In the cavernous, pulsating chamber of decaying flesh, Song Woo-Ji’s voice, though strained, broke through the oppressive silence.

He inclined his head respectfully toward his master and the grandmaster, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

Exhaustion lined his face, but his eyes burned with a determination that neither Bong Me-Eon nor her master had seen before.

“This… form,” he began, voice wavering slightly as if even speaking required immense effort, “it’s temporary.”

He winced, bracing himself against a throbbing vein-like structure that pulsed with a sickly green light.

“I can’t hold this connection for long. We need to act, and fast. I’ll need your assistance… if we’re going to subdue that monster outside.”

Bong Me-Eon and the grandmaster exchanged a glance, their faces hardened but hopeful.

They waited, ready to hear him out.

Song Woo-Ji drew a ragged breath, struggling to keep his voice steady as he outlined the plan.

“There are… four strategies. Each one is risky. Each one requires both of you to attack the monster horde leader from the outside while I tear open the flesh of this zombie to give you a clear shot. We have to disrupt his focus, slow him down. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

The grandmaster frowned, her gaze steely. “Tell us the strategies, Song Woo-Ji. We need specifics.”

He nodded, gathering his strength, and launched into his explanations, voice faltering but resolute.

“First, I’ll create an opening at the ribcage,” he said, gesturing toward a faint outline in the decayed flesh where ribs lay beneath.

“I’ll split the ribs wide open. Both of you—send out necromantic pulses into his head. It won’t harm him, but it’ll throw him off. It’s a distraction. And I can use that distraction to regain some control.”

They nodded, following every word, their expressions set and serious.

“For the second,” he continued, “I’ll open the chest cavity. A wider space. When I do, focus your spells on his left eye. It’s his weak spot. But only for a moment. He’ll recover quickly, but that moment will give me the chance to reinforce the control spell on this avatar.”

He paused, his hand trembling.

“And the third… I’ll create an exit in the stomach. A rupture. You two will need to attack his right leg—weakening his stance. That will disrupt his balance, and he’ll be easier to destabilize. If it works, I can leverage that instability to make this avatar strike him with all I’ve got.”

Bong Me-Eon raised an eyebrow, assessing the complexity of the strategy, but nodded. The grandmaster’s face was impassive, unyielding.

Song Woo-Ji took another breath, wincing as the exhaustion threatened to overtake him.

“Finally… the fourth. I’ll open up the spine. It’ll leave me vulnerable, and I might lose all control over the avatar at that point.

“But if you both target his lower back—his spinal column—I think we can force him to lose momentum. I might be able to contain him here, even if it’s only for a moment.”

The two women exchanged looks, their respect for him deepening with every word.

Once he finished, he closed his eyes for a second, a faint tremor passing over his exhausted face.

Then, he opened them again and spoke with the same weighty gravity.

“There’s one more thing you need to know… When my transformation reaches its final stage, my body will turn a sickly yellow-green. That’s your cue… to leave.”

Bong Me-Eon’s eyes widened, confusion and worry mingling on her face. “Why, Song Woo-Ji? We can hold out. We’ve come this far.”

The grandmaster’s face was just as surprised, her expression hinting at an unspoken dread. “Explain, Song Woo-Ji. Why should we leave?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping. Then, he spoke, voice dropping to a hushed, almost haunted tone.

“Because… I will lose control. Entirely. I am using a spell—one that calls forth an ancient spirit bound to this magic, to this very corpse. A spirit cursed to roam between life and death. It is as old as the darkest magics… and it’s dangerous.”

The room fell silent. The pulsing of the creature’s flesh seemed louder, more ominous.

Song Woo-Ji swallowed hard, continuing with difficulty, “Once the transformation is complete, the spirit will take over me. It’s not just an energy I’m channeling. This thing will bind with my mind and body.

“It will turn me into something else, something ravenous. Its purpose is purely destruction, and it won’t differentiate between friend and foe.”

Bong Me-Eon’s heart hammered in her chest. Her voice was barely a whisper. “So… you’re saying you’ll be possessed?”

“Yes,” he replied quietly. “Completely. Once my skin changes color, I will lose myself to it. I’ll… I’ll become a threat to anyone within range, anyone in sight.”

His gaze flicked between the two of them.

“And I won’t be able to stop it. It will only end when either the spirit is purged or… when my body collapses under its own power.”

The grandmaster’s face was unreadable, but her eyes betrayed a glimmer of reluctant understanding. “This ancient spirit… is it bound to some artifact or spell?”

Song Woo-Ji nodded. “It’s bound by a seal. Something I discovered long ago. It’s an old relic—one that promises unimaginable power in exchange for submission to its curse.

“This form I’m controlling is part of that curse—a leftover power and if I lose control, it will be because I’ve drawn too deeply from its magic.”

Bong Me-Eon clenched her fists, a wave of worry flooding her.

She couldn’t fathom how much of this weight her disciple had been carrying alone.

Yet as she watched him, so composed and determined even while explaining this dark curse, she knew he was prepared for whatever fate awaited him.

The grandmaster nodded slowly, her tone more serious than ever. “This spirit… it feeds on rage and death, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Song Woo-Ji whispered, voice laced with the faintest edge of fear. “Once I’m possessed, it will be relentless. And it’s why… if it comes to that… you must leave, no matter what.”

A grim silence followed, and both women shared a silent understanding.

They’d witnessed curses, faced spirits bound to ancient magics before, but this was different.

They had no illusions about the depth of the sacrifice Song Woo-Ji was making in wielding this power.

Bong Me-Eon’s eyes softened, though there was a glint of fierce pride. “Then we’ll leave if it comes to that, Song Woo-Ji. We understand the risks.”

The grandmaster nodded, her gaze sharpening with the same resolve.

“We’ve seen warriors with spirits, seen battles that have tested our strength. But I’ve never seen anyone command a force like this with such resilience.”

She paused, meeting his gaze.

“Just know that we will honor your sacrifice… and if this curse consumes you, we’ll find a way to free you. If it means hunting down this spirit for centuries, we will.”

Song Woo-Ji’s expression softened, grateful but burdened with the knowledge of what lay ahead. He lowered his head, a slight, exhausted smile breaking through.

“Thank you… Grandmaster… Master.” His voice was heavy with the weight of his words. “Let’s… let’s see this through.”

They exchanged one final look, determination and trust radiating from all three. And then, without another word, Song Woo-Ji took a deep breath, fingers beginning to glow with a faint, deadly energy.

His skin had already started to pale, a faint greenish tint creeping into his complexion as he prepared for the final stage.

“Let’s go,” he said, his voice carrying the weight of the battle ahead. “Let’s deal with that disgusting green ogre.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep