I Was Reborn in Another World, But I Awoke Inside a Corpse

Chapter 131: The Hunger Echoes Upward

The World Tree moaned.

Not aloud—but through the earth, through the roots that spiraled like veins beneath the Elven capital. The resonance vibrated deep in Sylvalen's chest as she pressed her hand to the heartwood arch.

The bark was warm, but not with life. With strain. With the pressure of something ancient pushing back against rot from below.

"He's fighting," she whispered.

Lira stood beside her, eyes narrowed, arms crossed tightly beneath her cloak. She wasn't looking at the roots. She was staring down—down through the invisible depths.

"I can feel it," Lira muttered. "That massive pressure... like the world is holding its breath."

A gust of unseen wind blew across the high chamber, making the enchanted leaves shimmer with ghostlight. Sylvalen closed her eyes, heart aching.

"He's not using everything," Lira said. "Not yet. But neither is the thing he's fighting."

There was no comfort in that truth.

Just tension. And silence.

Deep beneath, in the abyss...

The ground cracked beneath Isaac's heel as he was hurled backward, his body slamming into the jagged rock wall hard enough to splinter it. Shards of obsidian dust exploded outward as he dropped to one knee, bracing himself on one arm.

Every breath burned.

HP: 59,920

MP: 26,640

Nine spectral weapons still hovered around him like orbiting moons—cracked, flickering, but alive.

Across from him, Beelzebub towered like a mountain of decay and hunger. His body had begun to warp—his shape less humanoid now, more fluid. He expanded and contracted with every moment, ribs distending, then folding into thick, slug-like limbs. Tongues dragged across the stone as his aura pulsated with consuming intent.

The very air had changed. It wasn't just heavy—it gnawed at the skin. Isaac felt his armor throb beneath layers of corrupted pressure, felt his mana flex against the vile atmosphere.

"You bleed," Beelzebub gurgled, six mouths speaking in layered voices. "You break. You slow."

Isaac stood.

"I adapt."

He raised one hand, and the Phantom Legion shifted, forming a phalanx of weapons with spear-tips aligned toward the Sin.

Beelzebub's laughter rolled through the chamber like a landslide.

"You think yourself flame-born? You are candlelight. You burn once—and I will consume your memory."

Isaac narrowed his eyes.

[Stat Rechannel – Rank B] – Activated

Transferring: −1,500 Charisma → +1,500 Strength

A pulse of invisible force cracked the stones beneath his boots.

Power surged into his limbs. His arms became heavier—not from burden, but from sheer density. Every movement now carried force like thunder buried in his bones.

And still—he didn't flinch.

"I've erased worse than you," he said. "I've destroyed fragments of gods. I've sacrificed divinity. You want to consume me?"

His voice dropped like a sword.

"Try."

Beelzebub roared.

The earth heaved.

Black tendrils of sludge and bone erupted from the floor, each mouth-lined, shrieking. They hurled toward Isaac in a swarm meant to smother thought.

But Isaac didn't retreat.

[Phantom Legion – Rank EX] – Manual Override

All nine weapons reacted. Two intercepted the first tendrils. One curved behind his back, slashing incoming attacks from above. Isaac moved like a conductor of war—step, deflect, counter.

He reached the Sin in a blur.

One strike to the chest.

A second across the jaw.

And then—he leapt, spun in the air, and drove a phantom javelin straight into Beelzebub's gut.

The impact shook the entire cavern.

Beelzebub howled—a sound like reality warping inside a bottomless maw. He stumbled back, ichor spilling in gouts of searing black and green.

Isaac landed hard, his boots cracking the surface. He exhaled slowly, steam rising from his shoulders.

He didn't speak.

He advanced again.

Beelzebub twitched.

"I... I will not be denied!" he screamed, his voice fracturing. "I am the end! I am hunger that forgets its name!"

[Soul Devourer Matrix – Passive Surge]

Target: Beelzebub (active)

Fragment contact achieved. Core consumption chance: 8%...

But Isaac knew.

This wasn't over.

The ground split again—and Beelzebub's form began to mutate further. His flesh collapsed inward, then swelled violently. One of his torsos ruptured into a spiral of gnashing jaws, and a new set of wings—made of gnawed bones—erupted from his back.

A new phase.

A deeper truth.

The Sin had shed his restraint.

Isaac wiped blood from his lips.

And smiled.

"Now we begin."