IBMATG 9

Chapter 9

Raids are made up of a total of five stages.

Each participant can clear them alone, or work together to get through.

After clearing each stage in order, everyone eventually reaches the final stage—where all the awakened join forces to fight the raid boss.

The moment the boss is defeated, the raid ends.

If you don’t make it to the final stage before the boss is taken down, you miss out on the final rewards.

On the other hand, if the leading group can’t kill the boss quickly, the competition over ownership of the rewards becomes more and more intense.

That’s why everyone who enters must walk the fine line between cooperation and competition.

Bloodshed and casualties are a common occurrence in that process.

And yet, to seize the vast wealth and rewards, countless awakened risk their lives here every year.

I was no exception.

{Stage 1 is starting.}

{Clear Objective: Defeat the Orc Warlord.}

As soon as I entered the raid dungeon after a series of hurdles, a message appeared before my eyes.

Looking around, I found myself standing alone in a long corridor, built from strange, artificial architecture.

‘So it begins—the qualification test.’

It was the same last year.

A simple goal: just defeat the enemy.

Entrants proceed alone in separate dimensions.

Those lacking ability are weeded out here.

It’s like the system is saying, “If you can’t even handle this much on your own, you’re not qualified for the raid.”

‘Last year, this is where I failed.’

Mulling over that memory, I slowly advanced down the corridor.

“Kruwak!”

Soon, I faced my first enemies.

Green-skinned, hulking humanoid monsters.

Two orcs, armed with axes and shields.

“Gro! Grarak!”

They didn’t just charge recklessly—they looked like they were saying something.

Of course, there was no way we could communicate.

Unless it’s a rare case like the goblin from the hidden quest who could speak human tongue, communication is impossible.

Still, judging from their behavior and expressions, I could tell they were flustered.

The two orcs kept posturing threateningly, then one began slowly backing away.

‘Can’t let that happen.’

I immediately understood their intent.

One would stall me, while the other fled to alert their base.

That would be a huge hassle.

Orcs possess intelligence nearly equal to humans, capable of tactical maneuvers.

They use traps, terrain, stick together to avoid being picked off, or even set up ambushes.

If I got caught in such a trap here at Stage 1, things would turn grim fast.

The only way to prevent that was to kill both now.

‘Demonic Dragon Magic. Weapon Projection.’

I pulled out my knuckles, clenched them tightly, and activated both skills at once.

Tap!

Then I lunged forward.

“Grarak!”

As expected, one blocked my way while the other bolted.

Kwaaaa!

First, a straight punch forward—

From my left knuckle, the dragon’s foreclaw burst forth with a sonic boom, flying straight.

Thud!

A claw clenched like a fist, as heavy as a cannonball.

The massive orc, shield and all, was blown away.

But I didn’t stop.

Step!

I dashed forward, right arm swinging diagonally in a Russian hook.

Slash!

The foreclaw from my right knuckle lashed out, claws sharpened.

The orc that had been knocked back and sprawled on the ground was instantly torn apart.

‘Next.’

I chased the fleeing one.

He glanced back, eyes wide in terror.

He must have sensed death coming.

Whoosh!

A rising left uppercut.

Crunch!

The dragon’s claw hooked into the orc’s torso.

The next moment, flesh sprayed everywhere, painting the corridor walls and ceiling.

At the end of the narrow passage, a vast cavern opened up.

In its center stood what looked like a primitive village—structures that should’ve been outdoors, transplanted whole into this artificial place.

‘That must be the base. The Warlord will be inside.’

Inside, I counted nearly a hundred orcs.

Had I let that scout escape earlier, all of them would’ve been waiting for me in full force.

Then I’d have faced the Warlord outnumbered and deep in enemy territory.

Of course, that possibility still remained.

‘So I’ll thin them out first.’

From here, I’d use stealth to reduce their numbers.

I had no stealth skills, but my reflex stats could compensate.

Unlike werewolves, orcs had no enhanced sense of smell—so this was doable.

Clutch.

I adjusted my grip on the hand axe I’d taken from the orc earlier.

For stealth kills, I needed a bladed weapon.

Dragon claws roar with sonic booms, and bare-fist strikes make too much noise when crushing bones and organs.

But blades sink in with relatively little sound.

I had a knife for finishing blows, but without assassination skills, the axe was better.

‘First target—the watchtower.’

There were three of them in the village.

Take out the sentries, and I could start picking off the rest.

I visualized the sequence of moves in my head.

‘The one sitting first. The one standing, second.’

The seated orc was clearly a marksman.

Military experience told me that much.

‘They really don’t act much different from humans.’

I scaled the tower barehanded, then carried out my plan.

“Gro…!”

Thud!

Before the seated orc could cry out, my axe cut his throat.

Slash!

The dazed spotter beside him fell the same way.

Both died without a sound, their vocal cords severed.

Blood splattered, but my talisman’s barrier shield kept me clean.

‘Mana Breathing.’

Hoo…

I replenished the mana I’d spent on Demonic Dragon Magic.

Each kill, I’d restore my mana—keeping myself battle-ready for sudden emergencies.

But then—

{Malice is pleased with your slaughter.}

{Malice desires that you bathe in more blood.}

‘Huh?’

A strange message appeared.

It felt completely different from the usual system.

The tone was like another being speaking.

Come to think of it, I’d seen something like this before—

‘The Goblin Dungeon’s hidden quest.’

I had dismissed it at the time, but the message then had the same strange tone.

‘And the content…’

Back then, it said I’d devoured a minion of Baphomet.

Now, it spoke of “malice,” “slaughter,” and “more blood.”

It felt undeniably tied to some demonic entity.

‘Malice… demon… Demonic Dragon. Don’t tell me—?’

My guardian spirit popped into mind.

I immediately opened Azidahaka’s status window.

{Assimilation Rate: 0.53%}

Before, killing thousands of monsters had barely nudged it up 0.03%.

Now it had jumped 0.5%—fifty times more—from just four orcs.

That message was tied to Azidahaka, my guardian spirit.

And it reacted specifically to orc blood.

‘It said nothing when I slaughtered goblins and werewolves…’

I didn’t know why it acted now.

But the fact was, assimilation skyrocketed.

If I wanted to unleash Azidahaka’s true power, I had no choice but to heed this “Malice.”

‘Demon? Slaughter? Fine, I’ll play along.’

The wording was violent, but really, it was no different than the system.

I could interpret it as: “{To raise Assimilation, bathe in orc blood.}”

‘And it’s what I had to do to pass this stage anyway.’

Nothing had changed.

I’d just kill the orcs, let their blood soak me, and my Assimilation would rise.

That was fine by me.

Thud!

An orc head rolled across the ground, severed by my axe.

“Groooook!”

It came to a stop at the feet of the Orc Warlord.

When he noticed me, he was already the last one left.

“Gwaaaaah!”

The Warlord bellowed in rage.

While he wasted time roaring, I tossed aside the axe and pulled a mana potion can from my bag.

Click.

I popped it open and quickly downed it.

Gulp. Gulp.

No time to taste it—just force it down.

‘Sphere of Blazing Calamity.’

As I drank with my left hand, I clenched my knuckles with my right, invoking the power.

Two-thirds of my mana vanished in an instant—but the potion refilled it just as quickly.

Black flames engulfed my knuckles.

Stats at maximum.

I was ready to fight the Warlord.

‘Last time, I used that ridiculous “Fire Knuckleball” and barely scraped a win.’

Not this time.

That had been a gamble—I’d been ready to abandon the quest if it failed.

But here, quitting means you can’t rejoin the raid.

And that attack wasn’t guaranteed to work again.

This time, I’d fight properly.

And I had a new weapon.

‘Weapon Projection.’

Flash!

My knuckles glowed blue.

“Grograk! Kwaaak!”

The Warlord finished roaring and charged.

Boom. Boom.

Four meters tall, wielding massive hand-axes, he barreled toward me.

Whoosh!

He swung.

I leaned back, evading with a sway, then countered with an uppercut.

Fwoosh!

The projected dragon claw slashed upward.

But this time, black fire—transferred from the Sphere of Blazing Calamity—coated the claw.

Clang!

The Warlord blocked with his other axe.

Ssshhh!

But the fire spread from the weapon onto his body.

“Kraaaagh!”

He screamed as the sticky flames devoured him.

His eyes burned red.

Berserk state. His aggression spiked.

‘Different from the Baphomet minion’s reaction.’

Crash! Crash!

His axes swung wildly, faster and harder than before.

‘But like then, he’s lost control. That flame crippled him.’

I kept my distance, stepping around him.

He couldn’t land a single blow.

His desperation only left him more open.

Wham!

He raised both axes for a massive overhead strike.

‘Now!’

I sidestepped left and drove in a liver shot.

Crunch!

“Guoooh!”

The claw tore into his side.

Blood sprayed.

I followed up immediately.

Slash!

My other claw ripped into his abdomen.

He reflexively dropped his hands to cover his stomach.

Thud!

That’s when I drove my final strike into his head.

The Warlord collapsed, blood gushing like a fountain.

I let the spray wash over me.

{Malice smiles in satisfaction.}

Another message.

But this time, things shifted.

{New Trait unlocked: <Right Eye of Malice>.}

{Error detected!}

{Unauthorized data found in guardian spirit’s status. Beginning debug…}

{Baphomet’s minion is infiltrating the system.}

{Error… %^@#% … correcting…}

“W-what the hell?”

It was like two entities were fighting inside the system.

For a moment, the messages became gibberish.

Then—

{Debug complete.}

The confusion ended.

───

<Right Eye of Malice> – (Stage 1) Observe others’ guardian spirits.

───

The new trait remained.