Chapter 183
Chapter 183
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 183
Chapter Title: The Wizards' Wizard (3)
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****
If Ian was gradually turning into a gaunt, wastrel-like figure, Vex was the complete opposite.
Every small movement was razor-sharp, and his small, sunken eyes gleamed with killing intent.
It wasn't like he held some grudge against me. It was just the natural state of someone who'd been in constant life-or-death battles day after day. Minimizing even the blink of his eyes, routing every gesture—whether a greeting or scratching himself—through the hilt of his sword. Always ready to kill, anytime, anywhere.
"Damn, takes me back. That guy who charged at us with a single knife during the spec ops remnant sweep had eyes just like that."
His edge was so keen he couldn't even hide it. What the hell had this guy been up to to end up like this...? It was frustrating as hell.
"....Why are you so on edge? It's not like this is the first time I've nearly died. It happens all the time, right? And like always, I came back alive this time too."
"Ahh, ugh.... Heh heh heh...."
The silver lining was that he wasn't completely broken yet. If this kept up, he wouldn't even be able to cry or speak. He wasn't at rock bottom.
After sobbing for a while, instead of speaking to me, Vex conveyed his recent well-being in another way.
Twitch twitch,
[Target / Dead / Fear / Confusion / Hallucination / Negative Ally]
"You.... You're really in bad shape, huh? Can't even talk at all?"
"Th-that.... Ah.... H-happened, m-mountain rolled and metal chunk, n-not wrong.... Eeeeek!"
Tap tap,
[Difficult Mission / Force Majeure]
The military hand signals we'd used often during ops. The guy wasn't an idiot just because he was stammering like that. He'd always been unstable, and exposure to that mind-breaking device—plus the shock of seeing me like this—had just snapped something inside him for good.
It was like aphasia. He had words in his head, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. Just like we couldn't suddenly make our hearts beat twice as fast if someone asked, he couldn't control this weird filter that had popped up between his brain and tongue.
Frustrated that people couldn't understand his speech, he'd switched to hand signals. At least anyone from the military would know the basics, and spec ops guys like me or Ian could handle detailed conversations.
But even if communication was possible, seeing him regress from almost fully recovered—no more stuttering or weird words—just days ago, to the point where he couldn't talk without signals, made my chest ache with anger.
"Man.... What a shitty world, huh?"
Tap tap, tap.
[Agree / Activity Radius / Entire Area / Serious Battlefield / No Rest]
"Yeah, yeah. Shit's popping up everywhere you go. It's easier to understand, so don't look so down. Feels just like chatting with Hydra, super familiar."
Flash!
Whoa, hilarious. Someone's gut was burning up inside.
When I asked what the hell he'd been doing to come back covered in blood so late, he just grinned. When I asked why he'd wrecked the inspection department again, he silently thumbs-upped me.
"Hap-hap...."
Tap tap!
[Top Priority / Successfully Completed / Injury / Veteran / Rest]
"R-rest, r-re, reeest...."
"....Alright. You've been through hell nonstop this year like some curse is on you, no time to breathe. Take this chance to rest up proper. Don't push yourself too hard...."
"Hee hee hee."
In the end, Vex never said what he'd been doing to come back bloodied so late. He didn't stick around long, just chuckled his way out.
"....Jeez. Putting out that 'I got this' vibe so strong, then telling him to rest—like that's gonna happen. Didn't know these guys would lie through their teeth even staring death in the face."
I needed to figure out what he was up to. At least it was clear he was roaming areas where safety wasn't guaranteed for 24 hours. And in this chaos, plenty of killing to do. If he was assigning meaning to murder after seeing me like this.... That was prime madness fuel. And the guy used a blade. The fading of a life hits you right at your fingertips.
"....Now that I think about it, leaving him be might cause big trouble."
Even now, he'd clearly just wrapped up some mess, and things could get worse out there?
"....Whoever comes next, I'll have them call someone who knows the intel inside out. Need details on what's going down across Zone 47."
With that in mind, I accessed the community via the system. Couldn't post, but I could read.
And so I spent the long, sleepless night reading countless laments from others.
Would've been nice if there were some dumb memes for a mood boost like usual.
Most posts on the community were death notices disguised as missing persons reports.
****
The next morning.
"Wh-what? Call Speed Wagon? Sis-in-law.... Dana, you mean?"
Ian, who'd come early to visit the Professor since he wouldn't be able to for a while, couldn't believe his ears.
"Hm? You still half-asleep? What's sis-in-law, who's Dana? You know Speed Wagon, from the Zone 47 chat room! The chatty one! You don't know what Vex is up to either! Gotta find out! I guarantee you, no info broker as reliable and skilled as that guy. We already agreed to meet IRL during the last game anyway, so no big deal, right? Whole neighborhood's in chaos, everyone's flocking to the Zone 47 Dome—gotta be nearby. No way an info broker lags behind everyone else and gets stranded."
"....So first thing you want is Speed Wagon? Is this the power of love or something?"
From the way he talked, it seemed he wasn't chasing 'Dana Elisha Hyacinth' from Professor's recovered two-month-old memory, but just the info broker 'Speed Wagon' he'd known.
"....Thought that one memory stuck in your cold, virgin 24-year-old brain out of sheer obsession."
"You drunk? Been spouting nonsense since earlier.... Hold up. Have I met Speed Wagon before? Sounds exactly like it from how you're talking."
Ian told the Professor about Zone 41, blanketed in distress signals when he left two months ago, and how he'd followed pre-shared coordinates from Speed Wagon to meet her.
"Speed Wagon's a woman?"
"Yeah."
"And we hit it off vibe-wise?"
"Yeah. Frustrating as hell, but watching her.... Something about it. Hang on. Might be a sign your memories are coming back, so I'll call a doc. Could mean your time here gets cut short big time...."
Grab!
"....Pretty?"
"You bastard, is that what matters now? Your condition is...."
"Then what's more important than this! Pretty? Is she pretty?!"
His face flushed red just imagining it, clinging to Ian's clothes like he wouldn't let go until he answered. Seeing that, Ian forgot his grim mood and burst into honest laughter.
Yeah, that's the guy.
"Kuh huh huh. They say long-time virgin turns wizard. Spookily picks out exactly who he needs to meet. Fine, I'll call her, judge for yourself. Her name's already on the visitor list outside anyway—tell the researchers to bump her up the queue, they'll do it."
Ian grinned at the desperate Professor.
"Talk's quick, she'll be here soon. Wait just a bit. I'm off. Stay healthy till next time."
"Table at least, or a chair.... Damn it! Can't it be like Hydra's mental space? No avatar function in the play lobby? Kinda embarrassing in these ratty home clothes...."
".....I'm going!"
"Yeah, uh. Go. See ya."
"You bastard, one woman and friend means nothing, eyes rolling...."
Ian shook his head, patted the Professor's shoulder, and hit logout. Yeah, no need to say it. Just like the Professor was sure they'd meet again, he was sure too.
Ding-!
[Player ‘DOOMgay’ has logged out.]
Psssh- Rrrumble!
The pod opened, and soon after stepping out, he ran into Director Young waiting nearby.
"Talk go well?"
"Better than well. No need to stress the poor bastard out more when he's already rattled."
"The outer battlezone is tougher than expected. You know that. No connection pods here except this one to meet Professor. That's a full-on warzone—might not see him for a long, long time. Maybe forever."
It would be. At the Zone 45-46 border, no time to cool melted machine guns, packing spares and hosing down, stacking mutant corpses into pyres for new lines. No way to return often from that hell. Maybe never.
But Ian shoved those thoughts aside. Professor's carefree attitude came from total belief he'd get out. The guy deepest in despair was steeling himself—how could this metal jaw whine?
Ian grabbed Director Young's outstretched right hand instead of answering.
"Sorry, but deciding who returns from the field? That's me."
"....Reliable as ever. Ashfield."
Ian felt something solid pass from the Director's hand to his. A gold badge stamped with the inspection seal.
"Show us that prime-of-life performance that terrorized the whole wasteland."
Ian eyed the badge, then pinned it to his chest. Next to the massive BDSM patch from the recent tailor job. A black fist clutching the four BDSM letters—fancy design based on the one Vex had hand-stitched big on the back of his field uniform.
"Kuh huh huh.... Like always, we'll deliver beyond expectations, Director."
Ian flung open the door with firm steps. Waiting outside: the BDSM caravan, now nearly 30 strong.
Hand-picked elites from the cloud of recruits drawn by Professor's sky-high rep and the news of his sacrifice.
"Hey, deputy captain! Name's BDSM, shouldn't we get leather jackets instead of these patches?"
"Yeah! Shiny black ones that gleam!"
"Forget that, let's roll already! Vex is itching to go, watching him's driving me nuts too!"
Battle-hardened vets. They'd checked footage of the destination, some even rescued by Vex from that inferno—knew how hellish it was, yet cracking jokes.
Ian issued orders to the crew, then headed to Vex and Ezel in the corner.
"....How is he? Seems more unstable or worn out than yesterday?"
Ian recalled the Professor chanting "Pretty?!"
"Ha! That bastard Professor? Not worried, looked mindless. Probably got nothing but sis-in-law on his brain."
"Figures. Classic him. Makes me feel stupid for worrying."
Tap tap,
"Me, th-that...."
[Departure Delay / Disadvantageous Battlefield / Supply Line Recapture / Swift Operation]
"Got it, already! Such a whiner. Leaving now means no return for ages anyway—gotta finish business first."
Ian gave the admin building where Professor was one last look, then turned toward the city gates.
"Let's go, friends. If the broken one's hustling that hard, we able-bodied can't slack."
That day, the BDSM caravan of 30—including those three—set off for Zone 46, locked in endless mutant swarms and battles.
One tank, two armed trucks, three combat vehicles: elite squad BDSM.
"What's the target this time?"
"That monster that smashed through the line at Outpost 74 two days back. Called Pangolin or whatever—armadillo-lookin' thing."
Their mission: reinforce the worst battlefield, hunt 2.5- and 3-type variants serving as linchpins across the field.
****
Around then, as his friends steeled for battle aboard their vehicles....
....Gulp.
The Professor was steeling a resolve as grim as theirs—maybe grimmer.
Ding-!
[Player ‘Speed Wagon’ has entered!]
She's here. My old acquaintance, advisor, online buddy, and—per memory-less me—lover!
'I-Ian said the vibe was good.... So lovers, right? How far'd we go? She'll cry seeing me like this, yeah? What do when a girl cries? Who am I? Where am I? First words when we meet....'
Whoosh!
Before he could start, panic gripped the Professor. A soft glow bloomed before him, revealing....
A frail woman in a wheelchair, smiling gently.
"....Long time.... no see? Professor."
Thud.
"Ah...."
Hundreds of swirling thoughts vanished in an instant. Her upturned, misty eyes gazing from the wheelchair. The deep, poignant emotion in them flowed into him through their locked gazes.
A stranger. No shared memories, yet undeniable returned feelings left him clueless how to respond.
Speed Wagon. My friend. Info broker. And my memory-less.... lover.
"Truly a long time.... Uh.... Nice to meet you? Dana Elisha Hyacinth.... Miss Speed Wagon?"
A awkward, squeezed-out greeting. Utterly lame, deserved mockery—yet why was she smiling like that?
"I knew you were clever.... But not this much. Leaving only emotions in people's hearts, tormenting us with maybe-gone-forever, then you forget everything solo—no room for grudges—and your first words are that same greeting from back then? Too.... slick, aren't you?"
"Uh.... Um.... Sorry—"
"Not what I want to hear."
Her voice trembled as she opened her arms to me.
"Come here."
I approached.
"Arms."
I bent, awkwardly hugging her shoulders in the white dress. Her arms softly pulled me in, shoulders meeting.
"Now.... Say you're home."
Her whisper in my ear. I couldn't tell if this emotion matched two months ago, or if it was her evoking this depth in our first meet.
"I'm home..... Dana."
But one thing was sure: revived old feeling or second love at first sight, her words filled me with satisfaction.
"....Welcome home. I missed you."
Hearing her soft voice, I realized: memory aside, this moment was what I needed most.
My ghostly state. Pretending strong, but hidden anxiety melted like snow in her warm body heat.
The soft, warm touch of skin on skin.
Her weak yet firm arms holding me, shoulders damp with overflowing emotion.
The scent from her long, wheat-field hair—like long-missed longing.
"Sorry.... I'm late."
Sometimes actions speak more than words.
In her embrace, I finally felt it: I'd returned.
Pathetic state or not, I'd come home.
Deep thanks to two-months-ago Professor's aesthetic sense.
My lover was the most beautiful woman in the world.
****
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