Chapter 166: Artist (2)

Before setting off in earnest.

“Gotta put it back in place so rats can’t sneak in, right?”

Art Master returned the door panel she’d ripped off to its original position. However, there was now a gap between the forcibly torn iron door and the tunnel’s width. The iron hinges, each twice the height of a person, were also wrecked.

“No helping it…”

I did my best. Art Master muttered as she slipped her high heels back on. Her slender calves tensed with muscle.

The gatekeeper was still out of it. The door he was supposed to guard had been reduced to rags. And to top it off, the intruder’s identity was none other than one of the Three Calamities!

No wonder his mind was reeling. He’d already let them past, so vomiting his guts out wasn’t an option.

Then, sensing Art Master’s piercing gaze, he finally pulled himself together. Lee Taebaek and Art Master followed behind the gatekeeper as he led the way.

Lee Taebaek eyed the glimpse of her snowy-white nape peeking between strands of hair. How does a body like that produce such power?

Can’t enter this place that way.

It might be different with a plain iron door, but this one was forged from superalloy hauled in specially.

This place had the strictest entry protocols in all of Laykuns. While the Resistance twisted paths into a labyrinth, this ‘Temple’ layered on thick, rigorous verification steps.

At the Three Calamities level, do they just bulldoze through the bureaucracy with brute force? The gap with the Seven Dignitaries really hits home.

A shiver ran through him even as relief washed over Lee Taebaek.

Before launching sequential raids on the broadcasting stations, the biggest risk had been Art Master herself. She possessed enough raw power to dismantle an entire private broadcasting force, even if they swarmed her.

Neither she nor the stations had ever gone that far. The stations went to great lengths to avoid irking her, and Art Master rarely bared her fangs at them without cause.

She enjoyed it. Art Master genuinely loved the entertainment world. True to her moniker, she adored art. That was why she hadn’t formed her own group but stuck with Haragusa instead.

Haragusa has ethical issues galore, but you can’t survive in the arts without them.

Haragusa monopolized 92.3% of the industry—a virtual cartel. Other agencies occasionally broke through like beans in a drought, but growth stalled fast.

Of course, if one had talent on another level, the kind of ‘gift’ that seized public attention, they could reach top-star status without Haragusa’s halo. Rare samples existed, if few.

But the talents heaven bestowed on her were far from art. The world (Lee Taebaek) wanted her to wield violence, not brushes or scripts.

A dubious consolation: her visuals were violent too. She had an appeal that transcended nationality. Not the absolute pinnacle, but a face that worked anywhere.

The issue was how gazes lingered less on her features and more on the aura she exuded.

Look at it now.

Her high heels clicked sharply, sending the chamber into spasms.

Pillars evoking a temple lined up. Her presence made the banners draped on them flutter feebly. The flames’ dance warped the pooled shadows between pillars.

Good call.

Turning crisis into opportunity.

Raiding the stations would inevitably draw Art Master—furious.

Time to learn her muscle control. Can’t surpass the Three Calamities with magic or Siesta swordsmanship alone.

And besides.

Siesta will counterattack soon. Their silence means they’re prepping thoroughly first.

Study her violence over his shoulder.

Even now, with his stats balanced and rising.

His stubbornly lagging one was Strength.

Having lived worlds apart from exercise on Earth, he had zero clue how to use his body.

Can’t just sign up at a gym as one of the Seven Dignitaries, can I?

Real combat strength didn’t build that way anyway.

The aforementioned stats weren’t about workouts.

Strength is finesse.

As far as Lee Taebaek knew, no one matched Art Master’s bodily sensitivity. The Heavenly Demon and Staff Master peaked in their domains.

Naturally, Art Master had clocked his intentions. Must’ve been baffled at first.

Not just wrecking the artist’s stage, but asking for lessons too.

Time to unleash the possession special. Lee Taebaek boldly declared he’d pay up front. The tuition? Her master’s whereabouts.

God, I hope he’s here.

This was a flashback to the main story’s past, so no guarantees. But no other spot came to mind.

Then.

A gaze prickled.

The gatekeeper guided them silently but kept flicking anxious glances back. The torchlight’s sway paled against his twitching eyes.

Art Master furrowed her brow; he tugged his robe hem.

The trio pressed on. Amid uniform pillars, illusion of endless repetition gripped them.

“…We’ve arrived.”

The gatekeeper stepped aside. A door similar in form to the last but narrower in scale awaited.

“Open it.”

“Y-Yes…”

A grind echoed. He opened it and retreated sideways, as before.

“You not coming in?”

Lee Taebaek shot the gatekeeper a cold look.

“…I’m unqualified. Please enter, you two.”

“Weird that a gatekeeper lacks clearance to pass this.”

“That’s why I’m stuck guarding the door.”

Art Master met his indignant glare with surprising nonchalance. She snorted oddly and stepped beyond.

As Lee Taebaek moved to follow. The gatekeeper spat venomously.

“Find what you seek this time. No second chances.”

“…”

“This is the Great Earth God’s Palace. Insult it, and karma will bite someday.”

Lee Taebaek’s face soured at the curse.

Thud.

“…!”

Grabbed by the shoulder, the gatekeeper yelped. Lee Taebaek clamped down to the collarbone. Pressing close, he informed him.

“I made that Great Earth God.”

“What blasphemy…!”

“Your conduct’s more blasphemous.”

Lee Taebaek patted his shoulder lightly.

“This the place?”

“Would I drag a Three Calamities into some rando spot? It is.”

Art Master looked deeply skeptical.

And rightly so. The space felt too empty.

A circular chamber ringed by dense pillars. Just wider gaps than the corridor.

They stood blankly awhile. Then—a breeze. Lights rippled. Floor shadows from pillars began creeping in, squeezing them.

Eerie vibe.

Pressure shifted. Even maxed-out Lee Taebaek felt his lips parch.

Art Master watched impassively. No spark of interest.

Screech, screech.

Crackles from the dark. Mechanical legs extended between pillars. Knee-height rivaled a whole apartment floor.

Pillars, plural. Nine golems emerged from every gap, armored like knights.

Clank, clank.

The squad loomed oppressively huge. Rubber hoses sealed limb joints. Steam blasted fiercely from back exhausts on activation.

Dystopian mecha golems.

Boring lore, but players craved it. Heart-pounding metal grind? That’s premium gaming.

Seeing them, Lee Taebaek thrilled despite himself. Positive, negative—mixed rush…

One golem stepped forward from the concentric ranks. Sound waves emanated where a mouth should be. Its shoulder pauldrons stood out largest.

“What’s with this qualification crap from earlier.”

Art Master grumbled.

“Hey, Lee Taebaek. That guy’s really here? Looks like a total cult den.”

“Hopeless souls seeing miracles and falling into cults—textbook cliché.”

“…What’re you on about.”

The lead golem pressed.

“No quals needed for a cult temple. Let us in already. Unless you wanna see ugly.”

[…Those without qualifications…]

T-shaped slits in their visors’ centers flared blood-red.

The golems charged in unison, defying their mass.

Assaults hammered from all sides. Eerie whooshes threatened to cave the ceiling.

Art Master stayed meh amid it.

The mecha golems were well-crafted. By his estimate, these nine could trouble some Ten Wings due to matchups.

What the hell are these? And what’s Master doing tangled with some mystery group?

Her master had always been eccentric. One day praising pure martial artists, the next hailing magic as cosmic law. He loved every element of this world passionately. Saw divinity in the tiniest details. Made humans sound like ants before nature’s artwork.

Such a master…

She pictured him surrounded by these scrapheaps appraising humans. Irritation surged.

Eccentric or not, scorned by peers, he’d cherished his core values. Muscles, magic, martial arts—awed by humanity’s towers built over ages.

What wind blew him here?

A mace closed in, wind slapping her cheek. She raised a hand.

Thud.

The siege-engine mace snagged on her index finger. It stalled the shockwave barrage.

Art Master flicked it. The mace arced wildly back.

Leaping lightly, she drew her shoulder deep. Beyond: a coiled fist primed.

Thrust. The golem’s head vaporized without debris. Machines or not, the rest panicked visibly.

Next instant, a golem arm tore free. She snapped it side to side. Flankers smashed pillars then walls.

Same hardness colliding shattered the arm to shards. Art Master floated midair still. Lee Taebaek craned to watch. Nothing else to do.

Thumb-wrapped middle finger struck airborne chunks. Supersonic.

Light rays multiplied. Layered shard trajectories wove a sparse net over the chamber.

Golems’ movement cramped naturally. Too bulky for attacks. Shards pinned them; she roamed free.

Lee Taebaek marveled. Flipping the field with mere rubble.

Reshaping terrain to her favor. Come to think, their first meeting—she’d exploited the lay well too.

Art Master stomped air. A rear golem’s chest caved.

Landing shock scattered the net multilayered. Not over. Air quaked on.

She slipped net gaps. Cold metal crumpled under soft human hands and feet.

Watching, Lee Taebaek thought: Like performance art.