Chapter 350: Do I Really Need to Start Using Missiles?
Steven had always believed one simple truth:
As long as you had enough firepower, there wasn't a fortress—or a monster—that couldn't be blown to pieces.
Regeneration? Indestructible flesh?
All of it was a sham. In the face of overwhelming explosives, nothing was absolute.
After all, even someone with his level of durability couldn't withstand a few stacks of TNT. So this oversized Collapsal—how many rockets could it really take?
He tossed aside the single-use launcher in his hands. Disposable, after all. Why bother reloading when it was easier to just pull out another?
But when he noticed the wound on the giant Collapsal's chest already knitting itself back together, Steven hesitated.
That last rocket hadn't done nearly enough.
—Then he shrugged, and hauled four more tubes onto his shoulder at once.
If one wasn't enough, just add more. Simple math. Besides, these cost him less to make than TNT anyway.
And aiming? Please. With a target this big, it was practically begging to be used as a live-fire practice dummy. All he had to do was point the launcher in its general direction and squeeze the trigger. Everything else was bonus damage.
His reckless display left the four Emperor's Blades nearby dumbfounded.
Forget the fact that he was moving freely inside the Collapsal's polluting miasma, as if the filth didn't even touch him. What on earth were those weapons in his hands? Some kind of secret Originium arts?
One of those rockets carried enough destructive force to rival an elite caster's full-power spell. No—more than that. Even Ursus's so-called master sorcerers couldn't dream of unleashing that kind of firepower.
And yet, here was this man, casually shouldering a tube and firing again without so much as a chant or preparation.
The continent's lack of knowledge about firearms left the Emperor's Blades with only one conclusion: those tubes must be some kind of Originium staff. After all, what else could fire explosions of that magnitude?
If Steven knew what they were thinking, he would have burst out laughing on the spot. A rocket launcher, mistaken for a magic staff? That was comedy gold.
—Although, thinking about it, he could almost explain it that way. A one-time-use, disposable staff. Sure, why not?
But the one with the biggest complaint wasn't the Emperor's Blades.
It was the Collapsal being bombarded by his endless barrage.
One rocket could only stagger it. Not fatal—but enough to keep it at bay. Yet Steven wasn't firing one. From single-shot, to four-shot salvos, and now… an entire rocket truck he'd pulled out from God-knows-where.
If the Collapsal had any self-awareness, it would probably be cursing him to the heavens.
This was beyond absurd. What kind of shameless bully fought like this?
Steven, on the other hand, saw nothing wrong with it. If anything, he was annoyed. Even after unleashing the rocket truck, the monster still wasn't dead.
He clicked his tongue in frustration.
"Seriously? Even this isn't enough? Don't tell me I really need to pull out something like a missile to finish it off?"
Steven honestly didn't mind doing that. But unleashing that sort of weapon in front of Ursus Royal Guards would almost certainly escalate things to a national level. And for the time being, he wasn't keen on tangling too much with Ursus's government.
"…Still, explosions don't always need mods," he mused.
His gaze swept over the boss, already pinned down by his relentless barrage. An idea sparked in his head.
TNT might be the most iconic explosive in Minecraft, but if we're talking sheer destructive power, it wasn't even close to the top.
And this Collapsal? Well, it was big enough. Which meant it deserved a gift of equal scale.
A grin tugged at Steven's lips as he prepared to dig into his pack for that "present"—only to freeze.
Something felt wrong.
The oppressive black haze… had vanished. Silent. Sudden. Even the four Emperor's Blades, frozen moments ago, were regaining their movement.
The monster was still enduring the storm of rockets, but now… now a suffocating pressure radiated from its body, a force that made Steven's chest tighten.
"This is…"
"Not good! Get out of here—it's about to unleash Collapse!"
The Emperor's Blades reacted instantly. They knew these signs all too well. The dense miasma wasn't dispersing—it was concentrating, compressing, gathering into the Collapsal's core.
It was charging something.
And as ones who carried fragments of Collapsals themselves, the Emperor's Blades understood all too well what that meant.
Their own terrifying ability, the Collapsing Fear, was nothing more than a twisted byproduct of the Collapsals' true power. And if the original monster invoked it directly, the effect would be catastrophic.
Pinned down and furious, its rage had surely reached maximum. To unleash a devastating technique that would harm even its own body wasn't unusual—just inevitable.
The Emperor's Blades' expressions turned grim. They knew that once that built-up pollution detonated, even they might not survive. Retreat was the only option.
And Steven? He was clearly the primary target. There was no way he could withstand it.
At this point, the Collapsal's growth had exceeded their calculations. Killing it was no longer realistic. The only choice was to conserve strength, regroup with the reinforcements already on their way, and above all—keep this thing from reaching human settlements.
As for Steven… none of them wanted him to die here. Whatever else he was, he was fighting the same enemy as them. That made him an ally on this battlefield.
"Ah? So it's about to drop the big move?" Steven tilted his head, utterly unfazed. "No problem."
Yet again, the boy's reaction went completely against the Emperor's Blades' expectations.
Instead of panic, he stood there with a hand thoughtfully stroking his chin, watching as the Collapsal strained against the rocket fire, pulling every ounce of black miasma into its form.
At the corner of his lips—an eager smile.
Like a spectator waiting for the main act of a show, not a man staring down death.
The Emperor's Blades exchanged helpless glances. They couldn't tell if he was fearless… or if he truly had a hidden trump card.
But whether or not he could take it, they certainly couldn't.
So, without hesitation, they retreated in unison, vanishing from sight in a flicker.
They'd warned him. If he chose not to leave, there was nothing more they could do.
All that remained was to hope—pray—that he truly had a way to handle what was coming.
. . .
Alone, Steven faced the monster.
It showed no anger at the Emperor's Blades' escape. They were irrelevant. Its prey was him, and only him.
The Collapsal compressed its miasma tighter and tighter, until it formed a pitch-black sphere no larger than a palm.
Even direct rocket fire couldn't break through. Light itself was devoured by the ball of pollution. Even sound vanished in its presence.
Steven finally stopped firing, slinging the launcher aside. Instead, he walked right up to the looming monster, hands loose at his side, and gave it a mocking little wave.
"What's this, are you prepping a Bijuudama?" he chuckled, his words meaningless to the creature but heavy with taunt. "Come on then—show me what makes you so terrifying, you so-called nightmare of the world. Don't let me down."
The Collapsal, unable to parse his words, nevertheless understood the mockery. Rage rippled through its mass. It lifted the black sphere high overhead, as though preparing to hurl it at him.
But then—unexpectedly—it pressed the orb into the earth beneath its tendrils.
Steven's eyes narrowed. For a heartbeat, confusion flickered—then comprehension dawned.
The orb sank out of sight, vanishing into the ground. And immediately, the soil beneath his feet warped, transmuted into an inky swamp, thick and suffocating as spilled ink.
A crushing pull seized him, dragging him down. The sludge darkened with each passing second, black so absolute it seemed to devour light itself. Just a glance was enough to taste the despair, the inevitability.
Almost instantly, his body was swallowed whole, lost to the mire.
The swamp continued to spread, its oppressive pressure radiating outward, swallowing earth and soil alike.
Just as the Emperor's Blades had said—it was Collapse. The land itself caving in, corroded into a realm of black mud and despair.
Here, within its polluted dominion, the Collapsal truly was like a god.
—Unlucky for it, the only mistake was facing Steven—a man who never bothered playing by the rules of common sense.
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M
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