Shepherd Wizard-Chapter 227

Translator: Pai_

Truly astonishingly and horrifyingly, it was not only Ymir who suddenly appeared from the fog.

The appearances of those who appeared afterward were also the same as those of the players he had seen in Cadrum's past memories.

Of course, they were all pale like the dead and bore signs of decay in various places.

‘Could it be that he restored the players' physical bodies?’

According to what Turan knew, the body of a player whose life span had ended would crumble into ashes like burnt dust, never preserving its complete form like that.

The remains of the Lame Goddess left in the key of the library were also, so to speak, merely a kind of spiritual symbol.

That was why ancient wizards believed that the gods had ascended to the heavens, and there weren’t even tombs containing their remains, just trinkets stored in their place.

For that reason, if those bodies had truly been revived and the proper souls inserted into them, and thus had regained the power of their prime, then a fight might not even be possible.

A player with full power, even among the relatively weak ones, was someone who could face off one-on-one against a Great Sea Serpent or a giant, and now there were more than a dozen of them here.

However, after the initial shock, Turan realized that the power he sensed from them was not as strong as he had expected.

Upon closer inspection, even their appearances were too unnatural to truly be those of gods.

From their massive sizes to the grotesquely disproportionate bodies and blood-red pupils...

And as he recalled the various abilities Monarch possessed, the conclusion quickly became clear.

They were a kind of “fake gods” cobbled together from unknown materials, stitched to resemble their former selves.

The powers they displayed merely relied on the strength of the spirit forms within.

“So they mimicked their old forms through flesh-shaping?”

[How is it? Impressive, right?]

“It's grotesque beyond compare. Maybe try looking in a mirror.”

Ymir’s face twisted as he had been boasting, clearly displeased by Turan’s retort.

[Then die, bastard!]

Clang. Meisa, who once again deflected a flying axe, took on Ymir and two other fake gods, while Solif took on about three of them.

Turan briefly wondered why they were leaving him so exposed, but then quickly retreated as he felt something invisible stabbing into his chest.

'Are they remnants of Zahars!'

Those who had been resurrected on one of the southern sea islands after the Battle of Axum apparently fled and sought refuge with Monarch.

Turan quickly activated Concealment and heightened the senses of the Sacred Relic, but the mist here, too, was heavily saturated with condensed magic power, making it difficult to identify enemies.

However, he had many other tricks up his sleeve.

Switching to the Varaha bloodline, he spread the Light of Judgement in all directions, piercing hidden enemies who screamed or canceled their Concealment to defend themselves.

Perhaps realizing that this method wouldn’t work, the Preah God Tribe of Zahar began launching area attacks using various techniques to draw out the concealed Turan.

Shadow blades spread in all directions, toxic liquids were spewed, and explosions formed from a mix of fire and ice.

Familiar skills, once seen during his escape after infiltrating Axum in the past, filled the air.

But unlike before, the current Turan had studied data on them from ‘SSMS’ he accessed on Earth, so he now understood exactly what these skills were and how to counter them.

‘This one’s a Hunter and Chaser with Shadow and Illusion. That one’s an Alchemist and Healer. The third has Frost and Pyromaniac...’

Shadow blades, countered with Light of Judgement.

Toxic liquid, purified with the Purifier ability of the Lavitas bloodline.

Steam explosion, dispersed with wind before it could condense.

As he laid out perfect counters for every attack, surprise and confusion flashed in the eyes of the fake gods.

They were certainly skilled in battle, but he hadn't been this formidable before.

[How exactly-?]

“Who knows.”

Murmuring his reply, Turan swiftly closed in on an enemy who had left an opening and drove the railgun into them.

Though the power was somewhat reduced at near point-blank range, the attack was nearly impossible to dodge.

The head, about the size of an adult male’s, burst apart, and the once-human-looking body collapsed into a shapeless mass of flesh.

‘Is it over?’

What raised doubt rather than certainty was the fact that no spirit form emerged from the mass of flesh.

If the spirit form of a god, already spiritualized, had truly been in control, then something like that should have burst out.

Unfortunately, due to the continued attacks of the remaining two, there wasn’t much time to be puzzled.

Turan quickly propelled himself with a gunpowder explosion, dodging the shadow blades that aimed to rip him apart.

***

“Do not fall back-!”

While Turan and the other top fighters battled the fake gods, their elite forces discarded their guns and relied instead on their original weapons, magical artifacts, or their bloodline magic to fight the flesh monsters.

Though they still had a decent amount of bullets and water left, the visibility range within the mist was so narrow that they couldn’t respond quickly enough, leading to more injuries.

Of course, being without guns didn’t suddenly make them helpless.

Each of them was a skilled individual possessing at least mid- to upper-tier magic power even among the nobles.

A noble of the Rapids Bloodline turned the moisture overflowing in the mist into water and wielded it like a whip. A noble of the Frost Bloodline froze the moisture and fired it as ice spikes. The Earthmovers scattered the sand they carried and shaped it, doing whatever they could to contribute.

The only two Healers treated the wounded, and the Varaha of the Sun Bloodline, due to the moisture-rich environment, gave up fire magic and focused solely on light magic. Nobles of the Guardian and Fighter Bloodlines took up weapons themselves and held the frontlines.

And the few nobles of the Pyromaniac Bloodline completely abandoned their bloodline magic, instead forming small squads at the very rear of the formation to operate machine guns for fire support or throw steam bombs.

Even as they fought valiantly, they trembled from time to time at the surging waves of power felt from above, ahead, or to the sides.

“Damn it...”

"It's truly a battle of gods."

Whenever Meisa pierced the heart of Ymir, transformed into an ice giant, with her lightning hammer, or whenever Solif, having fused with a magical beast and taken on a half-beast form, burned an entire Nagin player to death, the mist briefly cleared to reveal the scene.

The power they wielded was so immense that it repelled the mist for a moment.

Likewise, when Turan fired his railgun with all his might, it cleared the mist in an instant, carving out a long passage.

Each time that happened, those who had once been gods ruling over Zahar, and had been comrades of Kim Woong, lost their lives one by one.

“Just a little longer! We can win this!”

Just as hope began to form from that sight, Haram Berk, who was standing at the front, was struck by a chilling premonition. He quickly raised his magical shield to cover himself.

The ice giant that Meisa had clearly killed just moments ago suddenly slid swiftly across the ground, kicking him and three or four nobles behind him in a single blow.

“Kraagh!”

“Urgh-”

The formation collapsed in an instant.

Fortunately, Haram, being of the Guardian Bloodline, had a sturdy body and barely survived with the help of a defensive magical artifact, and the few others behind him were merely injured after colliding with him, not killed.

Ymir, having stomped the ground to raise an ice pillar, looked up at the flying Meisa and screamed like a madman.

[Try it as many times as you want, bastards! It’s useless anyway!]

Among the fake gods, his distinctive appearance made his survival a blow to the morale of the already-exhausted forces.

After all, someone who had just died had returned right before their eyes.

What’s more, the direct god followers of Monarch, whom Solif had killed, the Aravion god members whom Meisa had killed, and the Zahar god members whom Turan had killed, each of them reappeared as if their deaths moments ago had been lies.

Naturally, unless they were fools, the thought would eventually occur.

“Don’t tell me...”

“Those monsters are continuously resurrecting too?”

A ceaseless horde of flesh monsters emerging from beyond the mist.

For now, they were managing to hold them back somehow, but given that stamina and magic power were not infinite, it was clear they would eventually reach their limit.

No, in truth, the issue of the soldiers’ stamina was trivial.

The far more terrifying problem was the three Family Heads, who were fighting monsters more powerful, closer to gods, than the flesh beasts.

The moment they became exhausted and the balance tipped, this entire army would be annihilated.

“Huff, retreat... ugh.”

“Shut your damn mouth! The Family Heads are still fighting!”

“Uaaaaaaaah-!”

The young noble of the House Parsha struck the Aravion noble who had voiced weak words across the face and shouted boldly.

Right next to them, a noble of Varaha let out a roar and hurled a spear of light, piercing and killing one of the monsters.

As the fierce battle raged below, Turan also managed to grasp the situation despite the lack of information within the mist, and he furrowed his brows.

‘Resurrection? How? Is it because Monarch is just mass-producing those things? But then where is the power coming from?’

Generally, the magic power of magical beings, aside from what they innately possess at birth, is extracted from other living beings.

For this reason, wizards and magical beasts become stronger by absorbing magic power from other wizards and magical beasts throughout their lives.

And yet, those fake gods, despite possessing powers that could overwhelm even high-ranking nobles, were brazenly exposing themselves as if it didn’t matter if they died.

Based on his experience, even if they used skills to enhance themselves, they would still need to draw foundational power from somewhere.

‘Are they using power extracted from sacred relics? No, I took most of the keys he had. Then maybe... this building?’

No matter how much he thought it through, no definitive conclusion emerged.

Even as he pondered, his body moved automatically, continuing the intense combat.

Kill, and kill again.

By the time he killed the seventh fake god, Turan noticed that Solif’s face was clearly showing signs of exhaustion.

‘This won’t do...’

Unlike Turan and Meisa, who had succeeded in manifesting and combining four types, Solif had only three types.

Though he had the least amount of magic power, the difference wasn’t so significant. However, the difference between three and four symbol combinations was immense.

“This way!”

“Thanks!”

Because of that, Turan and Meisa occasionally assisted Solif, but there was a limit to that as well.

It wasn’t like they had four arms and two heads.

The more they overextended to help him, the more disadvantages they suffered in their own battles. It was, in essence, like robbing Peter to pay Paul.

“Stop helping! I can handle it!”

“Catch your breath.”

"Huk, damn it......."

Solif furrowed his brow as if resenting his own weakness but followed Meisa’s instruction and focused on controlling his breathing.

Turan, confirming that her violet electric field had taken control of the surrounding area, looked around, trying to come up with a solution.

‘The mist zone... enemies keep appearing... where are they coming from? Beyond that? If this really is the mist zone, then there would be no end to it.’

His mind, overheated from the excitement of battle, struggled to return to calm, logical thought.

After a moment of trying to suppress the adrenaline and think clearly.

Turan spotted the eighth incoming enemy, and like a flash of lightning in his mind, the answer struck him.

“Meisa! Cover for me for a moment!”

“What!?”

Already busy helping Solif, Meisa’s face showed clear confusion at the request to take on Turan’s share as well.

But Turan was confident that she could handle it, at least for a short while.

She was only holding back her full power as Thunder Lord because she couldn’t be sure when the enemies would stop coming.

If she used her full strength, even if she wore herself out quickly, with Solif supporting her, she could hold off a dozen or so fake gods.

“I’m counting on you!”

If his intuition turned out to be wrong, he could just return immediately.

Descending quickly to the ground, Turan pulled out a key and a jewel box from his large-capacity pouch.

“Elder, this is urgent!”

"What? This is......a boundary. The battle-”

“Quickly, take this!”

Turan even abandoned the usual minimum formality he maintained with the Librarian and urged him hastily.

Momentarily flustered by Turan’s attitude, the Librarian seemed to sense the urgency and quickly reached out for the orb Turan handed him.

In an instant, the world distorted, and Turan, who had just been in a corridor filled with thick mist, reached the boundary of the world.

A mysterious space where the spiritual remains of the Lame Goddess lingered somewhere far below.

But unlike usual, a part of that space was filled not with whiteness, but with darkness.

That was because this was one of the world’s boundaries, the mist zone at the eastern end.

Turan asked the Librarian to wait there, then began moving toward the pitch-black space.

Since it was not a physical space, just thinking about it was enough to make his body move at an incredible speed.

Faster than flight magic using wind, faster than flight using magnetism, faster than sound, faster than Bije flying alone, perhaps even faster than light.

The moment Turan reached the edge of the pure-white sea of spirit forms, he realized he had been right.

A massive stag was standing between the spirit sea and the void, glaring at him.

[Ah, truly... what a tiresome bastard.]

“Monarch.”

He could see four symbols embedded within the stag's essence.

Ruler and Tamer, writhing flesh, and a scale.

Only then did Turan realize what the shadow he had seen when returning from Earth had been.

Monarch’s true body was not human, but a beast, a deer magical beast, that had long since taken residence in this place.

“I wondered what kind of form your true body had taken. I didn’t expect you to be inside an animal, not a person.”

[Magical beasts generally live far longer than humans. The soul chain capacity is much greater.]

Judging by his use of the term “soul chain capacity”, it seemed Monarch had also examined a soul chain firsthand.

He had probably taken the form of a stag because he hadn’t found a way to refill it.

Or perhaps he did have a way, but liked the durability of the beast’s body and simply continued using it.

[A human body can be used any time, so there’s no reason the true body needs to be human. More importantly, aren’t you going to attack? Things outside aren’t exactly going smoothly, are they?]

“I was just about to-”

As Turan reached out mid-conversation to launch a surprise attack, he was suddenly crushed to the ground by a horrifying amount of gravity.

Monarch twisted the stag’s face grotesquely and sneered.

[You didn’t seriously think I’d been sitting here doing nothing, just waiting for you to come and kill me, did you?]

“How... did you do this?”

[Sorry, but I’m not one of those third-rate villains who blab their secrets and get countered.]

Even as he asked the question, Turan’s mind was racing to analyze the enemy’s earlier attack.

Was it the Lawmaker’s ability? Something that forbids standing?

But setting a rule that excludes oneself shouldn’t be possible in most cases.

There wasn’t enough time to analyze the extremely limited clues.

Because as Monarch tilted his head slightly, a barrage of light slashes poured from the ornate antlers of the stag.

Turan barely managed to move his unbearably heavy body to avoid a direct hit, but he couldn’t avoid losing an arm.

His blood-spurting arm flew off toward one end of the world’s boundary.

“Urgh...”

[Ah, damn. Outstanding. I didn’t expect you to break in here, but it’s not bad. Whether I crush you out there or in here, it’s all the same.]

Letting the opponent’s mockery pass through one ear, Turan pondered what to do.

It seemed he wouldn’t be able to match Monarch in this space. Should he return to the library world, or the real world?

But returning without uncovering any of this place’s secrets, or what Monarch was doing here, wouldn’t change anything.

More importantly, it wasn’t even certain whether he could return just because he wanted to.

[By the way, what’s up with your voice? This space doesn’t usually change how someone sounds.]

“If you want to know, how about answering my question first? Like how you did all this.”

To Turan’s surprise, Monarch showed interest in his strange voice.

That bizarre voice, as if dozens of people were speaking at once, was a phenomenon that only occurred when he reached the boundary of this world.

Neither the Librarian nor Meisa had experienced it, only he had.

Turan, instead of revealing that he didn’t know the reason, pretended to be relaxed and put on a bluff.

At that moment, as Monarch frowned, a voice he had never heard before echoed from afar.

“That’s probably because of me.”

The voice from behind belonged to a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties.

Judging by his facial features, he seemed to be of a race similar to Earth’s, more specifically, Korean.

Turan realized that the place where this man had appeared was exactly where his arm had flown off earlier.

And also that there was now nothing there.

Monarch frowned at the sight of him.

[An Earthling? I’ve never seen your face before... who are you?]

“Seok-hoon, you really were shameless back on Earth, and now you’re just as disgusting here. You’re old enough, you’ve even had a kid, shouldn’t you have matured by now? After getting scolded so badly by hyung, you still haven’t come to your senses.”

His tone was like that of an adult talking to a child.

Only then did Monarch widen his eyes, as if he had finally recognized the other man’s identity.

And what followed left even Turan surprised.

[Don’t tell me… Otas?]

*****

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