To Rage Trouble (2)

My heart thudded with rage, fit to burst. If I opened my mouth without care, the fury would detonate out of me along with a string of curses, so I dragged in breath after breath and spoke as carefully as I could.

"Hwa— Hwayeon."

"Mm."

"Did you get all of that on record?"

My chest was shaking. My voice shook with it. If anyone laid a hand on me now, I was certain I'd fly straight to America and tear through the place like a rabid dog.

"All of it."

I worked the Certifier slowly and placed a call to Yeongeun in Korea. It was 4:20 in the afternoon—morning over there, once you counted the difference, and about time for her to start the day.

The instant the call connected, Robert Phillips opened his mouth.

"Chairman of Grand Blue. America is not at fau—"

BOOM. CRASH. The moment the words hit my ears, I kicked the panel table in front of me with everything I had. The roar that followed turned it into a cannon shell. It tore through the titanium-alloy plating of the carrier's island beside Robert Phillips like paper, sailed on, and smashed the bow of the destroyer trailing seven hundred meters astern. The island staggered as one entire wall ceased to exist. People in the command room, and in the operations center below, went down screaming, while wind and rain blasted in through the gaping hole on a shockwave that ripped the air apart.

"......"

A mana aura like fierce blue flame rose from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the leg that had kicked the table, then slowly died away. Red lights began to flash through the ship as an emergency klaxon shrieked loud enough to split eardrums, and at the same time I saw the escort ships' guns swinging toward the carrier.

At the sound of Yeongeun calling my name, her face grave, I glared at the trembling Robert Phillips and forced my mouth open.

What was I supposed to do with this? I forced down the madness cooking my brain white-hot, buried the rage in my chest, and started to think. Looking back, that Trumpet bastard must have nursed a grudge ever since the day I'd humiliated him in front of Yeongeun and the Russians, and pulled this stunt because of it. Getting a proper apology out of a country like America would be impossible.

Even if I released Robert Phillips's confession exactly as it stood, that Trumpet bastard wouldn't admit to a word of it, and neither would the U.S. government. They'd simply dismiss Robert Phillips and the GS Raid Team, or purge them outright, then wash their hands of the whole thing by claiming they'd punished the guilty.

The landmass was obscenely vast, and it was packed with citizens of that magnificent America—swollen, thanks to every film and outlet, with pride at belonging to the world's greatest police state. Trying to cow them with a magic bullet the way I had Japan wouldn't get me far. There was a real chance they'd snap and come charging in, ready to die, screaming "We do not negotiate with terrorists!" I wouldn't be the one who paid for that. Korea would. The people I treasured, living in Korea, would.

Bastards like these—the kind who'd pull a stunt like this just because I'd embarrassed them a little—might well dispatch troops on the grounds that a nation-scale terrorist had appeared. If they took the safeties off that cold reason of theirs and squeezed Korea with politics, economics, and military force, if they so much as started agitating in the international community that Korea was a terrorist state...

A good idea came to me. If I couldn't raise the hell myself, I'd just have to make someone else do the stirring.

So they meant to seize my lover and use her as a hostage, did they? I ground my teeth and glared savagely at Robert Phillips, and he—already bathed in cold sweat—flinched all over again.

Heh heh. It would be a fine show if a Highest-Rank Variant went on a rampage across American soil. Let's see if they stayed standing with dozens of them tearing the place apart.

"......Tell them I'll 'just' be watching."

Yeongeun took the footage Hwayeon sent, played through every second of it, and spoke with an expression gone ice-cold.

"I will."

I hung up on that short reply and looked at Michael, who was writhing, coughing up a spray flecked with blood, and staring up at me. His face was twisted with disbelief, rage, and pain.

Spatial Perception showed me the inside of him. Several ribs had broken and stabbed into his lung and liver, and his spine was severed in more than one place, leaving his lower body dead. The woman called Ariel had a crack in her neck and a spine snapped strand by strand, and she was out cold.

"Well. Can't have you dying on me."

I fired Healing Wave at stage one, and the broken and cracked bones of both those bastards found their places and knit themselves shut.

The moment the wounds had closed, Ariel came to and shot up from the floor. Michael looked down at his own body in shock, then scrambled to his feet and shouted.

"What is the meaning of this, Chairman of Grand Blue! However exceptional an ability user you may be, do you truly believe an assault like this will be tolerated!"

"Tolerated? Tolerated how? Didn't you hear what Robert Phillips just said?"

"What? What are you—"

I looked at them the way one looks at insects and worked the Certifier, playing Robert Phillips's words right in front of Michael and Ariel.

I sneered at Michael, frozen stiff, and at Ariel, whose face had darkened as she bowed her head.

"Someone in the Ability User Alliance said it about me. That I'm pathologically sensitive when it comes to the safety of the people I care about. I don't think they were wrong about a single word. The proof is that I want to fly to America this instant and turn the whole place into a sea of fire."

"Th-that's absurd. Why would America be hostile toward you?!"

"Why? You really don't know? I hear that bitch Ariel, and the red-haired bitch standing behind her, know every bit of it."

I laughed, low and ugly, stepped right up to the tip of Michael's nose, and spoke quietly.

"America's pathologically sensitive about its own national security too, isn't it? How about us sensitive types beat each other until one of us is dead? Doesn't that sound like it would be just delightful?"

"P-please wait. Something must be wrong. Ariel! Speak! Brother only told us to observe and record the Grand Blue Chairman's every— every single move, to gather information so we might seek his friendship later! That's why he sent the Director of Strategy along with us!"

"......"

The bitch, at least, didn't seem to want to lie. She just stood there with her head down. If she'd tried to make some excuse, I wouldn't have been able to hold myself back... so that was fortunate.

Seeing it, the soul went out of Michael's face.

Hm. So Michael Granado had nothing to do with this? He'd just been brought along under the signboard of vice raid leader?

The klaxon still grated at my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ears, so I swept the carrier's interior with Spatial Perception. Some emergency order must have gone out—marines armed with rifles were pouring toward the island in a rush. The escorts' guns stayed trained on us, unturned, which meant they meant to fire the moment they had an excuse. I could sense one or two ability users in what looked like each escort's command center. Was pointing the guns this way their doing as well?

I wanted to tear every last one of them apart.

I ignored Robert Phillips, slumped and staring blankly at the breached outer wall as wind and rain poured in, and spoke to Boris Isaac and the officers under him, who were taking the driving rain without so much as flinching.

"Vice Admiral Boris Isaac."

"Y-yes?"

"Please tell President Sladmir Puchin that his help was appreciated. And if you would, add that after Britain, I believe Russia and I can get along perfectly well."

"......Yes! I vill most certainly relay your vords!"

Whether from excitement or not, Vice Admiral Boris answered in a thick Russian accent, saluted with a flushed face, shot Robert Phillips a glance, and left the command room.

I hadn't actually received any particular help, but I'd put weight on those words, and I trusted he'd caught what was hidden underneath them.

I turned to Robert Phillips, contempt in my voice.

"This affair has left me truly disappointed in the nation of America. If you had been sincerely concerned for your own country, Vice Admiral Robert, you should never have allowed them aboard to begin with. I suppose this will suffice. A comfortable complacency is what brought this situation about."

"Kh..."

"If I had my way, I'd overturn America and the GS Raid Team both, right here... but for now, I'll be watching."

I said it while looking coldly at Michael, Ariel, and Robert Phillips, but none of them could answer. They only avoided my eyes.

"Let's go."

"Seoha...... Are you all right?"

I looked at Franc, who had been clinging to my arm all this time with a face on the verge of tears, then lifted a hand and brushed her cheek as I spoke.

"I'm furious beyond belief, but I'm still all right. For now."

Hwayeon only stared at me in silence, her face heavy, so I took their hands and left the command room. Robert Phillips, Michael, and Ariel, left behind, stared at the floor with the look of people for whom it was already over.

There was no way that son of a bitch Trumpet had planned this kidnapping alone. I wanted to be angry, and they'd struck my cheek—so of course the anger belonged to the one who struck it.

It was too simple an act to even call a plan. I was still calculating the aftermath as I stepped out of the command room, and found rifle-armed marines blocking the passage front and back, barrels leveled at us.

"Don't move! Move and we fire!"

A captain shouted from behind the marines. What did they think ordinary firearms were going to do to us? It was so absurd I couldn't even manage a snort—though the rifles did have a strangely futuristic design.

Spatial Perception ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠told me they weren't ordinary powder rounds. So these were the special rounds they'd built as an aberrant countermeasure, binding Phase Energy into the shot. Should I take a few and bring them to Yeongeun and Sis as samples?

I watched the marines aiming at us, cold sweat running, throats working—and the moment I decided I might as well just leave every one of them maimed, Robert Phillips came bursting out.

"Hold, Captain! Clear the way!"

At Vice Admiral Robert Phillips's order, the marines—dumbfounded—opened a path for us.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Lucky them. A second later and those guns would have come apart, and they'd each be missing an arm and a leg.

Come to think of it, there was no need to walk. I took the general and the staff officer from our side with me and Space Leaped to the marine lounge where Miho was playing.

The marines had all vanished when the alarm went up, leaving Miho standing alone in the empty lounge, blinking. The moment I appeared she broke into a bright smile and threw herself into my arms.

"Master~! Look at this! More candy, and— Master, are you mad?"

"I'm mad because of some bad people. Miho. Think you can lift those uncles on the wind and get us back to Hawaii too?"

"Yeah. I can."

"Then let's go back. I don't want to be here another second."

At the chill in my voice, Miho—fox ears folded flat, reading my mood—lifted the naval operations commander and the operations officer the navy had sent, along with Hwayeon, on the wind, and rose into the air herself.

Franc caught my shoulder.

"Seoha? We need to collect our luggage. Those officers will need to gather theirs as well, so please give us a moment."

"......All right. You two, grab your things and come back here."

"Yes, sir!"

Franc headed off somewhere with Hwayeon, and the two officers, set back down on the floor, hurried off in another direction.

Left in the lounge with Miho, I noticed she kept watching me with her ears still folded, so I stroked her head as I spoke.

"You didn't do anything wrong, Miho. So you can act the way you always do."

"Okay!"

Only then did her ears perk back up and twitch as she pulled a chocolate from her pocket and ate it.

Franc, Hwayeon, and the officers returned quickly with the luggage. I watched Miho lift them, sprayed a burst of mana rounds overhead to punch a vertical hole straight through, and leapt up—and Franc and Miho came flying after me.

The rain had turned to a downpour, but wind gathered around my body and kept the drops off.

"Hehe."

I reached out, stroked Miho's head, and kicked off a Space Wall, launching myself toward Hawaii. The weather felt as if it were speaking for my mood.

We arrived at Honolulu Airport, and as I set the officers down I said:

"You two take a plane back to Korea. We'll be making our own way."

"Yes, sir."

I booked them first-class tickets on a flight to Korea, and I was heading out of the airport when Hwayeon caught my arm and held on.

"Seoha. Let's talk for a moment."

I looked at her, puzzled, and she kept hold of my arm as she headed for the VIP lounge at Honolulu Airport.

She hadn't said a single word since the carrier. I followed, studying her face. She hadn't let the stiffness out of it, so she looked angry.

Was it because I'd gone off without a word and run wild...?

Had I gone too far? E-even so, if I'd handled it weakly back there, they'd have thought I was easy to push, and the headaches down the line would have been endless. And they'd meant to take Hwayeon hostage, besides.

Ah—they hadn't actually attempted it, of course, but they'd gathered for that purpose in the first place. If I'd struggled against the Blade Flyer, or if I hadn't come back so quickly, there was no telling what that washed-out-haired bitch would have tried...

Groaning inwardly, I followed Hwayeon, drawing every eye in the terminal, and the moment we stepped into a lounge whose airline I couldn't even name, she demanded a private room from the lounge manager.

"Right this way. Here at Aidal Pacific, we offer room service for our VVIP premium guests—"

"Be quiet."

"Ah...... Yes."

In a rare display of rudeness, Hwayeon drove the lounge manager out, shut the door, and took an Anti-Field Egg from her bag, blocking even eavesdropping, before she spoke.

"Seoha."

"Yeah."

Here it comes.

"That wasn't like you, earlier. No. Looked at one way, it was exactly like you—and still, it wasn't like you. Did something happen while you were catching the Blade Flyer?"

......Huh? Like me, but not like me. What was that supposed to mean?

Miho and Darky kept sneaking looks at us even as their hands crept toward the snacks on the tea table, and they started peeling the wrappers off one by one. Watching them, I looked at Hwayeon and Franc and asked.

"Did I really look that off?"

"Even when you're angry, you've always tried to settle things with words first. You've never simply lashed out at people. But just now...... you nearly killed two of them."

True enough, I'd slammed Michael and Ariel down hard enough that I hadn't cared whether they lived or died. Franc, seated beside me, took my hand and spoke with a face worried sick.

"Seoha. Is it because of that, that you're in poor spirits?"

"Because of what?"

Franc had Spatial Perception, so she'd caught on at once, but Hwayeon, without that ability, turned a puzzled look on her.

"A Phase Stone formed in my heart."

"What......!"

Hwayeon choked back the voice that had been about to burst out of her and turned shaking eyes on me, asking without words what had happened. Franc was the same.

A bitter smile pulled at my mouth at the sight of both of them staring, worry packed into their eyes. Because of me, there wasn't a day the worry left Franc's face, or Hwayeon's. Miho and Darky had even stopped mid-bite to stare.

I leaned back against the fine sofa, gathered what I meant to say, and spoke.

"If I'm honest about how I felt, that did put me in a strange mood. But it stopped at a bit of gloom. A bad feeling. Then there was Robert Phillips, right? He kept acting strange, so I got suspicious and gave him a poke. If I'd been wrong, I was going to apologize for the rudeness. But then it came out of his mouth—that they'd meant to take Hwayeon hostage."

"So a low mood mixed with rage, and it exploded."

"Yeah."

Hwayeon moved to the seat beside me as well, took my free hand, and—wearing the look of someone who wanted to speak and couldn't find the words—only stroked the back of it.

"I really almost lost my reason back then, but I let a little of the anger out, and I'm all right now. And a Phase Stone did form in my heart, but I've checked it with Spatial Perception and nothing's different from before, so don't worry too much."

"......All right. We'll leave that as it is. Then, to return to the other matter...... what do you intend to do about America? Considering the national power of a country like that, I can't believe this will be settled as simply as Japan was."

Certain I wouldn't leave America alone, Hwayeon wore a face full of worry—Franc beside her—over whatever I might do.

Hearing her out, President Dornald's mug rose in my mind, smirking that infuriating smirk. Just recalling that damned man was enough to warp the line of my mouth.

"Whoa. Master's smiling so evilly."

"Now that's a fine smile, Boss!"

"Ahem. It's nothing much. I'm going to bring a few aberrants out of the Phase World, evolve them up to Highest Tier—high-tier subspecies, that is—and let them loose."

"......On American soil?"

"On American soil."

Hwayeon went blank, like a computer fed data past its processing limits, and Franc opened and closed her mouth again and again, like a video stuck on buffering.