The Hunted Regressor: My Heretic Saint System Chapter 178

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A familiar, bald, hulking man was trembling in place, wearing far from usual clothes, his surroundings being much the same.

His ’trembling’ came from fear.

It was the same man who had terrorized Ignotus around a month ago.

Letum, the Strength Runebearer.

After a few seconds had passed, he gathered himself and knelt to the cold ground.

His massive frame looked small in a place that only people like Ignotus would know of… a clockwork tower.

A tower only found in the Second Stratum.

It was a hall that spoke clearly of its stratum’s time, a realm of the Industrial Revolution. Massive brass pipes snaked along the high, vaulted ceilings, hissing with steam. Enormous gears turned slowly in the walls, their grinding teeth echoing like the crushing of bones.

Everywhere, there was thetick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tockof clocks, none of them synchronized, creating a chaotic rhythm that clawed at the sanity of most men.

But Letum didn’t look at the gears…

He didn’t look at the steam…

There was only one man he looked at.

The one man he was kneeling behind.

A man who sat on a dark, floating throne.

He was thin, skeletal almost, wearing the divine robes of a priest.

It was a figure Ignotus was most familiar with as well.

One whose eyes were orbs of absolute darkness.

“An attempt was made on Herectic No. 777’s life in the Third Stratum one month ago.”

Pure as death.

“Has it succeeded?”

His voice sounded like the last breath of a dying man.

Letum quickly lowered his head upon hearing it, his forehead touching the ground.

“I…”

He choked out, sweat dripping from his nose.

“I wasn’t able.”

“…”

“…”

“…”

Silence was the only response.

Yet it wasn’t quiet as the gears ground on.

“Join me, Letum.”

Letum didn’t stand up; he knew better.

To stand in the presence of this man without permission was a death sentence.

Instead, the massive assassin crawled. Indeed, he dragged himself forward on his hands and knees until he was beside the throne, looking out over the balcony where the man sat.

Below them, the main floor of the hall stretched out.

It was a factory floor, but they weren’t building machines.

Rows upon rows of metal tables were laid out…

Strapped to them were people.

Men, women, and children.

Both normal humans and Blessed-folk.

They were being taken apart limb from limb.

Operatingon them were Runebearers wearing the robes of doctors. They wielded scalpels, saws, and needles. They worked with precision, peeling back skin, removing bone and muscle, and stitching Runes directly into exposed organs.

The screams were a constant presence, but they were muted. A silence barrier kept the noise from reaching the throne, turning the horrific scene into a silent film of torture.

“Why did you fail?”

The priest asked while watching the ’film’ intently.

“Heretic 777…”

Letum looked down grimly.

“He got under my skin, my Lord. He taunted me and used his allies.”

“Hm… I see.”

The priest tilted his head.

“It seems he was intent on angering you. Perhaps he knew that you were on borrowed time. That you could only be in the Third Stratum for a set duration allocated by me… Before the Stairway guards changed shifts, the path to the Second Stratum becoming busy.”

His dark eyes narrowed.

“Yes, yes, he stalled you. He provoked you to waste time fighting instead of executing him immediately. He played the clock, Letum. He played the clock. He is smart, that one…”

The priest let out a dry chuckle.

“It seems it was my fault. I sent a blunt instrument to solve a puzzle.”

Letum flinched as if struck.

“No, my Lord! I take full responsibility! I was weak!”

“Weakness is a condition… Trust me, it can be cured.”

The priest pointed a bony finger at the hall below.

“How many Heretics do you see here, Letum?”

Letum scanned the tables.

All were “Heretics,” otherwise known as Irregulars. People with incredibly strange Runes, strange Soul Glyphs, or just simple anomalies that they wanted to study or erase.

“…a few hundred, at least.”

The priest nodded.

“And how many of them were captured by you?”

“Twenty-seven of them, my Lord.”

“Then I will trust you can make that twenty-eight.”

He waved his hand dismissively, finding it encouragement enough, before suddenly, a servant—a young man with a collar of iron fused to his neck—rushed up from behind them.

“L-L-Lord Nex!”

He threw himself to the ground, smashing his face into the floor in a panic.

“The report from the—”

“Nex.”

The name hung in the air.

“You little thing uttered my name.”

Ah…

Yes.

Usually, Death Runes killed the minds of their bearers. It was a rule of Runeterra. The closer you got to Death, the less “you” remained. Ignotus had seen it with the Death Demon.

But there was always an exception to the rule.

This man was the exception.

Nex of Great House Death, son of Mors, Lord of the Third Stratum.

The first of Ignotus’s true hunters.

“I don’t like hearing my name from lower mouths.”

Nex turned slowly toward the servant.

And the servant simply…

Thud!

Dropped.

His pitiful Soul had ceased to exist.

His eyes went grey, his mouth hung open, and he fully collapsed, instantly turning Hollow.

From the shadows, another servant appeared instantly. He grabbed the legs of the Hollowed man and dragged him away toward the incinerator chutes.

“My apologies for his disrespect, my Lord.”

The new servant kept his eyes on the floor.

“Bring me that Divine Mirror.”

Letum’s red eyes widened.

’The Mirror?’

Before he could process what Nex was about to do, the servant returned.

He knelt, his hands trembling as he presented a polished, silver hand mirror.

The glass didn’t reflect the room; it swirled with a milky, white mist.

“My Lord.”

Nex took the mirror by the handle.

He looked into it and then glanced at the Hollow servant.

“Hm. Adequate. Make him join the army.”

A spectral hand reached out of the glass and grabbed the corpse by the face, pulling it into the mirror. There was a small crunching sound before the servant was gone… just like that.

“Now.”

Nex turned back to Letum.

“You failed because you lacked power.”

Letum saw the dark, intricate Runes etched into the fabric of the man’s robes.

“A Shepherd playing with a wolf, no, a fox.”

He reached out and placed a finger on Letum’s forehead.

“Henceforth, you are to become a Banneret.”

Thump!

Black energy exploded into Letum’s brain.

His veins turned black, and his muscles swelled, tearing his cloak.

His Divinity doubled, tripled, and quadrupled as the barrier between the Seventh and Eighth Class shattered.

It was a forced ascension, done by injecting a Rune directly into Letum’s Soul.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Letum screamed, his back arching, but he forced himself to stay kneeling.

When Divinity subsided, he gasped, smoke rising from his skin.

“Thank you… my Lord.”

“Thank your loyalty.”

Nex turned back to watch the torture below.

“Talent can be bought. Devotion is rare.”

His dark eyes swirled.

“Now go prepare… I need you to return to the Third Stratum when the time is right. Be sure to come back with his head; the risk of keeping Heretic 777 alive outweighs its worth.”

Feeling new power coursing through him, Letum stood up and bowed deeply.

“My Lord.”

He turned and walked into the steam, ready to hunt.

’I’ll be the end of you, Ignotus.’