Chapter 92

Perhaps because its characteristics mirrored the initial zone, the duo navigated the peacefully thawed terrain without incident. Finally, the colossal nest cradling the Egg loomed near.

Up close, its resplendent majesty physically prickled their skin. It felt as though a distant, undulating wave had abruptly swelled into a towering tsunami, crashing down upon them.

Staring intently at the Egg, Shin-hoo weathered the tidal waves of energy that left his entire body tingling with static. Radiating a fluid, kaleidoscopic spectrum of colors, it perfectly mirrored the signature aesthetics of other Unique Weapons.

A Unique Weapon acknowledged only the hunter who conquered its specific trial, permanently binding itself to that master. Consequently, these divine armaments lacked visible system windows or standard tier classifications. They were distinguished solely by their brilliant, iridescent luminescence.

A supportive variant might spawn within an S-Rank labyrinth, while an apocalyptic weapon like Jinmu could paradoxically manifest in a lowly D-Rank dungeon. Unique Weapons were anomalies that utterly defied the fundamental laws of reality.

In the timeline Shin-hoo remembered, the exponential explosion of the hunter population eventually triggered a desperate, blood-soaked scramble to secure Unique Weapons above all other conventional gear.

Yet, even in his past life, Shin-hoo had never encountered this specific artifact. He remained completely ignorant of its existence and its eventual master. This heavily implied that in the original timeline, the United States either abandoned the extraction operation or fundamentally failed to locate a hunter capable of passing its trial before the apocalypse hit.

The timeline is fracturing. The chasm between his prophetic knowledge and the present reality was steadily widening. Extracting this Unique Weapon and identifying its master would undoubtedly trigger even more cataclysmic butterfly effects.

“It almost feels like a sin to hand this over to the Americans,” Haeju murmured. He sounded thoroughly hypnotized by the suffocating power radiating from the nest.

Whoever ultimately conquered this weapon’s trial would wield unfathomable, world-altering destruction. Haeju was right. Watching Washington claim such an asset would sting, but…

“Handing it over is meaningless,” Shin-hoo countered pragmatically. “A Unique Weapon only ever serves a single master. Until that predestined owner steps forward, it is nothing more than a useless, glowing paperweight.”

In his memories, every single elite Korean hunter had eventually secured their own designated Unique Weapon. By process of elimination, the Egg’s master did not reside in Korea. Therefore, surrendering it to the densely populated United States was the tactically optimal play. Shin-hoo’s ultimate objective was not securing Korean geopolitical dominance. It was cultivating enough raw global firepower to annihilate the Nuckelavee.

This might be an artifact destined to remain dormant until the very end. Rather than coveting a potentially useless relic, shattering America’s arrogant momentum took absolute priority. Besides, if this weapon proved genuinely indispensable later, he could simply orchestrate a heist once Korea inevitably seized hegemony over the international hunter community.

“This is the final sector.”

Unfortunately, the nest housing the Egg was positioned just beyond the next spatial barrier. A visual sweep confirmed the upcoming biome was a desolate, jagged mountain of barren rock. The colossal nest, resembling a mythological Jian bird’s roost, crowned the highest peak.

Fortunately, while the vertical ascent was daunting, the horizontal distance was relatively short. A full-speed sprint upon breaching the barrier would put them at the summit within mere minutes.

“Shall we?” Shin-hoo asked.

“Yes,” Haeju replied.

The end of this apocalyptic labyrinth was finally within reach. A heavy, rhythmic thumping pulsed through the ring constricting Shin-hoo’s finger. It was impossible to differentiate whether the sensation was the frantic hammering of his own heart or Haeju’s mounting tension.

Shin-hoo calmly and meticulously mapped out the jagged topography of the stone mountain for his companion, providing the high-definition spatial context Haeju’s ruined eyes could not.

“Do you have the precise heading locked in?”

“I do. It feels razor-sharp,” Haeju confirmed.

“Maintain maximum vigilance regarding the crevices and our immediate airspace,” Shin-hoo commanded. “I will lay down covering fire, but in an EX-Rank anomaly, catastrophic variables are practically guaranteed.”

Haeju offered a stiff nod of acknowledgment.

“Furthermore, the millisecond you identify this biome’s specific penalty, call it out.” The current zone had mercilessly erased their presence. The upcoming sector would inevitably unleash a fresh, unpredictable torment.

Reaching out, Shin-hoo pressed his fingertips past the invisible spatial barrier. A bizarre, prickling sensation bit into his skin. He rapidly audited the elemental properties interacting with his hand, finding both the ambient temperature and mana flow deceptively normal.

Whatever this restriction is, it better not cripple our mobility.

Inhaling a deep, fortifying breath, Shin-hoo snapped his eyes open.

“Let’s go.”

Simultaneously, their boots obliterated the earth beneath them as they violently breached the new zone.

Instantly, a paralyzing, electrifying pressure crushed down upon their shoulders with the weight of a collapsing star.

Ugh…! A strangled gasp tore from Shin-hoo’s throat as his cervical spine locked into rigid paralysis.

Forcing his head to turn, he found Haeju’s face violently contorted, seemingly crushed under the exact same invisible monolith. Further tactical analysis was entirely unnecessary. The sector’s catastrophic penalty had ambushed them the second they crossed the threshold.

“This constraint…” Shin-hoo rasped. He viciously rubbed the gooseflesh erupting across his arms as he dragged his leaden boots forward. It was a sensation he had never physically endured in this specific manifestation, yet his soul instantly recognized its name.

Anticipating the diagnosis, Haeju spoke through gritted teeth.

“It is… fear.”

“Absolutely suffocating and vile,” Shin-hoo agreed.

It felt as though an omnipotent entity was looming over them from the heavens. Under the unblinking scrutiny of a god, they experienced the visceral terror of being systematically dissected from crown to heel. Their hands trembled violently. These two apex predators, who had ascended to the absolute zenith of S-Rank power, were drowning in an unprecedented, primal dread.

True fear was a venom that paralyzed rationality and obliterated self-control. A pathetic, overwhelming urge to collapse into the dirt, curl into a fetal position, and blindly cling to anyone nearby clawed viciously at Shin-hoo’s throat. Cold sweat continuously rained from his chin, staining the barren rock.

A submissive instinct violently hijacked their brains, screaming at them to beg for mercy. It demanded they grovel and apologize for the sheer arrogance of trespassing into this sacred domain, pleading for forgiveness for their fleeting, insignificant existences.

Being hunted by the acidic eels or butchering the monstrosity in the snowfield had been infinitely preferable to this. This psychological torture eclipsed every physical agony they had ever endured. Stripped bare before a terror that violated the most primal foundations of the human psyche, they were rendered utterly helpless.

Digging his nails into his palms until they bled, Shin-hoo clenched his fists. Retreat was not an option.

Maintain absolute composure.

This was merely a hallucinatory construct. No monsters were actively ambushing them, and no imminent, physical threat was currently terminating their lives. Surrendering to their knees purely due to a synthetic neurological terror was a humiliation Shin-hoo’s towering pride absolutely refused to tolerate.

Furthermore, he had already experienced true death, reliving its gruesome culmination in his nightmares every single night. Consequently, he understood a profound truth better than any living soul.

This is absolutely nothing.

A fierce, defiant light ignited within Shin-hoo’s eyes. The most terrifying force in the universe was not fear. It was utter, devastating misery. It was the suffocating memory of helpless failure and staggering despair. It was the agonizing era where he begged for his own death just to rewind the world. Those harrowing, blood-soaked experiences served as the unyielding steel rod that hoisted Shin-hoo back to his feet.

“Kwon Haeju.” Shin-hoo reached out to seize the younger man’s hand. Even Haeju’s normally steady grip, which Shin-hoo had stubbornly avoided in the previous biome, was drenched in cold, clammy sweat. “Are you holding together?”

Staring blankly at the jagged rocks, Haeju painstakingly dragged his gaze upward and fiercely tightened his grip around Shin-hoo’s hand.

“Yes,” he rasped.

His voice was parched and brittle as he violently warred against the terror saturating his every cell. Shin-hoo physically pulled him forward. If a regressor who had lived through decades of slaughter and lost absolutely everything found this psychological suppression agonizing, it had to be infinitely more devastating for a twenty-something like Haeju.

With their hands locked together, they forced their leaden legs to move at an agonizingly glacial pace. Haeju was essentially being towed by Shin-hoo’s momentum, his gait trembling as violently as a newborn fawn taking its first steps. Shin-hoo was not faring much better. He was only capable of advancing because the sheer gravity of his past life’s trauma eclipsed this synthetic dread. A rocky incline that the two apex predators would normally scale in a single, explosive bound now reduced them to crawling upward, agonizing step by step.

Scaling the jagged mountain felt akin to walking a brutal pilgrimage path toward an unforgiving deity. Their heads instinctively bowed under the crushing spiritual pressure. Every instinct screamed at them to drop to their knees in subjugation. It was undoubtedly the most devastating penalty they had encountered thus far.

Yet, that sheer extremity only hardened their resolve. It served as absolute confirmation that this was the final crucible.

Misjudging a step, Haeju’s ankle buckled violently. Catching his collapsing weight, Shin-hoo hauled him upright. Upon closer inspection, Haeju’s thick eyepatch was entirely saturated with cold sweat.

“Reaching your limit?” Shin-hoo asked softly.

“I can keep moving,” Haeju growled.

Fortunately, his vocal cadence remained steady. While his physical biology was involuntarily buckling under the terror, his indomitable spirit remained uncrushed.

Kwon Haeju was undeniably a titan.

Had Shin-hoo faced this anomaly during his original, twenty-eight-year-old life, he would have undoubtedly shattered. Yet, Haeju was stubbornly enduring the impossible. The realization filled Shin-hoo with a profound mixture of immense pride and crushing guilt.

Haeju had simply been living his life, relentlessly pursuing his goals and dedicating his absolute all to every passing moment. Nam Shin-hoo was the cataclysmic variable that had derailed his trajectory. Because Shin-hoo had abruptly shifted his stance and pulled him into this orbit, a blinded Haeju was now physically warring against a life-draining terror in a foreign hellscape.

“Right. Let us finish this.” Rubbing the corner of his mouth, Shin-hoo forced his tone into a mask of breezy nonchalance. Desperate to hand the agonizingly strained Haeju even a microscopic shred of comfort and motivation, he made a reckless wager. “Once we reach that summit, I will grant you a single wish.”

Haeju’s head snapped toward Shin-hoo. The tightly drawn lines of his mouth twisted into a distinct scowl of profound annoyance. The wildly inappropriate, playful proposal clearly offended him given their current, agonizing reality.

I should have just kept my mouth shut and climbed, Shin-hoo instantly regretted.

Just as he opened his mouth to retract the poorly timed joke, the hand crushing Shin-hoo’s fingers twitched. Defying the overwhelming gravitational terror, Haeju’s slumped torso locked into a ramrod-straight posture.

“Those words. Burn them into your memory.”

The command was ground out through clenched teeth. It carried such feral, terrifying determination that an onlooker might assume Haeju was accepting a contract hit rather than a simple wish.