I Just Subscribed and It’s the Best Hunter of All Time - Chapter 23

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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 23.
“It’s dark.”
I muttered to myself, glancing around at my surroundings.
The moment I declared my entry, my vision rippled, and I found myself in a dimly lit Stone Chamber.
“Hmm.”
I tapped the sword in my hand thoughtfully, considering my options.
While it might seem natural, I hadn’t made this choice blindly.
I’d been conducting research through the internet lately, piecing together information whenever I had the chance. Most of it was useless, but some nuggets proved valuable.
Most came from active Hunters’ experience posts and informational threads. The moment I saw the message, one word crystallized in my mind.
‘A dungeon.’
Exactly.
The space I’d just entered was what people commonly called a dungeon.
Unlike the Hidden Floor, a dungeon doesn’t consume an entire floor.
Instead, dungeons exist separately from the floor’s main mission.
‘Is it over there?’
As I surveyed the area, I spotted a passage to one side and moved toward it.
Then I subscribed to two abilities in quick succession using my Bronze Ticket.
A brilliant flash—
My vision suddenly brightened.
It was thanks to subscribing to Winderop’s Dark Sight.
A handy ability that removed vision restrictions in dark places. Because it was such a simple skill, the Bronze Ticket granted a subscription period of two full weeks.
The other ability was Cassandra’s Vague Intuition, which I’d already used several times before.
‘Good. This way, then.’
I smirked, following the direction my intuition indicated.
When exploring a dungeon, there was no need to rush. There was no time limit.
And that wasn’t all. There were no objectives given either.
I had to find treasures myself while exploring the dungeon.
‘I hope it’s not too vast.’
The larger a dungeon, the longer the exploration takes. Some were even labyrinthine in their complexity.
I was hoping for something more straightforward—a place with strong enemies but simple layout.
And perhaps my wish came true.
“Oh.”
The narrow passage suddenly opened into a vast chamber. I let out a soft exclamation, examining the space.
The Temple of the Fallen lived up to its name—the newly revealed space resembled the typical image one conjures when thinking of a temple.
Statues depicting various figures stood throughout, and massive pillars supported the ceiling.
“Hmm.”
But what truly captured my attention was the enormous Altar at the far end.
‘Are there any passages leading elsewhere?’
I surveyed the entire space, but found no passages leading to other areas.
My gaze inevitably returned to the Altar.
‘That’s likely the crux of it.’
While I lacked concrete evidence, my intuition—sharpened by my subscription to the Intuition ability—was never something to dismiss.
I held my sword at a suitable height and walked slowly toward the direction where the Altar stood.
‘A fallen god.’
Typically, a dungeon’s name encapsulates its core concept.
However, narrowing down the enemy type based solely on the name proved difficult.
The characteristic of a fallen god was far too broad in scope.
‘Given the absence of petty traps or labyrinthine passages, either hordes of lesser monsters will emerge later, or the boss is likely to be formidable.’
Dungeons discovered within The Tower typically have clearly defined concepts.
Either they’re laden with traps, their passages twist like a maze, they spawn monsters in overwhelming numbers, or their boss is extraordinarily powerful.
Tap.
In the end, nothing remarkable occurred until I reached the Altar.
Standing before the Altar, I examined it carefully.
‘Nothing but strange symbols carved all over it.’
Naturally, the Altar bore no helpful instructions or guidance on how to proceed.
Only incomprehensible symbols and characters were densely inscribed upon it.
I chose the simplest and most efficient approach.
To follow my intuition.
Whoosh!
I raised my sword toward the Altar.
My intuition spoke to me clearly.
Swing the blade.
I lifted the sword and brought it down in a clean arc toward the Altar.
Crack-crack-crack!
Screech!
The stone Altar split cleanly in two. I stepped back instinctively.
And immediately after.
Roooaaarrr―!
A torrent of black liquid suddenly poured forth from the fractured Altar.
‘Is this the boss?’
I increased my distance and drew upon my mana reserves. I had witnessed something similar before.
Yet the spilled liquid did not converge into a single form; instead, it spread outward indiscriminately.
The walls, floor, and stone statues—once a dull gray—became drenched in the viscous liquid, staining them black.
Sliiide―.
And then something emerged from the blackened surfaces. Or rather, multiple somethings.
‘Ten, fifteen, twenty, thirty.’
Watching their numbers multiply rapidly, I abandoned counting midway and focused intently on the nearest one.
It possessed a form roughly similar to a human.
It stood on two legs, had two arms, and its physique was not markedly different from an ordinary person.
Yet no one observing it would mistake it for human.
Every surface of its body was covered in a viscous black liquid.
‘Wait, is it actually composed entirely of that black liquid?’
Rather than rushing toward me the moment they emerged, these creatures halted before the point from which they had burst forth, standing motionless and vacant.
As I deliberated whether to strike first.
―One who desecrates the Altar….
―Shall become the offering itself….
An unfamiliar voice resonated throughout the entire space.
Yet what proved even more startling was the reaction of the black entities to it.
Swish―.
All at once, those creatures that had filled the surrounding area turned their heads in unison to regard me.
For someone who had endured countless ordeals since beginning my ascent of The Tower, this sight was genuinely unsettling.
And in such circumstances, there remained only one course of action available to me.
Shing!
To strike first.
My blade swept through the nearest enemy.
The severing of its neck, the separation of head from body—by any measure it should have been fatal, yet the actual outcome differed.
The severed head writhed momentarily before reattaching itself to the body.
Moreover, when I subsequently cleaved through another’s chest, it seemed entirely unaffected, simply extending its arm to approach me as if nothing had occurred.
‘Mere cutting proves insufficient?’
I rapidly reassessed the situation.
Among monsters, there exist those resistant to physical damage, and naturally, countermeasures exist as well.
There are various approaches, but the most renowned and widely employed is a force akin to magic.
Fortunately, while I lack true magic, I possess a comparable power.
Crackle!
As I drew upon my strength, brilliant azure electricity erupted from my blade.
Sweeping the sword with force, the approaching enemies convulsed as though electrocuted.
‘It works.’
The sensation at the blade’s edge was distinctly different.
Before, it had felt merely like parting viscous liquid; now, something solid caught firmly upon the edge.
With certainty achieved, I planted my feet and drove myself earnestly into their midst.
Slash!
A brilliant blue arc traced the path of my movement.
The enemies pressed forward with overwhelming numbers, yet pressure itself requires a certain threshold to be effective.
When the disparity grows too great, numerical advantage becomes meaningless.
Crack, crackle!
The lightning proved far more effective than anticipated—those enemies who had previously regenerated even severed necks now found themselves unable to do so.
Thus their numbers began diminishing far more rapidly than they could replenish themselves.
And when their count had fallen below twenty.
―One who defiles the Temple….
―Shall be purified by their own blood….
The voice echoed once more, and the remaining creatures began to sluggishly converge into a single mass.
Without hesitation, I slashed at those nearby as they gathered together.
However, it seemed that cutting down the converging creatures had little effect.
They eventually merged into one and took on a distinct form.
A slightly hunched back.
Two elongated arms with sharp claws jutting from the fingertips, and glowing red eyes.
That silhouette alone was ominous beyond measure.
And then the creature kicked off the ground and lunged toward me.
Whoosh!
A long arm whipped through the air like a lash, sweeping past empty space.
Both its speed and power were at a level that an ordinary Floor 20 Hunter would struggle to handle.
The only problem was that my opponent was no ordinary Floor 20 Hunter.
“Hmm.”
Rather than counterattacking, I simply evaded before slowly raising my blade.
Then I thrust my sword directly into the creature’s clearly visible flow.
Crunch!
My extended blade pierced through the creature’s torso and cleaved it cleanly in half.
But I remained vigilant.
The creature’s flow was still alive.
Screech!
As expected, the creature’s body, split in half and falling to the ground, transformed into a sharp spike aimed directly at me.
Whoosh!
Meanwhile, the remaining half continued its assault.
It was a bizarre form of attack that ordinary lifeforms could never produce.
But I remained unflustered and continued swinging my blade as before.
This dungeon would have been a grueling challenge even for a team of five ordinary Hunters, yet now the creatures were the ones struggling against me.
The difference in power was simply overwhelming, rendering compatibility irrelevant.
Crack!
I split the creature’s body once more, and as it transformed into various shapes seeking openings, I slashed the severed pieces apart multiple times.
It divided several more times, recreating similar scenarios each time, only to be mercilessly shredded by my blade.
By the time each fragment had become smaller than a fist.
Screeeech…
They could no longer maintain their form and reverted to liquid, scattering across the floor.
I lifted my head and looked at the fractured Altar as I spoke.
“Is that all?”
I hadn’t meant anything particular by the remark, yet it seemed to be interpreted differently.
Suddenly, the Altar, split in half, trembled violently as a tremendous voice boomed forth.
―You who have desecrated the sacred…
―Shall suffer eternal torment in the abyss…
Immediately after, the black liquid covering the surroundings surged upward and began forming a dark barrier around me.
From Han-sung’s perspective, the surroundings were instantly drenched in pitch-black darkness.
‘Will monsters burst forth in this situation too?’
Han-sung imagined enemies similar to those he’d faced before. But even after waiting, no enemies appeared.
Only then did Han-sung glance around before swinging his blade toward the black barrier that blocked his path.
Whoosh!
Yet the blade simply passed through that black barrier with ease.
It left no mark whatsoever.
Even when he swung the blade infused with lightning, the result was the same.
“Hmm.”
Only then did Han-sung grasp the meaning of what that voice had said earlier.
“This itself is a prison.”
A prison from which there was no escape through ordinary means.
Though it did cross my mind that perhaps they simply locked me away because I was too troublesome to deal with.
Rather than wildly swinging his blade, Han-sung surveyed his surroundings with a calm gaze.
According to Arthur’s words, there was nothing in this world that couldn’t be cut.
There were simply some things that were more difficult than others.
“Hah.”
Han-sung exhaled slowly and gently closed his eyes. Then, drawing his concentration to its peak, I began to read the flows around me.
Whether the dungeon’s master had poured considerable effort into its creation, I could see hundreds and thousands of flows shifting and intertwining even in that brief moment.
But that posed no problem.
The sword technique Arthur had shown me contained millions of variations within each fleeting instant.
‘Compared to that, this much is…’
Han-sung took a single step forward.
And slowly thrust the blade ahead.
It was neither a particularly powerful nor especially swift thrust.
Yet the moment that blade’s tip touched the black barrier.
Crack!
A fissure appeared.
Crackle, crackle, crackle―!
And soon the fissure began expanding beyond control.
Han-sung watched as the darkness surrounding him shattered and crumbled away.
Then, lifting the corners of his mouth, he spoke.
“That’s far too short to be called eternity.”

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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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