Chapter 133

Chapter 133
## Chapter 133: Reunion

“The shadow is falling!”

“Great Queen! We beg you to cast out this blasphemous gloom!”

A grand fortress stood tall amidst the shifting sands.

Deep within its halls, legions of fighters bowed low, offering their frantic devotion to the figure reigning from the dais.

Yet, these were hollow shells of men.

Their minds had been eroded, leaving them incapable of independent thought, existing only to serve with a mindless, obsessive loyalty.

The true sovereign of the dunes was gone.

Bereft of their original master, these soldiers threw themselves with even greater desperation at the feet of their replacement.

The woman who now occupied that throne of iron and blood.

A seat forged for a ruler devoid of mercy or sentiment.

There sat Isabella.

Her countenance was a mask of biting frost.

She possessed a gaze so vacant of warmth that she appeared as a total stranger to her former self.

With eyes that held no interest, she stared down at the throngs of warriors.

In that moment, a pale serpent manifested upon her palm.

“Yormungand…!”

“Behold, the Great Snake that consumes existence!”

The supernatural entity, Yormungand.

A mystic force that naturally guides its host toward “Yormungand’s Star” once they attain the tenth rank.

Isabella had successfully triggered this awakening, located the celestial body, and claimed its power as her own.

She was now a transcendent being who had ingested the essence of a star.

By absorbing a “named” celestial entity, she had ascended to a plane far above that of standard transcendents.

Initially, her path had been to simply take up the mantle of the desert.

To step into the void left by the previous queen.

But having consumed the star and fulfilled that transition, her ties to this place had effectively severed.

“My lineage is irrelevant now.”

The realization had struck her with clarity.

It happened the very instant she transcended through the star’s consumption.

A torrent of “memories” had surged through her consciousness in a blinding flash.

The House of Dersian within the empire.

Vivid recollections of her upbringing there, shadowed by the agony of the “divine disease.”

The years spent as a mere tool, manipulated while her body wasted away under the affliction.

Every detail of that life had come rushing back.

“I was already a discarded remnant.”

The moment the Dersian family realized she was tainted by the divine disease, they had initiated the creation of a “clone.”

A reality where the counterfeit took her place, and the original was erased.

There was no purpose in tracing her roots or attempting a return.

She would find no open arms there.

They would simply label her an impostor and seek her execution. To them, she was a stain to be scrubbed away, a piece of diseased tissue to be discarded.

And beyond that.

“The puppet master. The player…”

By reaching the state of transcendence, her awareness had stretched even further, touching the realm of the “beyond.”

She felt the presence of the one who had wiped her mind and piloted her body like a doll.

The entity who had treated her existence as a mere piece on a board.

They referred to such a being as a “player.”

“I have seen that man’s identity clearly.”

Isabella had glimpsed the face of her manipulator.

He was a creature beyond forgiveness, a thief of her very soul.

He had uprooted her entire life.

Without his interference, she would never have been cast out by her kin, nor would she have been forced to awaken in the lands of Paysalmer.

“It would have been better to remain in the dark.”

If she had stayed oblivious, living in a state of unthinking service, she wouldn’t be burdened by these suffocating emotions.

But the threshold had been crossed.

The knowledge had forced its way in the moment she consumed the star.

It was an indelible mark, a brand of servitude that could not be washed away.

She was condemned to bear this weight for all of time.

Perhaps it would be more merciful to be swallowed by the desert sands forever.

Isabella let out a long, weary breath. Her eyes remained icy as she watched the “darkness” creeping in from the horizon.

The gloom was now at their doorstep, poised to swallow Paysalmer whole.

—

《Objective Complete: ‘Baal of the Deeper Abyss’ has been neutralized!》

《Calculating individual contributions.》

《Displaying Contribution Leaderboard.》

《1st: ‘???’ — 1,250,000 points》

《2nd: ‘Savior Gracia’ — 100,000 points》

《3rd: ‘Slaughterer of the Cursed Servants Barmushu’ — 50,000 points》

《4th: ‘Berserker Balte’ — 20,000 points》

《5th: ‘Messenger MintChocoDelicious’ — 10,000 points》

《6th: ‘Smiling Hudson’ — 5,000 points》

…

As the spatial rift opened within the depths of the abyss.

Gracia and the assembled players were met with these notifications.

Their efforts had been quantified and ranked for all to see.

‘Over a million points… and a hidden identity.’

The individual who had outperformed her by a factor of ten—saving countless lives and destroying Baal single-handedly—remained a mystery.

Gracia scanned the other names on the list.

‘Barmushu, Balte.’

Barmushu had been instrumental in wiping out the legions of cursed thralls.

Then there was Balte, the spearman, who had reached the “zenith of the subconscious.”

When the curse shattered his sanity, his autonomous instincts took over, laying waste to every cursed servant in his vicinity.

The titles preceding their names told the story of their struggle within the pit.

‘MintChocoDelicious… I never did cross paths with them.’

That specific player was the only one who had remained entirely beneath the radar.

‘Messenger. What could they have been delivering, and to whom?’

A delivery implies both a source and a destination.

Yet, she couldn’t fathom the nature of the task.

What was the cargo? Who was the recipient? Where was the drop-off?

The only certainty was that MintChocoDelicious had been present in the abyss.

They had managed to keep their presence a total secret even in the midst of that chaos.

‘The top ranker is almost certainly Ojulryeok Randolph. That nightmare of an omen.’

In the end, the smaller details paled in comparison.

What truly gripped her was the name at the summit.

Those three question marks had to represent Ojulryeok Randolph.

That massive, grotesque harbinger of doom.

If Baal had been taken down, only that omen could have done it.

The Sovereign of Carrion Crows, the Monarch of Dark Omens.

Baal might have bitten off its head, but the omen had corrupted the demon from the inside out until it collapsed—that much was obvious.

‘…And then, Ojulryeok Randolph changed, emerging from that dark shell.’

As the players were being teleported out of the abyss, Gracia had fought to stay a few seconds longer, desperate to witness the hatching of the “black egg.”

But the entity that stepped out of the shell was something she never expected.

‘Why would it take a human shape?’

It wasn’t a trick of the light.

She was positive about what she saw.

The creature coming out of the egg was human in appearance.

However, if Ojulryeok Randolph was indeed that monstrous omen, a human transformation defied logic.

The official records from the White King explicitly labeled him as the “king of corpse crows.”

The idea of a carrion bird evolving into a man seemed preposterous.

Unless he had been a man from the very start.

‘The being that stepped out of that shell was pure, as if it were returning to its fundamental state. Its true self.’

Baal was definitely gone.

the kill notification and the massive point bounty made that clear.

If the thing in the egg wasn’t Baal, but Ojulryeok Randolph, how could it look so… normal?

‘What if my assumption about the question mark is wrong?’

She had linked the omen to Ojulryeok out of pure intuition.

She had been so sure of it.

But she had to face the possibility that she was mistaken.

If her entire premise was flawed, then she was looking at an entirely different power.

‘…That face, though. I know it.’

She hadn’t seen every detail, but the impression was vivid.

The face of the person who emerged from the shell.

Ever since she left the abyss, Gracia had been haunted by that image.

It had turned into a fixation.

And every time she reviewed the memory, she arrived at the same unsettling thought.

‘It was unmistakably… the same face as the lord of Hydragon.’

—

— Anyone know what Phantom is up to lately?

In the wake of the “Jeju vanishing” event, this thread popped up in the player forums, drawing a flurry of responses.

— Probably just grinding the main storyline.

— Wasn’t the 8th quest about purifying pollution hubs?

— Why do you care? You trying to track him down?

— The scope for Quest 8 is massive. You’ll never spot him there.

— Those pollution hubs show up in every floating city eventually.

Completing the eighth main quest only requires neutralizing a single source of pollution.

Since these hubs manifest frequently across all the celestial cities, players are constantly dealing with them.

The city lords usually handle it themselves or hire freelancers.

Because of this, trying to find Phantom based on that quest was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

— True, it’s so routine it doesn’t even make the news anymore.

— Given Phantom’s tier, he’s probably hitting the high-density zones by now.

— Where are the hot spots currently?

— Hard to say. Owners are so paranoid they wipe them out the second they appear.

— We’re in the golden age of professional cleaners.

Any city owner worth their salt can pinpoint a pollution source instantly.

No one lets them fester, and even in cities without a direct lord, there are “successors” keeping watch.

Even in wild territories, the local monsters usually destroy pollution sources out of survival instinct.

Unless someone is being negligent on purpose, you won’t find a city fully consumed by it.

— What happens if you just let one grow?

— I heard it starts spawning new types of corrupted creatures.

— There’s a rumor a “demon lord” once rose from a neglected hub.

— Does anyone actually have the facts on this?

Suddenly, a new comment appeared.

— If enough pollution hubs exist in proximity, they enter a state of rivalry. As they are destroyed, their energy is funneled into the survivors. The final one remaining becomes a “king.”

— ???

— Are you serious?

— Stop making stuff up. How would you even know that?

The user didn’t back down, posting again.

— In those territories, anything touched by the corruption begins to mindlessly serve the primary source. The “King” of pollution eventually consumes its own servants to undergo a final evolution into an “immortal.” Some call it a demigod.

—

《‘Darkness’ reserves depleted.》

《Recharge time for ‘Darkness’ is 48 hours.》

The moment the sixth hub was neutralized.

The shadowy field he had projected dissolved because he had run out of energy.

Two whole days without his primary power.

He remained unfazed.

“The blade. Pass it here, caw.”

“…Wouldn’t it be more effective if I handled the dark blade?”

Aria hesitated as he reached out.

She was suggesting that since he wasn’t exactly a master swordsman, her skills would be better suited for the weapon.

“Hand it over, caw.”

“……As you wish.”

Seeing his hand remain extended, Aria closed her eyes and reluctantly surrendered the Northern Firmament Ice Sword.

The hilt felt perfectly weighted as it settled into his grip.

He gave it a couple of experimental swings—*whoosh*—and felt a mental prickle.

— *Eeek! Who do you think you’re grabbing!*

Ah. So this was the personality of a sentient blade?

A bit loud for his taste, but interesting.

It was a different experience compared to using his blunt weapons.

‘Not quite under my thumb yet.’

Even with a few test swings, he could tell.

The Northern Firmament Ice Sword hadn’t succumbed to the influence of the omen’s eye entirely.

If he had full control, the bond between the sword and Aria would have been severed instantly.

But there was more to this weapon.

He would find out soon enough.

*Whish!*

*Clang!*

A solitary arrow whistled through the air toward them.

He swatted it aside with the blade, but a second later, a massive volley of projectiles erupted from the distance.

“Master Ojulryeok. We need to retreat immediately,” Aria urged, her voice tight with concern.

He simply shook his head.

“It’s fine.”

Up until this point, it had been a walk in the park.

He had just been strolling through and watching things dissolve.

Now, the actual challenge was starting.

He tightened his grip on the Northern Firmament Ice Sword and unleashed a massive horizontal sweep against the incoming rain of arrows.

Suddenly.

*Cr-crack—!*

A wall of solid ice crystallized in the air, intercepting every single shaft.

“You can use that technique already…?”

Aria stood frozen in disbelief.

That wasn’t just simple freezing; it was the ability to project an ice barrier into open space—a skill she had only recently managed to grasp herself.

Using the Northern Firmament Ice Sword to that degree required more than just raw power; it required a mental synchronicity with the blade’s ego.

But he wasn’t finished.

*Snap! Crackle!*

The wall of ice shattered, transforming into thousands of jagged shards.

These icicles pivoted in midair, aiming directly at the barbarians who had fired upon them.

*Swoosh!*

A torrential rain of ice poured down on the attackers.

*Thud! Thwack!*

“Gah!”

“Agggh!”