Chapter 195

CHAPTER 195. If There’s No Path, Then Make One

If a mortal and a magical automaton were to engage in a test of endurance, who would falter first?

The conclusion was obvious.

‘The flesh-and-blood mortal would drop first.’

The reason this comparison crossed my mind was simple: I was currently locked in a desperate footrace against a massive golem.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Infernal roared close behind us, its massive steps shaking the ground. It was incredibly heavy—no, downright terrifying.

Fueled by the raw rage of a starving monster, the beast tore through the sprawling hallways of Baharmut, reducing my presence to that of a fleeing rodent.

And I wasn’t running light, either.

‘Not even close.’

Clutched tightly against my left side was Demian, while Chenbi was tucked under my right arm. Directly behind us, the senior mage Sunbae Mycelln kept his eyes locked on my retreating figure as he sprinted.

Fluttering ahead of us was a terrified elemental, whimpering panicked phrases like “Peril! Frightening!” Straddled with two full payloads, I was essentially acting as the brave alpha-rodent guiding the nest to safety.

“Sunbae Mycelln, are you holding up?”

“I am… managing…”

Well, that was a relief.

Having checked on my vulnerable companions like a proper pack leader, I focused my eyes forward and forced my legs to pump faster.

Truthfully, Sunbae Mycelln was far from manageable.

His complexion had turned utterly ghostly, and his head hung low like an overripe stalk of wheat. He was releasing ragged, whistling gasps that sounded incredibly strained—a sight so miserable it stirred genuine pity in my chest.

Aging really is a cruel thing.

Regardless, I needed to put an end to this pursuit, if only to save Sunbae Mycelln from collapsing—but a critical obstacle blocked the way.

‘What’s the move here?’

The original strategy was to drop off the trio—beginning with Demian—within the perimeter zone, allowing me to circle back by myself to shatter the anchor crystals.

But Infernal reassembled itself far quicker than anticipated, throwing the entire sequence into absolute chaos.

Naturally, an onlooker might suggest:

“Why not just heft all three of them, bolt at maximum velocity, lose Infernal in the turns, and proceed with the initial blueprint?”

To which I would point out:

A dedicated pack leader doesn’t cast aside his dependents—well, setting that sentiment aside, it simply wasn’t feasible.

Consider the logistics.

I lacked the literal appendages required to securely carry Demian, Chenbi, and Sunbae Mycelln simultaneously. Granted, if I channeled my mana to force the issue, I might find a way to drag them all, but what about the terrain?

‘Ah. We require a clear corridor connecting back to the edge.’

Because those troublesome elementals had warped the outer corridors into a continuous loop, the passage linking the inner core back to the perimeter was completely severed—meaning the very halls we had originally traversed were gone.

As for the initial entry point—the tunnel leading from the outer ring into the center—that was already miles behind us given our frantic retreat.

So I pressed the creature,

“Is it possible for you to forge a corridor? Similar to how you distorted the layout when we first arrived?”

The response was entirely unhelpful—

[Dif- difficult. Apologies.]

“Difficult.”

The mechanics behind the difficulty remained a mystery to me.

It attempted to ramble on about how reshaping the architectural layout wasn’t a trivial task, but given the entity’s vocabulary was restricted to two syllables at its briefest, and maybe four at its most talkative, making sense of it was a lost cause.

The reality of the situation meant that if we required a route to the outer passage, I would have to breach it with my own hands—and that was no simple feat.

For starters, judging by my trials from the previous day, the masonry composing Baharmut’s central core was vastly more resilient than the stone separation layers dividing the outer ring from the heart.

Fine, let’s assume I managed to tear through it anyway.

Let’s say I bore that corridor and successfully shepherd Demian and the others out of harm’s way.

What happens next?

I would ultimately have to re-enter that exact same tunnel to return—and what would that look like?

‘…I’d encounter Infernal inside a cramped bottleneck.’

Subduing the entity in combat wasn’t the primary concern.

The real issue was the incineration hazard.

Whenever Infernal shifts into its regeneration state after taking critical structural damage, it discharges a massive torrent of fire to shield its core…

‘An ideal setup to get cooked alive.’

Should those flames surge down a narrow shaft—Kaaaaah!—then Demian, Chenbi, and Sunbae Mycelln, who would still be in proximity, would find their mortal journeys abruptly cut short.

Of course, if they managed to gain significant distance, they might escape the blast radius, but nothing was guaranteed. There was no telling how far a pressurized wall of fire would travel through a confined tube.

With a cascade of minor complications stacking up, a sudden realization hit me amidst my calculations.

‘Stepping up as a pack leader certainly has its drawbacks.’

Back when I operated as an isolated wanderer—during my stint as a mercenary Troubleshooter—I never had to worry about this.

In those days, my sole responsibility was my own survival.

Even when working alongside associates, the unspoken rule was clear: if we all make it, great; if you drop, you drop alone. Personal survival trumped everything else.

As a result, even when faced with identical perils, the mental burden was drastically lower.

But currently?

‘Yeah. I can’t just cast them off.’

Short of being a monster devoid of empathy, how could I abandon these young allies who had actively risked their lives to assist in my vendetta?

Absolutely not.

No chance.

So what was the alternative?

To be fair, numerous strategies came to mind. Plenty of them. But identifying an option that ensured everyone’s absolute safety without any wild cards required deep, agonizing thought.

Sunbae Mycelln was entirely neutralized due to the ambient elemental suppression.

Ordering him to draw upon elemental forces like he did yesterday would cross the line into elder mistreatment.

Chenbi didn’t even factor into the equation, and expecting miracles from the single individual who was relatively intact—Demian—would amount to child mistreatment on the opposite end of the spectrum.

Ultimately, caught in a double bind where every choice felt like some form of cruelty, the only asset I could safely overwork was my own mind.

Even so, maintaining this pace wasn’t entirely useless.

I had been neglecting my physical conditioning lately, so this could double as an intensive cardio session, right?

Why does aerobic training matter? It builds lung capacity.

When your pulse spikes, your lung efficiency climbs, and an elevated lung efficiency allows you to absorb massive amounts of oxygen simultaneously—which elevates your overall endurance over time.

…Naturally, Sunbae Mycelln looked to be on the verge of a medical emergency, but that was a separate issue.

As my train of thought drifted smoothly from the burdens of leadership to the physiological perks of sprinting, Demian’s voice broke through my focus.

“Partner.”

“Speak.”

“Can I step down?”

He was signaling that the motion sickness was about to get the better of him.

“You can manage the stride, right? I’m setting you down.”

“Appreciated.”

The instant my grip loosened, Demian executed a seamless roll—shhh—striking the masonry, falling back a few paces, and then immediately locking into position right at my heels.

That was when Demian called out once more.

“Partner, I’ll draw its attention.”

“…?”

“I can hold the line.”

I maintained my velocity, keeping my gaze locked straight ahead.

Yet within my mind, the words Demian had just uttered reverberated with immense weight.

If I were truly nothing more than a calculating pack leader, catching those words would have filled me with a quiet satisfaction.

‘…I’ve secured an additional asset.’

Exactly—a dependable subordinate equipped with quick reflexes, primed to leap forward and secure resources.

Yet why didn’t that thought bring any satisfaction?

Mainly because, unlike beasts governed solely by the brutal principles of natural selection, I am a human driven by sentiment.

Assuming I hadn’t caught his initial statement, Demian’s voice cut through the air toward me again.

“Partner, I will buy us time. Use that window to smash the anchor crystals.”

“…….”

At that stage, remaining detached was no longer an option.

Diverting one’s gaze while sprinting at full tilt was a hazardous move, but I exercised immense caution—absolute precision—as I observed Demian’s expression.

And in that moment, the truth struck me.

‘…Ah.’

I had miscalculated.

It went without saying, but I wasn’t some alpha rodent, and Demian certainly wasn’t a fragile kit.

At some point during this ordeal, I had subconsciously categorized these three as liabilities requiring my protection, but the second my gaze locked with Demian’s, the illusion shattered.

Unwavering, resolute eyes.

Profound, and completely focused.

While his features still retained the softness of youth—his tender age was undeniable—there was absolutely nothing immature about that look.

After reading his expression, I shifted my gaze to observe Sunbae Mycelln and Chenbi in turn.

“It would be disgraceful to continue acting as dead weight. Move forward with your objective. We can’t spend the rest of our days running, can we?”

“Aster, do not fret over us.”

Among the trio, not a single individual was looking for a savior. It extended far beyond just Sunbae Mycelln.

Ultimately, I separated myself from Demian, Chenbi, and Sunbae Mycelln to execute the next phase.

We broke formation within a cavernous intersection that mirrored the chamber where Infernal had first been anchored, and as I pulled away, a fresh realization settled over me.

It matched the conclusion from moments prior—none of them required me to play the protector.

Having left behind Demian and Chenbi, who were now fully realized sorcerers, how long did I press onward alone?

The time had come to dedicate my full attention to the task of “smashing the anchor crystals.”

‘…How long can Demian maintain his defense?’

There was no concrete answer.

They had mentioned yesterday that Chenbi couldn’t even manage a five-minute window.

However, Demian possessed superior capabilities, so perhaps ten minutes? Or maybe a bit longer? In a worst-case scenario, he might fail to hit even that benchmark.

Ultimately, courtesy of Demian’s sudden initiative, I was operating solo—yet despite that advantage, the path forward remained treacherous.

The deciding factor was raw time.

‘…The crystals are reportedly situated at the four cardinal points surrounding the primary central chamber, correct?’

If the corridors offered a direct route, I could conclude this swiftly. However, the scale of Baharmut was immense.

Furthermore, the layout was agonizingly labyrinthine.

Which meant completing the objective within a ten-minute window via normal means was a mathematical impossibility…

Yet that didn’t mean I was entirely out of options.

Isn’t there a familiar proverb that goes like this?

A path is something you forge through your own efforts.

Whether that was a legitimate historical quote or something I fabricated didn’t particularly matter, but the concept refused to leave my mind. And adhering to the spirit of that “proverb,” I reached a definitive choice.

‘If a path does not exist?’

Then you carve one out.

‘The corridors are too convoluted?’

Then you pierce straight through them.

Bzzzzz—

I instantaneously activated Collision Style and pressed my palm against the solid masonry. The stone surface immediately began to fracture with a sharp “crackling” sound, and while subtle beads of perspiration began to dot my brow, an amused expression forced its way onto my face.

‘It’s functional.’

It’s just incredibly draining.

Collision Style was fundamentally engineered for brief, explosive impacts, making it poorly optimized for this type of prolonged, continuous output.

To compensate, I integrated the sustained properties of a localized barrier field into the technique.

Attempting such a complex hybridization back when I was at the Transfer rank would have been utter madness, but my current cognitive awareness—having advanced far beyond the realm of Transcendence—rendered this monumental feat achievable.

And I didn’t stop there. I expanded the shroud of Collision Style to envelop my entire physical form.

It demanded an immense level of mental focus, given I had never attempted to coat my entire body in it before, but adapting to the flow didn’t require much time at all.

To add to the mixture…

I blanketed myself in intense heat utilizing the hidden arts of Scarlet Flame (Jeokhwa).

With the preparations complete, my physical form had transformed into a monstrous manifestation radiating both Collision Style forces and roaring flames. I glanced down at my hand briefly before planting it firmly against the stone wall once more.

Then—

Bzzzzz….

Snap, crackle!

The masonry dissolved into fine aggregate and simultaneously vaporized, consumed by the intense thermal energy.

I could sense it instantly.

‘This… will suffice.’

As a final measure, I pulled up the structural layout of Baharmut stored within my memory, pinpointing my current coordinates relative to the closest anchor crystal.

‘…This orientation?’

I locked in the trajectory.

Evidently, my actions seemed bizarre to my companion.

[Savior? What are you executing?]

Spirit 1 inquired.

I cast a quick look at the entity, which had somehow trailed me completely undetected, before re-verifying my alignment and answering.

“Preparing to sprint.”

[…? That direction, no passage exists.]

Correct. That was precisely the point.

Nodding in agreement, I drew in a deep breath—haaah—lowered my center of gravity, and locked into a launching stance. I then fixed my eyes on the solid, unobstructed rock wall. The localized friction of Collision Style and the surrounding flames flared with renewed intensity.

Right before launching forward, I directed a word to the elemental.

“Pay close attention.”

[…?]

“When a path does not exist, you create one.”

The spirit emitted a faint crackle, seemingly paralyzed by confusion.

Naturally. It wouldn’t comprehend the concept.

But that was irrelevant. Demonstration is always far more effective than explanation.

Regardless, I initiated the internal countdown—three, two, one… and the precise moment the counter hit zero—

Boom!

My entire form slammed into the solid masonry.

Directly following—

Rumble-crash-shatter!

The stone barrier dissolved like soft clay, giving way to a brand-new tunnel.

[…!]

The elemental radiated pure shock.

And honestly, I felt a wave of shock myself.

‘The concept actually holds up.’

It would have turned into a massive disaster if the technique had failed, so I suppose luck was on my side.

In any case.

…Available duration: ten minutes.

Remaining anchor crystals: four.

The Spirit Rescue Project had officially moved into its active phase.