The words hit Bong Me-Eon like a physical blow, and she felt her chest tighten.

Her gaze flicked to her master, who was already scrutinizing Song Woo-Ji with a piercing intensity.

Yet, even as they processed his plea, he spoke again, his voice tinged with urgency despite his weakening state.

“I don’t… have much time. Once it takes over, even for just a moment… it will… it will not discern friend from foe.”

Bong Me-Eon hesitated, her heart pounding as she looked to her master for guidance, but the grandmaster’s expression was unreadable, her eyes shadowed with contemplation and, perhaps, a hint of sorrow.

She seemed to weigh Song Woo-Ji’s words, her gaze shifting between him and Bong Me-Eon as though calculating the cost of their decision.

“Master, what… what if we could—” Bong Me-Eon began, but her master silenced her with a subtle shake of her head.

“There is no ‘what if’ here,” the grandmaster murmured, her voice low but resolute.

“If he says we need to leave… then we must.” She fixed her gaze on Song Woo-Ji, her voice softening. “But… tell us. This spirit… what is it, truly?”

Song Woo-Ji’s head fell forward, and for a moment, his whole body went still. Then, slowly, his eyes lifted to meet theirs, hollow and tired but unwavering.

“The spirit… it’s old. Older than memory. It… lingers in the remnants of a curse… a wrathful, ancient entity bound to a lineage of vengeance. When… when it takes control, it devours reason. It… it will only want to destroy.”

Bong Me-Eon felt a chill creep up her spine, the weight of his words settling over her like a shroud.

This was no mere possession.

What lingered within Song Woo-Ji was something feral, something that had long abandoned all semblance of humanity.

“I had… I had no choice,” Song Woo-Ji continued, his voice growing fainter, each word clearly costing him.

“I needed power to face the monsters… to protect… to survive. But…” His voice faltered, his eyes glazing over momentarily before he continued. “This spirit… it doesn’t serve me. I serve it, in exchange for power… for revenge.”

Bong Me-Eon’s master nodded slowly, an understanding flickering in her eyes. She glanced toward Bong Me-Eon, her voice steady. “We can’t linger, Bong Me-Eon. We need to trust his judgment.”

Bong Me-Eon opened her mouth to protest, but something in Song Woo-Ji’s pained expression stopped her.

She could see the raw exhaustion, the desperation that underscored every labored breath he took.

His fingers twitched, and a faint tremor ran through him as though the spirit was already beginning to claw its way up, hungering to take hold.

With great effort, Song Woo-Ji spoke once more, his voice barely above a whisper, as though the spirit within him was draining every ounce of strength he had left.

“Once… my body turns completely… you’ll know. The skin… will turn reddish-green… like the undead itself. Then… please… go.”

Bong Me-Eon felt her throat tighten, but she managed a nod, biting back the torrent of questions and objections that threatened to spill forth.

She forced herself to look at him, memorizing his face in that moment, knowing that when she saw him again, he might be something else entirely.

A sad smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he saw her resolve.

“I… I wish things were different,” he murmured, his gaze growing distant as the red death glow spread further up his neck, seeping into the veins of his face. “But I made a choice. And now… now I must pay its price.”

His master placed a gentle hand on Bong Me-Eon’s shoulder, offering her a reassuring squeeze.

“It’s time, Bong Me-Eon. We’ll honor his request.” She turned back to Song Woo-Ji, a quiet respect in her gaze. “Do what you must. And may your spirit remain… your own, in the end.”

With one last, lingering look, Bong Me-Eon and her master stepped back, readying themselves to depart the grim, pulsating chamber of flesh.

Yet as they moved, Song Woo-Ji’s eyes slipped shut, and a violent shudder coursed through his body, his skin gradually shifting from the blood-tinged red to a sickly, decayed green, the deathly energy coiling around him like an aura.

Bong Me-Eon swallowed, steeling herself as she forced her gaze away, knowing this might be the last she saw of him in his own form.

Both women hesitated, one last time, but then with silent resolve, they turned and moved towards the closing walls of flesh, their footsteps echoing as they left Song Woo-Ji alone to the spirit’s possession.

They knew that once his transformation was complete, whatever part of him remained would be a fleeting whisper, a shadow in the presence of a force as ancient as decay itself.

Suddenly, a sound echoed through the narrow corridor of decaying flesh like an earthquake, reverberating through the very walls and shaking the floor beneath Bong Me-Eon and her master.

“GRRAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!” The roar thundered, filled with a rage so intense it felt like it could break through the world itself. “VOLK SMASH SYSTEM! VOLK SMASH SYSTEM!”

Each word was punctuated by a massive, rhythmic thudding, each impact growing louder, heavier, closer.

The footsteps were relentless, pounding the ground like a death march, the tremors intensifying as if a mountain itself were bearing down upon them.

Thud… Thud… Thud… THUD!

With each step, the noise grew, vibrating the very marrow of their bones, until it was all they could hear.

Bong Me-Eon’s heart hammered in her chest, the thudding footsteps echoing like a countdown in her mind.

She looked to her master, eyes wide with worry and urgency, her instincts screaming to flee but an undeniable pull calling her back.

“Woo-Ji!”

Bong Me-Eon’s voice trembled as the syllables left her lips, a spark of desperation in her tone.

She could feel something… wrong.

Something worse than all the blood and rot they’d waded through so far. Her eyes locked with her master’s, and she saw the same fear reflected back.

“We… we can’t just leave him!” Bong Me-Eon stammered, her hands curling into fists.

The grandmaster looked as though she wanted to argue, but in the end, she nodded.

The two women turned back down the grotesque corridor, hurrying toward the ominous sound, each step harder to take, each heartbeat louder than the last.

When they finally reached the inner chamber, the sight before them brought them to an abrupt halt, and they both gasped in horror.

“Woo-Ji!” they cried, voices overlapping as they took in the scene.

Suspended in the massive, cruel hand of Volk, Warchief of the Orcs, was Song Woo-Ji.

He dangled from Volk’s fingers like a battered doll, his body twisted and stretched painfully, the red mist of decaying energy pouring from his form in waves.

Yet, it was no longer the man they had known.

His skin had taken on a sickly, crimson hue, a twisted and monstrous version of his former self.

His features were warped, jagged lines running down his cheeks as if something inside was forcing itself through his flesh.

Blackened veins ran across his face and neck, pulsing, pumping dark energy through him like a network of death and rot.

But then, they saw his eyes, flickering behind the haze of crimson energy, struggling to stay focused amidst the unrelenting pressure of Volk’s hand.

His gaze was fierce, alive, and there was a sliver of the old Song Woo-Ji, hidden behind that monstrous facade, fighting against the overwhelming power that had overtaken him.

He was still in there, clinging on with whatever strength he had left.

Volk’s fingers curled tighter, muscles flexing with grotesque force.

The veins in his arm bulged, thick cords of power straining against his green skin, his massive biceps swelling as his grip strengthened.

The air crackled with Volk’s sinister energy, his gaze locked onto Song Woo-Ji with hunger, a desire to crush.

“VOOOOLKKK!”

The red mist of death surrounding Song Woo-Ji’s body pulsed in resistance, pushing back against Volk’s grip, struggling to escape.

“CRUUSSH!”

Yet, Volk’s grip only tightened, overpowering the mist bit by bit, driving it back with sheer brute strength.

“SYSTEEEEEEM!”

With a guttural roar, Volk threw his other hand into the fray, tearing through the flesh of the giant zombie to free his hand.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep