Chapter 172
It’s only been a little over a year.
A year ago, slightly further back in time, before I possessed the body.
When only one soul remained in Vargan’s body.
“Although I’m a fake, it’s not pleasant to see my soon-to-be dead self.”
I looked at the gasping Vargan from a year ago, about to collapse.
Vargan a year ago was trying to defend himself from the shadows but was brutally pierced, with one arm already gone and turned to smoke.
This time, I was facing the sixth Vargan. The cycle for new forms appeared to be about a year. Simple calculations suggest this guy would probably be the last.
I twisted my wrist.
Through the enchantment, the Shadow was mine. The sensation of the leather gloves, which could be freely transformed, coursed through me.
So far, there was no need for other kids; I simply finished it off with just the Shadow. However, Vargan from a year ago was desperately trying to cling to life.
The gasping past Vargan finally spoke. He was healing the wound where his arm had been.
“Who… are you?”
Ah, from Vargan’s perspective, my rapid growth in just a year must be hard to comprehend.
Well, that makes sense.
After absorbing all kinds of opportunities and achieving extraordinary development.
“You probably find it hard to believe. However, don’t play dumb with your smart brain. You’ve already understood the current situation.”
As I flashed a grim smile, he gritted his teeth. Even though he was a fake, he still bore the honor of the Schugenhartz Family. A sense of self-loathing over the mere phenomenon of a dungeon…
“Shut up! That’s not what I’m asking!”
Not what you’re asking…
“Then what are you asking?”
I slowly approached the past Vargan. The Shadow, which took the form of gloves, struggled to change shape.
“Are you really me a year later…? That can’t be! What’s your identity? Who are you to wear my skin and go around acting?”
What? Was that all?
This is going to be tricky to explain.
In the world where Vargan originally lived, it was a novel, and two souls coexisting in one body might have altered his personality a bit….
Whether he would accept that if I kindly explained it was another matter entirely.
Hmm… so then.
“I’m sorry, but I’m in a hurry.”
Whoosh! With a swift motion, I sliced through his neck cleanly.
Though he had detected my movement, Vargan couldn’t evade in time, and his head fell to the ground.
The past Vargan vanished without being able to close his eyes.
Confirming that even the headless body had dissipated, I moved on. Just to be sure that I wasn’t seeing an illusion, I tried to detect my surroundings again, but, of course, nothing caught my attention.
Thud. I tapped on the surrounding walls and let some mana spill out to see if I could break through, but it looked impossible.
This place wasn’t made to be easily navigated.
After taking a few steps.
It felt like the end of the hallway was finally coming into view, and the space began to expand.
“…This is a bit troublesome.”
I summoned the Supplier to fully recharge my meager mana reserves. At the end of this long corridor, there was a man standing in the now enlarged chamber.
I thought it was just my past self that would appear, but it seemed I was mistaken.
“No… thinking back, it’s the fact that my image is embedded in my memories that’s common.”
The dungeon wouldn’t just summon characters based on information. It must have scanned my brain or something.
…So, what will happen now?
What are my odds?
He stood still, seemingly wanting me to approach him. I didn’t stop my steps either. I continued calculating and analyzing the situation.
A man stood before me, looking forlorn.
He was clearly a different Vargan from another timeline.
‘Facing his end just before… Vargan.’
The one who ended up dead at the hands of the protagonist’s party in the original story. Longing for Erica, Vargan, filled with resentment and regret, was about to end his life.
He was someone who should never appear in the timeline of the current world, yet here he was.
His eyes were filled with hatred and despair. Judging by age, he was about 22, just five years ahead. It was a lively, youthful age, yet he had little time left.
⎯…….
He looked more emaciated than described in the novel. His cheeks were hollowed like a mummy who forgot how to eat.
Even if he stubbornly tried to hold on like a weed, the illness etched into his soul meant he had barely a year left. Moreover, he had already given up on his remaining life—a defeated loser.
Unlike the Vargan I had just encountered, he didn’t even attempt to speak. It seemed he didn’t care who I was, his dead eyes only intent on seeking out an opponent to kill.
However, he was by no means an easy opponent.
“Well… it might take some time, but looking on the bright side, he’s a decent benchmark I can compare myself to.”
The Vargan from the original story.
He hadn’t mastered the art of taming magic, nor had his mana reserves risen to transcendental heights.
“Using a Unique Spell right from the start, huh?”
He could use an incomplete Unique Spell.
…….
The area was engulfed in darkness.
It felt like an omnipotent force was manipulating the dungeon.
In an instant, the background changed.
The original Vargan stood still, surrounded by a horde of furious red monsters. The corpses of the Heroes littered the ground around them.
I recognized some faces. Alicia, Arterion…
It was as if his unfulfilled desires were being expressed. The outcome of his final battle had flipped entirely.
The Heroes had lost, and the only survivors were Vargan and his group.
It was a mob.
【Grrk. Grrr…!】
The bizarre cries of the Altife flock echoed all around.
They didn’t seem hungry, but their pumpkin-colored eyes were in a frenzy, itching to bite at their opponent. Saliva dripping, they waited for the original Vargan’s command.
“There are no Special Entities… but about 10,000 ordinary Priest-level ones.”
I stated while assessing the overall situation.
All of this was an illusion created by his Unique Spell.
…However, the damage suffered in this space would directly reflect on the real body.
If an arm is torn off, the real arm goes missing too.
If the brain bursts, the real head gets crushed like a watermelon.
The collapse of phantoms and reality.
An intersection of two worlds that should not exist.
Everything visible to him and me, while being an illusion, was real.
A clear state of crisis.
…But was I just going to avoid it even though I knew everything? If I could have, I would have fled a long time ago. I couldn’t escape due to the most remarkable feature of Vargan’s Unique Spell.
The greatest feature of Vargan’s Unique Spell is…
‘You can’t escape.’
From the moment a creature steps into the space he governs…
Every living being falls into the illusion he presents.
It was a predetermined process to be invited to this world. Even if it was incomplete, the rules remained the same.
⎯…….
The original Vargan raised one arm.
It was clearly a gesture to command the undulating red waves.
In response to his small action, the Altife howled.
There were some banging their muscular chests like gorillas, while others clicked their teeth, grinning ominously.
At that time, Vargan was actually a bishop, leading a troop of Priest-level Altife. It had been described with a capital of 10,000.
An excessively large army to be leading as a Bishop-level.
That army indirectly represented the number of people Vargan had killed.
“This isn’t something I can handle alone.”
I prepared to face the incoming forces as well.
Except for the dark cloak I was wearing, I summoned all my Familiars. Kry, Taesan, Supplier, and Wolfie…. There would be no dual fusion. While powerful entities were important, numbers were absolutely lacking.
Kry quickly climbed onto a nearby rock and let out a threatening roar at the massive army of Altife. The huge resonating chamber of Kry, with its lion’s head, had a power that could startle anyone who heard it.
A lot of mana spheres were created around me. Currently, at my maximum, 12. The mana spheres infused with rotten magic blazed to life, ready for launch.
“…This doesn’t make much sense.”
Arcane, the Spirit of Darkness summoned alongside my Familiars, frowned. The Vargan before us didn’t resemble his past self at all.
“Don’t try to understand. Just focus on the current situation. If you mess up, you’ll end up back in the spirit realm, decaying there for eternity.”
“Will you explain once everything is over?”
“Think about it.”
“……Understood.”
I knew I wouldn’t receive a proper answer, but Arcane manipulated the darkness spreading around. The wriggling darkness was given mass and transformed like a liquid.
I directed Arcane and the Familiars.
“I’ll handle that fake over there who resembles my master, so you deal with the Altife.”
The mob signaled their understanding, their eyes gleaming.
His eyes sparkled with determination.
Then it happened.
【Kreeeeek⎯⎯⎯!】
The ground trembled as ten thousand Altifes began their charge.
In the midst of it all, Vargan from the original story took weak steps forward.
That guy doesn’t have any familiars. They’ve all perished.
In this moment, he was outpacing me: an anomaly of a Unique Spell.
I needed to destroy this absurdly incomplete spell.
*
A war raged across the vast plains.
The scent of blood vibrated with screams.
The entangled shapes were brutal enough to be sickening.
Ten thousand furious Altifes, muscles bulging, were mercilessly biting at the familiars, while the familiars desperately fought to protect their masters, clawing at their throats.
The Supplier, ghostly and drifting around, increased the numbers of the wolf familiar, Wukdori, or supplied mana to those familiars lacking it, in my stead.
Most of the familiars were now multiples of Wukdori, and without hesitation, they tore into the enemies’ flesh.
Bang! Taesan’s enormous fist slammed into the ground, causing Altifes to splatter like squished bugs, blood and entrails flying everywhere, or bits of their bodies to be flung into the air.
Arcane fought by manipulating the substance of darkness.
Sometimes as hundreds of blades, sometimes transforming into shields. Its fluid form covered the Altifes and made them disappear with internal pressure.
Kry, with wyvern wings, swooped down like an eagle, snatching his prey, and breathed out deadly gas. The snake-like tail moved separately, injecting poison.
Boom! BANG⎯⎯!
A magic cannon, dripping with corruption, fired from all directions.
Twelve magic orbs flew through the air, continuously shooting beams at a single target.
One, of course, rarely hit that target.
It was partly because Vargan from the original story was quick on his feet, but even if they did hit, he would just disperse like an illusion.
Clearly, simple physical force wouldn’t cut it.
I had to destroy the space created by that Unique Spell to catch him.
As the space warped, the parts of the Altifes, appearing like mouths or arms, erupted from the air, frantically trying to tear at my flesh.
Even though I wore shadows, getting bitten wouldn’t cause much damage, but it risked restricting my movements. The places I was bitten immediately unleashed corruptive magic, burning me.
Physically, I continued the fight while dismantling the equations to break down the Unique Spell.
Just because you get caught, doesn’t mean you can’t escape.
There’s a limit to the space I could create, and I hadn’t even fully completed it.
In the original story, talents like Diphelia or Alicia, who had high resistance to curses, suffered damage yet ultimately managed to break through.
If I quickly resolved the calculations and established a resolution, I could win with minimal damage. The only problem was that he…
“Hah…! Can he really use that too? This is getting annoying.”
Seeing him prepare something, I furrowed my brow unknowingly.
There’s no doubt about it.
That’s not just any Unique Spell; it’s a threatening weapon of his.
A power received in exchange for entering the Goddess Church. A ‘Blessing’.
The dungeon could perfectly replicate the powers of the Goddess Church.
Support me by donating at least $10, and you'll have the right to request any novel from Novelpia (excluding 19+ content) using a newly developed tool.
