Chapter 133

Chapter 133
## Chapter 133: Screams in the Vortex

—

A cyclone of disorder. A dense, incomprehensible web saturated with the primal shrieks of tortured phantoms and the agonizing hopelessness woven into its core.

Massive slabs of gore, composed of deep red sinew and lifeblood, pulsed and twitched without end, emitting high-pitched wails. This macabre display was the craftsmanship of the lich who identified as Parhel.

“You aren’t even bothering to collect souls fueled by resentment first, I see.”

With a sharp flick of Parhel’s fingers, jagged shards of bone manifested from the void, whistling through the air toward me accompanied by ghostly moans.

There was no necessity to swing my polearm. The shimmering azure paths floating in my wake intercepted and shredded every flying splinter with surgical precision. Simultaneously, I propelled myself toward the undead sorcerer hovering in the sky.

“Oh, don’t be like that. It’s merely a matter of rearranging the steps. There’s no need to be so irritable.”

The rotting entity before me had amassed its strength by first harvesting souls and then inflicting enough agony to warp them into vengeful wraiths.

“It appears you fail to realize how crucial the sequence actually is. Are you familiar with the concept of a forced marriage?”

Securing a union first and attempting to manufacture affection later is a felony, you psychopath. Cultivating love and then proceeding to marriage is the proper way of things.

“I haven’t the slightest idea.”

A geyser of meat erupted from Parhel’s spine, wetly reshaping itself into a gargantuan maw that lunged forward to gulp me down.

“Chomp, chomp.”

Parhel let out a soft, childish titter as it made the sound. From within the suffocating darkness of that gullet, I lashed out with my spear, triggering the azure trajectories. A violent detonation followed, obliterating the fleshy mass that had tried to imprison me.

Fragments slick with dark, supernatural fire tumbled toward the ground.

“Chomp, chomp, my foot.”

I’ve made this point several times—I am not on the menu. Shrouded in the flickering heat of the black flames, I maintained a cold gaze on Parhel.

Despite my nonchalant demeanor, the Paradox Flame currently saturating the chamber was relentlessly eroding Parhel’s essence with a focused, burning intensity.

Parhel was undoubtedly aware of this erosion. Yet, it maintained an air of unbothered tranquility. The explanation for its confidence was basic.

“It seems you are unable to commit to a full-scale confrontation in this environment regardless.”

“True, the quarters are a bit suffocating.”

If I managed to strike down this lich in this room and pulverize the tainted relic, I could forecast the subsequent events.

Under the right circumstances where it could manifest its zenith of power, this lich was unquestionably more formidable than Choi Yeoreum. However, trapped in this locale governed by the crown’s authority, its strength was noticeably diminished.

“In that case.”

It signaled a guaranteed path to victory. My pulse quickened as mana flooded through my circulatory system.

I mapped out my intended strikes and the likely counter-maneuvers of my foe. For every potential defensive move, I charted a specific offensive response.

A mental starting signal echoed—bang—and my physical form blurred with a surge of kinetic energy.

“Now, let’s not do that.”

Parhel struggled to track my velocity. Sinister feelers burst from the overhead stone, the masonry, and the floorboards, snapping at me.

The lich could barely perceive my pathing, let alone coordinate a surgical hit. The feelers weren’t targeting me with any accuracy; they were simply lashing out at the entire volume of space I was traversing.

“Just a bit faster.”

I forced another burst of speed. Apparitions of human hands sprouted sporadically from the walls of gore that lined every surface, attempting to snag or trip me.

They were no match for my sheer physical force. The reaching digits buckled under my soles, reduced instantly to formless paste.

“Ah, how exquisite. They look just like blooming flowers!”

Even as I bore down on it, Parhel whispered in admiration at the sight of the mangled hands beneath my boots, acting as though its imminent demise was a secondary concern.

Strips of meat peeled away from the perimeter and swirled around the lich, coalescing into flat, rectangular shields. Their surfaces gleamed with a sickly luster, resembling dark gemstones carved from solidified blood.

Six of these crimson plates began a protective orbit around Parhel.

“…”

My thrusting spear collided with one of the shimmering shields. A sharp, metallic resonance filled the air, the plate shuddering as a network of fractures bloomed outward from the point of contact.

It had successfully absorbed the blow.

“Not quite as durable as I anticipated.”

“Hold your insults until you’ve actually bypassed the next layer.”

I planted a foot against a solid shield, rebounding backward, then used the ceiling as a springboard to launch myself like a projectile toward Parhel.

Simultaneously, the myriad of blue lines surrounding me began to vibrate in perfect harmony. Their frequency resonated with the ambient mana, rippling through the air.

The defensive plates guarding the lich began to hum in response to the vibration, producing an unsettling sound—reminiscent of the groan of thin ice beginning to give way on a frozen pond.

The casual, observational mask on Parhel’s face finally began to slip.

“You… how on earth are you…”

“Acquiring a knack for this? I’m not exactly inclined to share my secrets.”

I drove my spear into a different plate, and this time the outcome shifted. The ruby shield protecting Parhel shattered into a cloud of splinters. Through the opening, the lich itself was exposed.

Using mana resonance to degrade an opponent’s defenses was only the beginning. The tip of the weapon in my grip was currently oscillating at a lethal, high-frequency rate.

This transformed the spear into a high-tech cutting tool, magnifying its penetration. The arcane circles Parhel attempted to manifest kept flickering out and dissolving due to the turbulent mana vibrations I was broadcasting.

“People who think they’re geniuses at sorcery always turn out to be glass cannons against this technique.”

“…To execute such a feat, you would have had to perfectly decipher the signature of my mana first?”

I bared my teeth in a grin and thrust the tip toward one of Parhel’s hovering spell circles. The vibration leapt across, causing the magic to destabilize and pop like a bubble.

“What, did you think I couldn’t deconstruct the mana of a lowly lich like you?”

It wasn’t actually that effortless. Had I cracked the code earlier, I would have ended this fight in seconds. The duration of the struggle was proof that this lich’s energy signature was incredibly convoluted.

But the objective wasn’t honesty; it was provocation.

“Oh, is that how it is?”

The lich looked genuinely incensed. Anyone would lose their cool if their life’s work was shrugged off as elementary.

A fissure opened across Parhel’s features—a glimpse of something monstrous beneath the skin clawing to get out.

“Ah.”

Yet, Parhel mastered its fury quickly, tracing the crack on its face with a pale finger. The wound knit itself back together at its touch.

“Not in this place. Not at this moment.”

It was a promise of a future encounter. As I lunged forward once more, Parhel offered a thin smile and dropped all of its magical wards.

A heavy thud followed as my spear buried itself in its midsection.

“Nngh, you missed the mark.”

Parhel locked eyes with me while looking down at the shaft protruding from its belly, then tapped the center of its own chest.

“Right here. Strike quickly. You deserve to savor this for a moment. Take in the triumph.”

Viscous black fluid began to seep from its eyes like dark tears. Its grin stretched further, the corners of its mouth tearing toward its ears in a horrific display.

The visage of a young girl it had maintained until now was replaced by an image of pure nightmare.

I wrenched the spear out and drove it home into its heart. Meeting that gaze overflowing with black sorrow, I spoke.

“Whatever you say.”

With the sound of collapsing metal, Parhel’s form crumpled like a discarded tin, shrinking inward before erupting into a cloud of dark soot and evaporating into nothingness.

“That was merely the prologue.”

The wretch wasn’t truly dead. It had simply discarded this chamber—and the physical husks it had inhabited—to retreat to a different location.

“I can’t incinerate its essence just yet.”

Had that been an option, the final blow would have been definitive. Now, I had to brace for the second act. It hadn’t been a defeat so much as a strategic exit; it had invited the killing blow.

Tapping my communication device, I signaled Jeong Oh-hoon and Han Sang-ah.

“Trigger them.”

The moment had arrived to destroy the captured signal disruptors and allow the reserve forces to reach Ramin.

Once my teammates demolished the equipment, I would obliterate the final icon.

That would conclude this phase. And the subsequent trial would be waiting.

I was certain of it: we would encounter that lich, Parhel, again in the following stage.

― Mission accomplished on my end.

Han Sang-ah reported in first. A moment later, Jeong Oh-hoon’s voice crackled through.

― I’m finished here as well. The reinforcements have been deployed through the conduit you provided.

Excellent. I slammed my fist into the monument before me. It disintegrated into dust.

That signaled the end. My surroundings faded into shadow. We were being forcibly relocated.

“Is this the front lines?”

Battered fortifications littered the horizon, the clatter of steel on steel echoing across the plain.

Towering infernos and piles of mutilated remains filled my field of vision.

The odor of scorched skin mingled with the stench of decay and fresh blood.

A swamp of misery where the deceased and the breathing were locked in a desperate struggle.

Han Sang-ah, Jeong Oh-hoon, and I had materialized at the same coordinate. We stood in silence, observing the carnage.

“So, what is our objective here?”

Han Sang-ah gave voice to our collective uncertainty. Should we dive into the chaos and purge the undead?

“It is a privilege to meet you face-to-face. I am Ramin.”

A soldier clad in dented, soot-stained plate mail approached, offering a salute and identifying himself.

“Because of your actions, we are finally able to launch a counter-offensive. Our ranks have grown exponentially. Victory is within reach. This is all thanks to you…”

As Ramin spoke, the earth began to shudder. The ground fractured, pulling both living warriors and rotting corpses into the depths.

The remaining sections of the walls crumbled into ruin. Any hope for a simple cleanup vanished.

I caught sight of a massive silhouette forming in the distance and let out a dry, mirthless laugh.

“Ha, there was no way it would be that straightforward.”

A titanic mass, the size of a small mountain, was beginning to take shape. The pulsating red mounds were all too familiar.

Parhel.

“That’s why the bastard took the hit on purpose.”

This was the catalyst it required to manifest its true, unrestricted power.

“What in the world is that? Some kind of giant musical instrument?”

Jeong Oh-hoon whispered, staring at the structure twitching into its final form on the horizon.

A colossal organ, standing hundreds of meters tall. Monstrous pipes fashioned from titan-sized bones protruded in organized rows.

“The frame of that organ… those are the pillars we neutralized earlier. Lashed together with muscle and skin.”

Jeong Oh-hoon, who possessed the keenest perception among us, swallowed nervously and shook his head.

“Ugh, my head is spinning.”

I tried to follow the paths of energy flowing through the massive construct to identify its function, but I had to squeeze my eyes shut. It was nauseatingly complex. Just attempting to read it made my equilibrium waver.

This wasn’t a puzzle for someone with my skill set. Professional sorcerers would need months of study to decode it.

“It’s starting.”

Beginning with a sound like a deep foghorn, the organ began to play.

It wasn’t music intended for human ears. Nor was it a sound that belonged in this reality.

Between the traditional notes, alien tones that defied logic were woven in—somber, dragging, and heavy.

“A funeral march.”

A funeral march doesn’t have a rigid structural definition like a symphony. But hearing those massive bone pipes resonate, no other description seemed appropriate.

And the legion of corpses fighting Ramin’s troops began to twitch and respond to the macabre melody.