CHAPTER 279: DESTROY THE CURSED (95)

Chapter 279

Ronan stared at the system screen, his face blank, unimpressed.

"Really?"

He almost laughed. The system hadn’t given him a single quest when he was tearing his lungs out against Magus.... a nightmare opponent, the kind of enemy no sane person would ever want to meet. But now? Now, after the blood, after the near-death? Suddenly, a reward.

Maybe the damn thing knew.

His eyes narrowed at the glowing message. So this is the extension... the so-called prize for surviving Han’s rampage days ago.

Aiden had gotten his skill extension. Flashy. Useful. Immediate.

Ronan? He’d been thrown a "system extension." At first glance, it was worthless. A gimmick. A locked door. According to the rules, the so-called Glorified Roulette only activated after killing a glorified opponent. Then, and only then, he got a spin. After that, locked again.... until he killed another.

One kill, one gamble.

Ronan exhaled slowly. His chest still ached from the fight, but his hand didn’t tremble as he muttered:

"...Fine. Hopefully I get something worth almost dying for."

[Glorified Roulette: Activate.]

The air split.

A shimmer tore across the battlefield, and then right in front of him, a massive roulette wheel materialized, floating, towering, so large it dwarfed him. Its sheer presence pressed against his skin like a storm.

Ronan’s brows twitched. "...The hell."

For a man who’d seen gods fall and monsters split the sky, it took a lot to stun him. But this... this roulette wasn’t some illusion. It radiated power. And it wasn’t empty.

Dozens of golden tabs rotated across its surface. Weapons. Artifacts. Consumables. Skills. Techniques. Treasures. Almost forty different categories of temptation.... spinning, shining, each one whisperig in his mind.

Ronan’s lips parted, the closest thing to surprise flickering across his face.

"...Alright. Now this is actually interesting."

He stepped closer, the hum of power licking at his skin.

"Let’s spin."

—

Off to the side, Little One whispered to the others, his eyes glued to Ronan’s shifting expressions. His face changed from stone to faint curiosity to something else entirely.... like he was staring at something they couldn’t see.

"...What’s wrong with him?" Little One muttered.

"Maybe that Dark Emissary cracked his skull," Balor grunted, slumping against a boulder. "He’s probably out of it. Give him time."

The others nodded, too tired to care, too relieved just to still be alive.

They leaned back, resting their broken bodies on shattered earth, catching their breaths after surviving hell.

But above them.....

On the jagged cliff high above, a lone figure watched. Silent. Unmoving. Its presence cloaked in shadow cast by the fading sun.

The figure stood tall in a red armored suit, streaks of gray cutting through his brown hair.

So even Magus couldn’t take down those cursed heroes.

Ferris’s gaze darkened. His jaw tightened. Then, without another word, he descended back into the base. His steps were heavy, his eyes cold and merciless, it was the eyes of a man who had already decided what must be done.

As the true leader of the Red Vanguard, he should’ve been on the battlefield from the start. But he wasn’t. Couldn’t. His body was still weak, too scarred from his battle against Sword Blitz back in Maurina. The clash had left him broken. His twin crimson blades were shattered. His flesh torn. He had barely escaped with his life.

Even now, he wasn’t at his best. But that didn’t matter anymore. If the cursed heroes survived, his fate was already sealed. Better to choose his own death than wait for theirs to deliver his.

He reached a pair of double doors and shoved them open.

The sight inside froze the air.

The room was pitch black, save for the streaks of red splashed across the walls. But this wasn’t paint. Not art. It was blood.... real, human blood. The husks of drained corpses slumped against the walls, their bodies hollow, empty shells.

Ferris didn’t spare them a glance. His eyes were locked on one thing.

The altar.

At its peak, embedded deep in stone, stood a colossal crimson blade. Its core burned with a black pearl, a void that devoured light itself. The weapon pulsed faintly, glowing in rhythm with a heartbeat that wasn’t his own.

Ferris’s breath caught. The tingling in his body told him what he already knew. He had avoided this weapon for decades, terrified of the price it demanded. But now? There was nothing left to lose.

He wrapped both hands around the hilt.

The blade resisted. Then yielded.

A deep, ominous glow erupted, then dimmed, leaving the great red blade heavy in his hands.

Ferris turned, lips curling into a grin carved from darkness itself.

"All of them have failed. The Red Vanguard. The Dark Emissaries. Then I suppose... it’s my turn. By my hands, every last hero will fall. None will be spared."

—

The battlefield was dying.

The screams, the explosions, the clash of steel.... all of it had faded. Not gone, but smothered, as if the war itself was holding its breath.

On one blood-soaked patch of ground, a figure knelt, his head bowed, his long black hair hiding his face. His white martial uniform was shredded, stained with crimson.

Across from him stood another man in loose, dark armor, finger leveled like a blade.

"You... you... monster..." Garvin spat, blood dripping from his lips. Then his body collapsed, falling flat into the dirt.

The kneeling warrior, Jay finally lifted his head. A small smile tugged at his lips.

He hated to admit it, but this... this was fun.

It had been far too long since he’d been pushed this hard, forced to bare his fangs just to survive. But at last, the Dark Emissary had fallen.

The fight had been brutal. Unforgiving. Garvin had forced him to burn through everything. But in the end, Jay’s Fifteenth Jungle Art (Lion Roar) had crushed him. The final strike had overwhelmed Garvin’s defenses, broken his body again and again until nothing remained that could rise to stand against him.

Jay rose slowly, blood sliding from his chin, eyes still alight with the fire of battle.

From the overwhelming pain Jay inflicted, the poor bastard had completely blacked out.

Jay stood, rolling his shoulders, stretching the stiffness out of his muscles. He pulled his torn white martial uniform back into place. His face calm. Voice flat.

"Well... it seems the battlefield’s gone silent."

A faint frown flickered across his lips.

"So things get boring now, huh?"

He shook his head. No. Not yet. There was still the leader of the cursed somewhere on this island. And that bastard... Jay had a debt to pay.

His steps echoed as he walked away, leaving Garvin’s unconscious body sprawled in the dirt, forgotten.

—

Elsewhere on the battlefield—

A deafening boom split the air. Then another. And another. Three times the world trembled before falling eerily silent again. Smoke rolled heavy across the land until it finally cleared.

The sight it revealed was nothing short of terrifying.

Kneeling in the dirt was a man with brown hair, face flushed red, body trembling violently.

"Damn you... damn you heroes! Why must you come here and ruin everything?!" he roared.

Opposite him, a lone figure stood tall. Calm. Untouched. The fading sunlight caught the glow of his blue eyes.

Han.

"You’re mistaken," Han’s voice was calm, steady. "If you cursed had stayed put, caused us no trouble, there would’ve been no need for war. You brought this upon yourselves."

Madi glared at him, his chest heaving. The silence between them stretched... thick, suffocating before a mad chuckle tore from his lips. His voice dripped with venom.

"Oh my, oh my... do you really think taking me down means you’ve won? Fool. There are still others. And not just that.... you have no idea what Drake is truly capable of."

Han’s eyes didn’t waver. He didn’t even blink.

Madi took that silence as fear. He leaned in, grin twisting into madness.

"That guy is insane, yes—but no fool. He never risks unless he’s certain. And this time? He sacrificed more than ever. Which means only one thing... at the end of this war, it won’t be you heroes standing. It’ll be him."

Han finally spoke, his voice low, almost too quiet to hear.

"So... those are your last words."

Madi froze. His stomach knotted. The weight in Han’s tone told him exactly what came next.

"What—what will you do? Kill me? You think that’ll save you? Oh no... you’ll join me soon enough." His voice cracked, his bravado slipping.

Han stepped forward. Unhurried. Inevitable.

Cold sweat drenched Madi’s back. His lips trembled as Han placed a single hand on his head.

"W-wait! Wait a minute! Let me go.... please! Just once, let me live!" he begged, panic shredding the mask of a loyal cursed. He didn’t give a damn about their cause. Not enough to die for it. He just wanted to breathe another day.

Han’s expression never shifted. Calm. Silent.

A moment passed... then the system’s cold chime echoed in his mind.

[New Elemental Spirit detected.]

[Attempting Spirit Taming.]

[Attempt failed. Spirit already bound to a master.]

[Would host like to attempt forceful taming?]

The system’s voice rang cold in Han’s head.

[The spirit will be removed from its previous master and bound to the host. Proceed?]

Han nodded once. Calm. Steady.

The notification blinked out. Silence hung for a heartbeat.... then a searing white light burst out of Madi’s body.

The cursed warrior screamed.

Not just a scream. An agony-wail so raw, so gut-ripping, it could shatter the resolve of even the hardest veterans. Flesh twisted. Veins lit up like burning wires. His voice cracked into something inhuman, the cry of a man being torn apart from the inside out.

Han didn’t even blink. His face remained stone. Neutral.

Mercy? That was the one thing he would never give a cursed.

Minutes stretched like hours before the system returned.

[Extraction complete.]

[A new Elemental Spirit has been tamed.]

[Earth Spirit: Terragon acquired.]

[Resistance to Earth-elemental attacks increased.]

More prompts flickered. Skills. Buffs. Rewards. Han didn’t even bother to check them. He already had what he wanted. The rest could wait.

His gaze shifted to Madi. The man’s body lay crumpled, lifeless, eyes wide open and empty. Extracting the Earth Spirit at such a weak level had completely ripped away his life force. There was nothing left.

Dead.

Han’s expression never changed. He didn’t care. Not anymore.

He turned away, his calm eyes locking onto the shadowed mouth of the tunnel ahead. The cursed base.

That’s where Drake was waiting.

Han’s fist clenched. His energy spiraled out, pressure cracking against the dirt, anger threatening to break loose like a storm. But he forced it down. Forced his breath steady.

His voice dropped into a quiet snarl.

"There’s nowhere for you to run. I’m coming for you, Drake Voss."

---

TO BE CONTINUED...

AUTHOR’S NOTE

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– Ultra