The Crazy Battle God Has Returned - Chapter 252

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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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A Mad Swordsman Returns – Chapter 252

Japan, Okinawa Archipelago.
The coral reef coastline that once boasted pristine beauty had turned black, and countless phantom ships floated upon seas shrouded in dark mist.
And across the islands flowed an endless procession of spectral forms.
At the center of it all existed an island concealed by divine power.

– Grrrraaaaahhh….
– Aaaaaaahhhhh….

Earth congealed from mud, corpses, and dense death essence.
Upon this artificially created island stood an ominous city, and above it flowed an endless procession of the dead.
The departed, bereft of reason, made their way toward the ‘Temple’ at the island’s center.
The Black Temple, manifested through the power of the Lord of the Dead.

Shhhhhhhhh!

Soon, countless dead arrived within the Temple’s interior.
Then the Covenant of the Dead stirred up death essence, and every spirit within began to be absorbed into the Temple without exception.
The absorbed dead were compressed into a single mass.

Whoooooosh!

They vanished, transformed into formidable power for the Lord.
And new dead arrived once more, the same cycle repeating endlessly.
It resembled watching a hamster wheel that never ceased turning.

“Sigh….”

Lucian Reyes, an Apostle of the Dead and administrator of the island called Paradise, observed this spectacle and exhaled a weary sigh.
The Covenant of the Dead flinched at the sound of his sigh. But it was brief—they soon resumed their assigned duties.
They had heard such sighs many times before, and had grown accustomed to them.
Their own sentiments were little different.

‘This is giving me a headache.’

Lucian sighed inwardly.
Reflecting on recent events, I could do nothing but exhale in resignation.
Even more so when considering the utterly demoralized state of my forces.

‘How many times have I lost to the Lord of War in succession?’

Multiple battles surfaced in my mind.
The devastating defeat at the Star Battlefield, the Lords’ Clash that left unforgettable scars upon me, and the catastrophic rout that would be recorded as the Golden War.
The Covenant of the Dead were now learning the bitter taste of defeat.
Defeat.
A word that suited them far too poorly.

‘Growing accustomed to that word is truly pathetic.’

Yet there was no helping it.
The Lord of War—or rather, merely hearing the name ‘Han Yu-sung’ sent tremors of dread through my body.
I cannot forget. That madman who charged forward alone.

‘Does a method to defeat such a monster even exist?’

Lucian Reyes felt a sharp headache intensify.
An Oath-taker of the Dead approached him and bowed.

“Apostle. The morale of the Oath-takers has been depleted.”
“…Yes. Have the next unit come forward. We still lack the quota to send to the Lord. You are to proceed to where Yang Han-gyeong is stationed, recover your morale, and begin training.”
“Understood. We shall do so.”

The Oath-taker departed with head bowed.
Lucian exhaled once more and surveyed the Temple around him.
Within this Temple stood a colossal obelisk.
Similar obelisks were installed throughout the Trial Island, devices designed to absorb the ‘aura of death’ permeating this region.
In the distant past, when the Trial of God failed, countless players perished, many monsters fell, and vast numbers of civilians died.
The overwhelming aura of death generated by their passing settled here, and countless lost spirits began to wander aimlessly.
In a place saturated with such death aura, powerful undead could be created, and it became an ideal location for the Covenant of the Dead to train.
And most importantly.

[The Lord of the Dead has absorbed ‘aura of death’.]
[The Lord desires more aura of death…]

I could offer my strength to the Lord of the Dead.
The death essence saturating this place would be presented to the Lord of the Dead, and he would transform it into his own power.
The cities of the dead scattered across the world operated on the same principle.
The Lord had established these cities in places where catastrophic events had claimed countless lives—locations where he could absorb the concentrated essence of death.
Of course, the Lord’s personal preferences factored into the selection as well.

‘The Lord is absorbing power at unprecedented levels.’

The implication was straightforward.
War. No—vengeance.
The Lord of the Dead yearned to retaliate for his successive defeats. He was preparing for war to achieve that retribution.
Indeed, vast resources were converging on this Trial Island even now.

“The situation favors us….”

Lucian murmured the words as he departed the Temple.
He could see the Oath-takers moving with urgency, the undead they were creating, and the other Apostles of the Dead orchestrating it all.
As always, circumstances aligned in their favor.
According to the Lord, summoning the Draken Race to Earth would prove difficult. If that were true, they would possess overwhelming numerical superiority.
And yet.

“…Can we truly achieve victory?”

Certainty eluded me.
Confidence refused to take root.
Successive defeats—even in wars where victory had seemed assured—had worn away at my resolve.
There was no foundation for self-assurance.

“Sigh.”

Lucian exhaled a sigh—he had lost count of how many.
Lifting his gaze to dispel the oppressive weight, he beheld a sky consumed by spectral forms.
Fragments of these phantom spirits descended like rain, seeping into the earth below.
Confidence would not come. Yet the Lord appeared to be preparing something, and if I could harness that power, perhaps this time….

Whoooooosh.

I might be able to win this.
The moment that thought crossed my mind, an unbelievable sight filled my vision.
The sky, consumed by spectral forms, melting away—an impossible scene.

Crackle, crackle, crackle!

Beyond it, thunder and lightning emerged, blanketing the heavens.
Between the melting sky, a colossal bolt scattered hundreds of streaks of lightning across the expanse.
A tremendous thunderclap shook the firmament.
Soon, the master of that lightning revealed himself.
Lucian Reyes’ eyes widened in shock.

“Ha, Han Yu…!”

Han Yu-sung.
Lucian never finished screaming that name.
Because the ‘Divine Punishment’ had already been unleashed.
A spear shot forth before he could even perceive it, let alone react.

【Lightning Spear】.

The ‘Thunder God’s Spear’ pierced through Lucian’s body.
The moment he sensed Han Yu-sung’s presence, he tried to raise his guard, but the lightning spear was faster, tearing through his flesh.
A massive storm of lightning erupted.
Hundreds of lightning bolts ravaged Lucian’s form.

“Krraaaaaagh!”

A harrowing scream echoed across the Trial Island.
That was the end of the Apostle of the Dead, Lucian Reyes. Consumed by the Thunder God’s Spear, his entire body burned as he breathed his last.
For an apostle serving the Lord of the Dead, it was a pathetically hollow demise.

“One down.”

Han Yu-sung, who had orchestrated this situation, spoke those words and vanished.
It was a statement as serene as if I had merely completed a mundane task.
It was only then that the other Oath-takers realized what had transpired.

“….”
“….”

In that instant, silence descended upon the Trial Island.
I couldn’t comprehend what was happening.
Apostle Lucian was dead. Killed in a single strike.
The one who slew him descended from the sky—Han Yu-sung.
But this place was concealed by the power of the Lord of the Dead.

More precisely, it wasn’t merely concealed. The power had annihilated the very ‘perception’ that this island existed.
A concealment so profound that even the Lords themselves would struggle to perceive it.
The overwhelming aura of death permeating this place made such a thing possible.

“Lucian, he….”
“What in the world…?”

Han Yu-sung had pierced through that power and entered.
Alone, as if he intended to face all the enemies here by himself.
Only then did those who grasped the situation tremble with rage.

【Heavenly Sword】.

In that moment, a colossal blade completed itself above the clouds and plummeted downward.
There was no time to evade, no chance to resist. The great sword crashed down in an instant, transforming into thousands of blade auras that swept across the ground and consumed all enemies in their path.
The undead wandering the island, the Oath-takers who had been watching Han Yu-sung—all of them.
Agonized screams filled the Trial Island.

“Grraaaaaahhh!”
“Insane! That lunatic! Attacking this place alone!”

Yang Han-gyeong, an Apostle of the Dead, trembled as he blocked the blade auras.
An overwhelming sense of humiliation washed over him. The Covenant of the Dead stationed here numbered in the tens of thousands, and with the undead included, they reached hundreds of thousands.
How many Apostles of the Dead managed this place?
Yet he dared attack alone.

“There are limits to how much you can mock us!”

Yang Han-gyeong erupted in fury, rallying his forces.
Countless high-ranking undead materialized around him in an instant.
It was possible because this place brimmed with the aura of ‘death’.

“Find Han Yu-sung! You—search for the other Apostles of the Dead at once! We cannot fathom what Han Yu-sung is plotting, so we must gather and respond with maximum force! And immediately inform the Lord…!”

Yang Han-gyeong barked orders at the Oath-takers beside him.
Regardless of Han Yu-sung’s mad rampage, that monster possessed formidable power. I had to face him with absolute composure.
But the Oath-takers did not respond.

“What are you doing! Move now…!”

Yang Han-gyeong spun around in rage.
But his expression froze solid in an instant.
The Oath-takers lay collapsed, pierced through by shadow.

“Inform the Lord, did you say?”
“Gah…!”

A voice came from behind him.
Yang Han-gyeong tried to flee in terror, and the undead he had summoned moved to attack the source of that voice in unison.
But they were a moment too late.

Crackle—crack—crack—crack!

“Ugh, ugghhhhh…!”

A blade crackling with thunder carved through Yang Han-gyeong’s body.
Yang Han-gyeong breathed his last, and his undead scattered into ash.
A death as hollow and meaningless as Lucian Reyes’ before him.

“That makes two.”

I shook the blood from my blade and expanded my senses.
Through the Predator’s Senses, I felt the presence of enemies scattered across the Trial Island.
Among them, I sensed those radiating particularly formidable power.
Needless to say—the Apostles of the Dead.

[Kufufu! Since you deal with the undead, close combat is your weak point, isn’t it? Do you know how many Apostles remain?]
“Three or four, perhaps. More than I anticipated. At this rate….”
[According to my knowledge, the number of Apostles serving that undead creature barely exceeds ten. We can eliminate more than half!]
“That’s only if we can dispose of them all.”

They won’t fall as easily as Lucian or Yang Han-gyeong had.
We’d caught them off-guard, exploiting an unforeseen opportunity.
The remaining Apostles would be acutely aware of Han Yu-sung’s presence, maintaining maximum vigilance.
The same applied to the Lord of the Dead, who would soon intervene.

“Still, I should do what I can.”
[Indeed. Considering those who came with us, you must. Eliminating the Apostles of the Dead is worthwhile, but this place….]

Han Yu-sung and Kakasha surveyed the vast Trial Island.
An eerie sight unfolded before them—obelisks erected across the island, the forms of the dead being refined into power for the Lords and transmitted, their essence flowing outward.
And then their rebirth as formidable undead creatures.

[It’s a production facility for the dead. Destroying this place would deal a severe blow to him and his schemes. Wait. Let me consider whether there’s a method to completely annihilate this entire island.]
“Yes. Good, then….”

Whoooosh!

Scorching hellfire erupted across Han Yu-sung’s entire body.
A fierce smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“Let’s make a grand spectacle of this.”

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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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