The 100th Regression of the Max-Level Player - Chapter 148

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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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The Maxed-Out Player’s 100th Return Episode 148
148. Abubakar
Abubakar, the leader of Boko Haram, blinked his eyes repeatedly.
He wondered if he was seeing a ghost.
‘Where the hell did this bastard come from? He didn’t even trigger my presence detection?’
Given how suddenly he appeared, it seemed like invisibility, but my presence detection couldn’t read him.
“You son of a bitch, what the hell are you——”
Abubakar quickly shut his mouth.
Without warning, the opponent severed the neck of the organization member who had grabbed the child named Ricky.
So cleanly that blood didn’t even have time to spray.
Then he even showed the composure to hand the child over to Victor.
Unlike him, Abubakar couldn’t afford such composure.
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead from how tense he was.
The reason was that he had only just noticed the weapon of the man in the white mask was a scythe.
‘A player who uses a scythe as a weapon…’
There was one being that came to mind almost like a synonym.
‘Black Scythe?’
Unknown nationality, but always ranked first in global rankings.
Regardless of nationality, he was known as a monster among players worldwide.
‘Could it really be that Black Scythe?’
Just because his nickname is Scythe and he has the Reaper class doesn’t guarantee he actually uses a scythe.
I’ve never seen him directly, so I’m not certain Black Scythe even uses a scythe.
It’s just speculation.
‘But even so, those movements…’
They were extraordinary.
Not ordinary skill.
I wanted to confirm once more.
Abubakar, who had been watching Victor try to shield the children’s eyes from the corpse, raised his hand.
Whoosh—
The dagger that had left his hand returned to its master’s grasp.
The assassin skill [Dagger Throw] was loaded once more.
Whip—!
The dagger, flying at a speed nearly matching a bullet, aimed precisely at the child’s head.
But the scythe of the white-masked figure blocked the dagger once again.
Ting—!
This time I saw it clearly.
‘It wasn’t a coincidence?’
He pierced through the trajectory of the flying dagger and raised his scythe to block it with perfect precision?
I suspected as much, but this is no ordinary skilled fighter.
“To block my attack twice. You’re no ordinary opponent, are you? But no matter where you came from, you’ve chosen the wrong person to face.”
I blocked both daggers he hurled at the children.
That settled it.
He couldn’t defeat me.
Fighting while protecting someone is nearly impossible, unlike in movies.
‘He wanted to play the hero of justice… but I’ll show him reality is different.’
With a single command from me, every subordinate here would open fire on the hostages.
How could he block a hail of bullets alone?
‘Go ahead and try to protect those children.’
Just as he opened his mouth with a demonic smile to issue the command to his men.
Abubakar’s eyebrows twitched.
Whoosh—
His opponent vanished right before his eyes.
‘What? Didn’t he use invisibility just moments ago?’
There should be a cooldown, yet he’s using it again?
What was more shocking was that with invisibility active, he disappeared from my sensory detection entirely.
‘Impressive. But that won’t stop my command—’
Abubakar couldn’t finish the thought.
Crack—!
Tremendous force struck the back of his head, slamming his face into the ground.
“Gaaahhh…”
My front teeth and nasal bone felt shattered.
“B-Boss!”
The white-masked figure who appeared from behind after using invisibility tightened his grip on the back of Abubakar’s head.
“Mmmghhhhhh…”
With his mouth grinding dirt, he couldn’t move an inch.
Unable to issue commands even if he wanted to.
But the subordinates weren’t the type to stand idle watching their boss suffer.
“That bastard!”
“Save the boss!”
Thirty players rushed forward, each wielding weapons to kill the white-masked man.
The remaining ordinary organization members hesitated to aim their guns.
One wrong move and the boss might catch a stray bullet.
But they didn’t know.
That the man pinning down their boss was smiling beneath the mask.
* * *
‘What… what is happening?’
Victor’s jaw hung open.
When he realized the children were being targeted because of him, his heart sank.
When the dagger flew at Ricky, his vision went dark.
But then, like a miracle, a savior appeared—the white mask.
I was amazed when he blocked the dagger, but more than anything, I felt relief that I could save the child’s life.
But now I was even more astonished.
‘Remarkable—facing so many alone….’
Though “facing” hardly described what was happening.
It was far too one-sided to call it a contest.
Like moths hurling themselves into flame, the players were being ground beneath the scythe.
Thirty men seemed insufficient for such a one-sided, overwhelming spectacle.
The kidnapped victims and the gun-wielding Mob Organization members alike stood frozen-faced, witnessing the slaughter.
Everyone except Victor Zafarile.
“You lot! Turn your heads away! Don’t look at that!”
“But why! I want to see too.”
Get moving! This isn’t the time for this!”
“Just a little longer.”
“Tsk! Are you going to ignore what I’m saying?”
Victor Zafarile, anxious lest the children suffer any harm, found himself with no choice but to call for help when they kept hesitating.
“Marcus! What are you standing there gawking at? Get the children to safety, now!”
“Huh? Oh, right. Come on, let’s go, kids!”
Had Victor Zafarile’s voice snapped them back to their senses?
The other adults who had been staring blankly at the massacre finally began evacuating with the children.
But perhaps because so many moved at once—
They couldn’t help but catch the eye of the ordinary Mob Organization members, and guns were inevitably aimed at them.
“Where do you think you’re going, you bastards! Get back here! Unless you want to become Swiss cheese, get back here, you slave dogs!”
“Ah….”
The fleeing people froze mid-step.
A sigh escaped Victor Zafarile’s lips.
He had wanted to evacuate at least the children quietly, but it was all ruined.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat-bang—!
Then suddenly, gunfire erupted and the shouting Mob Organization member crumpled.
Rat-a-tat-tat—rat-a-tat-tat-tat!
Not just one, but dozens of Mob Organization members sprayed blood and collapsed like reeds.
Looking at the situation, three Mob Organization members were firing on the rest of their own organization.
‘What—what is this situation? They’re suddenly betraying each other?’
Victor Zafarile, bewildered by them shooting at each other, nearly fainted when he suddenly saw a woman appear.
“Now’s the time. Get the people to safety quickly.”
The Asian Woman who appeared out of nowhere said something, but he couldn’t understand a word of it.
But through gestures, he could grasp the meaning.
‘Ah, she’s telling us to run quickly.’
Victor Zafarile nodded toward the Asian Woman, left words of thanks, and evacuated the people.
As far from the scene as possible.
* * *
“Kwaaaahhh!”
“Gack!”
“Kraaahhh!”
Blood sprayed across the slaughterhouse floor in every direction.
Abubakar, watching that hell unfold, immediately bolted.
‘Damn it, it’s over. That monster isn’t someone I can face.’
From the moment my face was slammed into the ground, I felt the overwhelming sense of defeat.
The instant I realized the magnitude of the force pressing down on the back of my head, I recognized that this was an entity beyond my reach.
‘It’s Black Scythe. That bastard is really Black Scythe.’
True to his Reaper class, he was slaughtering thirty players without blinking an eye.
They were carefully selected members of the Mob Organization, yet they were dying so pathetically.
‘Today is truly my unlucky day. Damn it.’
For now, I had to escape while he was occupied with the fight.
My subordinates’ lives and all that—I didn’t care about such things.
My own life was the most important thing.
‘Allah, why do you test me so?’
Today I resented God, but I realized it was all my own fault for being unworthy.
I believed that only by surviving and kidnapping and killing even more infidels who didn’t believe in Allah could I wash away my sins in this life.
‘Ah, escaping is one problem, but first….’
After running without pause, Abubakar hid against a building wall and pulled out his phone.
Tap tap tap—
After quickly sending a message, I peeked my head back out.
‘Mother fucker!’
One person registered on my presence detection radar.
Without a doubt, it was that Reaper.
‘Damn it, there’s a chance I might not get caught, so let me use invisibility….’
I concealed my body and ran desperately.
But somehow the distance had already closed, and my collar was grabbed.
Crack—!
“Gaaahhh!”
My head was slammed into the building wall, and my invisibility shattered.
Brick dust rained down below my forehead.
Whoosh—
I was hurled into the air, spun six rotations, and crashed dully to the ground.
“Where do you think you’re running?”
Crunch—
“Gack gack gack!”
With Ryu Min’s foot crushing my ankle, I couldn’t even muster the will to counterattack against such overwhelming force.
“This one too.”
Crunch—
“Aaaaahhh!”
The man whose ankles were shattered and couldn’t move was grabbed by the collar and hoisted up like a rag doll.
“Come with me. Unless you want to die.”
I brought the half-conscious bastard to Yamtti.
“Yamtti. Control this scum. We need him to lure them out like you’ve been doing.”
“Yes, Master.”
I glanced at Victor, who was hiding with the children.
Victor Zafarile—the only Alchemist.
After crushing countless criminal organizations on my way here, I’d achieved my objective of rescuing him in two days, but there was still work to be done.
I already knew this man under Yamtti’s control wasn’t the leader of IS.
‘He’s just a mid-tier boss. I need to draw out the real one.’
I smiled faintly beneath my mask.
* * *
IS, the anti-state organization that followed Islam, had been in decline since 2017.
Now only remnants of the organization remained.
That’s why Abu Ibrahim Al-Hashimi Al-Baghdadi, the second Caliph of IS and its current supreme leader, was starving for the organization’s revival.
‘I must expand our power again, until the very mention of IS makes entire nations tremble.’
I need to intensify terrorism and kidnap more children.
Through indoctrination, I must transform them into warriors devoted solely to Allah.
That’s why we kidnap the children.
It’s an investment in the future, to rebuild our glory.
Players, on the other hand, were an investment for the present.
‘Though it’s a declining investment each month.’
Currently, approximately 800 players operate under the IS name in Nigeria.
There were more originally, but their numbers are halved every month.
In a few more months, there won’t be any players left.
That was the biggest weakness of players.
It was also why Al-Baghdadi, an ordinary human, was dissatisfied with them.
‘They’re consumables with a limited lifespan, and they’re not even strong enough to dodge bullets….’
The advantage was that they could enter other countries without weapons and easily commit terrorism….
‘These days, people don’t even leave their homes because they’re afraid of players.’
Even the environment for terrorism was inadequate.
‘Useless players. Tsk.’
I clicked my tongue, but the only thing I acknowledged was the potions made by the Alchemist Victor.
‘Potions are useful. I can sell them on the black market or stockpile them for the future.’
For now, I’m stockpiling them for future plans.
I only sell small amounts on the PulPul market when funds run short.
Of course, ordinary humans can’t use potions, but if a player feeds them to someone, they can enjoy the benefits.
Potion mules.
That was the extent of a player’s value.
At least, to Al-Baghdadi.
‘I need to accelerate our terror operations before the player count drops any further.’
He was already preparing to set his meticulously planned scheme into motion.
By combining the strength of ordinary operatives with player members, they could create a masterpiece.
‘If we orchestrate a terror attack that shocks the entire world, IS can reclaim its former glory.’
Just as he was reviewing the plan one more time, a text message arrived on Al-Baghdadi’s phone.
[Abubakar: Emergency situation. Our organization is under attack by someone believed to be Black Scythe.]
‘Black Scythe?’
Even Al-Baghdadi, who wasn’t a player himself, had heard the name Black Scythe.
His player subordinates spoke of him with such reverence.
‘An 89-level player who’s maintained the rank 1 position, they say?’
Comparing that to the fact that most players were around level 40, I could roughly gauge how formidable he was.
‘What if we could bring this man into IS?’
It might make IS’s ultimate dream—a terror attack on the White House—actually possible.
“Finally, I’ve found a player worth using.”
Al-Baghdadi’s eyes narrowed into crescent moons.

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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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