Strongest Existence Becomes Teacher-Chapter 183: Climax starts

The night air tore past Grom’s beard as his boots slammed against the rooftops, each step cracking stone beneath his weight. The city lights of Stren blurred into streaks as he surged forward, rage rolling off him in heavy waves.

The masked warrior ahead twisted mid-run, narrowly dodging the hammer Grom had hurled.

Too slow.

Grom’s gauntleted hand clenched.

The hammer shuddered in the air, runes flaring as it snapped back toward him like a living thing. On its return arc, it smashed straight into the second masked warrior’s chest with a bone-crushing impact.

The man flew forward, skidding across the rooftop before slamming into a ventilation tower and going limp.

Grom didn’t even slow.

He caught the hammer cleanly, momentum never breaking, then reached down mid-stride and seized the fallen assassin by the throat. The dwarf lifted him one-handed, feet dangling uselessly as Grom continued running after the remaining target.

"Where," Grom growled, voice vibrating with killing intent, "is your base?"

The assassin choked, hands clawing at Grom’s wrist.

"And how dare you," Grom continued, eyes burning, "lay a hand on Mira?!"

The remaining masked warrior glanced back, panic flashing for just a moment—enough.

Grom’s grip tightened. Stone cracked beneath his boots as he closed the distance, each step eating away the gap.

The assassin in his hand wheezed, struggling to breathe.

"Answer," Grom said coldly, hammer beginning to glow again, "or you won’t need a base anymore."

The city stretched ahead of them, rooftops giving way to darker districts beyond—places where light thinned and secrets liked to hide. 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝘦𝓌𝑒𝑏𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝘭.𝒸𝘰𝑚

And Grom was almost close enough to drag all of them into the light.

Grom felt it before he fully saw it.

A faint disturbance in the air.

A ripple.

His eyes narrowed—and then five throwing knives burst out of the darkness, each wrapped in oily, shadow-coated mana, their trajectories sharp and merciless.

"Tch."

Grom twisted his body mid-stride, the blades slicing past where his head and chest had been a heartbeat earlier. One scraped his shoulder guard, sparks flashing as dark mana hissed against enchanted metal.

He landed heavily, boots cracking the rooftop.

And there they were.

Five figures stepped out of the shadows ahead of him, black masks glinting under the city’s dim lights. Their movements were disciplined, synchronized—professionals.

Behind them, the original masked warrior didn’t hesitate.

He ran.

Grom watched him disappear over the rooftops, jaw tightening.

"So it really is as Zane said," he muttered. "More rats hiding in the dark."

The assassins didn’t waste words.

They rushed him all at once.

Grom exhaled slowly.

Then his hammer came down.

The first assassin barely had time to raise his blades before the hammer smashed through his guard, caving in chest and armor alike. The second tried to flank—Grom spun, the hammer’s runes flaring, and crushed his skull in a single sweeping arc.

Knives clattered uselessly against Grom’s armor as he advanced like a walking siege engine.

One assassin leapt back, forming signs—too late.

The hammer flew.

Returned.

Flew again.

When the last body hit the ground, the rooftop was silent except for Grom’s heavy breathing and the faint crackle of dissipating dark mana.

He stood amid the fallen, blood dripping from the hammer’s head.

"...Just like he said," Grom growled. "You lot really are crawling everywhere."

He straightened, then reached into his pouch and pulled out a compact, rune-lined device—flat, hexagonal, softly pulsing.

A tracker.

Grom activated it.

A thin beam of light projected upward, forming a hovering map of the nearby districts. One signal blinked steadily, moving fast... then slowing.

Grom’s lips curled into a grim smile.

"Good thinking, old man," he muttered to himself. "I planted it when I grabbed him."

The signal pulsed again.

Location confirmed.

"...A warehouse," Grom said quietly. "Abandoned. Near the lower industrial block."

His expression darkened.

"And you know I’m chasing you, don’t you, Dren?" he murmured. "You can probably see everything through that cursed thing you put inside me."

The light from the tracker dimmed as Grom closed his fist around it.

"Good."

He stepped off the rooftop, landing with a thunderous crash in the alley below.

"If this is your nest," Grom said, eyes burning as he started toward the abandoned warehouse, "then tonight, I burn it down."

Meanwhile,

Mira stared at the body on the floor.

The masked assassin lay twisted at an unnatural angle, blood slowly spreading beneath him, the black knife still clenched in fingers that would never move again.

Her breath caught.

"...Dren?" her voice trembled. "You’re saying... Dren sent them?"

Zane stood beside her, calm as ever, one hand casually wiping the blood from the knife he’d caught earlier. He tilted his head toward the corpse.

"These people weren’t here for you personally," he said evenly. "They were here for the artifact. You were just... the easiest path."

Mira’s knees weakened. She grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself.

"No... no, that doesn’t make sense," she whispered. "He’s like my brother. Master Grom raised us together. He would never—"

"He would," Zane cut in, not harshly, but without hesitation. "And he already has."

She looked up at him, eyes wet, shaking.

"Why...? Why would he do something like this?"

Zane’s gaze shifted, distant for a moment, as if piecing together a machine far larger than the room they stood in.

"He’s chasing the Heart of the Deep Forge," Zane said. "Trying to complete it. Perfect it."

Mira froze.

"...The heart?"

Zane nodded once.

"Yes and not only that he also planted a parasite inside Grom." His eyes hardened. "It doesn’t just give information—it pushes. Encourages obsession."

Mira covered her mouth.

"Master Grom..." her voice broke. "He trusted Dren more than anyone. How could he do this to him...?"

"Because obsession doesn’t care about trust," Zane replied quietly. "And unfinished creations are poison to people like them."

Silence filled the ruined room.

Then Zane’s eyes flicked to the side, unfocused—listening to something only he could hear.

"...Lower industrial district," he said. "That’s where he is. Or at least where Grom is headed."

Mira’s head snapped up.

"Then we have to go!" she said urgently. "Master Grom is alone—if Dren has more people—"

"Well Grom is too strong for dren but dren has the temporary parasite advantage ," Zane said.

He stepped toward the shattered window, the night wind brushing his coat as blue mana subtly gathered around him.

"I wasn’t planning on missing that," he added, a faint, dangerous smile forming. "This is where things finally get interesting."

Mira wiped her eyes, jaw tightening.

"...I’m coming too."

Zane glanced back at her.

For a moment, there was no amusement in his eyes—only certainty.

"Then stay close," he said. "Tonight, you’re going to learn what your so called ’brother’ really became."