Chapter 149 : The End of the Village
The End of the Village
Pook.
With a dull, bursting sound, the tip of the spear pierced through Melissa's back and emerged out the other side.
"Ugh."
A faint groan.
Scarlet blood trickled from her lips. Gor, still clutching the spear, gently caught her as she slowly collapsed.
Gor's body was trembling like a poplar tree.
"Melissa."
With ragged breaths, Gor spoke up. His gaze hovered around Melissa's face, never touching the tendons that did not attack him.
"Was it you who blocked the tendons?"
Puzzlement settled in Gor's eyes.
"Why did you do it?"
The dungeon's defense mechanism to protect the dungeon master from external enemies. But that mechanism did not see Gor as an enemy.
Thanks to that, the giant heart that was the dungeon's master was gradually losing its strength and dying.
The moment Melissa and the heart became connected, their hearts had become one.
"Whim, that's all."
Melissa's voice was as dim as a dying lamp.
"My time with you, that too was just a whim."
She raised a blood-soaked hand and caressed Gor's cheek.
"A witch mad with revenge, suiting her whim to ease a moment of loneliness. So don't let it weigh on your mind, Gor."
If it had truly been just a passing whim, she would never have protected him from the dungeon's killing intent at the last moment.
But Gor did not pry into the clumsy lie. He knew it was the last kindness she wished for.
"Witch, I cannot honor your request to let it go."
At Gor's reply, melissa's eyes softened beautifully.
"Yes, it was the happiest whim of my life."
Thud.
With those weak words, melissa collapsed limply into Gor's arms.
The moment Melissa's pulse faded and her hand touched the ground, the great thumping that had echoed through the dungeon ceased as if it had all been a lie.
The dungeon master, once violently pulsing red, rapidly solidified into ashen gray, and the hundreds of tendons that had threatened the barbarians went limp and hung uselessly.
* * *
* The dungeon master has died.
KURRRRRR!
With this message, the heart faded into gray.
A dungeon that loses its master soon collapses.
Because of this, a massive tremor shuddered throughout the dungeon, making it scream.
"It's collapsing! Everyone, find the portal!"
The chieftain's booming shout resounded fiercely through the dungeon.
The death of the master, the very heart of the dungeon, caused the fleshy walls to start turning ashen and transforming into something not unlike concrete.
From the once-vivid red ceiling, debris began to fall like crushed stones; soon, fragments pelted down like hail.
"Move! Be too late, and you'll be buried alive!"
Chaos erupted. The barbarians ran desperately for their lives, searching for the portal.
Yet among them, only one.
Only Gor remained unmoving amidst the panic, like a paused image.
Even as stones crashed down above his head, he only gazed at his cooling beloved.
As if the crumbling world meant nothing.
I gripped the guy's shoulder firmly. It was cruel, but there was no other choice—I had to state the reality.
"We leave the body."
Taking her with us would be near impossible, but more importantly, there was one thing I had to worry about.
Melissa, as one of the Seven Abyssal Brands, had a deep connection with the Abyss.
Nobody could know what might emerge from her corpse, so for safety's sake—
"I understand, sage."
Gor's reply came with an empty voice. It was as if part of his soul had left with Melissa.
He slowly, with extreme care, placed her body down.
For a brief moment, amidst the chaos, only the area around them was silent.
"I will not forget."
With those parting words, Gor stood up. As if he would never look back again.
KRASH!
The vibrations intensified. The falling stones grew to the size of weapons, smashing down from the ceiling.
"Watch out above!"
At the chieftain's warning, a boulder the size of a person landed right next to me, shattering the floor.
A dust storm whipped up, obscuring my vision, and I felt a mounting urgency.
"There! The portal!"
At that moment, through the swirling dust, a desperate cry rang out.
Behind the shattered heart, through a narrow gap, a cold blue light flickered.
"If you don't want to join Thrag, run!"
There was no time for thought. My body moved before the chieftain's command even finished.
Crash! Crash!
Rocks and fragments pelted nearby. Our legs screamed from exhaustion after the continuous battle, but the terror of being buried alive forced us to move.
"B-brother Dmihtan!"
Serena waved frantically, and Barkal struck falling stones aside with his axe.
The blue light drew closer. My breath caught in my throat, but I squeezed out my last bit of strength.
* * *
When I opened my eyes, what filled my vision was the pitch-black night sky.
"We survived!"
"Thrag, protect us!!"
The barbarian's deafening shouts assaulted my ears first.
It was a familiar sight. We were in the Red Wolf Tribe's village.
We had managed to return alive.
"Hoo..."
A breath laced with the taste of iron escaped from deep in my chest.
My entire body was heavy, drenched in cold sweat and exhaustion. Barkal, Serena, all of us felt the same.
The fight with the dark knight.
And our escape from the collapsing dungeon.
Our stamina had long since reached its limits.
"It's finally over!"
Despite his exhaustion, Barkal spoke with a hearty laugh.
Yes, it was over.
At least, I was about to answer that, but the smile faded from his face.
Barkal's increasingly serious gaze locked onto me—not sharp, but as if waiting for my reply.
It was the first time he'd shown that look, even after all we'd been through.
"Brother."
And it didn't take long to understand why.
"It's not over yet, is it?"
I followed Barkal's gaze, not toward the cheering crowd, but to where his gaze ended.
Where the healinghut had stood.
From the ground there, a strange energy was seeping up.
As I approached to check, I found a small fissure, like an unhealing scar.
From that fissure, slowly, tendons were rising.
The dungeon had disappeared.
But the "door" that Melissa had opened had not yet closed completely.
"It's still here!"
Even before the chieftain's words of shock were finished, one of the tendons shot out from the black gap and grabbed the ankle of the nearest barbarian.
"Kyahhh!"
"Burn it!"
A veteran warrior jammed a torch into the tendon without hesitation.
With the stench of burning flesh, the tendon snapped, shrieking.
But there was no time to relax. As if mocking us, more and more tendons tangled and burst out from inside the fissure.
'So that's why the dark knight was here.'
Did even they have something in mind to target?
"Sage!"
The chieftain's urgent call shook me from my thoughts.
"Isn't there a way? At this rate, the village...!"
I bit my lip.
No matter how I racked my brain, I couldn't think of a way to block the fissure.
Even in this short, desperate moment, the fissure widened as if to mock us.
A black gap that had been only palm-sized now gaped wide enough for a grown man to fit through.
"Ah."
In a flash, one possibility occurred to me.
The fissure.
If that too was related to the Abyss...
'Could I solidify it with the Shard of Vespers?'
If the fissure became solid, perhaps I could close it.
But...
'It's dangerous.'
The barbarians all took a step back, but the tendons did not wait.
The tendons snaking out from the fissure whipped through the air faster and farther, hunting for prey.
"Kyahhh!"
A warrior's ankle was snared by a tendon with a scream. The companion at the front quickly slashed at it with a sword, but it left a black, branded scar.
"Don't touch the tendons!"
Just like with Darsan, just like the patients in the healinghut.
The tendon's attack was not an ordinary one. It was a curse containing something of the Abyss.
Because of this, time was not on our side. The fissure was spreading out of control, and the number of falling tendons increased exponentially.
On the other hand, after so many battles, the barbarians were exhausted, their footwork growing sluggish.
The chieftain stood wordlessly, eyes fixed on the disaster.
The burning village.
Fallen tribesmen.
Emotions too deep for words swirled in his trembling eyes.
Barkal too, seeing his crumbling homeland, was filled with righteous anger.
* 〈Thrag laments the calamity.〉
In the midst of all this, Thrag spoke up.
* 〈Thrag asks you to close the fissure.〉
It seemed Thrag knew that the Shard of Vespers in my possession could interfere with the Abyss.
But even if he asked, there was no way I could help.
Getting close to that fissure was doubtful—and as for breaking through tendons even the barbarians didn't know how to handle...
* 〈Thrag lifts the restriction.〉