Chapter 7: Dungeon appearance(?)

The grace bestowed upon the humans of the continent by the One God Eukrasia, the ‘Sacred Relics.’

Collectively referred to as Sacred Relics, their forms varied greatly among the people of the continent. 

They could take the shape of weapons, like Rox’s spear ‘Baikal,’ or swords and shields. 

Some, like the autonomous golem ‘Arhan’ that guarded the capital of the Holy Empire, took the form of golems. 

Others, like the ‘Tower of Blessings,’ resembled structures, while some, like the ‘Magic Eye,’ manifested as body parts.

Despite their diverse forms, all Sacred Relics shared one common trait: they granted immense power to the humans chosen by them.

From the moment a human was selected as a hero by a Sacred Relic, they gained superhuman physical abilities, heightened senses, and the blessing of mana, allowing even ordinary humans to wield it. 

These blessings persisted even if the hero was separated from their relic, as long as they retained the title of ‘hero’…

“…What the hell are you…!!”

Feeling a critical connection sever as his thrown Baikal vanished without a trace, Rox broke out in a cold sweat and roared in fury.

***

I’m… alive…!

More than anything, I was relieved that the spear meant to kill me had disappeared. 

I stood frozen, unable to even retract the hand I’d instinctively extended toward the spear.

To Rox and the hunters, however, this scene painted me as a formidable figure who had effortlessly nullified Rox’s attack with a mere gesture.

***

“Damn it… Baikal! Baikal!”

Sensing something ominous, Rox stretched out his hand and called for Baikal. 

He’d used Baikal as a throwing spear countless times before, and each time, with just the will to summon it, Baikal had always reappeared in his hand.

“…Baikal? Damn it! Why won’t it come…!”

But this time was different. 

Along with the sensation of losing something vital within him, Baikal, which had always answered his call, didn’t appear.

“You, half-breed! What did you do with my Baikal… Urgh?!”

Realizing the cause of this situation lay with the half-breed before him, Rox’s rage surged as he lunged forward, but his body felt as heavy as waterlogged cotton. 

Even the weight of his armor became unbearable.

“What… what’s happening? My body…”

It wasn’t just his body. 

His arms and legs felt powerless, his once-keen senses dulled, his vision deteriorated, and his ears, which could once hear whispers from dozens of meters away, now only picked up sounds from close by.

It was as if… he’d reverted to the state he was in before being chosen by the Sacred Relic.

“What’s… wrong with Rox?”

“Rox! You look…!”

The changes didn’t stop. 

His toned muscles withered, his robust frame shrank, and his skin, once kept pristine by the blessing of mana, turned rough and ashy.

“Ugh…”

“What the hell! You half-breed! What did you do to Rox?!”

***

Humans naturally fear the unknown. 

As Rox, who had ruled over them as a leader with overwhelming strength, transformed into a pathetic figure, the hunters trembled with fear but still pointed their weapons at me.

‘What’s wrong with him?’

I was the one who wanted to ask. 

He threw his spear, I absentmindedly accepted a fleeting system message, the spear vanished, and now this guy was putting on a whole show, shriveling up on his own.

So, I didn’t have much to say. 

I was just as confused and stayed silent, but to the hunters, my silence was interpreted differently.

A white cloth covering half my face (the cleaning mask), bizarre clothing unseen anywhere on the continent (my cleaner’s uniform), black hair—a symbol of oppression but also of ill omen—and the swift water magic that had taken down one of their comrades in an instant…

Whoosh!

“Argh!”

While they hesitated, another high-speed jet of water shot from the strange staff I held, striking another of their comrades. 

As expected, the man collapsed with a scream, his body pierced through.

At that moment, the hunters’ reactions split into two groups.

“Damn… Run!”

“I don’t know what he did, but Rox is down!”

Some, terrified by the fact that Rox, their strongest member, had fallen and their comrades were being taken down helplessly, turned and fled.

“That bastard got Hexon!”

“If he’s a mage, he’ll be weak in close combat!”

Others, in a desperate all-or-nothing gamble, charged at the half-breed mage.

Damn it…!

I flinched as the menacing hunters rushed at me, brandishing their vicious weapons. 

For some reason, the [Pressure Washer] had shown incredible power… but I myself was nothing special.

If they got close and swung their blades, I’d be sliced up like a cake.

A way! 

Think of a way!

How many times had I faced a life-or-death crisis in such a short span? 

They say humans awaken when pushed to the brink, and it must be true—my mind was racing like never before!

The [Pressure Washer] could take them down, but there were too many charging at me. 

Compared to their superhuman speed, my arm movements were painfully slow. 

I might take out a few, but I’d ultimately be overwhelmed. 

Unless I could wipe them all out at once…

…All at once?

Range. 

That’s it—range settings! 

Just like I expanded the cleaning range for the [Dry Mop] earlier!

[Cleaning Range Settings]

As I manipulated the system window displaying the [Pressure Washer]’s description, just like with the [Dry Mop], an option to adjust the cleaning range appeared.

Max it out!

I didn’t know what the optimal range was, so I cranked it to the maximum.

Should I have gone for a medium setting? 

Expanding the range reduces the power…

“Die!!!”

“Urgh…”

Damn it. 

They’re too close!

Just shoot!

Click.

***

“Cough! Cough!”

Bran, a member of the demon hunters, woke up coughing violently.

What…what happened…?

He remembered charging at the half-breed mage with a few comrades, leaving the cowards who fled behind… but then his memory cut off.

“Where…?”

For some reason, his body felt incredibly heavy. 

As he struggled to his feet and looked around, he realized he was lying far from the suspicious door they’d stormed. 

Scattered around him were his comrades, looking just as battered.

“Cough! Urgh…!”

Unable to hold back, he coughed again and retched, spewing out a torrent of clear water from his mouth, as if he’d swallowed a whole bucket.

…Damn it.

As he vomited water and noticed his soaked body, the scene he’d witnessed earlier flashed back.

He and his comrades had charged with weapons raised, and the mage, who seemed unfazed by their approach, had calmly raised his staff and activated his magic.

Having already seen the mage’s lightning-fast magic a few times, the hunters had spread out, carefully watching the direction of his staff.

Having witnessed the attack twice, these seasoned demon hunters, who had slain countless demons, could predict and dodge such straightforward attacks.

But then, something unexpected happened.

Click!

Instead of a mage’s incantation, a strange mechanical sound, like a device activating, rang out…

Rooooaaarrr…

“Urgh!”

“What the…!”

How could he describe it? 

A wave? 

No, something far greater… a tsunami?

“Gurgle…!”

Those charging head-on, those fleeing with their backs turned, even Rox, who was still denying reality and calling for Baikal—all of them were swept away by an enormous wave.

…The half-breed. 

Where’s that half-breed?

Regaining his senses, Bran searched for the half-breed mage who had caused this catastrophe. 

Then, he spotted the man standing regally inside the ornate door, exactly where they’d attacked him.

“Ugh…!!”

As his comrades slowly came to, they backed away, staring at the half-breed with fear-filled eyes. 

Their fighting spirit had long since vanished. 

How could they face a mage capable of summoning a tsunami in the middle of a mountain, far from any sea?

Clank.

“!!!”

“Argh… Retreat!”

As the man calmly raised his staff again, the hunters turned and fled in unison.

They haphazardly dragged their still-unconscious comrades and bolted like lightning.

For some reason, the mysterious man didn’t pursue them.

“Huff…! Huff…!”

***

“What the hell, you guys? Why do you all look like drowned rats?”

After running frantically for who knows how long, they reached the Hongma tribe’s village, where they’d set up a temporary base. 

The comrades who had stayed behind to guard the base greeted them.

“We… we need to pull out!”

“What are you—”

“Damn it, we need to escape!”

The comrades who had gone to hunt the half-breed demon Archna mentioned returned battered and suddenly shouting for retreat, leaving the base guards confused and unable to grasp the situation.

Feeling frustrated, Bran, who had led the escape, pounded his chest and tried to explain what they’d been through. 

Then, he thought of a single phrase that could sum up the situation and shouted it.

“…It’s a dungeon.”

“What?”

“Damn it, a dungeon appeared!”

The joke they’d laughed about before setting out had become reality.

To be continued