Chapter 50 – Temple of the Warrior

And once again.

The message flashed: all across the continent, everyone marvels.

The reward for completing the Achievement was solid too.

A Skill called Veil of Darkness, and an item called Manta’s Jewel.

‘Veil of Darkness will come in handy from now on.’

Not just in Tartaros—it’d be incredibly useful on the battlefield when facing Magin.

‘Manta’s Jewel… I think that’s the key.’

Just as the description said.

It stated you needed Manta’s Jewel to enter Tartaros.

Meaning, from now on, anyone who wanted to get into Tartaros would have to kill Manta and get this item, just like he had.

‘Maybe it’s for the best.’

Without this restriction, Tartaros could be overrun and gutted in a single day.

Gijun didn’t want that either.

And now.

Kwaaaah!

The black sphere like a black hole—the one Manta had guarded—began spinning rapidly.

And beyond it….

“I can see it.”

Another space revealed itself, utterly alien to the Corrupted Land.

“Shall we go?”

[Yeah. I never thought I’d set foot there.]

Libre muttered softly, as though the feeling was new and strange.

And so Gijun stepped forward.

Toward the land called Tartaros.

[You have entered ‘Tartaros,’ the source of evil.]

*

[Did you see that?]

[It really appeared!]

[Tartaros is open!]

Not long ago, that message had set the Players buzzing with excitement.

A message saying someone had opened the entrance to Tartaros.

As it happened, the top guilds’ Rankers were already encamped at Hamal.

An unprecedented situation, to say the least.

And all this for Hamal—a land that the top-tier Rankers wouldn’t have so much as glanced at.

Still, the moment the message popped up announcing the opening of Tartaros’s entrance, Amalta and the warriors of the Plains unlocked the path into the Corrupted Land.

And with that, countless Players poured in all at once, surging toward the Corrupted Land.

“Tch…”

Watching the spectacle, Amalta clicked his tongue.

“So that kid pulled it off after all.”

His eyes carried a trace of regret.

“That role should have been mine. I should have been the one to serve the Flame Monarch…”

Deep remorse threaded through his words.

But then he steeled his resolve and spoke again.

“Go and bring it back. I too must settle the unresolved grudge of our clan.”

[You have entered Tartaros.]

Tartaros.

The land upon which everyone’s eyes were fixed.

The moment that carved open a new world within the game Real Spirit.

Right now, Gijun stood planted on that very ground.

[Even just breathing this air feels foul.]

Libre spoke.

And this time, it wasn’t just for show. The ever-smiling Libre had her face scrunched up tight, a clear look of discontent on it.

[But what can I do? My duty is to sacrifice and devote myself for you, my master.]

Gijun let out a soft laugh at Libre, who was whining as if pleading for acknowledgment.

“Anyway, we’re finally inside. But now, what are we supposed to do?”

That was when—

Thrummm—!

The entrance to Tartaros, where Gijun had just stepped in, rippled.

Then,

“I knew you’d be standing here dumbfounded, gawking like an idiot.”

A familiar voice rang out.

“Amalta?”

It was none other than Amalta.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

You need a Manta’s Jewel just to enter this place.

So how in the world did Amalta manage to get into Tartaros?

In response, Amalta smirked and pulled something out.

“Huh?”

What Amalta showed him was a jewel.

An identical jewel to the one Gijun carried.

“Our warriors of the grasslands have guarded this land for an age. And this is but one piece of the prophecy — never a sudden turn. This object, too, has been passed down from War King to War King since time immemorial.”

“…I see.”

In simpler terms, the prairie warriors had been handing down that orb across generations, biding their time for the moment this prophecy would unfold.

“Ordinarily, this body would not have lent you aid — but remember, all this is my devotion to the great monarch’s grand cause.”

At that, Gijun let out a quiet snicker.

“Thanks.”

“Ahem… enough. Just follow me.”

So saying, Amalta strode forward.

The place Amalta led Gijun to was a vast cavern.

“This is where the souls of our ancestors are sealed.”

“The souls of your ancestors?”

“Yes. The great warriors within await the one who will drive out the darkness. As you are now, you can do nothing in this land. But if you borrow their strength, the story changes. If you earn the recognition of our ancestors, they will lend you their power.”

“Alright.”

Gijun nodded.

Amalta was right.

Even Manta, the gatekeeper, had been a tough opponent for him.

How much stronger were the countless enemies lurking in this land called Tartaros?

At his current level, he couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“There are lords in this world. Dark lords. It’s blasphemous to say this, but the Flame Monarch, who has yet to fully recover her power, would find them difficult to handle.”

[He speaks the truth. Even in my prime, each of them was a foe I could not easily overcome.]

Libre agreed.

“So you must awaken the souls of the great warriors. Only then will you be able to accomplish your task in this land.”

“Shall we go in, then?”

And so, Gijun, Libre, and Amalta made their way toward the temple of the warriors.

In an instant, a completely unfamiliar vista unfolded before them.

*

‘A temple?’

The scene before him looked like a temple.

A colossal temple, painted entirely in white.

Just then.

Someone stepped forward to block Gijun’s path.

[You cannot enter.]

Ghostly warriors.

They were similar in build to Amalta, and the large spears they carried confirmed they were indeed warriors of the plains.

[Defeat us if you wish to enter.]

[No one weak may set foot in the sanctuary of the great souls.]

Gijun let out a small laugh.

Their every word reminded him of Amalta.

But then.

[Wait….]

[Could you be….]

The warriors blocking his way froze.

[No, it can’t be… the Flame Monarch…?]

They seemed flustered after recognizing Libre.

The two exchanged complicated glances as they faced each other.

Then.

[You have come.]

A voice echoed from somewhere.

It came from deep within the temple.

And then, a figure emerged.

[Lv.??? Hamal]

Her level read ‘???’

A spirit entity named Hamal.

But she was different from the other warriors.

She was a woman.

Not tall, with a slender frame.

‘Hamal?’

Gijun’s eyes widened slightly at the name.

‘Ah.’

In that moment, he understood who she was.

Hamal was the name of the land where he had met Amalta.

Which meant this Hamal might very well be the embodiment of ‘Hamal’ itself.

[M-mother!]

[We bow before you, Mother!]

The moment she appeared, the two warriors who had charged at Gijun dropped to their knees and cried out.

‘Just as I thought.’

That Hamal and this Hamal surely shared the same name.

Amalta had said as much.

“They all claim to serve the Mother of the Earth.”

Recalling that memory, Gijun looked back at the woman named Hamal.

She began to move toward him, slow and deliberate.

Descending the temple’s high steps one by one.

She wasn’t walking.

Her entire body floated above the ground.

Floating like that, she came down the soaring temple steps and stopped before him.

Then Hamal stepped closer to Gijun and smiled.

[You’ve become such a small, cute little thing.]

Her gaze was fixed on Libre now.

[….]

A vein bulged on Libre’s forehead.

But Libre wasn’t about to back down.

[…Haha. The one who once dared not even meet my eyes… you seem to have grown quite bold.]

[Hmph… Did something like that happen? I really can’t seem to recall.]

Libre and Hamal locked eyes for a long moment.

But then Libre spoke.

Already wearing an easy smile.

[Well, I shall forgive your impertinence. After all, you—Hamal—are now in a pitiful state, incapable of doing anything without the help of me and my master.]

[…!]

Crack.

This time, a vein popped on Hamal’s forehead.

But Hamal, refusing to be outdone, forced her expression calm as she spoke.

[…Hmph. Very well, then. Seeker. Follow me.]

With that, Hamal turned.

Gijun scratched the back of his head and followed her.

But Amalta couldn’t bring himself to move.

He stood there, looking quite troubled.

Perhaps no one was more troubled than Amalta at that moment.

‘…I don’t know what to do.’

The warrior of the plains.

The son of Hamal and, at the same time, the Seeker who served Libre.

Amalta was living both roles at once.

Libre glanced at Amalta’s flustered expression and asked with a playful smile.

[Don’t let it weigh on you. Hamal has been a land without a master for a long time. It has been steadily losing its vitality, hasn’t it? No—it’s not just Hamal. Now that all the Monarchs’ power has been exhausted and sealed… you have merely done your best to perform your duty.]

“…!”

Born as the son of the earth but holding a heart of fire—that was Amalta.

It was clearly a symbol of extraordinary talent, much like Gijun’s own.

And as the price of that talent, Amalta was surely bearing a heavy burden.

Libre was not unaware of that meaning, and of course, Hamal could not have been either.

[In any case, you have waited long for this day, serving as a bridge between the two. That is commendable.]

“I am only grateful that you see it that way.”

[Well, the relations between me and Hamal are all in the past now… What remains is something far more important, is it not?]

As she said this, Libre stared at one spot.

Toward the distant darkness where nothing could be seen.

[For it seems that thing has opened its eyes.]

Libre and Amalta followed the direction Hamal had moved.

*

Hamal was back on his throne now.

The arrangement forced Libre to look up at him, which grated on her, but she didn’t let it show.

Once he’d settled himself, Hamal spoke slowly.

[A flame-chaser’s arrival here means the day of prophecy has begun.]

“Yes. That’s right.”

Gijun nodded in answer.

[These are all my sons—the heads who’ve guarded the plains.]

Hamal said it with pride.

[Though my power has faded and I’m trapped in this dark Underworld, I, Hamal, can attest that every one of them is a fine and mighty warrior.]

“It seems that way.”

He meant it.

Every plains warrior looked formidable.

Gijun scanned the room slowly.

‘So many.’

Soul-forms of countless warriors lined the temple’s interior.

Each was built like Amalta—towering and thick-boned.

He estimated at least several hundred.

‘At this rate, they could wipe out a major guild in no time.’

Even the gatekeepers, if classified as Players, had been fairly strong.

The soul-forms arrayed within were overwhelmingly stronger in comparison.

[Heh heh. My apologies for earlier. Meeting an old friend after so long—I let the excitement get the better of me.]

Libre snorted.

[Good. In any case, it’s time for business. You’ve come because you need the strength of me and my sons.]

Hamal knew everything.

[But as you see, I cannot leave this temple. Not just me—my sons are the same. It’s because the Monarchs of the Underworld have bound us, and the Ancient God has lost all its power.]

The bottom line: they needed Gijun’s help.

Whatever it took.

Gijun spoke.

“I’ll help you.”

[Heh heh…]

Hamal laughed, as if touched by Gijun’s willingness.

But what came next hit hard.

[But to break my seal, you’ll have to fight a Monarch.]

Not just anyone—a Monarch.