Genius of unique lineage Chapter 213


Genius of a Unique Lineage

Chapter 212. Walkway Beyond the Front Line

Fundamentally, it was like playing a defense game – stopping the hall from being breached. Similar to how one has a set amount of time to prevent waves of invaders, bearing animosity, from breaking through defenses. Thus, the key element was efficiency—repelling the invaders with minimum casualties was the top priority. With that in mind, I resolved to do just that—effectively and with minimal damage.

But how could one manage this? Quite simple. By capturing and killing any significant threats before they could cross the front line and harm our forces. The best defense was a good offense, after all.

“We have, at most, 30 minutes.”

Hye-Min said.

The principles behind this spellcasting is something I didn’t understand, nor did I want to delve into. Still, I realized that this seemingly trivial application of a miraculous spell was more complex than it seemed.

“It was more difficult for you, brother, because of your strong aversion.”

Hye-Min said. I nodded, then replied feelingly, “Yeah, that’s right.”

“Your answer lacks soul.”

“If I lacked a soul, could I even live?”

I looked down at my hand, speaking thoughtlessly. It wasn’t visible. The spell was one of invisibility, a more challenging casting when applied to others rather than oneself. Hye-Min had made several preparations, implementing them on me. So now, I couldn’t even see my own hand—it was there, yet invisible. An odd experience indeed, but not a problem for me. I didn’t rely solely on sight. A shape-shifter’s blood, boasting unparalleled bodily control, flowed through my veins. Additionally, the exceedingly sensitive blood of an immortal ran with it—so being unseen posed no issue.

“Be careful.”

Hye-Min advised.

“Big brother, I will defend this line.”

Mari declared as she stepped forward, ready to engage with those who fought in the front.

“Son, call for help if you’re in danger.”

Finally, my mother spoke, her eyes landing precisely where I was.

“Can you see me?”

“No, but I can smell you.”

Ah, the keen sense of smell of a shape-shifter. Her comment made me self-conscious, almost as if there was a tangible stench wafting from me. Among the invaders, creatures like orcs or blind dogs would likely be sensitive to scent.

My mother’s words ignited a sense of alertness. I scanned the battlefield with my eyes. After warming up, the black hole began spewing out both special and common invaders—a blend of quantity and quality. Orcs, with their thick neck muscles, caught my eye amidst the onrush of adversaries.

The frontline was soon to form—our allies against the invaders, with bullets flying towards incoming foes and blades slashing at the throats of those who closed the gap. Immortals, shape-shifters, and superhumans united in combat.

“Uuuuaaaahhh! Give it to meeeeee!”

Insanity precipitated into yells.

“Me toooooo! Give it to meeeee!”

What were they asking for, these crazed shape-shifter bastards.

“I’ll give it to youuuuuu!”

They shouted such nonsense, even using screams as a form of communication.

“I don’t want it, aaaaahhhh!”

“Me neither. Me tooooo!”

Truly, they belonged in the world of the deranged.


Some cursed amidst the mayhem. But above all else, the most common sound I heard was my name.



“Fight on!”

Only an immortal didn’t shout out loud. Of course, a few thrilled half-blooded immortals joined the clamor.

The Immortal Special Forces was supposed to be silent…

“It’s my motivationnnnn!”

So much for that, as someone seemingly half-mad cut through the din. A fellow batchmate, the tattooed man, shouted out rarely heard exclamations from an immortal. Well, as long as they fought well, nothing else mattered. That was enough.

“Are you okay?”

My mother asked, and I nodded.

What’s the big deal?

“I’ll be back.”

I said, turning away to move on. Worrying was for later. I recalled my objectives and sprung into action, senses wide open as I walked.

Ignoring the scale and number of enemies, I searched for those who stood out. I sifted through sounds with my hearing and followed invaders who entered the battlefield with my eyes. If seeing and hearing proved insufficient, scent would suffice. My nose twitched in anticipation. The moment I laid eyes on a figure that sent shivers down my spine, I memorized its scent.

Soon, my five senses led the way, navigating like a GPS. Moving stealthily, camouflaged by magic and skilled at muffling my presence, I roamed the battlefield. It was a tactic I had conceived through various combats—if I could use magic to conceal my appearance and mix it with my skill of hiding my presence, then maybe even this was possible.

Crossing the battlefield, where gunfire and malevolence reigned, where enemies sought to slit each other’s throats, was akin to a stroll. Upon reaching my target, I reached out. Looping adamantium wire around the thick neck of an orc, I prepared to act—a valuable weapon, a Balaur stick knife with a wire attached at the end, a gift I was thankful for.

Just as the wire almost made contact with the orc’s neck—


The orc let out a bellow from the battlefield.

For a mere second, the orc’s mouth opened wide, its cry cut short as I suffocated the wire connected to the knife. The sickening sound confirmed the orc’s scream would never finish, leaving only a bubble-gurgling noise behind. I cut through the neck and withdrew, blood spurting as the severed head dropped and rolled away.

I reeled in the wire, which had grown scarce from use. After all, this wasn’t something I could easily craft upon request. I diligently collected it before walking again.

Approaching another invader, I bore down with my left hand on its shoulder and plunged the knife from the base of its neck—a resounding clang! I felt resistance in my knife-wielding hand but pushed through, penetrating the creature’s gray armor.

A Heartless of significant stature—a larger-headed variant compared to the first one I’d encountered, designed it seemed to protect its skull from being blown apart by bullets. Its neck was thickened accordingly.

Nonetheless, I drilled my knife in from the space under its jaw, piercing vertically. I flung the shuddering Heartless aside.


A goblin, close by with fierce gleam in its eyes, snarled at me. But I merely brushed past it.

The goblin nostrils flared; I hastened my footsteps. Some scent would linger, but only a shape-shifter or a blind hound could hope to track me by smell alone.

After passing by, I came upon a two-headed goblin—a breed twice the size of others, with skin as red as blood and horns adorning its head. Its grotesque heads—one atop its body, another on its forearm—were surprisingly not horrifying, just intriguing.

Immediately, I devised a way to subdue it. If not beheaded, the creature wouldn’t die. A swift strike was necessary—my blade traced a path simultaneous across the trajectory of both heads. Twisting my full body and leveraging the recoil, my knife slashed a crescent moon through the goblin, causing blood to erupt and spatter.

With a single stroke, both of its heads were cloven. I kept walking, finding the next special breed and snapping its neck from behind with a crisp snap.

Each strange adversary I happened upon became my prey, my goal. Skirting around a Wheel Knight, I delivered a stab. Guided by a straight aim, my knife punctured through the targeted area. Though similar to living armor, the Wheel Knight’s back was geared with a distinctive blue gem known as a Jewel Heart—and by shattering it, the creature came to a halt. I did just that: smashed, struck, slashed, and twisted.

Then off I went again. There was no shortage of notable enemies to engage; there was no time to rest.

* * *

A common state among shape-shifters, a slight trance. Mari found herself in it now. A hint of excitement, a moderately beating heart, body condition—many factors contributed.

Left to be, it seemed as though she might bolt as if drunk with excitement. Mari chanted her name internally, reminding herself of her identity.

‘My name is Park Mari.’

Memories of her days as a test subject were forgotten. She didn’t care to remember. Instead, better times had been given to her. If there was a god, if she believed in one, Mari would have knelt and prayed endlessly out of gratitude for her changed state.

However, Mari held no religious beliefs. Instead, she committed herself to reality, striving to earn her place in the hearts of the three who had become her family—her father, mother, and brother.

And her brother desired to hold the line in this battlefield.

The blood of a shape-shifter stirred within her, rousing sensations she had never felt during her time as a test subject. Rediscovered strength coursed through her, honed by the training and care of her mother.

Clutching the launch tube of her grenade launcher at an angle, she fired.


Pulling the trigger, a round, black projectile arched through the air. Neither swift nor remarkable at first glance, the shooting range was merely 50 meters.

She didn’t calculate the shot; like many other shape-shifters, Mari’s marksmanship was average, but she boasted considerable strength.

The black orb descended amidst the invaders, then detonated upon impact.


It was indeed a grenade launcher, a weapon that deployed radial fragmentation grenades. The explosion engulfed dozens of invaders. Mari roughly positioned the launcher to the right and fired once more.


It was repetition—targetting not the immediate adversaries but those behind them. Like her, many employed this tactic.

After discharging fifteen rounds, Mari cast aside the launcher and drew her weapon of choice—a weapon that had instantly piqued her interest.

A gift among many from her grandfather, it was one of the Pure Gears—a battle axe made from a metal mined from the other side, Recoveryum. The raw stone of Recoveryum was the core material, but by itself, it wouldn’t suffice as a weapon.

In the forging process, it was shaped into an ingot, and during that transformation, it incorporated a Face Centered Cubic (FCC) alloy technique associated with trophic metals.

Though beyond Mari’s understanding, she felt the weapon fit her hand perfectly upon gripping it. Adorned with a clear manual and a quality assurance certificate, it was a luxury she instantly favored—especially enticed by the gold-embossed warranty.

Proudly crafted by a formidable corporate affiliate of Dangun, this gear was not just any—this was a masterpiece.

Not just one, but a pair of axes, each superbly balanced that simply holding them brought a sense of calm. Perfectly weighted for a shape-shifter and with handles half the size of an adult forearm crowned with propped up axe blades.

It was self-healing gear, thanks to the innovative Recoveryum, as durable as adamantium and lighter, a remarkable piece indeed.

Mari was thrilled with the axes, eager to wield them.

And so she did, stepping forward as she drew both axes from her hips. Crossing her arms in front of her, each axe found its purpose, fulfilling its inherent value as a weapon by slicing into an approaching muscular fairy’s head.

Blood splashed.

Mari sidestepped, evading the blood, then swung the butt of her axe into the skull of a blind dog.


A pointed end at the bottom of the handle pierced through the skull—a weapon with no shortage of top-quality features.

She dreamed of posting about it on social media once the battle was over; the joy of communicating with the world was the reason she’d started using social media. Lacking what she might call friends, she still felt, “My followers will be envious.”

Mari kept swinging her axes, pulverizing her oncoming foes.

“Wow, Axe Goddess.”

Someone muttered upon witnessing Mari in action. Not quite the supreme beauty of an immortal woman, but certainly endearing with softly risen cheekbones and downward-slanting eyes.

Wiping the blood off her cheek, Mari cast a glance at the speaker—a fellow shape-shifter.

“Axe Goddess, doesn’t it suit me?” The man asked again with an innocent expression.

Hearing this, Mari turned her attention back to where it belonged—in the thick of the battle, within firing range, where melee was inevitable. Many shape-shifters were positioned there, including Kang Seul-Hye.

Seul-Hye was exactly in Mari’s line of sight. Fending off attackers and charging at any peculiar enemies that appeared, Mari briefly conversed through her radio.


“Yes, the Triple-Head Ogre has been taken down. We’ve won, the energy leakage in the detector has dropped significantly. Ah, well, in a nutshell, it’s all thanks to Kwang Ik.”

“Thanks to what?”

On the other end of the radio, Seul-Hye was one of the proud instructors. To her, Panda, Dong-Hoon, answered nonchalantly.

“Can’t you see the special breeds dropping across the battlefield? That’s Kwang Ik.”

Seul-Hye lifted her eyes, agreeing with Dong-Hoon’s statement, aware she wasn’t the only one who knew.

Everyone present felt the fight had become easier. Although the invaders from the Huez Gate remained a threat, it seemed unlikely there would be fatalities. The battle was dangerous, yet somehow, disruptions had eased.

The battlefield shifted, with a sense that victory was inevitable, even for non-immortals.

At the heart of it all, beyond the chaotic front, stood the hall.


A keen-eyed member of the Immortal Special Forces observed. A freshly emerged special breed from the hall was collapsing even before it could dart off, its head twisted out of place.

His gaze naturally drifted sideways.

Special breeds sliced by invisible blades, falling without recovering—an untold number of them.

Observing in awe, a rumbling resonated through the gate, the hall. It shimmered as if on the verge of spewing out something more, yet nothing occurred.

Whyeeeeee. Shibal…

The hall seemed to wail in dismay.

The immortals… might have been hearing things.


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