HACKED 122

The fake master fumbled around his neck area. He seemed to have forgotten that the object lodged right above his throat was a real blade. <Mountain Hero> pulled the sword back out.

Clang!

“Agh!”

The attack struck again, hitting the exact same spot. The blade went in a little deeper than before, finally touching the skin. A sharp pain clawed at the nape of his neck. A red line was drawn across his throat.

At this point, he had no choice but to admit it. It wasn’t an illusion. The shield had truly been breached. He didn’t know how such a thing was possible, but it was happening.

“This kind of thing… shouldn’t be possible… cough… h-how…”

<Mountain Hero> applied pressure to the hand gripping the sword hilt. He intended to cut the throat then and there. But…

Thud.

Perhaps the strength had left his legs, but the fake master collapsed in place while the blade was still slightly lodged in his neck. The loosely embedded blade slipped back out.

Zap, crackle.

Colorful glitches bloomed from the spot where the blade had been withdrawn. It was a phenomenon as if time and space were distorting and cracking. <Mountain Hero> knew instinctively what that meant.

The shield, which had shown a gap for a very brief moment, was trying to restore itself. Like an artificial intelligence attempting to debug itself after finding its own flaw.

He couldn’t delay any longer. He couldn’t hope for another lucky break. He had to end it with one—just one—slash.

“P-please spare m…”

The fake master looked up at <Mountain Hero>, trembling violently. The giant spiral hole that occupied his entire face instead of features did not seem scary or disgusting now. It was no different from a meaningless, inanimate object.

Thump!

Before the plea could finish, one of <Mountain Hero>’s feet brutally trampled the man’s chest. The fake master groaned in pain as he lay sprawled on the floor. The key fragment hanging from his neck pressed down on his ribs.

The sword’s edge touched the shield once again.

“…”

<Mountain Hero> concentrated all his senses on the tip of the sword. Everything surrounding him became a blur in his vision.

The moment when time slowed down, when he could feel the blood flowing through the veins of his entire body, and when his breathing and heartbeat sounded strangely loud. It was the sensation of the hunt, tasted for the first time in a very long while.

He put strength into the sword hilt. So that this blade would dig into the enemy’s neck before the shield could fully recover. So that it wouldn’t just dig in, but sever the head entirely.

The blade, carrying both physical strength and body weight, trembled finely. Even <Mountain Hero>, who held the sword, felt the strain, so the fake master pinned beneath him went without saying. He only let out meaningless moans like “Ugh! Heugh,” while fumbling at his own throat.

‘Just a little… just a little more.’

It would have been easier if he were holding the sword with both hands, but since he only had one usable arm, the power didn’t go in as well as he thought. This damn body.

Impatience soon turned into rage. <Mountain Hero> frowned. His face, which had been expressionless the whole time, distorted like a malevolent deity. A low growl flowing from deep inside his throat vibrated throughout the entire space.

Skreeeeee…!

The flaw in the shield grated against the blade. A horrible noise arose.

But <Mountain Hero> did not stop. Even while becoming a wreck from head to toe, even while being confined like livestock with his freedom stripped away, his fighting spirit had never once faded.

Passive Skill: Unfading Fighting Spirit

: It may freeze, but it never flows backward; it may break, but it never bends.

Receives a bonus to resistance against all mental debuffs, and under any circumstances, ‘Fighting Spirit’ alone will neither decrease nor be corrupted.

Anyone born and raised in this land is destined to fight against injustice. It is the same principle as a mutt biting its enemy until death if even a single drop of Jindo dog blood is mixed in.

The crackling glitches began to cling to <Mountain Hero>’s blade as well. It was as if mold growing on rotten food was spreading to the hand that touched it. If he dragged this out any longer, he would be the one consumed.

<Mountain Hero> knelt on one knee and bit the sword hilt with his teeth. His sharp fangs sank into the hilt, which was wrapped tightly with black leather straps to prevent his hand from slipping. In that way, he substituted for his missing hand.

Skree, skreeee, skree!

The blade dug in deeper little by little. Glitches—no, sparks—flew from the surface.

And finally.

“Cough!”

The shield was completely pierced.

Everything after that happened in an instant. Skin, far too fragile compared to a metal blade, was torn in a single stroke; muscles, nerves, and bone protected by thin leather were hacked through.

“Gurgle…”

The fake master let out a scream-like death rattle as his throat was cut. Hot blood sprayed violently from the severed cross-section. Because he had been lowering his body to bite the sword hilt, <Mountain Hero> took the fountain of blood head-on.

Thwack!

That wasn’t all. The moment the head was completely separated from the body, the skull exploded as if it were a giant water balloon.

<Mountain Hero> didn’t know it, but it was because of the chip implanted in the opponent’s head. It was programmed to explode automatically the moment the user died, to prevent leaking secrets to the enemy through psychometry or necromancy after death.

“…”

He couldn’t see anything because of the blood pouring down like a waterfall. He reflexively raised his hand—the one not holding the sword—to wipe the blood, only to realize that one of his arms was in a state of being almost nonexistent.

His sense of reality returned a bit later. The moment he saw the corpse lying on the floor with only the body left and no head, the events of the last few seconds flashed through his mind like a panorama. He finally realized what he had done.

He collapsed into a sitting position and let go of the sword. He didn’t care whether the blackened, discolored sword rolled across the floor or not.

The fatigue and pain he hadn’t felt earlier rushed in all at once. Every single muscle in his body felt heavy as lead. He felt like he would fall asleep at any moment. No, he felt like he would die. And.

“…Ah.”

Outwardly, there was no change. But <Mountain Hero> could feel it. That he had finally crossed some irreversible line. The brilliant light that had been condensed inside him like a Cintamani was scattering and disappearing.

Before that light vanished completely, he made one last prayer. Without knowing where the object of that prayer was, or what consequences this would bring, he blindly reached out.

“Myeong…”

Saying he wanted to see <User Name 808>.

˙✧˖°🎮 ⋆｡˚

The emblem of the Compiler hung large enough to cover one wall. On the bluish-gray cloth draped long from the ceiling, the pattern of dawn was embroidered with silver-white thread.

And Yeo Myeong, the owner of that pattern, was fast asleep on the bed beneath the emblem, oblivious to the world.

‘Can you even call that sleeping?’

<Mountain Hero> quietly corrected himself internally. That wasn’t sleeping. He had ‘passed out.’

Well, it made sense that he would pass out. Since the first thing the guy did after finally waking up from being sickly all this time was have sex with him. Should he praise him for being admirable for not fainting in the middle of it?

<Mountain Hero> unknowingly reached out and toyed with Yeo Myeong’s hair, which was sticking out here and there. While he was at it, he gently brushed the tips of his eyelashes and touched his cheeks and jaw.

As if the various emotions he had shown when talking to Yeo Myeong were a lie, there was no expression on <Mountain Hero>’s face. However, extreme thoughts flickered beneath that expressionless mask.

He is lovely. I resent him. I want to make him laugh. I want to make him cry. I want to rip out that damn heart. I want to chew and swallow every drop of blood and every piece of flesh. I want to serve him preciously without touching a single hair. I want to violate him until his mind and body are irreversibly broken.

No, none of that is it. Actually…

Actually, he wanted to become Yeo Myeong’s sole and permanent restraint. A restraint stronger than anything in the world, one that wouldn’t disappear no matter what he did and wouldn’t be severed even in death. Since Yeo Myeong was his restraint, shouldn’t the reverse also be true?

Did Yeo Myeong know these inner thoughts of his, which were beyond creepy and bordering on disgusting?

He probably knew to some extent. Since he had never made a particular effort to hide them. But he wouldn’t know everything. If he knew it all, there was no way he would keep him by his side so defenselessly like this.

“Even if you know, it can’t be helped.”

It was a monologue spoken without expecting an answer. Because the other person, Yeo Myeong, was sleeping as if he were dead.

“…”

But unexpectedly, Yeo Myeong opened his eyes slightly.

“What…”

Yeo Myeong’s lips parted. Seeing that his eyes were out of focus, he seemed to still be half-asleep, but what on earth was he trying to say? <Mountain Hero> reflexively leaned his head toward him.

The distance between the two closed. Close enough to feel each other’s breath.

Yellow pupils mixed with light green and orange looked down from above, and transparent black pupils close to ash gray looked up from below, meeting each other.

Inside the quiet room. Breaking the somewhat precarious silence, Yeo Myeong spoke in a low voice.

“What are you looking at, you power-hungry hippo?”

“…”

<Mountain Hero>, rare for him, was lost for words.