The Living Corpse’s Awakening

The kill threshold remained unmet.

This was of no great consequence, however, as Yelica alone was more than capable of subduing Balin.

As expected, Balin was swiftly sent careening backward by a staff swung in a wide, sweeping arc, tumbling several times across the ground before finally coming to a halt.

He thrashed for a few moments on the cold floor, his hands bracing against the ground as he struggled to push himself upright, but this time, the effort proved futile.

A faint breeze seemed to mock him as Balin swayed, ultimately collapsing onto the ground in a final, unwilling surrender.

“Hooray! Big Brother and Bishop Sister have won!”

From a safe distance, Yali and the other survivors erupted in jubilant cheers, having clearly witnessed the formidable combat prowess of Yodel and Yelica.

With the protection of these two formidable figures, they believed escaping the infected zone would be utterly effortless!

Many had already begun meticulously planning their new lives, envisioning a fresh start after their escape.

Yet, celebrating victory prematurely was a folly, a universal truth that applied equally to both villains and protagonists.

Yodel raised his firearm, taking aim at the prostrate Balin, ready to deliver the finishing blow in tandem with Yelica.

Yet, a peculiar anomaly manifested: he realized that the Death Omen (TL Note: A premonition or ‘death vision’ that appears above targets Yodel can instantly kill) still hadn’t appeared above Balin.

‘This defies logic. He’s been battered to within an inch of his life by Yelica, so why can’t I finish him with a single shot?’

Only one possibility remained: Balin undoubtedly possessed a hidden, life-saving trump card he had yet to unleash.

“Yelica, unleash your full power. Obliterate him completely, leave not even ashes behind.”

Yodel immediately resolved to solve the problem with overwhelming, indiscriminate firepower.

“My thoughts exactly!”

A blinding, incandescent holy light erupted from her staff, striking Balin’s prone form head-on, and the ensuing violent explosion churned up a thick cloud of dust.

As the smoke and dust slowly dissipated, all that remained where Balin had lain was a gaping crater.

Yelica nodded, a satisfied exhale escaping her lips. “Hmph, see? Not even a trace of ash remains of him.”

Yet, Yodel had not once glanced at Balin; his unwavering gaze remained fixed upon the numbers hovering above Yelica’s head.

[0/0/5]

“No, that’s not right! He’s not dead! Look out!”

“What?”

Yelica instantly snapped to full alert, her body tensing as she re-entered a state of battle readiness.

If the Death God’s Chosen (TL Note: A title for individuals favored by or imbued with the power of the Death God) declared Balin wasn’t dead, then he certainly wasn’t.

The battlefield’s atmosphere instantly grew taut and uncanny.

The two stood back-to-back, their senses heightened, wary of their surroundings, yet they were utterly alone.

The distant onlookers, meanwhile, were utterly perplexed, unable to fathom why Yodel and Yelica were confronting what appeared to be empty air.

Abruptly, Yodel saw the Death Omen manifest directly upon himself, a chilling vision in which colossal vines erupted from the earth, impaling him through and through.

“Watch your footing! Leap to either side!”

The two, who had been poised back-to-back, leveraged each other’s momentum, separating in a flash just as dark, inky thorns erupted from the ground beneath their feet, threatening to impale them both.

From amidst the thorny tangle, a tattered Balin emerged, his numerous fatal wounds still starkly visible, yet he moved as if utterly unharmed.

The tell-tale residue of a green potion clinging to his lips, coupled with the [9/1/7] statistics hovering above his head, revealed to Yodel precisely why Balin could still fight despite such grievous injuries.

‘You truly are deranged, to willingly transform yourself into a living corpse…’

The living corpse, Balin, opened his eyes, their depths still harboring the malevolence and incandescent fury of his former life.

Presented with the grim choice between the simultaneous annihilation of body and soul, and the eternal animation of the body coupled with the demise of the soul, Balin had unhesitatingly opted for the latter.

“Living corpse transformation? Are you saying he’s become a living corpse now?” Yelica gasped, her voice laced with disbelief. “How do these vile insects manage to cause trouble even in death?”

“Cease the complaining for a moment; I fear we have a far tougher battle yet to fight.”

Yodel’s expression had never been so grave.

Confronting a target possessing such formidable individual combat prowess, one he couldn’t instantly fell with a single shot, rendered him exceptionally vulnerable.

Worse yet, Yelica might be forced to single-handedly confront a fully revived, even stronger living corpse Balin, immediately after enduring a fierce battle and suffering significant exhaustion.

“You… Chant Church… I hate you all!”

Even in his transformed state as a living corpse, Balin, owing to his formidable power in life, still seemed to harbor a multitude of lingering obsessions.

His visceral hatred for the Chant Church, in particular, was likely among the most potent of these.

“Die!”

Black, menacing thorns erupted from his body, flailing wildly in the air like grotesque tentacles.

This ghastly, neither-human-nor-ghost apparition truly made Yali and the others break into a cold sweat.

“Th-this… Can those two possibly win? He’s not even human anymore, is he?” someone stammered, their voice trembling.

The group exchanged uneasy, uncertain glances, none able to offer a reassuring answer.

The red-haired male student hesitated, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. “They… they should be able to, shouldn’t they? Mr. Finn is incredibly formidable, one shot, one kill. Couldn’t he simply fire another shot now?”

His words, however, clearly failed to assuage their fears, and the people remained deeply worried.

“Please, Big Brother, stay safe.” Yali’s fingers unconsciously clenched into a tight knot.

As for Yelica and Yodel, the immediate protagonists of this grim scene, the pressure upon them was now immense.

They could now unequivocally confirm that the living corpse Balin was vastly superior to his original form; not only was he immune to fatal wounds, but he also possessed boundless stamina.

More critically, his attacks were highly likely to be infectious, meaning a single blow could potentially transform them into living corpses as well.

“Thorns… Kill!”

The living corpse Balin unleashed a full-scale assault, with numerous thorns, akin to a relentless arrow shower, enveloping both Yodel and Yelica.

Yelica, making a snap decision, instantly manifested a protective aura that enveloped her, causing any approaching thorns to instantly disintegrate into black dust upon contact.

Meanwhile, Yodel, leveraging the foresight granted by the Death Omen, shifted his footwork with uncanny agility, weaving through the thorny thicket in a mesmerizing display of evasion, as if not a single leaf could touch him.

Balin, the living corpse, watched Yodel’s almost acrobatic maneuvers with a bewildered stare; he now finally understood the profound despair The Elder must have felt during his own encounter with Yodel.

Every single one of his attacks was meticulously predicted by Yodel through the Death Omen, ensuring that each strike, while agonizingly close, would perpetually fail to connect.

To circumvent this seemingly ‘cheat-like’ precognition, one would either need to employ saturation attacks, leaving Yodel with no viable escape route, or unleash strikes with such blinding speed that Yodel’s reactions would be utterly overwhelmed.

“Truly… worthy of the Holy Light’s divine favor (TL Note: ‘Shen Juan’ refers to divine favor or blessing)… I must… assimilate… you…”

Green light flared in the living corpse’s eyes, like a ravenous wolf spotting succulent prey, as it redirected a substantial portion of the thorns previously assailing Yelica to now target Yodel.

Yodel, meanwhile, continued his intricate evasive dance, a question forming in his mind:

‘What in the world are you babbling about? Whose divine favor?’

To Yodel’s astonishment, the living corpse Balin, upon hearing this, earnestly repeated itself:

“Goddess of Holy Light… di… vine… favor.”

Yodel instantly grew agitated, a reaction far more intense than any caused by the preceding barrage of dense attacks.

“Don’t you dare spout such damn nonsense! I fear the boss will misunderstand!”

Amidst this peculiar verbal sparring, Yodel discerned that while the living corpse had indeed grown stronger, it had also become considerably duller-witted.

Not only did it foolishly answer his questions, but it was also remarkably susceptible to verbal manipulation.

His eyes darted, a cunning plan quickly forming.

Yodel bellowed at the top of his lungs:

“Balin, there were no traitors in the Eternal Life Society at all! You massacred your own people in that purge!”

The living corpse froze, and a flicker of disbelief remarkably crossed its already vacant eyes.

Seeing Balin stunned, Yodel flashed a profoundly irritating smile and winked at him:

“That’s right, the one who killed the most members of the Eternal Life Society was you yourself!

“How does it feel to fight a battle of wits against thin air?”

He then watched as a visible flush of red spread across the living corpse Balin’s pale face.