Chapter 47 : last-ditch effort (4)

The sun is dawning far away.

On a vast hill covered in white bones, the man lay there, gazing at the sky.

He was defeated.

Completely.

He lost even after sneakily drinking every potion he had against an opponent who wasn’t even wearing any items.

His proudly summoned creatures had their skulls literally crushed and disintegrated, and his Bone Dragon, the only one buying time on the

front line, collapsed without lasting long.

He heard the sound of footsteps approaching, crunching over the bones scattered everywhere.

As the loud sound of breaking bones grew closer, the man squeezed out his last remaining Death Energy to form a sharp blade on his palm.

A blade made from the fang of the supposedly powerful Bone Dragon.

If he could just stab a vital spot properly, he could seize victory in an instant, no matter how much energy the opponent had left.

This wasn’t a game, but reality; a world where even the strongest user would die instantly from a single stab to a weak point.

“Die!”

The moment the opponent came literally within arm’s reach, less than a single step away—the man stood up and swung his arm.

The blade traced a linear path, heading straight for the target’s vital point: the neck.

Although he was a Warlock, a ranged class, a user was still a user.

Wielding strength beyond human limits, the blade he swung rushed rapidly towards Yejin’s vital spot.

-Clench.

The advancing blade stopped.

It was blocked perfectly.

“What…!”

The man knew very well that the chances of a surprise attack succeeding were low.

He wasn’t an assassin specializing in ambushes.

So, this was his last resort, hoping she would be caught off guard.

But he never expected the ambush, however clumsy, to be stopped like this.

The haphazardly swung blade was caught between Yejin’s teeth.

She had literally used her jaw to catch the flying blade.

The sharp canines, characteristic of a Cat Beastkin, were embedded in the blade, holding it fast.

It was an unbelievable jaw strength, reminiscent of an actual feline predator.

‘This isn’t some kind of circus…!’

Regardless of the man’s bewilderment, Yejin, with an indifferent expression, clamped down harder with her jaw.

-Crack.

Immediately, cracks began to spread across the blade as if it had reached its durability limit.

It didn’t take long for the dagger to shatter completely into powder.

“…Tastes bad.”

“Are you done struggling?”

The man stared dumbfounded as Yejin spat the shattered bone fragments onto the ground, complaining about the bitter taste.

Dragon Bone.

The very Dragon Bone used to craft top-tier equipment.

There was no way someone could break it with jaw strength alone.

‘…Is this the gap between me and the World Rank 3?’

‘With the physical ability to shatter Dragon Bone with mere jaw strength, she could have wiped out the army I summoned earlier in an

instant if she wanted to.’

In short, he was being toyed with.

His desperate struggles were nothing more, nothing less than a punching bag to the monster before him.

‘I’m making a complete fool of myself.’

He’d underestimated the Rank 3’s capabilities, allowing her to track him down.

Plus, he’d already been crushed by the Rank 2 in a direct confrontation, a fight he’d arrogantly believed he could win against most rankers if

he were fully prepared.

Objectively, given who his opponents were, this outcome was understandable and perhaps nothing to be ashamed of, but for the man who

believed his plans would proceed smoothly as long as the Rank 1 didn’t interfere, the sense of futility and humiliation was doubled.

The man cleared his throat.

His last resort was practically a suicide mission.

Knowing full well the value of his own life, he planned to buy time with words before using that method, testing the waters to see if an escape

opportunity arose.

After steadying his trembling body with a few deliberate coughs, the man opened his mouth.

“Alright, I admit I underestimated you people.

But I still have one more trick…”

“I hate bones.”

Just as the man was about to launch into his speech, a sudden remark cut off his attempt at persuasion right from the start.

When he involuntarily questioned the nonsensical remark that seemed utterly devoid of context, an explanation followed as if she had been

waiting.

“There’s no satisfaction in hitting them.

They just crumble with a light tap.

Maybe because they’re already dead, there’s no impact feel at all.”

“What on earth does that-“

“By the same token, I hate undead too.

They make a squishy sound when you hit them.”

Only then did the man realize.

This woman before him had no intention of conversing with him.

The sole purpose of her sudden speech was unilateral information delivery.

“Still, you were quite annoying, so I trust you’ll provide a decent impact feel.

If you have any conscience, you should pay the price for bothering me, right?”

Amidst her expressionless face, where even a fragment of emotion was hard to find, the man faintly detected a dense killing intent directed at

him.

If he just sat there blankly, he would die.

This was not the time to hold back his tricks.

From his nearly empty inventory—unlike before—the man took out a black potion and a white potion he had prepared in advance.

The recipe for one of them, the potion swirling with black Death Energy, required 1ml of human brain matter, 1.5ml of dragon blood, a piece

of a cow’s eyeball, a spoonful from the Life Vessel of a level 100 or higher Lich, and a body part from a high-level undead.

Finally, his own pure Death Energy and a pure mana solution.

There was only one type of potion that could be created with this complex recipe demanding such finicky ingredients.

‘…A potion for the Disease Path.’

Just as there were elemental mages among wizards, Warlocks also had various sub-classifications and branches.

Summoning, magic sealing, curses, and so on.

Among these, the man was a Warlock specializing in summoning and curses.

However, just as the man had used curse skills, specializing in one area didn’t mean he couldn’t dabble in others.

Coincidentally, he had some knowledge in the ‘Disease’ path, another field Warlocks often pursued.

The disease effect enchanted into the potion he had prepared this time was ‘Undeadification Disease: Contagious.’

It was a potion with a very simple and unremarkable effect: the drinker becomes an ‘Infected’ for several hours, their HP slowly drains, they

turn into an undead upon reaching 0 HP, and it contains a virus that spreads via respiration to those near the Infected.

For users overflowing with HP, it was an effect that hardly mattered whether they caught it or not.

Users above a certain level had natural healing rates higher than the HP drain speed.

If the disease state became annoying, they could simply visit a Priest user or an in-game church to receive a ‘Blessing of Healing’.

However, the situation in reality was vastly different from the game.

Priest users in the country had long since fled overseas or gone into hiding due to persecution by fanatics and members of various religions,

and the churches abundant with blessings in the game did not exist in reality.

And most importantly, ‘ordinary people’—with less HP than typical monsters and susceptible to disease skills—were everywhere.

The man only possessed a proficiency level in the Disease Path equivalent to ‘just dipping his toes in’—but he could still create potions with

effects threatening to ordinary people, that is, LV.1 users, ‘if he had the ingredients’.

And the biggest problem, the lack of ingredients, was instantly solved by the inventory that opened up as a reward for the recent increase in

the ‘Synchronization Rate’.

‘I will become the bioterrorist causing the most damage in the world.’

Innocent users could escape its influence, while those who persecuted users would die.

Furthermore, not only would they die, but they would become the will-less ‘undead’ race they had ignored and ostracized, doomed to wander

the lands.

It was literally perfect revenge.

Imagining the various researchers who had viciously tormented him suffering from the disease, the man downed the black potion in one

gulp.