The Crazy Villain Regains His Sanity - Chapter 82

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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 82

Berserker placed a call. Moments later, the line connected.
Choi Jun-ho’s parched voice came through on the other end.

“Yeah, what?”
“The League made me a proposal. They asked if I’d be interested in joining.”
“So?”
“I wanted to know what you thought, so I called.”
“You’re planning to do whatever I say?”
“Of course. You’re my master, aren’t you? You need to make the call on something this important.”

Berserker curled the corners of his mouth upward as he spoke. His feelings toward Choi Jun-ho held a certain sincerity. If ordered to die, he’d at least consider going through the motions.
Through repeated clashes, emotions had accumulated quietly, crystallizing into something like loyalty.
Though he still couldn’t agree with Choi Jun-ho calling him a madman.
Choi Jun-ho was the real madman.
The trap was that the man himself believed he was sane.

“…Don’t talk nonsense. Kill anyone who comes looking for you. They’re lunatics not worth associating with.”
“Aren’t they just delusional patients? They’re insane too?”
“They kept spouting off about how I was born to be a villain.”

A chill ran down his spine.
The League hadn’t spread its roots across the globe without reason.
They certainly had an eye for talent.
But Choi Jun-ho wouldn’t admit it. Everyone around him was already accepting it, though.
Berserker laughed at the confirmation that his own judgment hadn’t been wrong.

“I’ll follow my master’s orders. By the way, do you know Debuffer Shylo? He’s the one who came to recruit me for the League.”

Debuffer Shylo was a promising prodigy known worldwide. Before Choi Jun-ho appeared, he’d been considered the strongest candidate to become the youngest Superhuman.
Berserker knew Jun-ho was indifferent to such things, but he was curious whether he’d recognize the name of someone once heralded as the greatest prospect.
Anyone with even a passing interest would know the name…

“Never heard of him. And.”

Choi Jun-ho’s voice grew hollow.

“Why do you keep calling me master? Say one more stupid thing like that and I’ll come find you and break your neck.”

The call ended abruptly. One-sided, as always. Berserker looked down at his smartphone, his mouth curling upward.

“Khkh, how embarrassing for him.”

He was a Level 8 Superhuman too, yet he acted like that even though he liked it. Why couldn’t he stop calling him master despite being told not to? Simple: it was fun. He knew it was asking for trouble, but he couldn’t help it. As long as he didn’t actually get hit, it was fine.
More than anything, watching Choi Jun-ho in action gave him an indescribable thrill.
Shylo, once called the world’s greatest talent, had fallen to obscurity in an instant, and the League, which made countries worldwide tremble, had been reduced to a shabby villain organization.
Only Choi Jun-ho could pull off such words and deeds, and when he spoke them, they rang with absolute conviction. He looked down on everything in the world infinitely—and he had the skill to back it up.
Berserker’s gaze shifted to Shylo. Whether the man had heard the conversation or not, his expression had hardened. The kid lacked proper madness. If it were Choi Jun-ho, he wouldn’t have even waited for the call to end before making a move.
To reach the top, you had to be genuinely unhinged like Choi Jun-ho. Berserker had once been the same.

“Unfortunately, I can’t join the League.”
“……”
“Still, it seems Choi Jun-ho didn’t even bother learning your name—guess you weren’t worth much after all. Khkh, go work harder and come back, kid.”
“…I was trying to overlook your babbling, but I can’t anymore.”

Shylo’s eyes, which had maintained courtesy moments before, now held a sharp, murderous gleam. The face of a serial killer who had slaughtered more than a thousand in the United States.
Berserker let out a scoff.
A thousand is still just a thousand.
Compared to Choi Jun-ho, that was fake madness.

“What are you talking about?”
“If I can’t take him, I’ll have to kill him.”
“Who? Me?”
“Never liked him from the start. Why would anyone care about a guy living in this backwater? A nobody playing boss in some cramped alley.”
“Tsk, if it were Choi Jun-ho, he’d have drawn steel already. You’re all style and no substance, kid.”

Shylo said nothing, simply drawing a dagger in each hand. The blades caught the sunlight and cast a sharp, brilliant white light.
At the same moment, Force began seeping out, radiating an ominous atmosphere.

“You die here, Berserker.”

This is what makes the world interesting.
Watching some kid come at him without knowing his place.

“Come on, then.”

* * *

Shylo is a genius. Since childhood, when his eyes first opened to the manipulation of Force, he accomplished what adult Awakeners could not manage. Even as a boy, he achieved feats that remained beyond their reach.
Opening his Gift—the Debuff ability—Shylo walked a brilliant path. He was heralded as a unique prodigy, became known throughout the nation via broadcast, and rose to become America’s greatest star.
As the world elevated him, Shylo achieved rapid success, and through his transcendent senses alone, he mastered twelve distinct applications of the Debuff art.
It was an unprecedented achievement, and the entire nation trembled with excitement.
But from that point onward, something twisted within him.
To grow stronger, he began using people as experimental subjects.
The world was vast, and useless humans were plentiful. Shylo abducted them and used them as material to develop his Gift applications. The moment he crossed that line, his achievements skyrocketed.
But even that soon grew dull. He craved greater stimulation. So he began abducting Awakeners.
His crimes were eventually exposed by an Awakener who had been hiding their Gift, but the result was not unfavorable. Joining the League, Shylo discovered a new world he had never known existed.
Argo, Black Hound, Hell Master.
The legendary Villains showed him why they were legends, and the Twelve Zodiacs were formidable fighters in their own right. Shylo rose to the Twelve Zodiacs first, then set his sights on challenging the League’s Three Evils.
Berserker before him was beneath his notice from the beginning.

“I’ll show you how narrow your world truly is.”

Until very recently, Shylo had been blocked by a wall.
A massive wall called Superhuman.
Though his Level rose with every effort, the realm of Superhuman remained beyond his grasp.
But the League’s benevolence allowed him to overcome even that.

Boost.

The fruit of countless sacrifices’ condensed Force. By injecting it to create a collision with his internal Force, it granted him access to the Force output a Superhuman could wield.
The procedure was fatal if it failed, but through his genius talent, Shylo had mastered the Boost and made it his own, ascending to the realm of Superhuman.
The only drawback was that when the Boost activated, instinct overrode reason.

“How shall I kill you?”

As murderous intent flooded through his mind, his brain felt pickled, and every phenomenon in the world became vividly clear. The world as a Superhuman sees it, the senses a Superhuman perceives.
With this, he had perfected twelve Debuff applications and completed four additional ones beyond that.
Blood vessels bursting in his eyes, Shylo absorbed every detail of Berserker’s existence.
A body hardened like armor, a ferocious Force on the verge of detonation—all of it registered clearly. The stats were better than expected, but he felt no real concern.

“First, you’ll lose your sense of touch. Then sight, smell, taste, hearing—all five senses will abandon you.”

He would strip away each sense the human possessed, one by one, and rob his bewildered opponent of everything he had.
This was Shylo’s method: to savor an enemy drowning in despair.
At Level 7, now that he had become a Superhuman, the power of Debuff transcended imagination.
He was confident that if he challenged them now, he could even take down the Superhumans of the Twelve Zodiacs.
He had actually disposed of one Superhuman who had rejected the League’s recruitment offer, and eliminated hundreds of Hunters who pursued him.
The power of Debuff was formidable enough to be covert, swift, and lethal.
The Superhuman who had rejected his proposal back then had stiffened his neck, lost all five senses, despaired, fallen to his knees, and begged to be spared, pleading to be allowed to join the League.
Of course, the League had no need for such garbage, so he killed him. Not all Superhumans are created equal.
A half-baked Superhuman whose greatest life achievement was capturing one elderly Superhuman would be brought to the brink of death in an instant.
But that conviction shattered the moment he saw Berserker standing unscathed after taking the Debuff.

“Is that all?”
“…What?”
“Then it’s my turn.”

Berserker’s smile was tinged with killing intent.

* * *

Berserker had known Shylo’s name for a long time.
A legendary Villain who shook the United States. That a once-greatest genius in the world had turned to villainy was a seismic event that overturned America.
He’d reached Level 7 in his mid-twenties, and Berserker had thought he must have grown even stronger after joining the League.
Shylo’s Debuff was so formidable that it was called an essential ability for Monster hunting.
The loss of Shylo, who wielded it with genius-level intuition, must have stung deeply.
A Debuff that could reduce a powerful Awakened to something worse than an ordinary person in an instant—Shylo’s power was something to be wary of.
When Shylo cast his Debuff, Berserker couldn’t block it. With uncanny grace, it had pierced through his defenses and burrowed inward.
But the Debuff had no effect whatsoever. The moment Immunity to All Poisons activated, it vanished without a trace.

“Kek! Kekekek! Kahahaha!”

What an immensely powerful Gift! A Gift spoken of as legend had nullified even the Gift that a genius had developed with overwhelming talent.
Stronger power! A more mighty Gift!
These were everything Berserker had desperately yearned for.
In Shylo’s dazed expression, Berserker felt an indescribable pleasure. This was the emotion only the strong could savor. With Immunity to All Poisons alone, he felt he could annihilate the entire world.
But the moment he thought of Choi Jun-ho, goosebumps erupted across his skin and his mind cleared.
He was reminded of his helplessness as long as that man existed.
Choi Jun-ho possessed both Complete Recovery and Immunity to All Poisons—Gifts that Berserker himself had once owned.
And on top of that, all his original Gifts besides.
Just how strong could that man possibly be?
…The even more terrifying part is that he goes around claiming to be of sound mind despite all of that.

“I mustn’t let my guard down.”

If not for Choi Jun-ho, he could have enjoyed a far more destructive life.
Every restraint he felt came down to that man’s existence.
League’s Three Evils? The Twelve Zodiacs? None of it mattered to Berserker.
Standing beside Choi Jun-ho—that was where he might glimpse the limits of power.
Now that he’d emerged from madness, he could see the bewilderment on Shylo’s face. That boy was nothing but a fledgling confined to a narrow world. Berserker felt a sudden urge to throw him before Choi Jun-ho.
But it wouldn’t do to surrender his prey once it had fallen into his grasp.

“Let’s see just how formidable this fledgling’s combat skills really are.”

Berserker charged forward, swinging his Great Sword.

* * *

“Grraahhh!”

A horrid roar echoed as deafening impacts thundered in succession.
Though Debuff had failed to take effect, Shylo was quite strong.
But he failed to impress Berserker much. Without his Debuff, the man was merely serviceable. In fact, Kim Young-hwan, with his diminished physical prowess and Force that couldn’t muster its true power, had been more troublesome.

“Kahahaha!”

Berserker knew he wasn’t in his right mind.
He’d felt himself slipping into madness, abandoned his family, and become a villain.
Mad though he was, he’d craved that one moment of brilliance above all else and refused to let it slip through his fingers.
But the madness consumed his sanity faster than his strength could grow.
He’d believed himself utterly corrupted, beyond any point of return.
Until only recently.
The moment he met Choi Jun-ho, Berserker realized he hadn’t been as far gone as he thought. He’d seen the real thing.
And in that sight, he’d broken free from the madness that had engulfed him. Once he glimpsed the sky beyond the sky, everything that had surrounded him proved to be nothing at all.
It had only ever been Heart Demon gnawing at his mind.
The moment his vision of the world shifted, Berserker shattered the walls that had enclosed him into fragments.

Clang!

Shylo’s dagger shattered. Even without a weapon, he had to keep attacking—or so Berserker moved, and if it had been Choi Jun-ho, he might have smiled and lunged to seize him by the throat.
Shylo tried to gather Force in both hands to block, but the Great Sword tore through him like rag.

“Ugh!”

The man resisted fiercely, gritting his teeth. But that was all he had. The moment he lost his Debuff Gift, he was nothing but an unremarkable Superhuman.
Berserker surpassed him in combat experience, Force reserves, and overall command of the fight.
The finishing blow came when Berserker drove the Nuri Bone Dagger—given to him by Choi Jun-ho—straight into his chest.

“Gaining Force doesn’t make you Superhuman, boy.”
“This can’t be—it makes no sense. I was meant to dominate the League, not die in some backwater hole······.”

Until his final breath, Shylo coughed blood and refused to accept reality.

“Spouting nonsense to the end, you fake madman.”

He’d have liked to show him the real thing, to give him a proper education—that was his only regret.

Crack.

“Aagghhh!”

Berserker twisted the dagger, and Shylo’s heart tore open. He died with a scream.
Yet the heat surrounding Berserker didn’t cool in the slightest.
He needed a stronger opponent. He needed more to kill.

“Just whetted my appetite.”

Should he actually join the League?
The thought crossed his mind, but he shook his head.
Any organization with a purpose inevitably gets used for that purpose.
Berserker craved freedom and cherished it.
He wanted to unleash his destructive urges without limit, without obligation.
And if he joined the League, Choi Jun-ho wouldn’t let him be.

“That maniac wouldn’t stand for it. Krkrkr!”

Nothing felt quite as absurd as a true madman calling him mad.
Just then, his smartphone buzzed loudly in his pocket.
Berserker shoved Shylo’s corpse aside and pulled out the phone. The caller was Choi Jun-ho.

—Did you kill him?
“Killed him. Quite interesting, actually.”
—Tell me.
“A Level 7 activated something like a Gift and produced Force power comparable to a Superhuman.”
-………

Even Berserker, who’d witnessed it firsthand, was taken aback—so there was no shame in Choi Jun-ho’s surprise.
At that reaction, Berserker let out a laugh laced with murderous intent.

“Anyway, I’ve finished the bastard as you ordered. I can expect a reward, yes?”
-I’ll come see you soon and give you a proper reward.

Wait. This isn’t right.
Berserker felt his mind clearing.
The madness that had filled his head moments before vanished without a trace.

“That’s not what I wanted.”
-A different reward? Your blood’s probably still hot from fighting that pup, that’s all. You seemed fully recovered after our last bout, so I’ll spar with you instead.
“………”
-You always come to your senses when you get hit. I’ll be waiting for you in Yeosu.

In the end, Berserker didn’t even break even—he just ended the call.
And the next day.
He saw Choi Jun-ho’s message saying he was back in South Korea and heading straight to Yeosu, and he cursed aloud.

“…Damn it.”

Berserker got in his car and drove out of Yeosu immediately.

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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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