Chapter 160: The Last Survivor
“You really set up something like this?”
The first to grasp what was happening—naturally—was Regant, master of the Mage-Tower.
A warped tear in space yawned open, and through that rift a monstrous giant thrust its hideous face.
As someone who had personally fused ritual and magic, Regant knew there was no way such a “result” could ever emerge from his own work.
It was like children building a sandcastle only for an iron fortress to appear out of nowhere.
A scene this far beyond one’s comprehension must mean a third party had intervened.
They despise the idea of humans dabbling in rituals.
This went far beyond a mere wish to protect their craft.
Just as a child who has been badly burned never reaches toward fire again, the transcendents were reacting with the same hair-trigger fury.
Kuung!
“How dare you reach for what is ours--!”
Riding the tearing rift, the giant’s body pressed farther through.
His voice alone made the abandoned mine quake; stalactites shattered and crashed down.
“Run!”
“Fight!”
Reactions split instantly.
Regant tried to herd the mages outside in a panic—but Isaac drew his sword and stepped forward.
Fight?
Here, right now?
One swing of that giant’s fist against the ceiling would kill them all in an instant.
Humans cannot defeat the sun, the sea, or the mountains.
The creature before them was just such an impossibility—something that cannot be beaten.
“You’re far too excited!”
With a thud, Regant slammed his staff into the ground, raising his voice.
“Mages, fall ba--”
Twak!
The sudden grip of the Grandmaster closed around Regant’s throat, cutting him off.
“K-kegh?!”
“Forgive me, but we cannot allow chaos now.”
“W-what are you--!”
“Look closely. Do you see the rift widening?”
The giant’s head was already through—and the gap kept stretching wider, as though its sheer mass were tearing the world itself.
“Once it stands upright, it’ll be taller than the Mage-Tower. That thing is trying to come all the way through.”
Regant flinched and checked—
It was true.
The torn space kept widening. What had held only a face now had fingers poking through.
Four fingers dug outward, prying the rift apart with brute strength.
If that weight could truly distort space itself…
“What do you think? From where I stand, we can’t win a frontal fight.”
Regant was silent.
“Now is our chance—while only its head is here.”
If the creature’s whole body emerged, that alone would be a catastrophe.
At last Regant understood:
This was no time to turn their backs and flee.
Instead—
“Summon every mage! We’ll intercept that thing!”
Even if they had to drag every spell-caster here, they had to kill it.
His magically amplified shout sent the mages scrambling.
Most had little real combat experience and moved with pounding hearts and fumbling hands—but luckily, many veterans from the northern front were also present.
Blocking the exit with his body was Rayahn, young noble of House Leivice.
“Hold it! We only need one mage who can amplify sound—too many voices will muddle the orders.”
“U-understood!”
Marlin glanced upward, barking questions about a spell to brace the mine so it wouldn’t collapse under the shock, directing the others with crisp precision.
The chain of command snapped into place.
“U-Unnie… can we really fight?”
Sharen looked after Rihanna.
If Rihanna could fight, it would be an enormous help—but Sharen already knew the question was pointless. She held on only because she couldn’t bear to let go.
Rihanna shook her head, and Sharen’s fist tightened.
“Then… I’ll go alone.”
Rihanna’s gaze toward Sharen was gentle. Gripping her greatsword, Sharen stepped forward, murmuring to herself as if sealing a vow:
“I’m a Helmut, after all.”
“……”
Thud!
Sharen strode ahead, scattering red aura like crimson sparks. Even in the darkness the red light she sprayed captured every eye.
They all knew.
Rihanna, too, was aware of how far Sharen had grown—yet watching that lone, broadening back…
She’s grown so much.
The swell of emotion was inevitable.
As Sharen passed, the Grandmaster and Nameless paused a moment to watch.
The giant’s massive head kept twisting, widening the rift.
Up front, Isaac no longer swung his sword uselessly; he simply stared upward at the monster.
“Did they always have things like that?”
Nameless shook her head at the Grandmaster’s question.
“Never seen it, never heard of it. A creature like that shouldn’t exist in our era.”
“Hmm, and it doesn’t look like ritual either.”
“If it were ritual, the human realm would’ve been rubble already. Its hatred for humans is obvious… there must be a reason the transcendents dare not wield it.”
Quite true: if such a being existed, what purpose would war even serve?
One could simply sweep through and reduce everything to ashes.
Just then, they saw their disciple swing his sword—
Isaac aimed to slice off the giant’s jutting fingers, but the strike produced nothing more than a ringing shockwave.
“Tsk. Why does that child insist on challenging the impossible every time?”
The Grandmaster watched Isaac with pained eyes.
So it had always been.
First he’d crossed blades with Helmut’s Blood-Rose, cleaving red aura.
Now, an entirely out-of-spec monster popped up, testing Isaac once more.
“…It must be the karma he bears.”
The fate of one burdened with regression.
Nameless spoke with that meaning, and the Grandmaster clicked her tongue.
“I don’t believe in fate.”
She took a step forward, and Nameless matched her.
“Can you swing a sword? I heard the ritual makes it resist you.”
“That’s only against transcendents, remember? And that thing hardly looks like a transcendent.”
“Heh, it’s been a while since we swung together.”
“We have to help our disciple. Besides… he’s followed us quite a distance.”
At Nameless’s words, the Grandmaster chuckled and nodded.
“Growing fast—just like a child. His pure heart for the sword is even more so. I may have to send him down the mountain sooner than I thought.”
And then—
“He is my disciple. Be careful how you use that title.”
With that final note, the Grandmaster leapt forward; Nameless kicked off the ground right behind her.
Front and center.
Facing the giant eye-to-eye, Isaac looked up.
He had swung his blade to sever even a single finger—and failed.
No Iaido, no sword ki technique worked.
The confidence that had once cleaved Helmut’s red aura crumbled before this near-invincible being.
‘What on earth am I supposed to do?’
Isaac decided to start conserving his stamina.
Swinging an egg at a boulder would only waste what little strength he had left.
He needed a method.
“Red w-wave”
Thud!
A burst of red aura streaked past Isaac’s back, making him flinch.
This was nothing like Sharen’s usual playful “Red Wave.”
Has she grown this strong?
The spell’s power far exceeded expectation—Sharen’s growth was impossible to miss.
Unfortunately, their opponent could not have been worse.
“Uwaah!? Why is that thing so hard?”
Sharen grumbled, stepping up beside him. Isaac nodded in grim agreement.
“Exactly. I’m not sure we can cut it at all.”
“…Makes me think of the Nureumdol.”
Even in a crisis, Sharen was still Sharen. Nureumdol was probably rolling around the rose garden back at the Helmut estate.
“O hateful wretches—!”
“Gkh…!”
Both of them winced in unison.
The giant’s bellow alone felt strong enough to hurl their bodies into the air.
Isaac’s blade was driven into the ground, and Sharen vented red aura, anchoring them so the roar didn’t blow them away.
Their two masters arrived just behind them.
“My ears are going to split.”
“…And up close it’s even bigger.”
The Grandmaster and Nameless let out hollow laughs while drawing their swords.
Two razor-thin lines flashed in tandem—
Grand Iaido Strike.
Techniques meant to cleave anything at their terminus—yet this time they fell short.
Kaaaaaaaang!
A long, keening resonance.
The twin strikes left only shallow craters in the giant’s fingers—impressive, but the monster didn’t even register them as wounds.
Faced with such overwhelming power, even their awe turned to hollow futility.
“If you strike again, can you cut deeper?”
Isaac asked, more out of hope than certainty—these two stood at a height few swordsmen ever reached.
“Impossible.”
“This won’t work.”
Both masters clicked their tongues.
“This thing isn’t the sort you cut. To do that we’d have to break the very concept of ‘sword.’”
“Tch… True sword-saints can slice what should not be sliced, but none of us are there—yet.”
They shook their heads.
Hearing even his masters admit defeat, Isaac let out a sigh.
“Then we focus on forcing it back… which means we—”
“—can’t actually do anything.”
The Grandmaster scratched her cheek in embarrassment. They had marched up proudly, only to find even scratching the enemy was nigh impossible.
All they could do was stand by and watch the mages try to blast it away.
The giant’s vast pupil locked onto Isaac.
“You bear the foul remnants of that woman upon you.”
“That woman?”
“Whom have you beguiled this time?”
The Grandmaster’s mocking tone earned a blank stare from Isaac—jokes, now, of all times?
But aside from waiting for the mages to finish their preparations, there was nothing else to do.
“Do you mean the Silver Clock?”
The giant gave a grim affirmation.
It had mentioned the Silver Clock upon arrival as well.
During Isaac’s escape from the Abyss Realm, that clock had been used as the medium—so the connection made perfect sense.
“You alone I will slay without fail.”
Isaac was silent.
“Starting to hear that line a bit too often, aren’t you?”
“Heh, quite.”
The Grandmaster and Nameless both agreed. Ever since last time, enemies lining up to “personally kill” Isaac had become a trend.
Even Isaac couldn’t help feeling a stab of frustration.
“What in the world did this woman called the Silver Clock do? I know she became a star in the Abyss Realm as payment for a ritual, but…”
He remembered—she had told him so herself.
The giant erupted, voice shaking the mine.
“That woman turned our homeland into a Nether wasteland—! She slaughtered every last one of my kin—! I am their vengeance! Their burning grudge! As the last survivor, I have come for you!—”
---The End Of The Chapter---
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