Chapter 98
Chapter 98
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 98
Chapter Title: Can a Summoned Being Lie to Their Summoner?
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Can a summoned being lie to their summoner?
Why not?
As long as the conditions are met, it's possible.
The Third Principle of Summoned Beings, Clause 3.
One must obey the summoner absolutely, but if the summoner's life is judged to be in danger, the principle of absolute obedience can be violated.
A coup d'état.
A military rebellion had broken out in the neighboring country.
If a military regime were established, they wouldn't even apologize for past wrongs; they'd provoke us at every turn.
And then there were the anti-Korean protestors.
What? How dare they threaten the summoner?
War with the summoner's country? Killing its citizens?
The Mad Demon was thoroughly enraged.
Whether those words were sincere or just empty threats didn't matter.
They had reached his ears.
And because they had touched a wound that still remained branded in his heart, a wound that could never be healed.
Are there more summoners who died inside the Tower?
Or more who died outside the Tower?
The latter overwhelmingly outnumbered the former.
The Mad Demon's previous summoner was one of them.
While trapped in the re-summoning cooldown period, unable to appear.
His former summoner lost his life to a combined attack by forces that envied and feared him.
Even though he had sufficient defensive capabilities in reality, he was still killed.
The current summoner would also inevitably face danger one day.
The activation conditions for Clause 3 were satisfied.
The promise to use only a single pun of internal energy.
The vow to strike only once and not kill.
If he wanted to, he could break them all.
But right now, he didn't want to.
If he ignored the summoner's instructions and caused trouble, the trust he had painstakingly built with the summoner would come crashing down in an instant.
Well, a promise was a promise.
Let's just hit them and see.
One pun of internal energy.
That's still equivalent to about ten years' worth.
What martial arts could be performed with that?
'Six Harmonies Fist and Ghostly Steps should be sufficient.'
It had been a very long time since he last used a martial art with proper form.
Those who spewed filth from their mouths needed to have their teeth cleaned.
True to the name of the footwork, the Mad Demon advanced like a ghost.
Swish.
Moving without shifting his legs or feet.
Thwack! A single blow to the lower face.
Crunch! A shattering jawbone.
Plink, plink, plink. Falling teeth.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Hitting too hard would kill them.
Just enough so they could only consume water and porridge for a few months.
Sweat trickled down.
It was because of the control required.
How difficult was it to subdue someone without killing them, keeping them alive?
He had never done such a thing before.
Keeping them alive? What nonsense.
Anyone who crossed his path was simply killed.
'This is rather fun.'
It felt like returning to the days when he was a fresh-faced novice warrior just entering the martial world.
Likely yakuza, the vanguard of the anti-Korean protestors, their bodies serving as canvases for vivid tattoos, charged forward with menacing expressions.
"Chikusho!"
"You old Chosenjin!"
"Kill him!"
Cute bastards.
Running in without any fear.
Crunch! The sound of a jawbone shattering was incredibly refreshing.
He shattered them one after another.
Thump, thump, thump…
But then?
Thwack-thud! Thud! Thud!
'...Hmm.'
A mistake. He just hit that guy twice.
Probably because the bastard was chirping so annoyingly, he unconsciously gave him an extra hit.
'I promised to hit only once.'
He probably didn't see, right?
Joo-hyuk had found a suitable spot to squat, chewing on the popcorn Laxicus handed him, watching the Mad Demon's performance.
Gyeon Dal-rae sat demurely, Veronica was nodding off, and Bardin and Kosak stood beside him, guarding him.
The elusive, appearing-and-disappearing Mad Demon.
How could a person move like that?
He was like a ghost.
Swish, he moved. Spot! He appeared over there.
Thud! A light punch thrown.
Inevitably, a protestor would be spitting blood from their mouth and collapsing.
'His control over strength is insane.'
He had seen the Mad Demon handle Tower monsters a few times before.
Like in the undead section, or against the Kabbalan in the French Black Tower.
Back then, it wasn't particularly impressive.
Whoosh! Throwing a blade of energy like a boomerang, or grabbing a jaw and tearing wings off.
He was an LSSR summoned being, but the fights themselves were dry and uninteresting.
Because he was just that strong.
Was there any need to move his body in such a bothersome way?
But now was different.
The Mad Demon, who had vowed to use only a single pun of his internal energy.
To compensate for the lacking energy, he moved diligently.
All sorts of dazzling body movements flowed forth.
The Mad Demon was properly demonstrating fist techniques and footwork.
The crowd of protestors, were excitedly surging forward.
Yet, not a single one could touch even the hem of the Mad Demon's clothes.
Even when they rushed in all at once,
Swish,
Twisting his body here and there, throwing straight punches.
Thudthudthudthud!
If they tried to grab his legs, swish, he'd disappear, only to appear beside them and throw another punch.
Thwack!
Dodging, striking, retreating, striking again.
It felt like watching a well-choreographed martial arts film.
A smile even bloomed on the Mad Demon's face.
He must be enjoying himself.
Thudthudthudthud!
He was keeping his promise.
He was only hitting everyone exactly once.
But why was he only aiming his fists at their jaws?
"It offers the best cost-effectiveness. If you accidentally hit a vital point, they'd die on the spot, right? Then you'd be breaking the promise not to kill civilians."
So you break their jawbones and only knock out their teeth?
"Isn't that the hardest to recover from? It also costs a lot of money."
Right.
Jawbones aside, how much does it cost to get new teeth put in?
A friend of dentists.
The tooth-thresher Mad Demon.
The ranks of the anti-Korean protestors were crumbling.
They seemed to have finally realized.
That the dapper old man in the sharp suit before their eyes was no ordinary person.
"Ugh..."
"M-move!"
"Spare me!"
The anti-Korean right-wingers, who had been shouting "Die, Chosenjin!" with fire in their eyes, began to flee.
But the Mad Demon was persistent.
A mere single pun of internal energy.
The ghostly lightness skill unfolded with just that.
Spot! Spapapapot!
He relentlessly chased down the fleeing protestors, giving each one a single hit.
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!
Even though he wasn't killing a single person...
'Cruel. So cruel.'
There was no pity or mercy.
Old anti-Korean, young anti-Korean, female anti-Korean—all eventually had to taste the Mad Demon's fist, suffer fractured jawbones, and spit out their teeth.
For the foreseeable future, they wouldn't be able to eat properly.
They'd need metal pins in their jaws, and with no teeth to chew with...
At least it was fortunate it was only one pun of energy; without that restriction, it wouldn't have ended so lightly.
The scene would have transformed into a bloody massacre of flesh and blood.
'Anyway, he just filmed a real wuxia action movie.'
It was indeed being filmed.
By tourists from around the world who had come to see the Black Tower.
He had attached perception-hindering talismans, but those only worked when acting inconspicuously and quietly. Causing such an open commotion was bound to attract attention.
'The Mad Demon has debuted too.'
Right at that moment!
Kosak, pointing at the Mad Demon with his finger, making a fuss.
"Look, look, look at that. The Mad Demon broke his promise."
Why is this guy acting up again?
"I saw it clearly with my own two eyes. He said he'd hit once, but he hit that guy twice."
Is that so?
"What, are you making a fuss over that?"
Mistakes happen; you might hit twice accidentally.
"It's not a matter to be taken lightly. Two hits become three, and three become four."
So what are you trying to say?
"I'll go personally and monitor how many hits the Mad Demon is throwing."
"...."
Monitor, my foot.
Just watching must be making his buttocks itchy.
He's saying he wants to get involved too.
"You'll just monitor?"
"Yes!"
"You won't hit people?"
"I swear. I won't hit civilians."
"What about soldiers?"
"...Uh, well, that, hehehehe."
That means he'll hit them.
No, will he just hit them?
Kosak of the Red Ribbon.
The creepy assassin who decorates the necks he severs with ribbons.
"Can't we just leave it be? It's not Korea, it's another country, Japan."
"It's a country that's too close. It will definitely become a threat."
"What if I stop you?"
"Ah, uh, um."
The will to go even if stopped.
"Is Kosak also activating Principle 3, Clause 3?"
"...Yes."
He had to make a decision here.
To unleash Kosak or not.
A different problem from the Mad Demon.
If Kosak moves, someone will definitely die.
Loan sharks, terrorists, the Chinese Chairman...
Judging by the atmosphere, it would be the Self-Defense Forces coup faction this time.
What should he do?
Until now, Joo-hyuk had always maintained a bystander's stance, no matter what happened, as long as it wasn't related to him.
He couldn't help it.
What could a pitiful 25-year-old youth, struggling day by day just to make ends meet with part-time jobs, possibly do?
It wasn't that he chose to be a bystander.
It was because he had no choice.
Because he was too weak, because interfering would be useless, he had naturally lived that way.
But now the situation had changed.
With a single word, he could nullify a coup d'état occurring in another country.
Even if summoning someone was his only ability, that "someone" possessed the power to change the world.
And they were people who obeyed his words and would do anything to protect him.
Ahhh. Too difficult a decision for an ordinary guy.
Is this really okay?
The contemplation dragged on.
The coup, the regression to a Japanese military regime, deep-rooted anti-Korean sentiment, a potential threat...
Eh! Let it be as it may.
"I hope you don't kill too many."
"Huh?"
"…I won't force a Summon Release."
"Yes!"
In the end, he unleashed Kosak too.
The Tokyo Black Tower was a rising tourist destination.
The opportunity to see such a super-large tower right in the city center was rare.
But then, overnight, a sudden coup d'état.
The tourists were initially bewildered.
A coup had occurred, so of course they felt uneasy.
But as time passed, the unease transformed into thrilling excitement.
Tanks and armored vehicles were passing in front of the Black Tower, armed soldiers, helicopters flying over the Black Tower, protesting crowds.
Everyone held up their smartphones.
Some took photos, some recorded videos, and some even started live streaming.
Amidst this, an old man appeared, wearing a fedora and a sharp suit, seeming to argue with the protestors before suddenly throwing the first punch.
A fight broke out.
With a protest group numbering in the hundreds.
How could they not film it?
This was live streaming material.
This was the moment the Mad Demon's one-pun prowess became known to the world.
A large stage had been set up in front of the Black Tower.
Joint Staff Council Chairman Matsumoto Junichi, wearing his formal uniform, sat on a chair placed on the illuminated stage.
Beside him sat Self-Defense Forces Player Hongo Tetsuo.
The coup had succeeded as expected.
The cabinet ministers had also sworn loyalty to him.
Killing one as an example made everything proceed smoothly.
Acting Prime Minister Usuda had a bullet hole in his head—who would dare resist now?
The Imperial Palace?
What could they possibly do?
He also received support from right-wing factions within Japan.
The Chiefs of Staff of the Ground, Maritime, and Air Self-Defense Forces also acknowledged the success of Matsumoto's coup.
The US Forces Japan were a concern, but the tide had turned.
They wouldn't be able to do anything either.
Now only the declaration remained.
To announce the new Great Japan Restoration, replacing the incompetent cabinet government.
"Tetsuo, there won't be any problems with the 58th-floor climb, right?"
"None at all. I'm confident."
There was a whopping 5-level difference. Failure was impossible.
However, one thing bothered him: he hadn't achieved Trait Enhancement.
"If we succeed this time, I'll get you a Trait Enhancement Rune by any means necessary."
"Thank you."
The crowning glory of the coup was the conquest of the 58th floor.
If this failed, their justification would vanish.
"Then prepare for the climb..."
That was when it happened.
A clamorous noise from in front of the stage.
Strange shouts and screams.
Crunching sounds and people collapsing.
'…What's that now?'
A fight?
It seemed a disturbance had broken out among the right-wing protestors who had come out to support the coup.
'Just who are these bastards.'
Even with armed Self-Defense Forces troops deployed everywhere, they had no fear.
"Bring me binoculars."
"Yes."
Joint Staff Council Chairman Matsumoto Junichi observed the area where the commotion was occurring through the binoculars his aide brought.
'...Huh?'
A fight had indeed broken out.
But was that real?
It was just a single old man.
That one man was beating up a protest group numbering in the hundreds.
A sturdy young man was knocked down with a single hit.
He rolled on the ground, bleeding red blood profusely.
Another was caught while trying to flee, beaten, and collapsed.
Like a lion charging into a peaceful rabbit village, the right-wing protestors were scattering in utter panic due to a single old man.
The scene had become a chaotic mess.
With the new nation proclamation ceremony scheduled, what kind of absurd situation was this?
And that old man.
Could it really be possible for one person to beat down hundreds?
Moreover, he was leisurely smiling while hitting people.
His expression unchanged as he drove his fist into their jaws.
Even watching through binoculars sent shivers down his spine.
Gulp.
A sudden unease gripped Matsumoto.
What if he came all the way here?
No matter how many armed troops were guarding...
"...Aide."
"Yes!"
"Kill that old man immediately. I authorize the use of firearms."
"Uh, uh, he's mixed in with the protestors, so if we're careless..."
"It doesn't matter. No matter how many die, that old man must be killed."
"Yes, yes, uh, understood. I'll relay the order..."
Right at that moment!
Tsweet! The sound of tearing air. Schlick.
The aide, who was about to descend the stage to relay the firing order, stopped dead in his tracks.
"Huh? What are you doing? Quickly issue the firing order..."
Sluuurp, thud!
Roll, roll, roll.
The aide's head rolled across the stage.
"…Gasp!"
It wasn't just the aide.
Spot! A sudden gust of wind.
Matsumoto's few remaining strands of hair were swept away by the wind—whoosh!
Tsweet! Tspipipit! Tspipipipipit!
Schlick! Schlick-schlick! Schlick-schlick-schlick!
The stage flashed brilliantly.
Flashing here, flashing there.
Even though it was broad daylight.
As if strobe lights had been installed.
Matsumoto couldn't move.
Neither could the Self-Defense Forces soldiers guarding the stage perimeter.
They couldn't even distinguish what was happening.
And then,
Thud, tudududuk, thud thud!
Thump, roll, thump, roll roll, thump-toro-thump, roll roll roll.
Heads rolling everywhere.
Bodies losing their heads and collapsing one by one.
All were key figures of this coup and his subordinate officers.
Self-Defense Forces commanders who had been sitting on the stage, waiting for the event to start after preparing for the ceremony, all lost their heads and fell.
Even the trusted Self-Defense Forces Player, Hongo Tetsuo.
Ahhh, Tetsuo is dead?
A Player?
Without even a chance to enter the Tower?
"Wh-what in the world…"
Joint Staff Council Chairman Matsumoto doubted his own eyes.
A sight impossible to accept as normal under any circumstances.
Suddenly!
"Kon'nichiwa."
A voice from behind.
"Wh-who are you?"
"Watashi wa Chosenjin desu."
"…What?"
Chosenjin?
"Sayonara."
"W-wait! Let's talk first..."
"I can't speak Japanese."
"…Wh-what."
"Makudonarudo!!!"
Tsweet! Schlick!
Whoosh!
Something sharp slashed across Matsumoto's neck.
Fortunately, there was no pain.
Just his vision turning pitch black.
'Success was right before my eyes...!'
Thud! Thump.
After cleanly slicing Matsumoto's neck as well.
"Hoo, what should I do? This is troublesome."
Kosak pondered seriously.
"I killed too many."
This way, he wouldn't have enough ribbons.
"Can't be helped."
Let's just decorate the leader guy.
But with utmost care.
Kosak tied Matsumoto's head with a red ribbon, decorating it in a bow shape.
A bit crooked?
It had been so long since he last tied a ribbon, his sense seemed off.
But the gazes felt prickly.
Turning his head, he saw Self-Defense Forces soldiers staring at him blankly, guns in hand.
They were all frozen stiff.
No matter how armed they were, with their commanders turning into corpses on the stage before them, there was nothing they could do.
Moreover, a perverted murderer tying ribbons on severed heads.
"Sumimasen?"
As Kosak grinned and spoke.
"Kyaaaah!"
The soldiers screamed and scattered.
Even armed with guns, even driving tanks and armored vehicles, even with helicopters flying overhead—it was all useless.
Their leaders were all dead.
The command structure had completely collapsed.
Joint Staff Council Chairman Matsumoto Junichi had his head cut off and decorated with a ribbon.
And so, the coup was over.