The Late Game Healer Is Way Too Strong – Chapter 24.2

Siwoo didn’t wipe the icy look off his face as he watched his opponent wail.

Was it because a hundred years of constant fighting had dulled his emotions?

Or was it because his rationality had been paralyzed by the desire for revenge for his disciple?

He didn’t know, not now.

Just like dice that were stepped on and kicked, losing their sharp edges, Siwoo’s mind and emotions had lost their form, soaked in blood.

All he could do now was run towards his goal.

“Shut up.”

The screams he heard were grating on his ears.

Siwoo stabbed the blade into his severed arm.

Thud!

“Ugh. . . Ah. . . Ugh. . . Ugh. . . .!!!”

Volk ground his forehead into the floor, drooling.

It felt like his brain was being crushed by the pain.

If he had any mana, he could have strengthened his body and dulled the pain, but when he had fainted and woken up, his dantian had already been empty.

“I’ll ask again. The photo, the name.”

Siwoo asked coldly.

His voice no longer sounded like that of a human.

‘D. . . devil. . . .’

He’s not right in the head.

He’s crazy.

He’s a monster in human skin.

If he avoided the question again, even greater pain would follow.

“Your mouth isn’t working?”

When the answer was delayed, Siwoo punched the hilt of the embedded blade.

Bam!

“Aaagh!!! Ugh, ugh, ugh. . . . Fuuㅡㅡck. . . . .”

Volk rolled around on the floor.

It was the most excruciating pain he had ever felt in his life.

He thought it would be better to just die cleanly.

He pondered, drooling from his mouth.

He could never give up information about his comrades or his organization.

It wasn’t because of loyalty.

It wasn’t about rules or manners, either.

It was a strict rule.

When you join the organization, you have to sign something called the 「Oath of Silence」, and the problem is that it’s not just a simple pledge.

It’s a magic oath implemented with an S-rank skill.

The method itself is simple.

After signing, each person projects their mana onto the paper.

And if a new order is written on the paper, the target is eliminated.

But if you break the contents of the oath, the mana detects it and changes the target to the organization member who is supposed to kill them.

If he gave up any information about the ‘person in the photo’ right now, Volk’s oath would immediately turn red and he would be designated as a [𝟏𝐬𝐭-𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭].

Volk realized that he was at a crossroads.

‘Fuck!!! If I talk, the organization will come to kill me, and if I don’t, this crazy bastard will torture me to death. . . .’

It was like the Grim Reaper asking, “How do you want to die? By gun or by sword?”

As he was agonizing over the question in his head,

“Ugh. . . What’s going on. . . .”

The old man raised his head, shaking it.

He checked his physical condition for a moment, then opened his mouth in surprise at what was happening before him and closed it again.

He tried to figure out what was going on, but it seemed difficult to grasp easily.

Siwoo reached into his pocket and took out the photo again and showed it to the old man.

“Gramps, do you know this punk?”

“. . . . . .Who are you, exactly.”

He had asked a question, but another question came back.

Siwoo sighed and pulled out the blade embedded in Volk’s arm in an instant.

“Aaaargh!! Son of a bitch!! Let me talk!!”

He ignored the screams and twirled the blade.

Drops of blood hung from the tip of the blade.

This old man didn’t seem like he would break easily.

Where should he stab him to make him talk?

Should he gouge out his eyeballs?

Or would his tongue be better?

Should he combine a few skills and leave only his head?

As he was calculating these things in his head,

“Hey. . . . You bastard. . . . . . Heal me first, like you did before. . . . . . Fuck!”

Volk, who was writhing in pain, grabbed Siwoo’s pants leg with his good hand.

Siwoo looked at the old man.

He detected mana.

The old man had used his mouth too much and the latent mana in his body was completely empty.

‘If he tries to run, I’ll catch him in a second and cut off his limbs.’

After making that judgment, he picked up Volk’s right arm and roughly attached it to the severed area.

When he cast the skill, the magic circle emitted a brilliant light.

Golden light permeated the severed area and began to implement the spell.

Bones, muscles, blood vessels, nerves, and the like connected to each other, and the cut surface disappeared as if it had been erased with an eraser.

When Siwoo took his hand away, Volk gasped and moved his arm.

His arm moved naturally, as if it had never been severed in the first place.

“High-level healing. . . No, regeneration?”

The old man was confused, as if he had seen something mythical.

A golden magic circle, twelve letters, and restoration to its original state, not just simple healing or suturing.

This was a power close to a miracle.

He had never heard of an Awakener like this in South Korea.

If it became known that there was a healer with such abilities, no organization or agency would stand by and watch.

‘A fortune, no, with abilities like this, a large guild would treat him better than an S-rank hunter. Then why is someone like this in a place like HSIU?’

Siwoo pointed the hilt of his blade at the old man.

A simulation naturally played out in his head, as if he were butchering something.

As they each had different thoughts, the old man spoke first.

“Why is someone as skilled as you in HSIU? Such abilities can’t be hidden in the first place. . . .”

“You seem to be curious about a lot of things at this party.”

“Sigh. When you’ve been around this world for a long time, you tend to know more than others. . . . But it’s my first time seeing abilities like yours.”

“. . .You’ve been around for a long time, but it’s your first time seeing me?”

Siwoo chuckled.

“You’re a healer, so you should know this, right? There aren’t many people in Korea who can use advanced healing skills like you.”

“Healer? Who?”

“Sigh. A kid making puns. Of course it’s you. . . . . . .”

“I’m not a healer.”

The old man blinked. He might not be as good as Siwoo, but he could tell how much someone was lying from their years of experience.

And Siwoo wasn’t lying.

“Then what are you? You could be the legendary necromancer!”

“You know well.”

Siwoo answered his sarcasm shamelessly, and the old man laughed hollowly and became slightly annoyed.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Just because you’re a little strong now doesn’t mean you can go around throwing around legends. The only true necromancer was ‘him’ a dozen years ago. It’s not something a brat like you can talk about lightly!”

At the old man’s words, Siwoo chuckled once more.

He stuck his sword into the ground and stared at the old man’s face.

“Have you ever met that necromancer in person?”

“Sigh. How many years do you think I’ve been around? Not many people know that there’s a ‘Three Venerables’, but I’ve seen all three of them.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve heard the word Three Venerables.”

“. . .Fuck, how would I know something like that. What? Three Venerables??”

“Hmm.”

As soon as Volk finished speaking, Siwoo grabbed his head as if he was going to rip it off.

He tried to shake it off reflexively, but Siwoo’s monstrous strength was far beyond Volk’s expectations, and he could only struggle with his arms held back.

“You son of a bitch!!! What are you trying to do now!! Let go!! I don’t know anything!!”

“Your mouth is still alive. [𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥]”

“You son of a bitch, stahp!! Groan, groan, groan. . . . . . .”

Volk’s breath grew shallow and his entire body withered like a mummy.

It was as if a healthy young man in his twenties had aged instantly, losing all his vitality.

Siwoo looked at the man who was half dead and took his hand away.

He seemed to be breathing raggedly, but he wouldn’t die.

He would keep him from dying until he got the information he wanted, anyway.

“Now it’s your turn, gramps.”

At the cold tone and expression, the old man understood what ‘being scared’ meant.

Siwoo’s eyes were different from those of the Awakeners or killers he had seen in the world of darkness.

It was likeㅡ

“Ah. . . . . . .”

The eyes of a beast that had no emotions.

The old man’s hands trembled.

His jaw chattered uncontrollably.

An instinctive fear washed over him, like a mouse in front of a giant snake.

He had felt this emotion, seen this sight, and this violence before.

He had seen pure evil that could not be resisted from afar.

The old man’s past and present overlapped.

A dozen years ago,

A necromancer, one of the three most notorious figures in South Korea, who lived with all the infamy he could handle, the strongest monster.

Choi Dae-soo, who stood shoulder to shoulder with the Sword Demon, Do Kyung-hoo,

“Ma, Mad. . . . . . Mad Dog Min Siwoo!! !”

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