Chapter 235: Tragedy (3)
The reason Ash had decided to enter inside the Hollow Mother was because of the information provided by the Whisperer.
According to him, the Hollow Mother, as powerful as it was known to be, possessed a terrifying ability to control the minds of others, twisting their will until they became nothing but obedient puppets. It only needed time for that influence to take root. However, in exchange for such an overwhelming ability, it sacrificed its mobility entirely.
It could not move from its spot, remaining anchored like a monstrous, living growth. For protection, it relied on the people it controlled or its enormous tentacles that acted like limbs, lashing out at anything that came close. Other than that, its natural defenses were formidable, and its ability to heal was exceptionally fast. This was why killing it from the outside was considered nearly impossible.
The real problem was not simply that it could heal, but that it fueled its regeneration by consuming the life force of the puppets under its control, draining them dry to restore itself.
Because of this, Ash had decided it would be far better to attack from the inside. If he could land a single strike with enough power, the Hollow Mother should die instantly, before it could even react.
From the energy Ray and Ash had sensed earlier, its strength was on par with an Arch-demon, a being ranked as a Grandmaster by human standards. Yet this only made Ash wonder what kind of Hollow Mother the Whisperer had faced in the past, since the one before them now was far smaller than what the old man had described.
Before Ash returned here, the Whisperer had contacted the Saints in the central city of the Dwarf Continent, but neither of them had found any sign of mind control. Still, if the Saints were truly under such influence, they would not have shown symptoms unless the truth was witnessed with one’s own eyes.
That was why Ash came back—if the Hollow Mother was here, it would mean only this city was under control. He had already seen people here moving like puppets with empty eyes, so this was the first place he needed to confirm.
And he was able to confirm the presence of Hollow Mother, thus making the other places safe...for now.
But after stepping inside the creature’s body, Ash quickly realized things were not unfolding as he had hoped. He had managed to wreak havoc inside, his body and sword moving in perfect rhythm, slashing again and again... yet it felt like striking against something that refused to yield.
Damn it... what a rubbery surface.
The inner flesh of the monster was so unnaturally elastic that Eclipse barely left a scratch unless he channeled its Space Cut ability. Even then, the cuts were healed too quickly to cause lasting damage.
And though he had caused chaos in its insides, the sheer size of the creature meant his attacks were almost meaningless.
To make matters worse, veins and fleshy tendrils, seemingly grown from the creature’s own living tissue, began snaking toward him, wrapping around his arms and legs in an attempt to bind him.
He tore through them again and again, but their strength was nothing to scoff at. Every time he broke free, it cost him mana to reinforce his body with raw physical power, his reserves burning away faster than he liked.
And then came the Hollowborns. They forced their way into his body in an endless stream, each one trying to burrow deeper, only to be pulverized instantly.
Even without using Elemental Sight, the sheer number of them flooding in was impossible to ignore; it was like being submerged in a living current.
Back when he first entered the city, their presence had been subtle enough to escape his notice. Now, they were everywhere.
But... Ash was not someone to be taken lightly.
{Life Bloom}
{Life Bloom}
He unleashed the same blooming technique as before, this time with life mana bursting outward like a sudden spring after winter. It worked much like the lightning variant, but instead of raw destruction, it scattered surges of vitality through the surrounding flesh, forcefully tearing away the unnatural corruption that clung to him.
The twin waves of power spread violently, carving open a momentary space of freedom inside the suffocating mass.
A soundless scream echoed in his mind, an eerie and bone-deep sensation that could not be heard by ears yet clawed at the very essence of existence. It was a horrifying experience, the kind that went beyond fear and pain, and he felt his soul sea shudder as if some unseen hand had stirred its depths.
Soul attack...?
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to endure it with every bit of willpower he possessed, his mind screaming for focus. He continued to weave life mana into his sword, slashing here and there with precision born from desperation.
The wounds caused by space-element attacks began to heal on the creature, but those inflicted by life-element strikes lingered stubbornly. Even so, the unrelenting pressure gnawed at him, and he could feel his thoughts beginning to slow, the edges of his mind growing dull despite having Omni Thought activated.
He cursed under his breath, yet he did not allow his movements to falter. Lightning orbs detonated one after another, bursts of life energy flared like miniature suns, and every spell blended into a chaotic storm that consumed the chamber.
The onslaught drained more than half of the mana from one of his cores, but he pushed on without hesitation.
The fusion of life mana and his Life Drain ability worked in surprising harmony, enhancing his sword power.
However, where Ray’s sword was beautiful, elegant, and refined to the point of perfection—flawless as if every strike were born from centuries of mastery—Ash’s blade still carried the marks of inexperience.
It was crude in some parts, with many rough edges, a style that felt as though he was imitating something he had seen before and patching it together with pieces of his own ideas.
That lack of balance shattered the equilibrium of his technique.
Because of it, his sword strikes, though often landing true, would occasionally miss their mark, forcing him to rely on his magic to fill the gaps. Lightning blasts and life-imbued projectiles covered every opening, but the entire performance was messy, a patchwork of improvisation rather than the seamless elegance of a master.
And even after all of that, he was nowhere near close to killing the abomination.
Do I have to use it...?
Ash grimaced, his mind racing through every option. He was already throwing in everything he had—from martial arts to his Eclipse ability, magic and sword art—and yet, looking at the monstrous figure before him, it felt as though only by unleashing that ’ could he truly alter the course of events.
The Whisperer had not let him enter this battle unprepared. Even if the man could not personally intervene, and even though the other Saints were unable to help because of the overwhelming surge of dungeon outbreaks and the need to guard key locations, nothing had stopped them from entrusting their stored abilities to him.
After all, no high-ranking person dared to face the Hollow Mother at full strength, fearing that a moment of weakness could lead to mind control. As for the one far more powerful than the monster could just kill it instantly.
But what if a peak-level attack could be entrusted to someone immune to such control?
...I am going to use it and then run...
The truth was simple: there was no known weakness of the Hollow Mother except the powers of life and death mana.
Ash role was to find that weakness. He wanted to discover it with his own hands, to deal the final blow himself, but it was becoming painfully clear that even with the creature standing still, it was far beyond what he could kill.
...Should I ask Ray to come...?
The thought flickered in his mind before he dismissed it.
No... the Hollowborns are too many here. Only because of various effects from my runes am I safe right now. If Ray came in here... his life breath skill would drain his mana at an enormous rate... I doubt he could last even five seconds.
Runes themselves did not consume mana, which made it a mystery where the energy to power them came from. Did the runes tap into some infinite source? Or did they draw from something unknown and far older?
That was a question for another time.
Right now, he wanted to preserve the item the Whisperer had entrusted to him, to save it for some other critical moment, or to hold onto it unless he faced a true life-and-death situation.
He could, of course, request another from him, but storing the attack of a Saint was a task that demanded mana, time, and immense patience.
What the Whisperer had given him was something prepared after arriving at the academy, during the brief lull when the constant casualties had lessened.
And in all that time, only one such item had been completed.
...Don’t be greedy, Ash... I can just request another... maybe...
Many might not know it, but Ash despised asking for anything from others. His heart would roared at him to do everything himself, to prove that there was no need to depend on anyone.
His mindset had been shaped in a twisted way, born from the absence of any parental care, with only Elysia’s support keeping him from collapsing entirely.
It had molded him into someone fiercely independent, unwilling to lean on anyone else. That was why he insisted on handling everything on his own. But now... now he was at least beginning to try, to take small steps toward asking for help when it truly mattered.
{Life Bloom}
A storm of life mana surged outward, sweeping through the area and granting a brief moment of respite. In that fragile pause, Ash reached into his Soul Vault and summoned something that shimmered faintly, almost as if it carried the weight of worlds.
Floating above his palm, glowing in a strange blend of colors, was a golden-green drop of blood threaded with a crimson hue that seemed to pulse faintly like a beating heart.
This was no ordinary blood.
It was the combined power of Saint Myra and Saint Lydia fused through blood, who held the affinities of Light and Nature respectively.
Indeed, this single drop of blood was a strategic asset still being prepared by the Whisperer as part of a plan to counter a future war with the demons. Whisperer, ever the meticulous planner, had already begun preparing such things long before the threat had truly taken place.
Yet one question inevitably rose from its existence. How could the blood of two Saints, each carrying their own will, intent, and power, fuse together in such perfect harmony? And why did its color carry that strange golden-green glow threaded with crimson instead of the expected mix of their individual hues?
The answer was deceptively simple. The strange coloration came from the sheer concentration of power, the intertwining of two distinct affinities, and the depth of will imbued into it.
As for its fusion, that was the result of Whisperer’s unknown sorcery tied to fate itself. He had linked them together, binding the two drops just as fate binds one soul to another, an act that blurred the boundary between miracle and manipulation.
The moment the drop of blood settled into Ash’s hand, the Hollow Mother froze. It halted every movement as if some primal instinct warned it of the danger, its grotesque body shuddering in place. Even through the agony raging inside it from the destruction of its inner flesh, it became utterly still.
But that hesitation lasted only for a single heartbeat.
Because in the very next moment, Ash ignited the blood, its glow flaring into a blinding brilliance, and he was just about to teleport that...
...Something seized him.
Looking down, his eyes narrowed as he saw a thin, sinewy vein snaking up from the ground, wrapping tightly around his toes. It had waited for the perfect moment, striking when his body was still and unguarded for those few seconds, coiling around him like a predator catching its prey.
Shit!!!!!
There was no deafening explosion, yet light engulfed everything, drowning the insides of the monster in a blinding brilliance of green and gold. The radiance surged outward, burning through all that it touched, leaving not even Ash spared from the wrath of the Saints’ combined might.
It was his first time experiencing the full force of such an attack. The will embedded within it was so absolute that it felt as though the very laws of this place were being rewritten around him. Until now, he had been fortunate — no Saint had ever attacked him with true intent. If they had, they could have ended him by simply sealing him within a Domain.
Of course, Ash would not die here, but survival was not the only question. What about the pain he would endure? The memory of the agony? The experience of being on the receiving end of a Saint’s wrath? And what about the fury that still burned within him toward the Hollow Mother?
All of that was cast into uncertainty, swallowed by the unrelenting blaze. The holy light pulverized everything in its path, reducing the creature’s inner flesh to nothing but ash.
And then...
A scream erupted. A true, piercing wail unlike the soundless psychic cries it had used before.
***
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