The Gathering of the Apex
The anxiety rolling off Kim Mu-saeng was palpable enough that even Park Hyun-gu picked up on it.
"It isn't just about the Floor 66 artifact, is it, Mu-saeng? There's something else going on."
Hyun-gu had already heard the basics. He had even received a fragment of Sraken's Molt himself. When Geum Soo-ah and Yoon Pyo came knocking, and when Geum Byeong-cheol requested a private audience, Hyun-gu had assumed it was purely about Floor 66—the drops, the tactical intel, that sort of thing.
Was that not the case?
"Well... there is something, but... damn it, it's complicated..." Mu-saeng trailed off, unable to give a straightforward answer.
It was not a simple dilemma over whether to disclose Wahsh's true identity.
Did Geum Byeong-cheol really leak that kind of information to outsiders?
From the moment Geum Soo-ah sensed Wahsh's presence, and from the moment Mu-saeng realized Geum Byeong-cheol stood leagues above a floor boss like Sraken, Mu-saeng had made a calculated gamble. If he couldn't hide it, he would use it to blow the board wide open. Thanks to that maneuver, he had learned how Geum Byeong-cheol attained such absurd power—discovering the truth behind how the man founded the nation's undisputed top guild, which went far beyond simply holding an SSR-grade ability.
It had been an equitable exchange of intelligence. And given how precious information was in the Awakener world, the standard protocol was to bury such secrets deep underground.
"A television? I cannot fathom how primitive they are through a flat glass panel. Are you implying every single one of those specimens that just flashed by is on par with that... that beast, Kim Mu-saeng?"
Yet Geum Byeong-cheol had talked? To Awakeners who were his equals, or perhaps even his superiors—the very monsters Wahsh was currently scrutinizing through the broadcast?
If he hadn't revealed it yet, had he summoned them here to spill the secret now?
To run some kind of verification on me...? No. If that were the case, Geumseong would have contacted me first. The door would have slammed open by now, and Geum Soo-ah or some suit would have barged in saying, 'The Chairman wishes to see you.'
Looking at it from that angle, neither Mu-saeng nor Park Hyun-gu had received a single phone call. This barbecue restaurant sat right outside the Tower. If Geumseong wanted to locate him, they would have caught him in the communal lobby, or their agents would already be swarming the dining room. Given their vast intelligence apparatus, finding him was child's play.
Yet there was dead silence.
Which means... it isn't about me?
Was Wahsh not the catalyst? Was there another reason entirely?
As Mu-saeng's mind raced through endless calculations, Park Hyun-gu snapped him out of it.
"If it's about you, your phone will ring eventually. Hey, forget it and order more meat! Boss! Give us another serving of skirt meat over here!"
Mu-saeng let out a dry chuckle. "Look who's talking after swearing he was stuffed... Fine, on one condition. Since I'm paying for more beef, you're definitely helping me recruit the party, hyung."
Hyun-gu nodded vigorously.
Right at that moment, Mu-saeng's smartphone vibrated.
Bzzzzz—.
The short buzz froze both men instantly.
"Who is it?" Hyun-gu asked. "What does it say?"
Mu-saeng unlocked the screen and scanned the message. A hollow laugh slipped past his lips.
"What is it? Bad news?"
"I mean... it's good news, technically. No, it's definitely good news. But still..."
The message was remarkably brief.
"Chief Jang! Where is Kim Mu-saeng?! Is this pathetic incompetence the best our One Way can manage?!"
"Th-that is... We are doing everything within our power, sir. However, the Managing Director's full recovery takes top priority—"
"I'm already cured! No, I'm not cured at all! Until I tear Kim Mu-saeng limb from limb with my bare hands, my mind will never heal!" Lee Eunwoo screamed at the top of his lungs, his face flushed with fury.
Chief Secretary Jang Hagook buried his head low, desperately concealing the sheer exhaustion on his face.
Damn it all... how much longer do I have to keep up this farce?
Mu-saeng had kept his word. The antidote had purged the lethal venom from Lee Eunwoo's bloodstream in record time. After a brief hospital stay to manage minor lingering symptoms, the doctors had declared him fully recovered. Yet the young heir's hysterical tantrums showed no signs of abating.
Find Kim Mu-saeng. Drag him here. If you got the antidote, doesn't that mean you cornered the bastard?
Naturally, Jang Hagook had used his executive authority to freeze every single order targeting Mu-saeng. He couldn't track Mu-saeng down, couldn't call him, and certainly couldn't drag him in. The medicine running through Eunwoo's veins had been purchased with Hagook's betrayal. Confessing that truth was an immediate death sentence.
Shit, shit, shit.
Could they kidnap Kim Mu-saeng instead? Absolutely out of the question. A calculating predator like Mu-saeng had undoubtedly established an automated dead-man's switch. If anything happened to him, or if a designated password wasn't entered at regular intervals, the damning video recordings would instantly blast across every public network. A man that meticulous would never leave his flank exposed.
Hagook had managed to pacify Eunwoo until now by feeding him tiny, harmless breadcrumbs—whispering that Mu-saeng had made contact with Geumseong—but the spoiled heir was running out of patience.
"The Geumseong bastards can't guard him twenty-four hours a day! If you're too cowardly to drag him in, just admit it right now! Or should I camp outside the Geumseong Hotel myself? It's not like anyone can stop me! Right, Chief Jang?!"
"W-well, the thing is—"
Just as Hagook felt his sanity hanging by a fraying thread—
Clack—!
The heavy doors to the executive office swung wide without so much as a perfunctory knock.
Only two individuals in the entire hierarchy of Korea One Way Group possessed the authority to enter unannounced.
"—Dad—"
SMAAAACK!
One of those two men—the President of Korea One Way Group and Lee Eunwoo's father, Lee Han-il—strode across the Persian rug and struck his son across the cheek with blinding force.
"Stop making an unsightly disgrace of yourself, you idiot. Your screeching echoes all the way down the corridor."
"Uh..." Eunwoo froze, clutching his stinging face. In a very literal sense, it was the first time in his life he had ever felt the sting of a physical blow.
Beside them, Jang Hagook's jaw went slack in shock.
"Chief Jang. Turn on the television."
"Y-yes, right away, sir!"
Hagook scrambled to grab the remote. The wall-mounted display flickered to life, tuning into a live broadcast from Incheon International Airport.
[Anchor] "Are you confirming that all these prominent figures have gathered solely to attend Geumseong's international conference?"
[Field Reporter] "That is correct. The unprecedented gathering of four members of the 'Eight Seconds' has put the entire metropolitan area on highest alert. National police forces are currently coordinating emergency security deployment alongside Geumseong to manage catastrophic crowd surges—"
Click. The screen went dark.
"Chairman Geum Byeong-cheol has made his move," Lee Han-il said, his voice grim. "The absolute apex rankers from across the globe are setting foot on Korean soil."
"And... what does that have to do with me, Dad?" Eunwoo whimpered, still cupping his throbbing cheek.
Lee Han-il's brow furrowed deep with disgust. "That old monster hasn't made a personal move on the international stage in ten years. And the only notable variable in his sphere recently was a private meeting with Kim Mu-saeng, that lowly sherpa. Do you truly believe that is a coincidence?"
Something gargantuan was shifting behind the scenes—a seismic event far beyond the scope of anything Korea One Way Group could fathom, let alone control.
Both Lee Eunwoo and Jang Hagook stood struck dumb.
"Our Southeast Asian branch is dispatching top-tier Awakeners to attend the conference as well," Lee Han-il continued.
"Then we can ask them to grab Kim Mu-saeng—"
"Managing Director Lee Eunwoo! Are you fundamentally incapable of comprehending plain speech?!"
The message was unequivocal: Do not touch Kim Mu-saeng under any circumstances.
Eunwoo flared up in desperation. "Dad!"
"You insolent brat! Do you want to ruin this family?!" Han-il's roar rattled the glass cabinets. "Do not stir up unnecessary trouble. If this escalates any further, Chairman Lee Jung-ki will not let it pass."
Eunwoo swallowed hard. The mention of his grandfather, Chairman Lee Jung-ki—the brutal patriarch who had carved out Korea One Way through blood and terror—finally clamped the boy's jaw shut.
"Burn this into your skull. The matter regarding Kim Mu-saeng ends right here."
Standing in the corner, Jang Hagook's head spun. Should he sigh in sweet relief, or weep in terror knowing his leash was held by a man capable of triggering a summit of living gods?
Fuck my life...
One thing was certain: his days of easy living were long gone. The only move left was to discreetly tap out a quick text from the pocket of his slacks.
"Situation terminated. Handled at the President's level."
Miles away, Mu-saeng's smartphone vibrated softly against the tabletop.
Late that night, high above the stage of a grand auditorium typically reserved for world-class concerts, a massive banner flapped quietly in the conditioned draft.
Though the cavernous hall was built to accommodate eight thousand spectators, it remained closed to the public tonight. With the hour well past midnight, not a single staff member was in sight.
Amidst the pitch-black silence—an emptiness so profound it boarded on eerie—several distinct silhouettes emerged through separate entryways.
"Heh heh. I couldn't speak freely over the phone, you see. Not with that brat hovering around."
The first to step forward was naturally the host himself: Geum Byeong-cheol of Geumseong. Even in the gloom of the unlit auditorium, his dark sunglasses remained firmly in place.
An athletic man with a short crop of golden hair answered his greeting with a cocky drawl.
"So, did you bring the Key, or what? I didn't fly across the Pacific just to stare at those god-awful eyes of yours."
Steve King. The guild master of Windbloom, the premier climbing syndicate of the United States, and the Awakener who held the world record for the highest Tower ascent. Though only in his mid-thirties, the sheer casual arrogance with which he addressed Geum Byeong-cheol spoke volumes about his catastrophic strength.
"Ke ke. As rash and foolish as ever, I see," Byeong-cheol chuckled softly.
A vein twitched on Steve's temple, but before he could retaliate, another presence spoke. The figure was clad entirely in pitch-black mechanized armor, resembling an imposing war automaton more than a human being.
"We came here under the premise of cooperation. Is there any need for this childish antagonism from either of you?"
The speaker's voice was heavily synthesized, and the face beneath the visor remained completely concealed. It was the enigmatic chief executive of Metalline, the world's titan in magitech artifact manufacturing.
"Take off that plastic toy before you preach to me, coward," Steve sneered.
"Tsk, German humor is always so stiff," Byeong-cheol scoffed. "Can't a man have a little fun knocking some manners into a pup?"
Steve King's eyes narrowed dangerously. "...Manners? You think you're teaching me manners, old man?"
Byeong-cheol didn't bother to answer. He merely adjusted his sunglasses, staring down his rival through the tinted lenses.
The atmospheric pressure inside the auditorium began to warp.
Bzzzzzzt—.
Across the vast, eight-thousand-seat auditorium, the metallic backrests of every single chair began to hum with static heat. Before the sizzling grew into a deafening roar, Byeong-cheol's raspy voice cut through the dark.
"Steve. Drop your power."
Simultaneously, the overhead stage lights flickered violently in erratic bursts. The control rooms and circuit panels were completely unmanned, yet raw, volatile current surged through the hall's infrastructure.
Steve glanced up at the sparking lights, then sneered back at Byeong-cheol. "And if I don't?"
His bright blonde hair began shifting into a fiery, radiant crimson.
Byeong-cheol gave a slow nod, as if he had anticipated nothing less. "Then an elder will have to drag it out of you. Personally."
The moment Byeong-cheol reached toward his sunglasses, white sparks crackled through his gray hair—
Fwoooooosh────────.
A gentle, warm breeze drifted through the freezing tension. It felt soft and comforting, like slipping beneath a freshly laundered blanket on a winter morning. A luminous, pure white aura rippled through the air, draping over the two men like a veil.
"Monsieur King, Monsieur Geum. That is quite enough."
An elderly gentleman smiled serenely from the shadows of the stage. Jean-François Hugo, Dean of France's prestigious Réveil Grande École.
His tone sounded like a polite plea, but the aura pressing down on them carried absolute finality.
"On such a momentous day when the Key has finally been found, must we scowl at one another like savages?"
It was a request, wrapped neatly in an undeniable threat.
Steve's blazing hair settled back into its natural golden sheen. Geum Byeong-cheol lowered his hand, shrugging his broad shoulders with a wry smirk.
"I was merely fixing my glasses. Old men always have to stick their noses where they don't belong."
"...Does that not apply equally to you, Monsieur Geum?" the Dean replied with a gentle bow. "After all, the moment you secured the Key, your boundless generosity compelled you to share it with the rest of us."
Byeong-cheol shook his head vigorously at the buttered praise. He knew continuing this dance was a waste of breath, so he cut straight to the heart of the matter.
"The Key has undeniably been found. All that remains is to send him up the Tower. As for the method... I leave that entirely to your discretion."
The eyes of the surrounding rankers shifted.
It was only natural. Byeong-cheol's proclamation meant only one thing: No matter what you do to Kim Mu-saeng, I will not lift a finger to stop you.
The CEO of Metalline spoke through his synthesizer. "You discovered him yourself, yet you make no claim of ownership? You were never one to make such irrational concessions, Byeong-cheol."
Steve King was already turning on his heel, his leather jacket swaying as he strode toward the exit. He tossed a single parting shot over his shoulder.
"If you backpedal on that promise later, one of us isn't leaving this city alive."
The elderly French dean slowly shut his eyes, murmuring into the quiet dark. "The Tower's divine design... its ultimate purpose... When faced with that truth, there is no chance he will refuse to walk alongside me..."
Listening to the murmurs of the monsters who held the fate of nations in their palms, Geum Byeong-cheol merely smiled.