapon couldn’t accurately snipe the internal jewels without a clear line of sight. Furthermore, Shin-hoo couldn’t safely close the distance while simultaneously maintaining the defensive barrier over his vanguard.

How do we break this stalemate? Just then, Haeju stood up. “Can you carve a path toward the boss for a brief moment? A single fraction of a second will suffice.”

“It’s possible.” By pouring his raw power into Luin Vuada, he could momentarily punch a hollow tunnel straight through the swirling sandstorm.

Hearing his confirmation, Haeju morphed Jinmu back into a lighter, highly agile blade. “Then create the opening. I will go in.”

“What?”

If their synchronization was off by even a millimeter, the person plunging into that opening would have their flesh instantly flayed to the bone by the abrasive storm. The sheer, concussive intensity was something not even an S-Rank Hunter could endure unscathed. This assault strategy required absolute, flawless precision—Haeju had to know exactly where, and at what specific velocity, Shin-hoo would fire his attacks to safely advance through the eye of the storm.

“It’s too dangerous,” Shin-hoo warned sharply.

“Just do as you normally would,” Haeju replied without an ounce of hesitation. “Distribute your power and attack at a consistent speed. Aim directly at me.”

“Kwon Haeju!”

With those parting words, Haeju lunged directly into the lethal sandstorm. Stunned by the horrifying sight of the man diving headfirst into a tempest as solid as a stone wall, Shin-hoo reflexively unleashed Luin Vuada’s power.

A concentrated mass of blinding white light shot toward the boss. Trailing mere inches behind the devastating energy beam that pierced the storm, Haeju sprinted forward. His speed and trajectory were absolutely flawless.

“What the…” Da-on gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth in sheer horror at his seemingly suicidal recklessness.

Shin-hoo gritted his teeth, gripping Luin Vuada tightly with both hands. He didn’t even have the luxury to blink as he tracked Haeju’s breakneck movements. It felt less like he was attacking the boss and more like he was actively firing a lethal barrage upon Kwon Haeju. Swallowing his breath, he focused entirely on the razor-thin margin of error, where a single moment of complacency meant certain death.

Consistent, meticulously measured streams of light erupted from the tip of Luin Vuada.

Effortlessly sidestepping Shin-hoo’s continuous barrage by a hairsbreadth, Haeju rode the exact trajectory of those destructive blasts, surging straight toward the boss. With every brutal strike he landed, the jewels on its foot, knee, waist, and chest shattered in rapid, consecutive succession.

[I am the one who cannot fall. The one who wanders eternally. The one denied rest.]

[Submit. For you, too, shall follow the same path before destiny.]

Listening to the boss’s cascading declarations, Shin-hoo mechanically pumped out his power. Yet, he found himself utterly mesmerized by the sight of Haeju’s back as the man advanced in perfect tandem with the trajectory of his attacks.

His movements were absolute perfection. It was as if Haeju could read every single one of Shin-hoo’s strikes before they were even launched.

He finally understood. He knew exactly why Haeju had executed such an insanely suicidal plan.

“…Haha.” A hollow, incredulous chuckle escaped Shin-hoo’s lips.

Right now, Kwon Haeju was declaring to him with his entire being: The person who knows your attacks best in this world is me.

“It seems fighting each other so bitterly wasn’t a total waste,” Shin-hoo murmured.

They were two men who had faced off and fought tooth and nail for longer than anyone else. The exact angle, the precise velocity, the intrinsic elemental nature of Shin-hoo’s attacks, and the exact duration of the residual energy trails he left behind—the person who knew these things better than anyone else in the entire world was Kwon Haeju.

The corners of Shin-hoo’s lips curved into a deep, genuine smile.

Because the exact same held true for him. He could instinctively predict the precise direction Haeju would move next. Firing his attacks in advance to the exact coordinates Haeju would reach, Shin-hoo identified the jewel colors through the hazy, blown-open gaps and carved out the next route before Haeju even needed it.

Which way Haeju’s knee would bend, where his gaze would shift—every minute, microscopic movement registered crystal clear in Shin-hoo’s vision.

It was a flawless synchronization, as if the two men were sharing a single, unified mind.

[Arrogant fools who trail behind the Great One. Your miserable end draws near.]

Beneath their devastating teamwork, the boss was dismantled with almost anti-climactic ease. Its gargantuan body, once as impervious as a stone fortress, fractured along pitch-black fissures. The legs planted on the throne crumbled, and its massive arms collapsed into dust.

Watching the boss thrash desperately, its head and chest suspended in mid-air until the very bitter end, Da-on—who had been sitting idle—clenched her fists tightly. Gazing at the blinding masses of light that dizzyingly warped her vision and the immaculate, terrifying synergy between the two men, she murmured as if possessed.

“…Incredible.”

It was a gasp of admiration she hadn’t even realized she’d let slip. A purely spontaneous exclamation, tinged with a subtle, aching undercurrent of envy.

“It will be over soon,” Shin-hoo stated calmly.

“Well, it feels like I tagged along for nothing,” Da-on laughed self-deprecatingly. The awkwardly forced corners of her mouth trembled. It was glaringly obvious she was desperately trying to salvage her wounded pride as an S-Rank Hunter.

“Not at all. It is your turn next.” Shin-hoo pointed toward the ceiling.

Brilliant light was pouring in through the massive, gaping hole where the sand had previously cascaded. And illuminated directly by that light, a deep, concentrated shadow was cast directly beneath the King’s jaw.

“Your initial assessment was correct; the mana stone embedded in its forehead is the final target.”

Da-on’s very first tactical judgment had been spot-on. Her only mistake had been the sequencing. That final, lethal strike could only be delivered after all the other points had been systematically dismantled. And that critical role belonged entirely to Da-on.

“Because the head is significantly smaller than the rest of the body, the surrounding sandstorm protecting it is much faster and more densely packed. The window of time I can pry open a path is drastically shorter, and the physical opening will be extremely narrow. Only someone exceptionally fast and agile will barely be able to slip through, making a smaller stature highly advantageous.”

“…”

“It will be incredibly dangerous. Can you do it?”

“What kind of question is that?” Da-on straightened her posture, a fierce fire igniting in her eyes.

Sacrificing some of her defensive capability for absolute, unhindered mobility, she discarded one of her rapiers, firmly gripping the remaining blade with white-knuckled intensity. “Of course I can. If Kwon Haeju can do it, what reason is there that I can’t?”

“Good spirit.”

Shin-hoo sent a silent signal to Haeju. Recognizing the brief, deliberate shift in the trajectory of Shin-hoo’s attack, Haeju immediately halted his assault. Just as he shattered the final jewel beneath the King’s collarbone, his eyes met Shin-hoo’s.

Though the distance and the roaring storm made verbal communication impossible, Haeju instantly grasped the situation from the altered firing angle and immediately retreated from the King’s deteriorating body.

Simultaneously, the King’s final torso segments began to plummet.

“Yoo Da-on. Move now!”

“Leave it to me!”

Da-on plunged flawlessly into the shadow cast upon the floor. And at that precise moment, a colossal surge of energy emanated from beneath the King’s jaw within the heart of the raging sandstorm.

Shin-hoo channeled every last drop of his remaining power into Luin Vuada. Without a second of hesitation, he unleashed it directly at the forehead of the decapitated King.

Vwooooom—

Luin Vuada was pushed to such extreme overload that Shin-hoo’s hands violently trembled, his wrists screaming in agony. The blindingly radiant torrent of power split into multiple branches, ruthlessly cleaving the condensed sandstorm apart and prying the gap wide open.

Through that microscopic, violently unstable fissure, a rapid, razor-sharp flash of light darted inside. It was the lethal trajectory of Da-on’s rapier.

KRAAAANG—

A deafening explosion detonated within the heart of the unseen storm.

[…]

The raging sandstorm abruptly subsided.

The massive torrents of sand that had violently scoured the air dissipated lifelessly. Crashing to the floor with a heavy, sickening thud, the King’s golden head cleanly split squarely down the middle.

From within the bifurcated, shattered remains of the head rolling on the marble floor, the eyes suddenly shifted.

The atmosphere was entirely different from before. The gaze gleaming within those crimson irises felt distinctly, terrifyingly lucid. And the absolute endpoint of that piercing stare was Nam Shin-hoo.

“…”

[…I sense a nostalgic power radiating from you.]

The King’s words spilled from behind stiff, petrified lips. For the first time, the mechanically synthesized drone was gone, replaced by a voice that carried a strange, lingering warmth.

“What?”

[Ah… So this is His will. Yes… I am finally liberated.]

It sounded as if he were fondly reminiscing about a long-lost memory. Starting from the jagged, broken edges, the severed head of the King began to rapidly weather away. As the statue slowly disintegrated into fine dust, it locked its gaze resolutely on Shin-hoo and asked one final question.

[You who bear my name. Do you have a final request?]

It was a direct reference to the unique title Nam Shin-hoo possessed.