SFRW-Chapter 163

Ch. 163 Sword God From The Ruined World

“Kheh…khehehe…”  

A beast-like groan escaped Maharunta’s lips as he witnessed Bzaza’s death.  

“…I…will…appease…your…spirit…”  

Seo Do-jun listened to Maharunta’s halting, syllable-by-syllable speech.  

“I shall offer your soul to Bzaza.”  

Without needing to strain his ears, Maharunta clearly finished his declaration and raised his spear.  

The aura erupting from Maharunta’s body transformed explosively.  

FWOOSH!  

Before the sound of displaced air finished echoing, Maharunta’s spear thrust toward Seo Do-jun’s forehead.  

The blade—no, the entire spear shaft—seethed with savage red energy.  

CLANG!  

Seo Do-jun calmly blocked the strike with his sword, but…  

VRRRRRM—  

The vibration in the blade was more violent than ever before.  

‘Cracks…’  

Despite being tightly wrapped in magic, the hairline fractures in the sword had grown slightly larger.  

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!  

Maharunta’s spear moved explosively, targeting every weak point on Seo Do-jun’s body.  

His movements were so fast it seemed he had ten arms. Yet Seo Do-jun’s flawless defense was equally astonishing.  

Just a little more.  

A few inches deeper with his thrusts and he could wound his opponent. But the sword wouldn’t allow it.  

“GRAAAAH—!”  

With an inhuman roar, Maharunta attacked faster! Stronger! More relentlessly!  

Red magic lashed from his spear like venomous serpent tongues, trying to claw, stab and slash—but to no avail.  

The azure magic radiating from Seo Do-jun’s body repelled all encroaching red energy.  

Invisible forces also spread from Maharunta like spiderwebs, attempting to bind Seo Do-jun, but these too proved useless.  

Frustration twisted Maharunta’s face as nothing worked.  

‘…Strong!’  

In all his life, Maharunta could count on one hand the opponents who’d made him feel this way.  

Those few had taught him the meaning of defeat.  

Maharunta’s pupils trembled.  

Not from ominousness—but primal danger weighing heavily on his shoulders.  

To shake it off, he pushed his body beyond limits.  

The skin on his spear-hand tore as he twisted his grip. Muscles screamed and split. Joints ached as his entire body protested.  

Ignoring the pain, Maharunta kept thrusting and swinging.  

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAMBAMBAM!  

Their blindingly fast exchange—spear strikes met unerringly by sword—soon devastated the surrounding area.  

Entangled magic upheaved the earth, shattered trees and split boulders.  

The relentless spear seemed destined to eventually pierce flesh, but—  

CRUNCH!  

Through an imperceptible gap in the spear’s trajectory, a fist suddenly buried itself in Maharunta’s chest.  

“…Guhhk!”  

As Maharunta staggered, momentarily off-balance—  

THUD! THUD!  

Two more punches hammered his abdomen as if waiting for this chance.  

Despite feeling like his insides were being shredded, Maharunta didn’t cease spearplay.  

SHLICK!  

For the first time, his blade tore through Seo Do-jun’s collar.  

But the cost was severe.  

CRACK! SCHLICK!  

A knee-drop made his torso tilt slightly—just enough for the sword to slash across his ribs.  

Precisely calculated strikes.  

Flesh split cleanly as blood misted the air.  

“RAAAAH—!”  

Maharunta roared again, channeling his energy.  

His bulging arm muscles split audibly, but he kept twisting and thrusting regardless.  

KABOOM!  

With an enormous blast, Seo Do-jun’s body skidded backward.  

“…Tch.”  

Seo Do-jun clicked his tongue in displeasure.  

The hairline fractures were now clearly visible.  

That impact had critically damaged the sword.  

“Director Choi Cheol-gwan would grieve.”  

Remembering Choi Cheol-gwan’s face—the man who’d labored countless days forging this blade—Seo Do-jun smiled bitterly and raised the sword again.  

He prepared to give his longtime companion the most splendid farewell possible.  

As magic poured in, the sword vibrated violently.  

HMMMMMMMM—  

As if begging him to stop before it shattered completely.  

“Don’t have regrets now—this is our finale.”  

At Seo Do-jun’s soothing words, the vibrations slightly subsided.  

After injecting a bit more magic, when the sword had absorbed to its absolute limit—  

Vandeyan Swordsmanship  

Seventh Form: Lunatis Haros Execna!  

-Execution of the Mad Reaper-  

Seo Do-jun stepped forward massively with his right foot.  

A semicircular arc began at his right side, passing dramatically over his head.  

Azure magic seemed to engrave itself along the sword’s trajectory before spreading outward like waves.  

Maharunta didn’t stand idle either.  

He instinctively knew this would decide everything.  

Magic erupted from him like volcanic lava, spreading in all directions.  

Half the world became Seo Do-jun’s azure waves.  

The other half, Maharunta’s crimson magma.  

Like rival forces vying for dominance, the blue and red energies eventually converged at a single point.  

The waves condensed into a sword dazzling enough to blind.  

The magma concentrated into a spear hot enough to incinerate flesh.  

Neither moved first—yet blade and spear collided simultaneously.  

KWA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA!  

An apocalyptic shockwave quaked all of Sulawesi Island.  

When the devastation cleared, only two figures remained:  

A bloodied Maharunta kneeling on one knee,  

And Seo Do-jun standing before him, holding just a sword hilt.  

“…Ghhh…URK!”  

Blood gushed from Maharunta’s mouth.  

His entire body trembled violently as blood flowed from his eyes, nose and ears.  

“Strong…but…you too…walk…my…path…URK!”  

Each labored word brought more blood.  

“You mean Barhaut?”  

At Seo Do-jun’s question, Maharunta weakly nodded.  

“The King…of Kings…no…he who would…become…a god…”  

Between wet coughs, Maharunta kept hemorrhaging.  

His stubbornly upright torso finally wavered, and he collapsed onto his back.  

Blood-filled eyes stared straight at the sky.  

“This land’s sky…so blue…”  

Unlike the ashen heavens of his world, he murmured while gazing upward…before quietly expiring.  

Seo Do-jun looked down at the corpse.  

Maharunta—King of the Primitive Tribes.  

And Barhaut who ruled over such kings.  

“King of Kings…”  

Seo Do-jun contemplated this would-be deity.  

***

Though the Tribal King was dead, the rift-spawned tribesmen remained.  

However—  

“Did their banners just break?”  

The golden standards—source of their greatest power—began snapping inexplicably.  

“No way…the area shield broke?”  

“The magic effect vanished!”  

“Without the shield—”  

“Guns! Open fire! No, drone strikes!”  

Modern weapons regained their lethal efficiency.  

BOOM! BOOM BOOM BOOM! BANG BANG BANG!  

RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!  

DR-R-R-R-R-R-RUMBLE!  

Drone strikes, artillery bombardments, fighter jets and helicopters mercilessly rained death from above.  

Occasionally, magic-wielding chieftains destroyed aircraft and tanks.  

But these were rare exceptions.  

Once modern weaponry became fully operational, the war’s outcome was decided.  

“Whew…it’s finally over!”  

Park Chul collapsed into a lounge chair after confirming the tribes’ rapid annihilation worldwide.  

“Damn, that was intense!”  

Though incomparable to frontline fighters, monitoring global collapse had been harrowing.  

“Where’s the Guild Master?”  

Park Young-gi, following him in, answered immediately:  

“He left cleanup to Indonesia’s Hero Association and is returning to South Korea!”  

“What about the body?”  

Upon asking about Maharunta’s remains, he learned Seo Do-jun had cremated it personally.  

“I see…”  

Park Chul clicked his tongue.  

“I bet their battle was epic! So frustrating we couldn’t see it!”  

All surveillance drones had been destroyed in the fight.  

By the time replacements arrived, only aftermath remained.  

The colossal crater—as if a meteor had struck—and surrounding devastation stunned observers.  

“How could combat cause this scale of destruction…?”  

Neither Park Chul nor Park Young-gi could imagine it.  

“Whoa?!”  

A staffer’s shocked exclamation reached the lounge.  

“What now?”  

Park Chul asked without opening his eyes.  

Park Young-gi grumbled but went to investigate.  

Commotion erupted outside.  

“Another crisis?”  

Had something gone wrong with the tribes’ eradication?  

Rubbing his eyes, Park Chul rose just as Park Young-gi burst in excitedly:  

“Uncle! You need to see this!”  

The main monitor showed rift zone Gates melting away like ice cream in sunlight.  

“…What? Why? Is this happening elsewhere?”  

Park Young-gi switched feeds rapidly:  

“Indonesia, China, India, Pakistan, France, Italy…”  

Numerous rift Gates were dissolving identically.  

“Common factors: Tribes emerged from these, and all invaders were exterminated.”  

At Park Chul’s skeptical look, Park Young-gi had teams verify with Hero Associations worldwide.  

The dissolution wasn’t rapid.  

Other unaffected rifts—especially those never opened—showed no changes.  

“So only the ‘completed’ ones are disappearing…”  

As Park Chul mused, Park Young-gi returned with confirmation:  

“Every melted rift corresponds to a confirmed combat zone resolution.”  

“Let me summarize: Only rifts that spawned tribes—which we then completely eliminated—are vanishing?”  

Park Young-gi nodded.  

“Should we celebrate?”  

“Of course! This means rifts can disappear without us entering them!”  

“But…”  

Park Chul frowned deeply.  

“Think—how many unopened rifts remain? If this is the requirement…”  

Though he trailed off, the team understood:  

They’d have to survive equivalent—or worse—crises from remaining rifts.  

“Dammit! If everyone had supported the Guild Master’s plan to close all rifts initially…”  

Things wouldn’t be so dire now.  

“Sigh…first, we must inform the Guild Master.”  

Despite clear reluctance, Park Chul picked up his phone.