Chapter 118
There are times when one’s spoken words and true feelings diverge. Woojin felt a faint sense of regret.
“I came all this way… It’s a bit disappointing not to have seen the enemy’s main base.”
He had even considered going further—catching a glimpse of the leader of the dark-side priests, the one they called “That One,” before turning back.
But the enemy’s forces were vast, and their defenses stronger than expected. Attempting a breakthrough would be reckless. One wrong move, and he could end up surrounded front and back.
“This is when you retreat.”
Overreaching was a bad habit.
As he briefly considered pushing a little farther north, an old story about mountaineers resurfaced in his mind.
The Death Zone.
On Mount Everest, the greatest number of casualties occur above 8,000 meters.
Environmental factors play a major role, of course—but psychological ones too.
“That’s where the summit comes into view.”
Just a little farther, and you’ll reach your goal. Driven by that desire, climbers ignore their body’s warnings and press on toward the peak—only to die.
In the same way… Woojin needed restraint.
Charging headlong into the heart of enemy territory just because it felt wasteful to turn back—that would be idiocy.
He repeated this to himself as he continued working, almost like self-hypnosis.
“We killed so many monsters that even collecting the spoils is a chore.”
He and his companions were extracting inner cores from the corpses.
Most had been charred black by the firestorm and were worthless. But quite a few had been only partially seared, their inner cores intact.
Butchering such a large number was tedious. Fortunately, Arwen and Coco helped, and they finished quickly.
“Pile the inner cores here.”
Woojin spread out a large bull hide he had skinned earlier like a mat.
Arwen and Coco carried armfuls of inner cores and placed them on the hide. After several trips, a sizeable mound formed.
He wrapped the hide tightly so nothing would spill and slung it over his back like a peddler’s bundle.
“Feels like I’m Santa.”
Not just in appearance—the purpose was similar. These inner cores would be taken south and distributed as gifts to the Neul Clan and the wolves.
“I’ll carry the pack.”
“Thanks.”
Each bearing a large load, they set off toward the distant south.
After walking for some time—
“…Something’s coming.”
A presence stirred from the north.
Had it been an ordinary beast, he would have ignored it.
But this was anything but ordinary.
“An Old One?”
Let’s see.
Woojin stopped halfway up the mountain and looked back.
Before long, something enormous crawled up beyond the horizon.
His first impression:
“Big. And strange.”
It resembled an octopus—massive beyond measure. A single tentacle was thicker and longer than a tour bus. Two enormous eyes protruded from its head.
Crimson compound eyes, like a fly’s magnified grotesquely, twitched as they scanned the surroundings.
Soon, it found what it was looking for.
CRUNCH—GRRRAAAK!
With the rumble of something like a tank rolling forward, the octopus began crawling. Its eight tentacles moved in sequence, digging into the ground as it advanced—eerily fast.
It headed toward a mountain-like heap of beast corpses.
“The ones we discarded.”
Woojin had taken only the inner cores and left the rest behind to lighten their load.
The octopus had clearly followed the scent of lightning-roasted meat.
Its head split open, revealing a gigantic maw lined with square, white teeth like human incisors.
Tentacles swept up carcasses. Broken building debris and chunks of stone were gathered along with them, but the octopus didn’t care—it shoved everything into its mouth.
CRUNCH. CRACKLE.
The chewing was loud.
Its eight tentacles worked in rotation, feeding it without pause.
A gluttonous feast.
“…The Maw of the Abyss…”
Arwen murmured faintly.
Woojin immediately turned to her.
“You know that thing?”
“Yes. I’ve heard the Maw of the Abyss is one of the outer gods that frequently communicates with ‘That One.’”
An Old One mentioned in the dark-side priests’ apocrypha. Even Arwen had never seen it in person before.
Woojin fell into thought.
“That thing communicates?”
It was a creature so gluttonous it swallowed everything in sight. Establishing communion with such a monster seemed nearly impossible.
Yet the leader of the dark-side priests had supposedly forged a close relationship with it.
That meant one of two things.
“Either he’s an extraordinary liar… or he’s a monster with power beyond comprehension.”
Which was it?
That would have to be confirmed later.
Woojin had already decided to return. He had no intention of reversing that choice.
Which also meant hunting the Maw of the Abyss would have to wait.
“My condition’s a mess.”
After unleashing the firestorm, he had little left in reserve. Taking on a powerful foe now would be foolish.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
Leaving the Old One to its banquet, they resumed their march south.
They walked and walked, hacking through vines with machetes.
“Ow… that stings.”
From time to time, Woojin muttered in discomfort.
Whenever he had a free moment, he plucked dragon scales from his face one by one with his fingertips.
Arwen glanced at him.
“Why are you pulling them out? That must hurt.”
“I can’t show up at the Order Alliance looking like this.”
With his face covered in gray scales, he’d easily be mistaken for a dark-side priest.
Arwen hesitated.
“…I actually am a dark-side priest.”
“As long as you’re not discovered, it’s fine. You should hide your abilities in front of others too.”
He continued peeling the scales away.
It wasn’t pleasant—like being a fish laid out on a cutting board. But it had to be done.
“I’ve been using the dragon scales too long.”
While fighting beasts in the deeper regions, he had kept them active constantly, and they refused to regress naturally.
When physical abilities are raised too high, they don’t diminish easily. That was why, when living in the south, Woojin deliberately sealed his strength and abilities.
“Maybe I should just wear a mask.”
It would be easier than tearing scales off his own face.
But constantly wearing a mask would look suspicious too.
So, with little choice, he kept pulling.
“By the way…”
“Why are you picking those up?”
Woojin asked suddenly.
Arwen, who had been secretly collecting the dragon scales, flinched.
“…You knew?”
“It’d be stranger not to.”
She’d been bending down like someone gleaning barley for quite a while. Not noticing would’ve been odd.
At his words, Arwen scratched the back of her neck awkwardly.
“Well… it felt like a waste to throw them away. I was thinking of gathering them and maybe making a pair of gloves.”
Scales harder than steel. They could be turned into valuable equipment.
“…That’s actually a good idea.”
Using the scales to craft armor.
Woojin could produce dragon scales whenever he wanted, so he had forgotten their value. But thinking about it, they were rare and precious materials.
“Here. Come take them.”
“I will.”
As Woojin plucked them off, Arwen received them respectfully and tucked them into her pocket. They repeated this as they continued south.
Each time a scale was torn free, a thin strip of skin came with it, and droplets of blood trickled down.
The scent of blood drew nearby demonic beasts.
“Something’s coming from ahead.”
He sensed it suddenly.
Not something overwhelmingly monstrous like the Maw of the Abyss—but the presence felt fairly large. Woojin warned the others.
Crack, snap—
Shrubs splintered as something pushed through.
Soon, a fearless demonic beast stuck its head out.
“…A spider?”
A massive spider covered in thick, bristly hair. It was enormous—about the size of two fully grown bulls combined.
Its appearance was familiar.
“Wait.”
Woojin raised a hand, stopping the others.
The spider halted at a distance and slowly lifted its two front legs high—almost like declaring surrender.
Swoosh, sway—
With its legs raised, it waved them left and right like cheering sticks.
That gesture, too, was familiar.
“It’s that one from before.”
When Woojin had fallen into the depths of the Demon Realm alongside the dragon abomination days ago, this spider had helped him.
He asked something he’d long been curious about.
“Why are you helping me?”
He hadn’t expected an answer.
But the spider made a soft sound.
“Kit… kiit.”
“…So that’s how it is.”
Woojin nodded faintly, as if he understood.
Arwen smiled.
“You’re pretending to understand again, right?”
Like when he had acted as if he understood Coco.
That was her assumption—
“I think I actually understand this one.”
Woojin replied calmly.
Arwen blinked.
“…You really do?”
“Yeah. I’m sure.”
“Did you study the spider language separately?”
“Not exactly…”
But something came to mind.
“Enoch.”
The dark-side priest he had slain in the past. After killing him, Woojin had devoured his inner core and inherited fragments of his memories and magical abilities.
Enoch had possessed a unique talent.
“The ability to communicate and empathize with spiders.”
Now that he thought about it, Woojin must have inherited that ability too. He had simply never tried speaking with a spider before.
Woojin addressed the spider again.
“Did your queen order you to assist me?”
“Kiik.”
Yes.
The spider lowered its body in affirmation.
On its back sat a large basket woven from branches and spider silk, resembling a bird’s nest.
“Kik, kiit—kiii.”
It made another sound.
Arwen asked curiously,
“What did it say?”
“It says it’ll take us to our destination.”
To the territory of the Neul Clan.
As quickly and comfortably as possible, the spider would serve as their carriage.
Woojin climbed onto its back without hesitation.
“You two as well.”
“Are you sure? Spiders are usually extremely aggressive…”
“Trust me. It’s fine.”
After his insistence, Arwen and Coco cautiously climbed up and sat beside him. They shoved their packs into the basket and leaned back against them.
All passengers aboard.
“Go.”
“Kiit.”
The spider dashed forward.
It was faster than he had expected. Wind lashed against their faces. It seemed the spider possessed some kind of acceleration ability.
“At this speed, we’ll arrive quickly.”
He had expected the return journey to take a month or two. But at this pace, they would soon reach the Neul territory and reunite with old friends.
And then—
“…Will Claire forgive me?”
Woojin muttered to himself.
Arwen tilted her head.
“Did you do something wrong?”
“I promised I’d come back early. Things took longer than expected.”
“How much longer?”
Woojin tried to count the months in his head, then gave up.
“…I don’t know. I stopped keeping track at some point. At least half a year, probably.”
“Hm…”
Arwen thought for a moment.
“You should at least prepare yourself for a scolding.”
“If that’s all, I’ll be grateful.”
“Why? Don’t tell me she might hit you?”
“She learned a bit of martial arts.”
Come to think of it, the one who had taught her was Woojin himself. Techniques meant for beating up troublemakers.
Now it wasn’t someone else’s problem.
“You reap what you sow…”
Woojin sighed.
This was his karma.
All he could do was accept it.