SFRW-Chapter 161

Ch. 161 Sword God From The Ruined World

Mount Tsurugi, Tokushima.  

Deep in an inaccessible valley lay a secret facility operated by the Japanese government.  

Like Indonesia, this was where they secretly imprisoned those who could never be exposed to the outside world.  

Hundreds of primitive tribesmen who had emerged from the Kanoya Rift Zone in southern Kyushu were confined here.  

Japan was desperate to uncover their secrets, employing every method—including torture—to unravel the truth, even without shared language.  

“Miyamoto! What the hell is this? Even if they can’t understand us, you need to show some restraint!”  

Takao frowned at Miyamoto, who was enthusiastically torturing a tribesman with more zeal than anyone else.  

The tribesman’s body was grotesquely splattered with blood from prolonged abuse.  

“Keh heh! These bastards are different! Their skin, muscles, tendons—everything! Want to try? I can teach you. It’s a whole new world! Kheh kheh!”  

Miyamoto’s phlegmy voice made Takao’s brow furrow deeper.  

Even among cruel torturers, Miyamoto was borderline psychotic.  

His visible euphoria during torture kept even facility staff at a distance.  

“I’ll pass! Just tone it down! Stop turning them all into corpses!”  

Takao turned away, unwilling to engage further.  

But Miyamoto, eager to boast, stepped closer.  

“Come on, just once! It’s a shame to keep this fun to myself. You should see how cute they look—shivering in fear as I approach!”  

‘Psychopath!’  

Takao barely swallowed the words.  

The half-mad glint in Miyamoto’s eyes sent a chill down his spine.  

Fearful of becoming a target himself, Takao softened his tone and stepped back.  

“I’m not interested. Just remember—if too many die under torture, you’ll be the one in trouble.”  

Over twenty tribesmen had already died from Miyamoto’s brutality.  

Despite repeated warnings, he refused to relent.  

‘Maybe I should let him keep killing them until he gets fired…’  

As Takao pondered this—  

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!  

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!  

A commotion erupted from the holding cells.  

“What the—? Why are they freaking out now?”  

Takao flinched, but Miyamoto only chuckled disdainfully.  

“Why so jumpy? You think they’ll break through steel bars? Keh heh heh!”  

The tribesmen had nowhere to run, and Miyamoto had severed every prisoner’s wrists and ankles.  

Escape? Impossible. Even resistance was futile.  

“I’ll go calm them down. Wait here.”  

Humming, Miyamoto strolled toward the cells.  

Takao shook his head at his retreating back.  

‘Lunatic! Just looking for excuses to kill more.’  

No doubt Miyamoto would slaughter a few ‘rebels’ brutally.  

Thankfully, the noise died down as soon as he entered.  

CRUNCH! CRACK! SNAP!  

Then came the nauseating sound of bones breaking.  

“What the hell is he doing?”  

As Takao grimaced—  

Tap. Tap. Tap.  

Footsteps echoed in the suddenly silent corridor.  

“I told you to restrain yourself. If the numbers drop further, HQ won’t ignore it,” Takao said without turning.  

Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.  

When no reply came, he turned—and froze.  

A blood-soaked tribesman was walking toward him.  

“…What the—?”  

Takao fumbled for the triple-section baton at his waist.  

“M-Miyamoto…?”  

Even knowing language was useless, he spoke while retreating, activating the baton’s electric current.  

Tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap-tap!  

The tribesman’s steps quickened, its bloodied mouth stretching wide.  

Takao swung wildly as he scrambled backward.  

“Don’t come cl—!”  

But it wasn’t alone.  

The corridor filled with tribesmen sprinting toward him. Takao froze.  

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD!  

—GRRAAAAH!  

The first bloodied tribesman pounced, savagely biting off Takao’s nose.  

“AAAAAGH!!”  

His scream ignited a chorus of shrieks throughout the facility.  

By the time silence returned, hundreds of tribesmen had escaped into the outside world.  

***

When Seo Do-jun arrived on Sulawesi Island, Indonesian Heroes and soldiers were on the brink of annihilation.  

“I thought they were holding the line?”  

That’s what he’d been told.  

Reality was different.  

Corpses of brutally slain Heroes and soldiers littered the area. The survivors were barely clinging on.  

Without hesitation, Seo Do-jun moved.  

Drawing a sword from his subspace, he charged into the horde overwhelming the Heroes.  

SWOOSH—!  

Magic resembling blue flames erupted, bisecting tribesmen in all directions.  

“It’s Seo Do-jun!”  

“We’re saved!”  

Survivors recognized him, relief flooding their faces.  

Each swing of his sword disabled dozens—it was no wonder.  

The tribesmen, however, erupted with rage at this interloper butchering their kin.  

“□□□□□□□□□□!”  

A spear shot toward Seo Do-jun’s head.  

TING!  

He deflected it, the impact vibrating through his wrist.  

That was just the beginning.  

WHOOSH! WHOOSH! WHOOSH—!  

The sky darkened with countless spears hurtling toward him.  

“Watch out!”  

“You can’t block them all!”  

The Indonesians screamed—they knew how lethal those throws were.  

Even S-ranks struggled to defend against them.  

‘Spears imbued with magic…’  

Seo Do-jun didn’t underestimate them after the first clash.  

Vandeyan Family Swordsmanship

Fourth Form: Cergel Selado Duhart!  

-Sealing Power of the Unyielding Circle- 

A hemispherical sword barrier formed around him just as the spears struck like a demonic hailstorm.  

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!  

Amid the barrage, Seo Do-jun swung calmly.  

Vandeyan Family Swordsmanship  

First Form: Killida Milagro Rucl!  

—The Miracle Wrought by Dots—  

When the assault ended, blue dots hovered around Seo Do-jun.  

“What… are those?”  

An Indonesian Hero gaped, mesmerized.  

Then the dots shot toward the tribesmen.  

THUD.  

The first dot landed on a warrior’s chest.  

ZZZT—!  

Electricity surged through its body before—  

BOOM!  

Its flesh exploded outward.  

“GASP!”  

“DEAR GOD!”  

Before the stunned Heroes, hundreds of dots rained down.  

ZZT-BOOM! ZZZT-BOOM!  

Tribesmen detonated in chain reactions, their remains painting the air.  

Even veterans of the rift era had never witnessed such carnage.  

Seo Do-jun’s attack was a thunderstorm devouring lightning—a violent, primal force obliterating everything.  

Over 2,000 Heroes and soldiers had failed to stop the tribesmen. Seo Do-jun alone annihilated them.  

In minutes.  

“Thank y—”  

Ruhian approached to express gratitude, but Seo Do-jun raised a hand, stopping him.  

A monstrous bloodlust was approaching.  

A tsunami of pure, mindless killing intent surged toward them.  

‘What’s happening?’  

Seo Do-jun’s grip tightened on his sword.  

Discomfort prickled his skin.  

This level of bloodlust was rare. He urgently herded the survivors back.  

“Why’s he—?”  

“We’ve almost wiped them out!”  

“Is there more?”  

Ruhian and the others obeyed but wore confused expressions.  

“Wait—what’s that?!”  

“…More of them?”  

RUSTLE-RUSTLE!  

THUD! THUD! THUD!  

Trees shook as hundreds of tribesmen emerged.  

Their state was the problem.  

Unarmed, they charged like zombies—  

—screaming incoherently, mouths gaping, eyes blood-red.  

Just the sight petrified the Indonesians.  

Seo Do-jun swung at the lead tribesman.  

CLANG!  

The warrior was knocked back—but didn’t fall.  

“…!”  

The recoil was unexpectedly strong. Seo Do-jun frowned.  

The observers paled as the tribesman staggered upright.  

“He tanked that barehanded?!”  

“How?!”  

“Even Seo Do-jun’s attack didn’t work?!”  

“What are these things?!”  

Fear spiked at the incomprehensible sight.  

“D-Die!”  

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!  

A panicked soldier unloaded his rifle.  

Without the golden banner’s area shield, bullets should have worked.  

THUD-THUD-THUD!  

But they merely slowed the tribesmen, as if their bodies were bulletproof.  

“T-They’re monsters!” The soldier collapsed in despair.  

SWISH!  

A tribesman’s head flew into the air.  

Seo Do-jun’s clean strike had severed it.  

‘As I thought.’  

He observed the now-lifeless body.  

A physical enhancement spell—one that wrapped their bodies in magic shields.  

Only concentrated melee strikes could pierce it.  

A favorite of dark mages in his ruined world for breaching enemy lines.  

Useless against him.  

Seo Do-jun flooded his blade with magic and unleashed it explosively.  

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!  

A sword wave of unparalleled power shattered the enhanced bodies.  

Precise headshots—no enhancement could stop this force.  

Watermelons bursting—skulls exploded one after another.  

Yet the tribesmen kept coming.  

Devoid of reason, they felt no fear or pain.  

Only the instinct to bite and tear.  

Their arms hit like clubs, their teeth could shred steel—  

But they were still human.  

Destroy the head, and they died.  

For others, that wouldn’t be easy.  

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK!  

With each swing, dozens of heads burst or flew.  

Seo Do-jun, standing firm, was a dazzling spectacle of lethality.  

THUD.  

The last tribesman’s head rolled.  

Seo Do-jun lowered his sword diagonally.  

STEP. STEP. STEP.  

He advanced toward the forest where they’d emerged.  

Someone had sent them.  

The moment Seo Do-jun had slain half, an overwhelming presence had called.  

Challenging him to come.  

“You’ll regret this.”  

Smirking, Seo Do-jun walked toward the summoner.