Chapter 512
Chapter 512
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: The Greatest Creditor (2)
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Click-clack, click-clack.
Pshh!
He shook the contents of the small ampule to mix them, then positioned the tip of the loaded injector over his vein.
A light trigger pull, a gentle pressure.
“Huuuugh—! Hooo....”
An euphoria anything but light.
The pale green liquid flowed through the tubes mimicking veins in his prosthetic body, seizing every nerve in an instant and relaxing him completely.
“Mmm.... Perfect. Nothing beats this for easing tension.”
Gedroits—no, the man who had become Raptor—set down the empty injector. It was a drug, but not the usual uppers or downers that drove people to rage or despair. Instead, it blunted emotional peaks, creating a clear, cold state of mind.
The Raptor Society, already experts in narcotics beyond the old generation’s wildest dreams, had entered the realm of medical innovation under his active leadership. It enabled cyborgs, stripped of most organs, to execute military ops with cold precision, without resentment toward their lives, while even boosting long-term physical performance.
Of course, even with his miraculous refinements, the base remained a “drug.” Its chemical addictiveness, apparent lack of side effects, and mind-altering clarity invited psychological dependence. Periodic doses pushed users beyond mere composure into a vegetative state unresponsive to any stimulus—a horrific fate.
“But how astonishing it is to face the world through someone else’s gaze entirely.”
He was no longer the scientist Andrey Gedroits of old.
“The perspective one lives with their whole life—it’s the frame through which a person views the world. In that sense, merging with another’s personality doubles the single window you’ve had on the world. It’s like encountering a new one altogether.”
The Gedroits of long ago would have recoiled violently at directly drugging the brain, but not now.
Gustav al Harb “Raptor” was a man who indulged in near-lethal doses of narcotics. By wedging the “Andrey Gedroits” personality into that framework and dominating it, Gedroits could now see the world through Gustav’s eyes. He could inject poison-like drugs without hesitation, commit murder on a whim, and do far worse without a second thought—all through that man’s gaze.
“Amazing. Truly novel, truly innovative. Kesselring. Don’t you think?”
Kesselring, who had been watching outside, turned sharply at Raptor’s question.
“...Your Excellency. If I may be so bold, it seems you’ve overdosed. Questions this vague aren’t like you.”
“Oh dear—good heavens! Fedor ‘Raptor’ Kesselring, dodging my question with one of his own. Quite the milestone! What, has rising from mere pack leader to one of the legion’s five Swarm Alphas blurred your grasp of the chain of command?”
“Hardly, sir. It’s merely concern over your recent... somewhat irrational moves.”
Raptor—Gedroits—chuckled at his pale subordinate, who brushed back his blond hair as if it might slice his hand.
“Concern? Be specific.”
“It may sound disloyal, but... are you perhaps experiencing some confusion while assimilating ‘Gedroits’s knowledge’?”
“Assimilating... Yes. I absorbed Gedroits’s life and knowledge.”
*At least, that’s what you believe.*
To claim the absolute power of Raptor Society’s leader, you tortured my subordinates, dug through my past, pried and investigated—arriving at that conclusion. So you’ll believe it.
*Ah, my loyal killer, my tool, my Raptor Society.*
*How laughable, how obtuse.*
*Aren’t you all killers commanded by a single word from such a man?*
*How easily you’re led. Why is a shepherd of sheep himself just another sheep?*
“Even so. Does it change that the man before you is Raptor?”
“No, sir.”
“Thanks to absorbing Gedroits’s knowledge, this Raptor created the cyborg plague, seized Dome Sector 38’s central generator, and reached the final phase of operations?”
“Yes.”
“Then even if my actions seem erratic, it’s right for me to hold command, yes?”
“...Yes.”
Kesselring buried the budding doubt in his chest. Suspicion was uncertain; results were not. Gustav al Harb had balanced the tipping scales between Dome and Raptor. Every step stemmed from plans in his head. Mid-op leadership changes wrecked operations more than anything, so Gustav remaining “Raptor” until the end was rational—Kesselring bowed his head, thinking that.
*As expected. His loyalty isn’t to me so much as... personal conviction. He’ll stage a coup soon enough....*
Kesselring’s face betrayed no change, but Gedroits—who had simulated and studied humans over millennia—saw right through him. A man driven not by loyalty to superiors or organizations, but solely by “rationality” as his banner. He deemed Raptor Society—killers all—logical leaders of this era, aligning with that ideology to climb the ranks.
Gedroits patted the shoulder of his dark-hearted subordinate.
Kesselring. This pale horse of a man still had his uses.
“I get where you’re coming from. You’re obsessive about irrationality, aren’t you? Setting that aside, the recent [War-Hunting] op dealt massive damage to Raptor Society.”
“...Sector 2. Losses from concentrated radiation exposure, plus those in killing Type-3 mutant [War], totaled nearly 30% of our full strength. Even if the organs extracted from its corpse hold immense value, at a time when conflict with Dome was already planned, I can’t fathom the worth of an op that burned through so much gear and manpower.”
“True. The bleeding was worse than expected. But it was worth it.”
Gedroits savored Kesselring’s subtly displeased expression, then slung an arm around his shoulders like an old friend.
“Sector 2’s resident refugee—that creature they called ‘war’—lived up to its name. Missiles, fighters, guns, ammo, blades, chemical weapons—it devoured everything you’d see in a warzone.”
“And it even used them.”
“Yeah. When that intercontinental ballistic missile popped out, even I tensed up. No big reason it crammed that into itself. It was just there when it mutated. A facility where Middle Eastern nations, allied with China, secretly stockpiled war gear.”
Gedroits recalled the monster called “War”—and the man it once was—continuing,
“The right man died in the right place. The original, before becoming a war monster? The one who kicked off all this by shoving the first nuke right into the heart of Washington.”
Kim Jang-so. That was his name. North Korea’s Supreme People’s Defense Chairman, hereditary despot, puppet long rendered nominal by the military.
“He watched everything his fingertip unleashed crumble the world. Maybe turning into a monster embodying war itself came from realizing he was the spark that ended a generation.”
If early North Korea maintained dictatorship through raw power, late North Korea used the dictator symbol to hold it. Real power lay with military generals. Surviving Kim clan served as tools to handle brainwashed masses; People’s Supreme Defense Chairman Kim Jang-so was just one such living tool.
Weak, foolish, yet steeped in ancestral greed.
So Gedroits chose him as the downfall’s origin.
“When things went south, he fled to what seemed safest. As North Korea’s spearhead under China, he’d have intel on secret hangars.”
He’d been told: *That place, packed with the most weapons, would be safe.*
The greedy fool realized his blunder only after the nukes flew—terrified, he hid in the Middle Eastern arsenal per Gedroits’s guidance.
“Great events can utterly transform those who face them. Even a hopeless idiot like Kim Jang-so couldn’t escape guilt watching humanity dwindle daily in the war. Hiding in that weapon-filled hangar, he died... and became a monster of war itself.”
Everyone who knew of that massive arsenal was secretly killed at war’s outbreak.
After Kim entered the missile hangar, Gedroits rewrote every access code.
Locked in with only missiles and weapons, the puppet waited in vain for nonexistent contacts, starving gravely.
He lapped water seeping through concrete, subsisted on hard-caught rats and cockroaches, desperately learning to wield the passage-blocking arsenal for escape.
Then he starved to death. Thus became Type-3 mutant “War.”
The embodiment of war itself spread dense radiation from Sector 2 worldwide via Gedroits’s cunning nudge—presenting survivors a countdown.
*Thinking back hurts. I justified it endlessly: best means available, even a figurehead like Kim Jang-so had ant-like masses killed via his title—a villain worth turning into a monster. To gather survivors in Dome’s test site, nothing beat widespread radiation requiring city-scale shields.*
“Well, Kesselring. A question: why bring up the past of a Type-3 mutant we already killed and dismantled? Hint: it’s why you started this line of questioning.”
“You mean that ‘War’ corpse can be weaponized. Worth 30% of Raptor’s forces.”
“Smart as ever!”
Literal truth. “Past Gedroits” wanted a mutant from that tactical-nuke stockpile to endlessly spew radiation, pressuring humanity—and it did.
But “current Gedroits,” fused with Gustav al Harb’s personality, envisioned a better use for the war-machine beast. So he reclaimed his creation.
Patting Kesselring’s back hard, he unlocked a securely stored metal box in the room’s corner.
Pshh! Pale mist and chill poured out.
“Needed special care, so I personally hacked that corpse pile with knives and axes.”
“Then that ‘busywork’ workout before was...”
“Finding this.”
Revealed: pale green lumps, grape-sized, faintly glowing.
“This is...”
“The source of that monster’s radiation. Biologically refined through natural processes—not artificial. A new tier of nuclear-reactive material old humanity never achieved....”
*Tok.*
Gedroits plucked a pale green pellet from what looked like living veins, flicked it lightly with a finger, and burst into hearty laughter.
“One of these holds enough energy for a massive nuclear plant—or to ash an entire city. Now understand why I pushed so hard for that Sector 2 beast?”
“I... understand. Dome’s expeditionary force was never in your sights.”
“Exactly. Now get back to work! I trust you, but I won’t reveal specifics on using this.”
“Returning at once.”
Kesselring exited the office, snake-eyes brimming with satisfaction. He’d thought capturing one dumb monster cost 30% of the legion—a near-total loss in modern warfare. But now? A weapon dwarfing that loss. Perfectly “rational” by his standards.
“Tsk tsk tsk. Why you can’t hand the wheel to idiots. A little agreement, a little nudge, and they think you share their thoughts.”
Gedroits clicked his tongue at Kesselring’s retreating back.
Yes, these grape-like pale green radiation lumps weren’t plentiful, but with effort, they could recreate the nuclear barrages that dotted nations at World War III’s start.
But why waste these few treasures on Dome’s expedition? They were mere lab rats in his experiment; Raptor, just tweezers or reagents to handle them.
Fusing with Raptor Society’s mad killer leader unlocked an unforeseen breakthrough. A way to right the world from a sunk man’s gaze—unimaginable to plain scientist Gedroits.
*Clack.*
He closed the metal box and stepped out.
Wheeeeen—!!!
Leaving the soundproofed room per his orders, ear-splitting sirens greeted him.
[Enemy approaching! Enemy approaching! Entering minefield!]
.
.
.
.
Rumble!
Dust clouds rose far off, vibrations sweeping the area.
[Br, breakthrough! They’ve broken through!]
*Tsssk—*
[Kesselring here. That was anticipated. Triceratops tank line forward. Once enemy speed drops, deploy cyborg plague. Pin their feet.]
[Concentrate all firepower on that sector the moment mobility falters. Ignore friendly losses.]
[Priority target: Professor Park. Entering alone—kill him now.]
[Noise-r43 reporting. Post-engagement with target, Dome expeditionary force accelerated.]
[Ignore them.]
[...Confirming. Swarm Alpha, ignore enemy main force?]
[Yes. Redirect all tanks and firepower blocking Dome’s path to stop approaching Professor Park. Main force countermeasures are ready.]
[...2nd, 14th, 17th, 34th Battalions, turning.]
Reports flooded in competitively; subordinates swiftly organized them orderly.
The scene beyond the vast front window—even Gedroits, veteran of countless hellscapes—couldn’t suppress thrill.
Tanks moved in perfect schools like herring shoals, barrels swiveling to one point.
From mine-explosion dust emerged it: smashing fences, obstacles, vehicles, humans like a flood, charging straight for the main force.
Satellites, once drifting, now formed Saturn-ring clusters mimicking new celestial bodies.
On the ground, tiny green fruits awaited to greet them—in his grasp.
“Finally. It begins at last....”
What must happen, happens.
Gedroits’s conclusion from observing a world splintered into countless variables.
Fate’s unknown, or gods’ design—who knew.
The scientist who strove harder than any to defy that “inevitable outcome” finally found a new solution at despair’s end, means exhausted.
“Foolishly, I tried pruning branches of a tree with roots firmly set.”
“Even endless future variants in irreversible straits yield the same result, naturally.”
Seeking answers in “better futures” guaranteed repeated failure.
“Maybe humanity took a wrong turn ages ago.”
Never considering fixing something more primal: the “past.”
Even he couldn’t turn back time. He’d tried hard—proven impossible.
But ways abound to return to the past without rewinding.
The wasteland calls pre-war “Old World,” treating it as superior, no?
Like great inventions from mistakes, he’d once unveiled the solution—with his own hands.
“Humanity’s misalignment—moral, custom, culture, tech... From that firmly wrong choice, raze all that followed, and humanity returns to the past.”
Gedroits recalled his new theory, thinking of a past colleague.
Li Xie. The researcher who fled him to found “Happy Blind,” tech-hating zealots. His actions now mirrored her ideology closely.
Difference: she believed all modern tech—and old humans who witnessed it, remembering the past—must self-terminate to save the crumbling world.
Gedroits’s plan diverged in two ways.
One: “Isolate,” don’t “remove,” tech from misguided growth.
Two: Spare one modern human remembering the flawed past, inescapable future.
Unlike leaders who disappointed him, this superhuman born miraculously from his abandoned plan. Ideal to lead the lost flock no shepherd could guide—a perfect human.
Thud—
Boom—
Thud—!
Smashing all obstacles, hurtling like a shell toward him.
“My, our, this world’s sole success. Inexpressibly noble perfection.”
The uncertain future belonged to his hands.
Wanted or not.
Great ones bore such fate.
Thus, great one. My sole success.
“Let us make this moment monumental.”
Gedroits lowered his lightly raised hand.
—Kwaaaaang!
Hundreds of tanks unleashed shells at one man.
Gedroits, Raptor, laughed maniacally.
He wouldn’t die from this.
Unlike monsters from deranged minds, that one was his sole true success: a living mind-possessed variant, as first planned.
Invincible.
The new era’s lone beacon!
Such attacks would merely bind his feet—nothing more! It must!
It *had* to!
“Mmm, looks like Kesselring was right. Overdid the dose.”
Gedroits shook his head, unclenching his bloodied fist. Absurd to imagine new failure here.
“Enjoy this eve of the new world from there, if you please.”
This grand thunder of cannons, roars, screams, shouts.
Not fireworks or confetti—but befitting salvo for a destruction-stained world’s finale.
Gedroits etched the professor—feet bound at violence’s heart—then turned, smile full, box tucked inside.
His steps led to a facility prepped long ago for another plan.
Toward Next Space’s shuttle, mostly launch-ready.
*This time, success. This time, a different outcome.* He believed fiercely.
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