Chapter 102

Chapter 102
## Chapter 102

### Northern Mountains (3)

His pulse quickened, and his awareness grew exceptionally acute.

A sharp ache irritated his nervous system, and an irrational fury welled up from deep within.

*Insufferable, disruptive, I must smash it, should I wipe it out? Yes, let us slaughter it!*

A sinister whisper reverberated through his mind like a vivid delusion, urging him to strike.

And it was driving him toward pure bloodshed.

This abrupt surge of insanity was unfolding dynamically inside Harley.

It was a predicament that would throw any ordinary person into complete disarray…

‘Hah, this is nothing compared to the time I integrated the Immortal King’s Heart. I don’t need to sweat over something this minor.’

Naturally, such mental interference was trivial to someone possessing “Mind Hub”.

After all, this wasn’t the first instance where Harley had experienced a brush with madness.

Brushing aside the unnatural force tampering with his psyche, he composed himself and evaluated the physical transformations occurring within.

It wasn’t merely a case of an accelerated heartbeat or surging blood circulation.

An elusive energy of ‘frenzy’, which he couldn’t quite define, was circulating throughout his form, hyper-activating his musculature, reflexes, and perception.

Indeed, it felt precisely like…

‘The very state of these Orcs right now.’

Denser hides, engorged muscle tissue, and heightened defensive reactions.

The only drawback was their total loss of intellect, leaving them to stampede blindly based on raw ferocity.

‘Though it doesn’t appear to manipulate me to that extent.’

The volume of frenzy currently dwelling in his system was far too insignificant to optimize his already superhuman physique.

He would likely need to absorb dozens of times that amount to experience any notable boost in strength.

‘Still, perhaps because I dragged it all in simultaneously via the magic stone previously, I couldn’t isolate the sensation. Now, I can distinctly feel the corruption permeating the atmosphere.’

It hung heavy in the environment, trickling into his body bit by bit with every respiration, gradually expanding the baseline of frenzy already anchored inside him.

Yet, as Harley kept his body moving efficiently while sorting through these realisations, he cast his gaze over the surviving Orcs and picked up on an anomaly.

‘The rate at which this corruption enters a creature’s system through breathing varies?’

The clash against the Orcs was winding down owing to his dominant display, allowing him to ease his posture and analyze the phenomenon more intently.

‘…Beasts exhibit the highest vulnerability and absorption, followed by myself, and lastly, standard humans.’

This discrepancy was undoubtedly the catalyst behind the wildlife epidemic, and the root of the foreign sensations Harley had been experiencing.

‘Are monsters inherently attuned to this corruption? Perhaps it latches onto their primal ferocity and untamed nature.’

It certainly stood to reason that creatures governed by instinct would succumb far quicker than races possessing advanced cognitive faculties.

To extract more precise data, he would need to gamble on taking in a much higher concentration of this corruptive force…

‘But that poses no threat to me. Let’s find out exactly where the limit lies.’

Such risks meant nothing to Harley, the former research specimen turned tribal juggernaut.

“Ugh…”

Collapse—

“…It is finished. Orcs have always possessed a hostile nature, but they have never displayed this brand of insanity.”

As the final Orc crashed to the earth signifying the conclusion of the skirmish, the sorceress Fabiella, who had been focused on sustaining their concealment barrier, offered a weary sigh.

“They are already formidable adversaries due to their martial prowess, but now they completely ignore standard injuries… Truthfully, if Harley weren’t anchoring us, I would have abandoned this expedition and turned back long ago.”

The scout Marcus, who had been anchoring the rear guard to shield the spellcasters and ranged fighters, nodded in agreement as he rapidly shifted to sanitation duties.

Utilizing the specialized purging artifact provided to him, he cleansed the gore coating his physique and armor before applying a specialized extract to neutralize their scent profile.

The racket of combat and the reek of slaughter were currently contained by the sorceress’s concealment barrier, but the instant that field dropped, predatory beasts would converge on their position from every horizon.

“Oh? The legendary Marcus is losing his nerve over a handful of Orcs?”

“Sigh… Mikel. You are overlooked a rather critical reality here.”

Marcus responded neutrally to Mikel, who was salvageable ammunition and wiping down standard splatters, offering a stern piece of advice.

“We are currently traversing the northern mountains, a territory recognized as the cradle of monsters. We have barely survived our first day inside, and our ultimate objective lies several days deeper into the interior.”

Furthermore, it was an established truth that the further one ventured into the heart of the range, the denser the monster populations became, alongside a steep rise in their threat level.

The stealth artifact obscuring their presence had finite capabilities, making it painfully clear that their journey would only grow more perilous.

Mikel merely scowled, unable to conjure a valid counterargument to his point.

The post-battle cleanup proceeded efficiently, given that the entire party consisted of seasoned professionals.

“Ugh.”

Harley hauled himself out of the deep trench he had excavated, tapping his shoulder with the compact entrenching tool.

Under normal circumstances, their protocol dictated abandoning the site instantly before the scent of carnage drifted across the valley.

It was simply too time-consuming to dig graves for every slain beast.

However, that dynamic shifted entirely once Harley demonstrated his ability to forge a massive burial trench in a matter of minutes utilizing his absurd physical traits.

Granted, the strategy wasn’t flawless, as evidenced by the Orc pack that had successfully tracked them just now, but without this precaution, they would have been swamped by countless more threats by now.

As the blade-master Flora heaved the final Orc carcass into the pit, Harley rapidly buried the remains under a mountain of earth, showcasing his terrifying physical power.

“…It leaves me speechless every single time. How does he perform such feats without breaking a sweat? Is he immune to fatigue?”

‘An ideal opening.’

Harley, having concluded the chore in a flash while basking in the astonished stares of his companions, collapsed his tool and secured it before smoothly steering the conversation toward his objective.

“Ah, right, my vitality is heavily depleted! Would it be alright if I claimed my portion of the magic stones ahead of schedule?”

“Hmm? What connection is there between your stamina and the magic stones?”

“Hahaha—! It is a esoteric discipline passed down through my clan. We consume magic stones to internalize the raw reserves sealed within them. As you can deduce from my frame, conventional rations simply cannot sustain my caloric needs!”

“Ah…”

The party members offered tentative nods at Harley’s bizarre justification, though naturally, not everyone swallowed the tale completely.

“Huh, chewing on magic stones? Do barbarians truly practice such… Ow!”

Smack!

Mikel, who had voiced her skepticism aloud, received a sharp elbow to her ribs from Flora, prompting her to glare fiercely at the swords woman.

Yet, when Flora maintained steady eye contact and narrowed her eyes, Mikel offered a quiet sigh and muttered her remaining thoughts under her breath.

“…I have simply never encountered accounts of southern tribes ingesting raw magic stones…”

‘It makes no difference to me if they label me a barbarian.’

He chose not to interject, recognizing that her assumptions stemmed from the fact that he wasn’t an authentic native of the southern territories.

Besides, he appreciated being treated with such deference, an obvious byproduct of his skyrocketing utility within the expedition team.

“If that is what sustains you, there is no issue. Furthermore, I shall ensure you receive additional financial compensation for your operational costs once we return to civilization.”

“Oh— As anticipated, the noble knight displays immense chivalry!”

With the group’s collective approval secured, the hours slipped away, and by the time their painstakingly concealed camp was fully established,

‘Huh?’

Harley’s expression twisted slightly as he inspected the cluster of magic stones he had accumulated.

He had rationally assumed that these corrupted creatures would yield stones saturated with frenzy, yet the actual concentration residing within them was highly irregular.

It hadn’t evaporated entirely, but…

“…Would it be acceptable if I selected my portion primarily from the specimens we dispatched most recently?”

“Hmm? Well, it makes no difference to the distribution. Is there a specific rationale behind that?”

“Ah! Naturally, fresher harvesting yields far superior flavor and maximizes the restorative properties! Hahaha!”

The volume of frenzy anchored within these magic stones was substantially lower than what he had detected within the Orc leader’s stone from earlier.

A few of the crystals retained virtually no trace of the energy whatsoever.

‘…Does the corruption bleed back into the surrounding ecosystem the moment the host expires and ceases to serve a purpose?’

Where it would then act as a pathogen, invading alternative hosts to spawn fresh cycles of madness across the mountain range.

“In that case, this should suffice.”

The moment the items were allocated, he wasted no time scooping up a cluster of the magic stones and shoving them directly into his jaws.

Crunch, crunch—!

“Uh… th-that sight…!”

Harley methodically pulverized the dense crystals utilizing “Gluttony”, completely disregarding the horrified expressions of his companions.

His drained reservoirs immediately began to replenish themselves…

Thump—!

And the dormant seed of frenzy that had embedded itself within his soul began to expand aggressively, multiplying like flora fed by a sudden deluge.

—

A sinister, ethereal chill saturated the freezing environment, threatening to immobilize the very essence of anyone present.

This was a commonplace mountain slope rather than an established burial ground, yet the ambiance felt so profoundly malevolent that it mirrored a domain of the underworld.

[…Child, will you… swear your eternal allegiance… to the Sovereign…]

The sorrowful, phantom shriek of a woman reverberated across the cliffs.

Simultaneously, the local atmosphere churned violently as thousands of incorporeal entities prostrated themselves as a collective unit.

Whirring—

These translucent manifestations, amassed without regard for classification—ranging from standard Phantoms to Wraiths and Specters—all radiated a necrotic chill, plunging the local temperature far below freezing through their sheer concentration.

‘Quite a grand display.’

Hans observed the gathering dispassionately, appreciating the bizarre spectacle playing out before him.

The entity that stepped forward to act as the voice for the phantom horde was a Banshee Queen, garbed in a dark funeral dress with an integrated veil concealing her elegantly styled hair…

She also happened to be a high-ranking commander from the former legions of the undead.

[Excellent execution, Olivia. You have marshaled far more spirits than I anticipated.]

[In accordance with Your Majesty’s decrees… I prioritized evading confrontations with the mortal races… and focused entirely on rallying the brethren…]

Spiritual entities possessed an incredible advantage regarding covert maneuvering, owing to their lack of tangible mass.

While they were highly susceptible to disruptions from raw mana or consecrated elements, their incorporeal nature was an unmatched asset when tasked with bypassing blockades to gather in secrecy.

Hans scrutinized Banshee Queen Olivia as she knelt submissively before his presence.

This aristocratic figure with deathly pale skin and a funeral gown was a calamity-class entity whose terrifying destructive potential ran completely counter to her elegant visage.

Her name occupied prominent chapters in historical codices, sharing a tier of notoriety with the likes of Entracio and Karam.

‘Her primary function is engineered for widespread slaughter. Common mortals devoid of spiritual wards can suffer instantaneous heart failure from the mere resonance of her sorrowful wail.’

Her infamy solidified after a historic atrocity where those precise conditions met.

Tens of thousands of inhabitants were wiped out within a metropolis that failed to intercept her infiltration due to a lapse in their defensive vigilance—an event deemed catastrophic enough to be preserved in the chronicles of past Immortal Kings.

Yet her true utility extended far beyond mere battlefield devastation.

[Olivia, I require your specific expertise for an assignment.]

[Your Sovereign… Direct me… I shall exert my entire being… to see it realized.]

Hans subtly shifted his gaze, eyeing a cluster of humans who were currently salivating with completely hollow expressions.

These were operatives belonging to the Oath of Heaven’s Defiance, staring off into the distance with vacant, unblinking eyes.

Discovering their coordinates had merely been a question of time once Hans dedicated his attention to the task, given his systematic efforts to reclaim his ancient undead legions.

The cultists possessed no methods to evade his tracking network—which fused his supreme necrotic mana with the all-seeing properties of the “Abyssal Eye”—using conventional concealment wards.

He had intercepted these specific individuals here because their paths crossed while he was harvesting spectral assets across the peaks.

‘Granted, maintaining this manual hunt demands considerable time, and my schedule remains constrained…’

He had only managed a superficial purging of the western sectors of the landmas—which demanded immediate intervention—leaving the undead assets in various other territories completely unharvested for the time being.

As the continent descended further into instability, his standing undead forces would inevitably suffer continuous attrition.

He could afford to lose minor foot soldiers, but losing high-ranking officers was an unacceptable waste of resources.

‘And securing Olivia under these circumstances solves a critical vulnerability.’

Spectral beings were unburdened by physical blockades, capable of infiltrating any structure that lacked specialized anti-spirit defenses.

And Olivia, who held absolute dominion over those thousands of eyes…

Had operated as the director of intelligence under the previous Immortal King, managing the entire espionage network required to wage war against the nations of the continent.

[The cabal to which these individuals pledge their loyalty.]

Hans commanded, indicating the catatonic dark spellcasters.

Their minds had been fractured by the intense interrogation utilizing the “Abyssal Eye”, though he had precisely measured the output to ensure their physical survival.

[Uncover every shred of data regarding their infrastructure.]

[Your command is absolute… Provide the ultimate objective… I shall manipulate the shadows… to deliver it…]

[Hehehe— Naturally…]

Hans let out a dark chuckle and spread his arms wide.

The surrounding air fractured, and a void-like dark energy erupted outward as if intending to blot out the horizon.

[Unconditional submission.]

What he demanded were instruments that would execute his edicts without hesitation.

Those who bowed would be granted a temporary reprieve from oblivion, while those who maintained defiance until their final breath would find only absolute erasure.

He saw no purpose in offering them quarter.

[As the Sovereign decrees…]

Banshee Queen Olivia bowed her head low, yielding to the crushing authority woven into the Immortal King’s proclamation.

She then glided toward the motionless dark mages to initiate her grim investigation.

Shortly thereafter,

Thousands of spirits dissolved into the wind—dispersing across the corners of the continent in absolute secrecy.