I Became a Mythical Hunter After Killing the Golden Goblin - Chapter 125

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 125. The Final Stage (2)
Somewhere in the Holy Kingdom. In the middle of a small, modest house—unremarkable enough to escape notice, yet not so obscure as to be forgotten.
A brilliant flash! A sharp, whistling sound!
A transformed and reinforced sacred magic circle—a teleportation spell—materialized from the ground in a burst of light, and from within it, the Saint emerged.
“Aaaaaahhhhh!!”
She clutched her left shoulder, still burning with searing pain and damage, her scream laden with agony, fury, frustration, and bitter resentment.
And in the darkness, a man who had been sitting quietly with his eyes closed suddenly snapped them open, and immediately began coughing up blood.
An enormous torrent of blood pouring from the seven orifices.
Every capillary in both eyes ruptured, and blood gushed forth from his tear ducts like a fountain.
Blood cascaded from both nostrils like a waterfall.
It erupted from both ears as if a volcano had exploded.
And finally, from his mouth poured an immense volume of blood, as though he were vomiting.
All of it was black. Not the fresh, warm crimson-red blood of a living being. The blood he had bound as collateral while creating blood curses and puppets—all of it was destroyed, and simultaneously, this cold, blackened, lifeless blood was expelled from his body.
“Kgh—!”
Normally, I would have checked on the Saint’s condition first, but my own state was scarcely less dire than hers.
Blood was as good as life itself. While this was true for all humans, for one who wielded blood sorcery, its significance was immeasurably greater.
My flesh withered away in an instant, my face gaunt and pallid as I rushed desperately to the underground warehouse hidden beneath the house, wrenching the door open and hurling myself inside.
Unique Ability: Blood Curse—Bloodsucking Abomination Tree
What lay within were countless corpses. Through some arcane means, they remained in a state of perfect preservation despite their death, and as if prepared for precisely this moment, roots extending from my body pierced every corpse simultaneously, beginning to drain every drop of their blood.
“Haaaaahhhhhhh~~”
How much time had passed?
By the time the Saint’s screams had faded and silence once again settled over this small house, I finally rose to my feet.
As light streamed through the window and illuminated the warehouse, my form was revealed in its entirety. Gone was the sickly, groaning appearance I had worn mere moments before.
My face remained pale, certainly, yet vitality now coursed through it. My hair, a beautiful crimson-red, fluttered gracefully, and standing amidst this scene of slaughter and blood, my figure was like a living work of art.
“Ha…hahahaha!”
The man—or rather, Bertas, the true form of the puppets that had been so carefully concealed all this time, a Grade 4 Apostle of the bloodline and Puppet Master—began to laugh with apparent delight.
But those who witnessed this would surely have understood: that laughter, though it attempted to convey joy, was nothing but the mad laughter of pure rage.
As Bertas swept his hand, the desiccated corpses transformed into mere drops of blood and were absorbed into him. A ruthlessness that extracted even the marrow.
Fully recovered, Bertas walked toward the center of the warehouse.
There lay a single item, precious and sacred. One of two divine artifacts I had received from my great God.
A holy relic—the Holy Grail—received to impersonate Cardinal Aoira. And the demonic tome of my God—the Grimoire of Defying Heaven.
It was my divine artifact, imbued with Kamighin’s power to command the dead. Simultaneously, it served as the crucial sacrifice for this descent ritual.
Yes, Shin Ju-ha’s reasoning had been precisely correct. Even if most of the descent magic circles were destroyed, the descent itself was always assured.
My God had invested tremendous sacrifice and even surrendered divine artifacts for this. That single artifact alone was sufficient to guarantee the descent.
As a pure-blooded vampire, I closed my eyes and savored the scent of blood that filled the warehouse, gently caressing the divine artifact.
The plan had gone awry. My perfect scheme had crumbled, and the grand design I had prepared for so long had been twisted. But it mattered not.
“If only the God descends….”
The fate of this cursed kingdom and these cursed humans is already sealed.
That was the moment. The eyes of the divine artifact, sealed shut within the grimoire, opened.
“Ah…My God! I apologize. There has been a complication in the plan.”
Eyes fixed on Bertas. The one who directly observed the lower realms through the divine artifact was naturally Kamighin, the artifact’s true master.
The eyes bore down on Bertas. They carried unmistakable irritation and fury.
Bertas hastily offered an explanation.
“But it’s fine! Trimming a few small branches doesn’t fell the tree, after all. The pillars and roots of the great system remain intact. There is no way we cannot welcome the great god. Please, ease your anger.”
Only then did the eyes roll up and down as if understanding, glancing once more at his Apostle before closing again.
Ah… Bertas spent a long while offering reverence toward the divine artifact, organizing his thoughts.
Watching the dawn break through the window, he rose from his seat.
“I must witness the end.”
The conclusion of the great system he had prepared for so long would be decided today. Bertas moved. Leaving the Warehouse and quietly closing and sealing the door, he reached out toward the Saint, whose body glowed as she desperately tried to heal wounds that his power could not mend.
As droplets of blood from his body infused her entire form, she convulsed and began to seize.
Simultaneously, the powers dwelling within her shattered. Time had passed, and weakened by her distance from her master Longinus, they fractured under the overwhelming force.
At the same time, Bertas’s blood not only restored her but enhanced her.
“Move swiftly. The end has come. This cursed place will vanish completely from the Abyss today.”
So, like a chess piece, fulfill your role. Your final fate shall soon be determined by the divine.
Swallowing the rest of his words, Bertas sat once more in the chair where he always remained and transferred his consciousness into Cardinal Aoira’s body.
The puppet, who had slept soundly during the eventful night, quietly opened its eyes.
***
D-DAY. The day that would determine the end of this long and tedious battle had dawned.
The fourth day of the Holy Spirit Festival. The true ceremony—the festival proper—began in the early morning amid throngs of people.
From the early dawn, the Pope, dressed immaculately in pristine white garments, appeared before the Grand Temple. He offered the various sacrifices placed upon the Altar to the myriad gods watching over the Holy Kingdom, praying for blessings upon this land.
The gods, as if answering his ceremony, scattered sacred protection across the entire Holy Kingdom.
〚Countless Divine Seats gladly bestow miracles!〛
〚For this day, all stats increase by +1!〛
While seemingly trivial if viewed broadly, the fact that such abundant protection was bestowed upon so many demonstrated tremendous divine might.
Well, what this blessing truly signified was the message that the Divine Seats were watching over the Holy Kingdom, so naturally everyone rejoiced.
The festival’s highlight. Throughout the Holy Kingdom, in countless temples and individual homes, people offered sincere sacrifices once more to their respective gods and offered prayers.
They spoke with hope that until the next festival, the world they inhabited, the land they walked upon, their families, and themselves would remain safe and shine brilliantly.
Pious and beautiful radiant hopes spread like an epidemic, and the sight of divine blessings pouring down throughout the Holy Kingdom was… like witnessing a beautiful painting.
Perhaps the System had loosened the constraints of blessings somewhat for believers on this day, making such abundance of grace possible.
I gazed upon that sight, then looked toward the sky.
Clear. Impossibly clear and pure.
I envied those unaware of what darkness might come at the end of this brilliant and sacred day, and truthfully, I felt somewhat afraid.
The Demon King. Strictly speaking, Azazel was not the Demon King. There was no seat for her among the seventy-two thrones, and she herself had introduced herself not as the Demon King but as a Fallen Angel.
Belial too had explained that Azazel was not the Demon King, but rather the leader of some organization of Fallen Angels. A faction existing somewhere in the center, neither among the Seven Sins nor the demon gods.
Regardless, the fact that Azazel was as powerful as the Demon King remained unchanged. Though merely a fragment, the terror and dread I felt when first encountering her were… utterly beyond imagination.
At the time, half-mad with desperation to escape death, I had not properly internalized that fear. But after killing her and meeting Solomon’s avatar again, encountering a being of mythic rank once more, that terror resurfaced like a trauma.
I raised my empty left hand and stared at it. It trembled. Fear gripped me. Dread welled up. I wanted to flee immediately.
The first thought that came was always the same.
Can I win?
Misfortune had awakened. Shedding her shell to reveal her true form, she simultaneously cast off the very constraints she had borne, becoming even more powerful.
The Demon King’s descent was already inevitable. If Misfortune manifested here, it would be a truly vexing complication.
Always anticipating the worst and moving accordingly, always experiencing only the worst scenarios.
How exhausting. Thinking such thoughts, I let out a quiet chuckle.
But I had not been defeated. Since my return, I had always moved forward, always climbed higher, always grown stronger. I would fall before I would bend, suffer pain before I would surrender to it.
This time would be no different. Fear? Terror? Being overwhelmed? It mattered not.
I had already triumphed twice before. The third time would be even easier than the previous two.
Uuuuuuuung!!
As if resonating with my resolve, the Spear of Longinus, now activating in my right hand, cried out.
From atop a building overlooking the Colosseum where the Demon King was expected to descend, I began my preparations from this very moment.
Time flowed swiftly onward.
And at the end of that time…
〚A monster of all evils destined to grow into a quasi-disaster-class threat is being summoned!!!〛
〚Epic Rank A- LV 99: Void Wyrm Deuriax is being summoned!〛
At last, the monster that would serve as one axis of the sacrifice was summoned. It was a subspecies of an enormous dragon.
Though it had not fully inherited the dragon’s name, it was a monster capable of growing into an existence powerful enough to bring calamity upon an entire world.
Still in its youth, yet formidable nonetheless. But the Pope was far more formidable. His miracles descended brilliantly upon this land.
Countless prepared holy knights drew upon the blessing’s power to amplify their strength and slaughtered the monster.
‘A power similar to Self-Ascension and Self-Strengthening.’
Self-Ascension and Self-Strengthening, which forcibly manifests future potential into the present body—the Pope’s power over time was similarly structured.
The monster was slain in exactly four hours and forty-two minutes. All celebrated the destruction of one future calamity, and countless gods scattered blessings that adorned the sky beautifully.
And…at last, evil’s preparation to descend upon this land was complete.
“Ah…O great and divine one. Demon who consumes death, commands death, and achieves completeness through death. Reveal yourself!”
In the brightest, most radiant moment, the deepest darkness descends.
I rise from my seat, gripping the Spear of Longinus tightly in my right hand.
Activation rate: 12%. The result of nearly twenty hours of relentless activation without rest. One strike should be more than sufficient.
Now then. Let us witness the end of this tedious battle.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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