Debuff Master - Chapter 1123

Chapter 1123

“W-What’s going on?”

Beowulf looked genuinely flustered as Siegfried and his companions surrounded him.

‘Well damn… This bastard is quite an actor…’

Siegfried couldn’t help but grudgingly acknowledge that Beowulf’s acting was so convincing that he might have been fooled if not for the irrefutable evidence he had.

He had the ultimate proof in his possession, the Rabbit Foot of Regression, so he was not falling for the act.

“Beowulf,” Siegfried called out in a casual tone.

“Yes?” Beowulf replied.

“Don’t you have something to say to me?”

“I’m… not sure what you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Isn’t there something you should be telling me?”

“I don’t think so?” Beowulf tilted his head, his expression showing innocence. Then, he asked, “Did I do something wrong? Why are you all acting like this all of a sudden?”

“Hmm… Why don’t you think a little harder? There’s gotta be something you seriously messed up, no?” Siegfried said, flashing a smirk.

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about. If you have some kind of grudge against me, please just tell me what I did. Don’t just go around making baseless accusations,” Beowulf said, sounding offended.

“Oh? Look at this guy’s acting! I’m starting to wonder if you’re an actor in real life or something,” Siegfried said, sounding impressed.

“I think he’s an actor, hyung-nim.”

“Wow, I think he deserves an award for that.”

“Disgusting…”

The others started chiming in one after another.

Of course, none of them understood why Beowulf was being accused of being the leader of the Illuminati, as Siegfried had only shared that critical intel with Cheon Woo-Jin.

However, it didn’t matter, as they had complete faith in Siegfried. If he said that Beowulf was the leader of the Illuminati, then he was definitely the leader of the Illuminati.

What about proof? They couldn’t care less whether there was proof or not.

In their eyes, Siegfried’s word was enough proof.

“Please, just tell me what’s going on here, Siegfried,” Beowulf pleaded, a hint of anger laced in his voice.

“Illuminati.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re the Master, aren’t you? The leader of the Illuminati, the one behind this whole mess.”

“What are you talking about? Me? The Illuminati?”

“Yup.”

“Sigh… I don’t know what kind of crazy conspiracy someone’s fed you, but it seems you’ve been seriously misled. I don’t know the first thing about the Illuminati, let alone being its–”

Siegfried suddenly teleported right in front of Beowulf and grabbed him by the throat.

“Still gonna deny it, are we?”

“Ghhk! S-Siegfried! P-Please, let go—”

“Do you really think I’d do this without proof?”

“Let’s talk about this—argh! T-Talk!”

“Piece of shit.”

Smack!

Siegfried slapped him across the face.

“Gahhh!”

Blood sprayed from Beowulf’s mouth.

It wasn’t an ordinary slap, as Siegfried was still in his Divine Demonic Vessel Fusion form. The slap dealt critical damage to Beowulf, even though he was a Grandmaster.

“Were you having fun playing us for a fool this whole time? You bastard!”

Siegfried slammed Beowulf to the ground, then grabbed him by the hair and began raining down punches straight to his face.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

“Argh! Ghhk! Aaack!”

Beowulf couldn’t even resist and just took the brutal beating.

And Siegfried was not the only one beating him up…

“You think you could mess with me?!”

“Kyaak! Ptooey! You piece of shit!”

“You make me sick!”

Siegfried’s comrades joined in, mercilessly throwing kicks and punches at Beowulf.

The merciless lynching went on for nearly ten minutes.

“A-Aghh…”

In the end, Beowulf sprawled out on the ground, crawling pathetically. He was beaten into a tattered mess.

“Still think I don’t have any proof? Do you really think I’d go this far without being sure of it?” Siegfried asked, glaring down at him.

“…”

Beowulf did not respond this time.

Whoosh!

Instead, he teleported away, putting about ten meters of distance between himself and Siegfried’s party.

Then, he finally asked, “…How did you know?”

Gone was the warm, gentle smile that always tugged at his lips.

The Beowulf standing before them flashed a twisted grin, one filled with malice, even though his face was bloody. Not a hint of warmth or gentleness was left in his eyes, as they gleamed with coldness and malice.

A chill ran through the air.

The always-smiling Beowulf they knew was no more.

***

At the same time, Michael gathered all of the angels in the Sanctuary, which was utterly devastated by the demons. There, he turned to the angels and addressed them. He spoke of everything that had happened, how the angels had fallen to corruption under Lucifer’s influence, and how the recent events had unfolded as a result of that corruption.

“So, in accordance with the will of our Father, the Creator… We must, from now on, preserve our true nature and bring peace to the world.”

With these words, Michael called for the angels to begin anew.

To start with, he focused on rebuilding the Sanctuary and reforming the angels. The Celestial Realm was in absolute shambles, and reconstructing it would take centuries at least.

All of the angels had but one mission for the time being—the reconstruction of their home.

After that, they had to start growing their strength again.

Why?

It was all because all of the archangels had perished in the war, so the once-mighty Celestial Realm was no longer as mighty.

‘We can rebuild everything. All we need is time,’ Michael thought. As he concluded his speech, he looked out over the Sanctuary and revealed a faint smile.

Yes, it pained him to see his home in ruins, but it was fine. In truth, the Celestial Realm had been rotting from within since the dawn of creation, as all sorts of corruption had taken root in it and had been festering for ages.

Perhaps, in a way, this catastrophe was a blessing in disguise for the Celestial Realm.

With so many of the angels gone and Michael reinstated as the Chief Archangel, this could just be the chance for a fresh start.

The optimist, Michael, decided to view the tragedy as the first step of reform.

‘A new Celestial Realm. A place with no rigid hierarchy, but where all angels live as one.’

Michael dreamed of building a true utopia for his brethren, and the thought of it made him smile.

However, it was a dream that would have to remain a dream for now.

“Chief Archangel,” someone said. It was Loriel, one of the top-ranking angels.

“Ah, Loriel.”

Michael knew her well.

Loriel was wise, gentle, and extremely capable.

Her outstanding qualities had made her one of the most frequently named candidates to become an archangel.

Now that no archangels remained, Michael had already been planning to grant her the acknowledgement she deserved by elevating her to an archangel.

“It’s been a while,” he said with a warm smile.

Loriel had not participated in the war, as she had been tasked with overseeing the Purgatory, which was the prison of the Celestial Realm.

This was the reason she had never faced Michael as an enemy on the battlefield.

“Have you fared well, Loriel?”

“Yes, Chief Archangel. I remained unharmed while guarding the Purgatory.”

“I’m glad to hear that. It would have grieved me deeply had we met on the battlefield as enemies.”

“I am honored that you think so highly of me.”

“Hahaha…”

“I am afraid… we have a problem,” Loriel said, her face turning grave.

“Hm? A problem?” Michael muttered, his eyes widening.

Why would there be a problem now that the war was finally over and the invasion of the Middle Realm had been thwarted?

“What do you mean by that, Loriel?”

“That is…” Loriel hesitated for a moment. Then, she delivered the grim news, “…The Purgatory has been opened.”

“…Ah,” Michael let out a weak gasp.

The Purgatory was no ordinary prison. It housed terrifying creatures from the dawn of creation, monsters that one would find difficult to even imagine.

Even the Four Apocalypses were once locked in the Purgatory.

The monsters sealed within the Purgatory were so fearsome that even Michael could not guarantee that he could win against them.

In fact, some of those monsters were only subdued after every archangel, including Michael, joined forces and fought with everything they had. Even then, they only managed to seal them away in the Purgatory; they couldn’t kill them.

The Purgatory was actually forced open and destroyed. This could only mean one thing—those monstrous creatures were now free.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Michael muttered, biting his lip in frustration.

Just when he thought the Celestial Realm could finally start healing, another disaster loomed on the horizon. He couldn’t even begin to come up with an idea on how to contain this catastrophe.

***

“Oh? Are you finally showing your true colors? Was an ass-whooping all you needed?” Siegfried sneered, looking at Beowulf as if he was a pathetic piece of trash.

Beowulf had kept up his flawless act of innocence for barely ten minutes before he dropped the act and showed his true colors.

“Hey, you could’ve just saved us both the headache, you know? If you just admitted you were the leader of the Illuminati from the start, then I wouldn’t have to go through all this.”

“How did you know I was the Master?”

“Eh? Is that what you’re curious about?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

“Well, if you want me to tell you… that will be five hundred gold.”

Siegfried casually made a joke so dated that even his own comrades actually grimaced from secondhand embarrassment.

“…”

Of course, not everyone cringed at his joke.

“Pfft! Bwahaha!”

“Did he just ask for five hundred gold? Kekeke!”

“I haven’t heard that one in forever!”

“Classic! Yeah, you gotta pay up if you’re curious, son!”

“Bwahaha! That never fails to crack me up!”

The living legends in their mid-fifties—Yong Tae-Pung, Kim Gi-Tae, Park Gi-Don, Han Sang-Gi, and Kim Han-Yong—seemed to have found Siegfried’s humor to be hilarious.

After all, that was a joke from back in their younger days.

“…Fucking hell,” Beowulf cursed under his breath, clearly unimpressed by the joke.

“How I found out isn’t really a secret. But even so, I’m not telling if you ain’t paying. K, thanks, bye,” Siegfried taunted, flashing a cheeky grin.

“You…” Beowulf gritted his teeth in annoyance. Then, he smirked and chuckled, “Haha… Fair enough. It doesn’t really matter how you found out. That’s not what’s important right now.”

“Oh? Then what is important?” Siegfried asked mockingly.

“Well, you’re finished, Han Tae-Sung,” Beowulf smirked and replied haughtily.

“Finished? “

“You probably think you won and that you prevented BNW from shutting down.”

“Yeah, I did a while ago, no?”

“Nope, you didn’t stop anything,” Beowulf said, shaking his head slowly. Then, he leaned and continued, “I really hate to break it to you, but everything you’ve done so far was just a waste. You were nothing but a dog chasing its own tail.”

“…Huh?”

“Do you remember what I told you before, Han Tae-Sung?”

“Which one? That I’d lose everything if I went against you?”

“Exactly.”

“Ah, yes. I remember that.”

“And I meant it. You will lose everything, Han Tae-Sung.”

As Beowulf said those words, he reached down and grabbed the rabbit foot pendant hanging at his waist.

“Everything you’ve built, everything you’ve saved… from the Church of Osric to stopping the invasion of the Celestial Realm… all of your achievements are going to vanish like a sandcastle getting swept away by the tide.”

“How?”

Beowulf flashed a malicious grin as he clutched the pendant in his hand and raised it triumphantly above his head.

“Because I am going to undo it all!” he roared.

Rumble!

Beowulf channeled mana into the pendant, and his grin turned into a repulsive one.

Regression.

He was attempting to rewind time and roll back the server, or at least, that was what he thought he was doing.

“…?”

Beowulf blinked, standing stupefied.

Despite pouring mana into the Rabbit Foot of Regression, nothing happened. An artifact capable of reversing time ought to have unleashed some sort of grand aura the moment mana was injected into it, but the pendant did not react to his mana at all.

“Perhaps…” Siegfried broke the awkward silence. Then, he grinned ear to ear and asked, “Are you looking for this, buddy?”

He held something up to his face, right in front of his smug face.

Dangling from his hand was the real Rabbit Foot of Regression.

This was the real Universal-rated artifact, not the fake one Beowulf had proudly raised up.