Chapter 180: Han’s Rampage (3)

Chapter 180

Nathan and the others glanced at Shin, confused by the pale, overwhelmed expression etched on his face. They had all witnessed what Han just did—something undeniably incredible, even otherworldly—but none of them understood why it left Shin looking as if all hope was lost.

Sure, Han catching those arrows was impressive, but was it really that hopeless?

Shin looked at them, trembling. He couldn’t even bring himself to explain. The fear clutching his chest was too great.

Those arrows—each deep purple bolt he had launched—weren’t ordinary. Each one had the power to kill an A-rank warrior if not fully shielded. Even if blocked, the damage would be devastating. Shin had only released four because he wanted to give the others a fighting chance. He had enough energy to fire maybe three more—at most.

But it wasn’t just the fact that Han had caught them.

It was that Han ate them.

Ate them.

To be struck by one of those arrows would deal lethal damage. But to willingly consume one? That should have caused twenty times the harm—enough to tear even an S-ranker apart from the inside. Yet Han didn’t even flinch. No pain. No screams. Just cold, escalating fury.

And now, Shin truly understood:

They stood no chance.

The others heard Shin’s warning, but they didn’t want to accept it. They couldn’t. Because if they didn’t contain Han now, the rest of the city would be reduced to rubble in his growing, uncontrollable rage.



"Everyone, attack now!" Aiden shouted.

He charged forward like a black streak, fast and fierce. Bron slammed his two gauntlets together, summoning two massive white ethereal hands in the sky. The hands curled into fists and descended like hammers toward Han.

Boom!

The fists collided.

But Han didn’t move.

Not an inch.

He stood there, unfazed—like a mountain immune to wind. With a single hand, he grabbed both giant fists midair and crushed them with a violent twist. Shards of energy scattered. Bron screamed as the backlash slammed into him.

But the opening was enough.

Aiden closed the distance, dark essence coiling around his claws like smoke. He struck, aiming for Han’s chest. "Wake up, man! Snap out of it!"

His claw hit.

And bounced off.

Like he’d hit solid steel.

Aiden’s heart skipped. He prepared to retreat, but Han caught his wrist with a death grip. And then—

Something horrifying began.

That red, oppressive aura around Han began surging into Aiden’s hand.

Immediately, a wave of raw, destructive energy surged into his body. Aiden’s instincts screamed. He didn’t want to find out what would happen if that energy reached his core.

With no time to hesitate, his claws sharpened in an instant—and he sliced off his own arm.

Han flinched slightly at the sudden change, and Aiden broke free, leaping back, clutching the seared stump of his arm. He knew he hadn’t truly escaped.

Because against Han—

There was no escape.

Just as Han prepared to pursue, Nathan appeared before him. His body surged with energy as the beast cores in his hands pulsed and glowed. He activated Multiplier, amplifying his strength to its peak. With a mighty cry, he struck Han squarely in the chest.

A shockwave tore through the battlefield.

But Han simply raised a hand—and caught the punch.

Just like that.

No struggle.

The ground beneath them cracked. Energy blasted outward. But Han remained still.

Han’s fury locked onto Nathan’s pale, frozen face.

Nathan’s blood ran cold. His instincts screamed as Han pulled his fist back—then launched it forward with terrifying force, aiming straight for Nathan’s face.

Knowing full well that taking that hit meant death, Nathan’s other hand—where his black-glowing bracelet was—lit up in a dark shimmer. A soft, shadowy aura pulsed around him as he crossed the bracelet in front of the incoming blow.

Boom!

The impact exploded like a cannon.

The power bracelet shattered like fragile glass, and Nathan’s entire metallic left arm was blown clean off. The force hurled him backward, sent tumbling like a ragdoll across the battlefield.

Before Han could pursue and finish the job, Shae appeared in a flash beside him.

"Sorry about this," she whispered coldly.

Her blue sword ignited with ethereal light, humming with concentrated power. Without hesitation, she thrust it forward, channeling everything into a single point of impact.

Strike!

The blade connected—directly with Han’s arm.

The earth rumbled. The air cracked. A shockwave spread out in a furious burst of pressure.

But then... Shae’s eyes widened in disbelief.

Nothing.

Not a scratch.

Only his clothes were torn—the skin beneath was untouched.

"H-How... how?" she stammered, helplessness spreading across her face.

"Shae, get out of there!" someone screamed.

But it was too late.

Han’s fist buried itself in her gut.

The blow pierced clean through.

Blood erupted from Shae’s mouth. Her eyes went wide, then dimmed. Her sword fell from her hand, clattering to the ground as her body went limp.

"Shaeeeeee!" Bron, Nathan, and Shin shouted in horror.

Han pulled his bloodied hand free, gripping Shae by the neck. He raised her into the air, seconds from smashing her skull—

Crack!

She vanished.

Replaced by a stone decoy that shattered into rubble the moment Han’s fist landed.

Han’s eyes narrowed, more annoyed than enraged now. His head snapped toward a distant figure standing silently—Ronan.

Ronan stared at the bloodied Shae with a conflicted expression. She was barely breathing, her body slumped in his arms.

Han needed to be stopped. Ronan knew if he didn’t act now, Han would cross a line neither of them could come back from.

He drew his twin blades—both half-broken—and exhaled.

"You helped me when I was on the edge of becoming a monster, Han." Ronan’s voice was quiet but resolute. "Now... it’s my turn to stop you from taking that step."

He crossed his blades in front of him, forming an X.

"Let’s roll."

Energy surged around him. He stomped the ground—stone pillars and rubble lifted into the air, caught in suspended motion. The battlefield trembled.

Then—flash.

Ronan vanished.

His Switch Skill activated, turning him into a blur. Faster than before—sharper. With his power boosted, he was now fast enough to mark Han.

He reappeared again and again, slashing at different angles.

But...

No cuts.

Only faint scratches.

He tried to decapitate Han. Tried everything.

But the truth struck harder than any blade could:

He couldn’t even hurt him.

"He’s so fast..." Aiden breathed.

He had sensed something different about Ronan ever since they rescued him from ARC—an aura that had shifted, grown darker, stronger.

But never in his wildest dreams had Aiden imagined this.

Ronan’s speed, his raw power—it was on another level. Yet even now, Aiden knew one thing clearly: not even this new Ronan could bring Han down.

Still, without hesitation, Aiden charged in. Bron followed, Nathan too—despite only having one arm left. Elexa, barely standing. Balor, limping and bruised.

They all joined the fray.

It didn’t last a minute.

One strike. Two at most.

And the group was sent flying like broken dolls—battered and bloodied, collapsing to the ground. None of them could stand now. They weren’t dead... but they were terrifyingly close.



Ronan gasped, coughing blood as he pushed himself upright.

Every bone ached. His skin was torn, his clothes soaked in blood. He looked around—the battlefield was quiet, scattered with unmoving bodies. Clara was nowhere to be found.

But what broke him wasn’t that.

It was Han.

Still standing.

Not a single drop of blood. Not a single cut.

Untouched. Unbreakable.

Han took a step forward, fury still burning in his eyes. He looked more frustrated now—angry that Ronan still dared to stand.

"Han..." Ronan whispered, voice cracked, hoping—praying—to reach him.

But Han didn’t answer.

He simply appeared in front of Ronan in a blur—grabbed his head—and smashed it into the ground with such monstrous force that the earth caved in.

If not for Buster’s power running through Ronan’s veins, his skull would’ve turned to paste.

Even then, he was done.

He couldn’t move.

Couldn’t lift a finger.

Blood poured from his body like a shattered dam. His vision flickered, swimming in red and shadows.

"Han... stop... before it’s too late..." he muttered, barely audible.

The words were meant to bring Han back. To snap him out of the madness.

Instead, Han’s expression darkened even more.

His fist pulled back, energy swirling around it like a vortex of rage.

Ronan closed his eyes.

What an irony, he thought bitterly.

To die by the hands of the very friend that had sworn to protect him.

He waited for the end.

...

But nothing came.

He opened his eyes.

Han’s fist—just centimeters from his face. Frozen. Trembling.

Why...?

Was he hesitating?

Hope sparked in Ronan’s chest—but before he could think, a muffled sound reached his broken ears. A voice... distant, distorted.

He couldn’t hear it clearly—his hearing had been badly damaged.

But Han turned.

His head snapped toward the source.

A small figure stood at the edge of the battlefield, voice hoarse from shouting, tears streaming down her face.

"Big brother!" Xin screamed. "Big brother, stop this madness!"

Her voice trembled with sorrow, not fear.

"You’re doing the opposite of what you swore to do! You’re destroying the city you vowed to protect—and hurting the people you love!"

Her hands clenched into fists, tears glistening like falling stars.

"I know you’re angry. But don’t let them twist your rage into destruction. Don’t let it control you—you control it."

"If not for your sake... do it for your friends. For your people."

Her voice cracked.

"For our sake."

Then, her final plea echoed louder than all the others:

"If not for that... do it for sister Laura’s sake."

She was sobbing now—her words barely holding together.

---

Han’s expression changed.

Not because of her cries.

But because of that name.

Laura.

It echoed in his mind like a distant melody... and a long-buried scar tore open.

"Laura..." he whispered, gripping his head.

A sharp pain stabbed through his skull.

Moments passed.

Then—

"Laura is dead!" he roared. "I failed! I... I failed to protect her!"

He dropped to one knee, the storm within him swirling out of control.

But his face—once carved in fury—now crumbled into pain.

And from the corner of his eyes... a tear fell.

The memories returned.

"No, big brother!" Xin screamed, her tiny voice cracking with desperation.

"Sister Laura is still alive! She made it somehow—she’s still living!"

Her words pierced the chaos like a blade through fog.

The moment Han heard them, everything changed.

The oppressive red aura that had swallowed the battlefield flickered—then vanished.

His burning red eyes slowly faded... returning to their usual deep, stormy blue.

The world itself seemed to exhale.

The pressure lifted. The air stilled. The trembling ground grew calm once more.

Han stood frozen, face pale and dazed. His lips trembled as he stared at Xin, a storm of emotion playing behind his tired eyes.

Then, in a ragged whisper, he muttered:

"Thank God..."

His knees buckled.

Agonizing pain crashed into him like a tidal wave. Every nerve screamed. His body—battered and barely holding together—began to collapse.

A system message flickered in front of his eyes:

---

[Berserker Skill: Deactivated]

HP Consumed: 499

Remaining HP: 1 / 500

Warning: Host will perish in 60 seconds if healing is not administered.

---



The alert blared in red—but Han didn’t even blink at it.

Instead, through a weak, pained smile, he looked at Xin.

"Thank God... she’s alive..." he repeated—relieved, hopeful, overwhelmed.

Then, without another word...

Han fell.

His body hit the ground with a dull thud.

His eyes closed.

Darkness swallowed his vision.

---

To be continued...

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