Ch.272The Mourner (1)

That presence was something only Llewellyn, who was here, and the Mourner, who was absent, could sense.

A Mourner is life with magical power carved out. They are anomalous beings without magical power—the force that keeps the world turning and maintains order.

They differ from Black Knights who possess anti-magic power. As proof, Valterok, who was far away, couldn’t even notice the slightest hint.

In a manner of speaking, Black Knights are like engravings. Marks deeply hollowed out from having magical power carved away. You can vividly feel them when you run your hand over them.

That presence isn’t erased despite being faint, so if one’s senses are keen enough, they can feel it.

In contrast, Mourners don’t even have a faint presence. They aren’t caught by detection magic, and no matter how exceptional one’s senses are, they cannot be felt.

Unless they appear right before your eyes just before an attack begins, you can’t even notice them. That’s why Llewellyn was keeping his eyes wide open in the split second that remained after dividing and subdividing the moment.

A faint presence that even fellow Mourners could barely sense. Yet senses far beyond human capabilities conveyed the message.

Something was coming. A similar but far more powerful force was approaching. In Llewellyn’s wide-open eyes, through the slits of his helmet, he saw something rushing through the flames.

Extremely fast. The flames were parting as if they were mere ripples.

Llewellyn watched this being emerge through the flames and thought.

How?

Even for Llewellyn, overcoming these flames wasn’t easy.

This wasn’t just ordinary fire, but intense stellar flames that could break down and melt away the power of transcendent beings.

So even Llewellyn would struggle to survive a direct hit. In that moment, unless he could create divine power and miracles to overcome the flames, he might die.

But how was that possible?

The reason was simple. Llewellyn instinctively understood as he saw fragments of flesh crumbling and scattering at his feet.

The special ability gained at Mourner level 20.

Undertaker.

Despite its simple name, it possessed an incredibly powerful effect.

It was a cheat-like ability that allowed one to take the life force of beings they had killed.

With it, they take the life force of the dead who were once part of them. It’s almost like having spare lives. Watching the Mourner melting away and regenerating on the spot, Llewellyn raised both arms.

Arms raised for defense. But Llewellyn’s eyes widened as he saw a hand pierce through his defense and embed itself deep in his chest.

KWAAAANG!

As the shockwave from the leap spread and those caught in it were pushed back, the powerful figures present reacted simultaneously.

The Incinerator, who had been spitting blood, ostentatiously drew his sword and swung it wrapped in stellar flames.

Lucilla flashed her magic eye and thrust toward the weakness she detected.

And the Dragon King, standing close by, brought down her tail from above.

Llewellyn couldn’t shout because of the hand tearing through his lungs.

Don’t do it, keep your distance.

Since he couldn’t speak, the outcome was clear.

BANG, KWAAAANG!

To put it simply, the attacks of the three were successful.

Direct hits. Lucilla’s spear, imbued with magical power, tore through a vital point; the Incinerator’s sword ostentatiously severed the neck, making the head fall; and the Dragon King’s tail crushed the head as it was about to fall, but…

JENG, JEOJENG, KWANG!

The three were sent flying in different directions.

Faces filled with confusion, shock, and bewilderment. A roundhouse kick that nearly severed Lucilla’s waist, a punch that shot out with enough force to crush the Incinerator’s arm, and a kick that drove down over the Dragon King’s defense, pushing her back significantly.

All were attacks familiar to Llewellyn.

The Mourner’s special ability, Interment.

The effect is to counter-attack immediately when Mourning activates.

The activated Mourning was obtained through Repeated Commemoration, and the special ability that mitigated the original 6-second limit of Repeated Commemoration was gained at Mourner level 18.

[Endless Wailing]

[Removes the activation limit of Repeated Commemoration.]

A simple but powerful effect. A special ability that synergizes with Interment.

Llewellyn immediately raised his arm to block the roundhouse kick aimed at crushing his head, and was sent flying.

With a cracking sound, the world spun. Blocking was all he could manage. His arm was broken and torn away before it could regenerate. A figure followed Llewellyn as he flew through the air, spreading across the world.

‘So fast…!’

No time to block or respond. Llewellyn barely managed to block the successive attacks aimed at his neck before being driven into the ground.

Fists, elbows, claws, and nails. Barbaric attacks that could hardly be called techniques.

When Llewellyn was finally driven into the ground, he rarely had to spit blood from his mouth.

“…Ahah.”

A cheerful laugh tickled his ears. With his body deeply buried in the ground, Llewellyn looked up with trembling eyes at the dragon standing above him.

A dragon with a long, thick tail, snow-white hair, snow-white horns, and snow-white scales.

A being who was once a necromancer. A monster that Llewellyn couldn’t defeat without divine power.

The Mourning Dragon, Nerilmaeus.

The master of the Mourner had finally responded to her.

*

Llewellyn instinctively recalled the build he had favored before his possession.

The Mourner Homunculus was essentially a build that devoured everything with stats more powerful than a boss.

This build was particularly effective in one-against-many fights.

The fact that it wouldn’t be overwhelmed by average enemies due to its powerful stats was actually secondary; the special abilities were what mattered.

Among them, four, no, five abilities were particularly important.

First, Mourning, which allowed amplification of the Mourner’s stats.

Then Repeated Commemoration, which would automatically activate important Mourning with each allowed attack, and Endless Wailing, which removed the limitations of such abilities.

Finally, Undertaker, which gave such Mourners endurance.

A Mourner with all these abilities was an incredibly powerful being.

It was truly like a calamity descended upon the mortal world. It would rush in, burrow into the center of enemies, and deliver counterattacks to all who attacked it.

If anyone died from such counterattacks, it would immediately recover health, and as long as attacks continued, unceasing Mourning would grant the Mourner vitality and an unbreakable quality.

Indeed, the Mourner could rightfully be called a one-person army or a human tank.

But that was only true for a Mourner who had reached the limit of growth.

Llewellyn wasn’t there yet. He still had a few steps to go.

[Level has increased.]

Although he had just gained a level from defeating the dead, reaching level 17 only increased the number of Mournings by one and provided a proficiency bonus.

He didn’t have Endless Wailing gained at level 18, nor the skill gained at level 19, nor Undertaker gained at level 20.

The difference was obvious even at a glance, but looking more closely, it was even more severe.

Llewellyn realized for the first time that he was outmatched in physical ability.

“Kuh, urgh…!”

A punch automatically thrown after blocking a launched kick. Nerilmaeus neither dodged nor blocked it.

Rather, she casually accepted it with her body. With a cracking sound, his hand was stopped.

While it would have pierced through an ordinary human with ease, Llewellyn’s fist was bouncing back from the counter-force.

And immediately following was a counterattack. A counterattack due to the effect of Interment.

Interment followed Interment. Nerilmaeus naturally responded to Llewellyn’s counterattack.

Llewellyn instinctively understood that if two max-level Mourners faced each other, they would exchange endless counterattacks until the fight ended.

The reason this wasn’t happening was because Llewellyn wasn’t such a Mourner.

JEOEOEOEOERK!

“Kuk…!”

His body bent as he spat blood. His armor cracked and then reattached due to the holy blood effect. Llewellyn staggered, rolled backward, and then extended his right arm toward Nerilmaeus as she approached.

KWAAANG!

The armor surrounding his arm exploded, shooting out fragments wrapped in holy blood. The explosion’s impact was directed entirely outward, and the resulting fragments pelted Nerilmaeus like shotgun pellets, but…

She swung her leg without a single scratch.

Another thunderous sound. With a ripping noise, the world spun as Llewellyn rolled on the ground. He collapsed, spitting out a handful of blood.

His breathing was rough. His body wouldn’t move easily.

It had been a long time since he felt fatigue and injury. Llewellyn truly understood the expression “heavy as a thousand pounds” as he barely swallowed a groan.

Having used a miracle just before, it wasn’t easy to use another one. Especially a major technique like Miracle Manifestation.

He couldn’t see any other way to turn the tide. This was because Llewellyn had always subdued enemies with his superior physical abilities.

The only exception was when he subdued the transcendent being who had impersonated the Night God. Even that wasn’t a complete victory, with an enormous gap remaining.

Even though that had been within reach, Nerilmaeus couldn’t be defeated.

Despite losing just one aspect—excellent technique, physical ability—among many.

Llewellyn barely managed to turn his collapsed body over.

‘No, I can’t… give up like this.’

Just because there’s no chance of winning and it’s difficult doesn’t mean one should give up.

Llewellyn struggled to stagger to his feet, and Nerilmaeus approached him closely and swung her leg.

BBEOEOEOEORK!

A leg that completely crushed his internal organs. Llewellyn’s eyes rolled back for a moment before returning, and he rolled across the floor again.

“Kuk, kuk, kup… hook….”

BANG!

He desperately raised himself by slamming his fist hard on the ground. He wouldn’t give up. He couldn’t give up after coming this far.

Llewellyn desperately steadied his trembling legs and stood up, and Nerilmaeus greeted him with a faint smile.

She didn’t say anything.

About the fact that they had met again, that Llewellyn had come closer to the “father” he so desperately wanted.

Perhaps she should have been moved that she had become a Mourner by touching the transcendent being deeply imbued with the “father’s” presence.

But she was surprisingly quiet and calm. That was ominously strange.

But Llewellyn didn’t dwell on that. What he needed to figure out now wasn’t her circumstances but a way to win.

Shining a light toward an invisible path, desperately searching for a way.

“How pitiful.”

Nerilmaeus said this to Llewellyn as she launched herself.

An approaching attack. An invisible trajectory.

A monster who had melted superior physical abilities into the power of Mourning. But had Llewellyn always fought overwhelming battles?

Llewellyn had overcome countless crises, and among them were enemies who had nearly overwhelmed him despite having inferior physical abilities.

He imitates them. As Llewellyn, with wide-open eyes, took his stance while watching Nerilmaeus approach…

JEOJEOEOEOEOEOEOENG!

Something blocked Llewellyn’s front.

Someone standing between him and Nerilmaeus, blocking her as she threw a punch.

Llewellyn stared blankly at the middle-aged man who was taller than himself.

Someone who hadn’t been permitted to wield such power.

Unlike Llewellyn, whose influx of new power was blocked by divine power, this was a being who could receive the authority granted by the “Mourner’s master” that overflowed in the void.

He was an ordinary human. A man who could barely stand here after struggling through pain, and only after burning all of his lifespan could he face a god.

A man who considered his name insignificant, something to be passed over, and thus didn’t reveal it to anyone.

A middle-aged man who considered it virtuous to be forgotten after sacrifice.

But there were so many warm-hearted people that, overflowing with the warmth he had received, he had resolved alone to repay the kindness and die.

He felt that his turn had come.

So he stood firm on his limping leg.

Llewellyn’s eyes trembled as he looked at the man who had blocked the thrown punch.

“…Ah, Jae?”

A name that wasn’t his name. A name he considered sufficient.

Hearing himself being called, he held onto his consciousness that was faintly spreading, trying to return to “his master.”

“Have you been waiting long?”

He had found the place where he would die.