Bound To The Dead: The Deceptive Class-E Farmer-Chapter 80: Blessed to Kill Me

Isaac staggered backward.

His knees buckled, breath shallow, pain blooming through his side. Blood soaked his shirt. His vision blurred.

Gromma’s chain was already spinning again.

Faster this time.

Like a blade made to kill.

Then...

"You will never win."

The voice spoke again in his mind.

Isaac’s heart thudded once.

Hard.

His legs locked up.

"Heaven wants you dead."

Hearing that, something clicked in his chest. A memory. Twice now.

Once with Geoffrey.

Again with this Rookheim squad.

’Those men didn’t earn their power. It was given to them. They weren’t chosen because they worked for it, they were just instantly blessed... to kill me.’

’I had to crawl through ash. Through corpses. Through betrayal.’

He thought of Mikaela. Her voice. Her warmth. Her hand in his.

Gone.

She left him behind.

He remembered her father’s command to execute him.

He remembered his parents’ bodies.

And it all made sense.

’Yeah, they want me dead.

I’m not one of theirs. I don’t belong to heaven.’

The chain screamed through the air.

The spiked ball was coming, massive, brutal, final, set to crush him on the spot.

BOOM.

Gromma slammed the full force of his weapon into Isaac’s body.

The impact cracked the ice barrier like a hammer on glass.

The world shook.

The ground trembled.

Smoke burst outward, swallowing everything inside the dome.

Everything disappeared in white and gray.

For a moment, no one saw anything.

No movement.

No sound.

Just that single, shaking impact.

And silence.

The four enemies stood in a loose line, their laughter echoing through the thinning smoke.

Katros clicked his tongue.

"Tch. I told you, don’t make it messy."

Grommon grinned, smug and satisfied.

"Not if the farmer’s in pieces."

Then, he gave his chain a pull.

Nothing.

His brow twitched.

He pulled again. Harder.

Still nothing.

His grip tightened. He yanked with both hands.

The chain didn’t move.

Then...

The smoke parted.

Just a little.

Enough to see.

Isaac was still standing.

One foot forward. Shoulders low.

His right hand was wrapped tightly around the chain. His knuckles were bruised, blackened, pulsing with faint abyssal veins that traced up his wrist like roots.

At the other end, the spiked ball swung low and heavy.

Dark smoke rose slowly from his eyes.

Like something had been burned out from the inside.

He wasn’t speaking.

He wasn’t blinking.

[Skill Activated: Abyssal Overdrive]

[Time Before Cooldown – 01:58:57]

The system message is still in his vision.

He had activated it the moment before impact.

Katros blinked.

Grommon’s grip was still tight.

But the chain was moving.

It wasn’t moving away.

It was being pulled back.

Toward him.

With one sharp yank, Isaac pulled the chain backward, fast, like it weighed nothing at all.

Grommon didn’t let go in time.

His body was yanked off the ground like a doll. He flew forward, legs flailing, mouth wide open in shock.

Then...

CRACK.

He slammed into the ice barrier with full force. The impact left a spiderweb of cracks where his back hit. His weapon clattered down beside him.

Silence.

No one moved.

No one breathed.

Katros’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

The chain... the ball... the weight...

It should’ve been impossible.

It was forged to be used by giants. Each swing took strength beyond normal limits.

But this farmer had pulled it like it was a rope.

And he hadn’t even stepped forward.

He hadn’t grunted. He hadn’t shouted.

Just pulled.

Isaac stepped forward.

Slow. Controlled.

His boots pressed into the cracked ground, crunching softly with each step.

Grommon was still slumped at the edge of the dome, gasping, stunned. His weapon lay useless beside him.

But Isaac wasn’t looking at him anymore.

He looked past him. Toward the others.

Katros. Silveth. Lander.

The three stared back in silence, their weapons half-raised, expressions stiff.

Then the voice returned.

Cold. Clear. Unshaken.

"If you’re worried about the increase of corruption, you shouldn’t be."

Isaac didn’t react on the surface, but his fingers twitched. His jaw clenched.

"It also comes with an increase in your strength. Which you gain from me."

He hated how steady the voice sounded.

Like it had always been there.

Watching and waiting.

Isaac knew it was true. The more the corruption spread, the stronger he became. But it was also changing him. His body was showing signs, black lines like tattoos spreading from his arms, his fingernails darkening like obsidian. His thoughts felt colder. Clearer. And when he kills someone, it feels good. Too good.

He took another step.

Katros raised his hand quickly. His magic flared. Frost bloomed in the air like a shield.

"One more step!" Katros barked. "You’ll freeze where you stand!"

But Isaac didn’t stop.

The ice burst from Katros’s palm like a wave, surging forward.

Isaac raised his arm, not to block, but to walk straight through.

The cold hit like an avalanche. Fast. Heavy. No escape.

Crystals formed instantly around his shoulders and chest.

But then, it melted. The abyssal heat inside him burned through it before it could solidify.

He emerged from the frost untouched.

Katros took a step back.

"That... no, that’s impossible..."

Isaac’s voice finally broke through.

Quiet. Flat.

"You talk too much."

He moved.

A blur of black and motion.

Katros barely had time to raise a second spell. Isaac was already in front of him.

With one sharp strike, Isaac’s palm slammed into Katros’s chest, sending him flying backward into the ice barrier. He hit hard, his breath exploding from his lungs, then crumpled to the ground, stunned.

Silveth reacted next. His daggers spun into his hands. In a flash, he closed the distance, aiming low, precise, deadly.

But Isaac caught his wrist mid-swing.

His eyes widened.

"How...?" he whispered.

Isaac squeezed.

His dagger dropped to the ground.

"You’re scared," he said, voice still even. "You should be."

Silveth twisted, kicking off the wall to flip behind him, but Isaac turned just as fast. His hand closed around Silveth’s shoulder and slammed him into the ground.

He gasped once and didn’t move.

Then the voice whispered again.

"You’re starting to understand, aren’t you?"

"You were never meant to be a hero."

"You are something more."

Isaac’s breath caught in his throat.

He looked down at his hands.

The black markings had spread further.

He exhaled slowly.

’I’m still in control.’