Primordial Awakening: I Can Evolve My Skills Infinitely - Chapter 231

Chapter 231: The Judge Monarch is Here, Cursed Cores
“Hahahaha!”

“Incredible…”

“I guess we’re ‘dead,’ huh?”

The three judges reacted all at once, their voices overlapping, mocking yet strangely calm as they faced the inevitable.

The [Eclypse Slash] was already upon them.

There was no escaping its reach, no chance of deflecting or resisting.

The giant crescent of energy ripped through their bodies without mercy.

Each judge was severed in half, their forms falling apart as they crashed toward the ground.

Dust rose into the air, and silence followed.

But even as their corpses lay broken, Sam did not lower his guard.

[You have a bad feeling about this.]

The crimson words burned in front of his eyes.

He didn’t turn. He didn’t relax.

His focus remained locked on the three judges, his sword still raised, his wings spread wide, his body prepared for anything.

You never knew what to expect from beings like these.

They were Monarchs. They always had something hidden, something waiting.

Minutes passed. Nothing happened. Not a sound, not a twitch.

‘Damn…’

Sam exhaled slowly and raised his primordial sword.

Dark tendrils uncoiled from it like living shadows, writhing and reaching outward.

The first tendril lashed toward Orryx’s corpse, stabbing into the beast’s chest.

It burrowed through bone and muscle until it found the core, then ripped it free with a violent pull.

The glowing sphere was yanked into the air, trembling for a second before being swallowed whole by the blade.

Fwsh!

A surge of energy rushed into Sam’s body.

The strength was there, but it wasn’t enough. Not enough to raise his level, not enough to change the tide.

Still, he felt the power settle into him, sharp and heavy.

His gaze turned back toward the three judges’ corpses.

[You have an awful feeling about this.]

“…Wow, a new line,” Sam muttered under his breath, genuinely surprised.

The primordial sword’s tendrils lashed out again, this time stabbing into each of the fallen judges’ bodies.

The arena went still, and then—

The tendrils pierced deep. Ane by one, they pulled.

And shockingly, impossibly, cores emerged from each of the judges.

Sam blinked.

“Huh. I guess… the feeling was about something else?”

It didn’t make sense. The tendrils could only harvest cores from dead monsters.

And no being could survive once their core was extracted.

That meant the judges had to be dead. Meaning Sam had won.

Nom! Nom! Nom!

The primordial sword devoured the three cores.

Its surface pulsed with light, swallowing the fragments whole, consuming every last drop.

Power rushed into Sam’s body again, thicker and sharper than before.

But as the last core vanished into the blade—

Ding!

[You have been cursed.]

Sam froze.

“Huh?”

BAM!

The curse slammed into him instantly.

Pain unlike anything he’d felt before exploded inside his chest.

It wasn’t his body. It was his soul.

Something had struck it directly, ripping into the essence of who he was.

Sam’s knees buckled as blood burst from his mouth.

He hit the ground, gasping. His vision swam.

“What… the fuck…?!”

The words tore from him as he clutched his chest.

Were the cores poisoned? Could Monarchs even do that?

How could a soul itself be cursed just by consuming them?

His mind whirled, trying to make sense of it, but the agony drowned his thoughts.

Across the arena, the primordial clone staggered too.

It leaned against a wall, its expression twisting, its body trembling as though it had been struck by the same curse.

The link between them carried the damage both ways.

Ding!

[Don’t die again.]

The crimson warning flashed in front of him, as cold as ever.

Sam forced himself to rise, shaking, his blood dripping onto the broken stone.

His hands trembled as he tightened his grip on his sword.

He glanced toward the portal that had appeared at the far side of the arena.

It shimmered faintly in the air, the same portal he had used to enter the [Land of Judgment].

It was open again. A way out. He could leave.

He could escape before anything worse happened.

And so he turned, wings flaring as he stepped toward it.

But right at that moment…

Fwish… BOOM!

The world erupted. A deafening explosion tore through the arena behind him.

Sam spun instinctively, sword raised.

Through the smoke and fire, a colossal figure emerged.

A giant shadow stepped into the light, each footfall shaking the ground.

“So,” the figure’s voice rumbled, deep and mocking, “Did you enjoy our trick?”

Sam’s eyes widened.

“You…”

He leapt back immediately, instincts screaming.

A massive swing cut the air where he had stood, the force alone cracking stone.

“Haha… I see…” Sam’s voice was low, strained, but his eyes blazed.

The figure stepped fully into view.

It was enormous, at least three meters tall, clad in rusted armor and battered boots that still radiated menace.

Four arms extended from its torso, each gripping a weapon.

One held the bell. The other held the scale. The third held the rope.

And the last wore a gauntlet, etched with the symbol of balance.

Its head was worse. It was shaped like a normal skull, yet split into three distinct parts.

Each side bore the same black eyes, dripping with liquid darkness.

Each side sprouted horns: one, two, and three, just like the judges.

Sam didn’t need an explanation.

The judges had fused. They had become something new.

And most disturbing of all, the head turned.

Not as one. But in sections.

Each side rotated to face him when it spoke.

“Do not fret, Primordial,” one head said, its voice calm and heavy.

The head turned again.

“Well then, now that you’re cursed…”

The creature spread all four arms, weapons glowing faintly as its power pulsed outward.

Three mouths laughed in unison.

“Let’s end this.”

Sam grinned, blood still on his lips.

“Haha… I knew it wouldn’t be fair anyway. Bring it.”

—

[Judge Monarch]

[Level: 95]

[Skills: Judgment, Guilty, Innocent]

[Description: The three “judges” make up the monarch when they fuse together. They are able to judge everything.]

[Hell-Mode Analysis: We’re cursed.]

—

“Knew it,” Sam muttered, eyes narrowing.

The skills weren’t new. They were the same as before.

But that didn’t matter.

This was the true form, the real danger, even greater than the [Pale Monarch].

Sam could see it in their stance, in their confidence.

They believed victory was inevitable.

“Judgment has already been given to you,” the monarch intoned, “The only thing left is to finish the job.”

Sam didn’t flinch. He didn’t retreat.

His focus sharpened as he gathered power around himself, the primordial clone standing at his side.

Blood Verdict!

The moment the command left him, a panel appeared.

The bar tied to the judges had vanished when they died.

Now that they had fused, there was only one target.

Ding!

[Do you wish to judge the “Judge Monarch”?]

“Yes.”

Ding!

[They are guilty.]

[Crime: Standing in our way.]

Sam blinked. The crime had shifted.

Before, the crime was “killing some of our kind.”

Now, it was different. To his subconscious, to the class skill itself, the greatest crime was this: blocking his path.

The Judge Monarch received their own panel.

[You are being judged by the Primordial.]

[What can you even do before him?]

“Heh.”

The monarch’s three faces smirked, laughter echoing.

“We’ll see.”

Sam didn’t hesitate.

He took his stance, sword glowing, the primordial clone smiling at his side.

Right now… he was filled with nothing but determination—

BAM!

Before Sam cound react, agony ripped through him before he could move.

Another strike, invisible but devastating, slammed into his soul.

Sam’s knees hit the ground.

Blood poured from his mouth as his body convulsed.

The clone collapsed as well, forced to kneel, its body shaking.

“You like our curse?” The Judge Monarch’s voices overlapped, cold and cruel, “I wonder if you’ll even be able to fight~”

Sam’s vision blurred, but his eyes still burned with fire.

His hands trembled. His chest ached.

‘What… what the hell did they do…?’

The curse gnawed at his soul, pulling him toward the edge.

But his grip on his sword didn’t loosen.

Not yet. Not ever.