Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 52
Chapter Title: Rescue in Mute Town
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Albus was a name Jin knew well.
The resistance fighter who'd helped him sneak into Mute Town before.
Their connection hadn't ended there. During the ten days Jin spent recovering from his injuries at the resistance hideout, they'd built up a solid friendship.
So Jin swiped the status window away.
He was going anyway—no need for it to pop up like that.
"Hmm. So I just input these numbers into the nav?"
"Jin?"
Poh stared at Jin copying the coordinates, his eyes wide with disbelief.
"We should assess the situation first. Figure out who sent the coordinates, then—"
"Paste it... here... There we go."
In the meantime, Jin had punched the destination into the navigation. He stood up from the sofa.
"Ah, it's from someone I know."
"...?"
Poh was momentarily speechless at the confident tone.
Jin bent down, grabbed a cookie from the plate, and waved as he turned.
"I'm off."
With that casual goodbye, he strode right out of the shop.
Poh stood frozen in shock. Then the briefing room door clicked open.
"Jin, I picked out a few jobs that looked decent for you... Where'd he go?"
Kalifa poked her head out from behind a stack of file folders. Poh, staring straight ahead, replied.
"...He headed to Mute Town."
Vrooooom—!!!
The Manticore tore down the road.
Jin leaned forward against the blasting wind resistance.
Once it hit the highway, the bike accelerated without hesitation. The speedometer needle whipped around clockwise.
Jin's eyes, fixed straight ahead, flicked to the top right of his helmet visor for a moment.
[Kalifa]
A familiar name appeared with a faint vibration.
The helmet had wireless calling. It was displaying an incoming call on the HUD—
"Yeah, what's up?"
He accepted it, and Kalifa's voice filled the tight space inside.
[Jin? Where are you right now?]
"Ah, I left without saying bye. I'm on the highway, heading to Mute Town."
[Why there?]
"A friend I owe a debt to seems to be in danger."
There was a pause. He wondered if the call dropped and glanced at the visor—[···Kalifa···] still hung there.
So Jin spoke up.
"Kalifa?"
[You know the situation in Mute Town right now, don't you?]
"Yeah. The civil war's gotten worse, right?"
[Worse doesn't even cover it. No exaggeration—it's hard to find a safe spot anywhere now.]
"That bad?"
[TB's gone full purge on the resistance. They're ruthless. Instead of rooting them out from civilians, they just drop bombs on the whole area.]
"Metaphor? Or for real?"
[Wish it was a metaphor. Even the locals aren't hiding resistance fighters anymore. Too risky for them.]
Another brief silence. Then a soft sigh.
[You're still going, though?]
"Have to."
[Knew it.]
He could picture her expression in her tone. Jin chuckled.
"You call just to say that?"
[Watch out for Taha. No matter what anyone says, that guy's the real deal.]
Taha. Leader of TB.
The white lion beastman standing atop a crushed tank.
Jin nodded.
"Got it."
[Alright, hanging up. Good luck.]
Click.
The call ended, and wind roared in his ears again.
Jin throttled up harder.
This time, Jin couldn't enter Mute Town the legitimate way.
By the book, he'd go through the gate—but TB forces were surely blanketing it.
He'd heard on the news.
The warlord faction had militarily sealed off the entire district.
A bunch of former street gang punks declaring martial law?
Ridiculous, but what could you do? TB had that kind of power now.
So Jin took the back way.
Guided by memory, how far did he go down the narrow path?
A foul stench crept in, and an old sewer came into view.
Found it.
He'd arrived at the rendezvous spot where he'd first met Albus. Jin parked the bike nearby.
Taking off his helmet, he looked up at the darkening sky.
The stench, thicker now, stabbed at his nose...
What the hell is that?
Jin wrinkled his nose.
Black sludge pooled in the sewer, corpses bobbing on the surface.
The eye-watering stink wasn't just sewage.
Up close, it was worse.
Any sign of who they were in life?
Not a chance.
That's the gruesome truth of drowned bodies—something ordinary folks don't know and don't need to.
Swollen, burst flesh erases any respect for the dead.
Even if it was family, you'd cover your mouth in instinctive revulsion mixed with self-loathing. That's why they never show drowning victims to relatives.
But Jin didn't look away.
Not because he had a strong stomach—something about the floating chunks of meat felt familiar.
Specifically, the brown tactical vests.
No need to think long—he knew it was resistance gear.
Hiding in the sewer and swept away by discharge? Or dumped here by TB?
Didn't matter either way.
"···"
Jin silently turned to the Manticore.
No wheels from here on. Leaving it made him uneasy, but what choice was there?
No safe parking in this city anyway.
The sewer was on the outskirts, sparsely populated, so he'd trust that.
With that, Jin headed into the sewer.
Helmet pulled down tight again.
Not a gas mask, so no real protection, but better than bare face.
Trudging through the stench, he walked until he found the ladder to the surface. Without hesitation, he climbed.
Clunk! Rrrrk—
The manhole cover scraped aside.
Jin peeked out, just his eyes above the rim, scanning.
Clear. He pulled himself out like taffy.
In the silent alley, he replaced the cover and checked his terminal.
Heading the way the nav directed, it calculated 3 hours 23 minutes based on his pace.
Too long on foot.
Over 7 hours since the message. No more delays.
Jin lengthened his stride naturally.
His steps quickened, pounding the ground faster. Soon, he was sprinting through the night streets.
Tat-tat-tat!
His speed far surpassed human limits.
The scenery blurred by.
Dark alleys in a flash,
industrial waste discharge zones,
sparsely lit streets stretching ahead.
The nav's ETA plummeted.
[3 hours 23 minutes]
[2 hours 55 minutes]
[2 hours 11 minutes]
·········
······
···
A round light sweeps around.
Up, down, left, right.
The beam, slowly scanning the darkness, halted before a crumbling outer wall.
Up and down again.
Confirming the tall abandoned building, the soldier clenched his fist with his other hand.
The followers halted smoothly—
Click. Lights off, night vision goggles deployed from helmets.
Their helmets bore the same mark: three diagonal scars like beast claws.
The Beast.
Step.
TB troops advanced slowly into the ruin.
At the rear stood a man eyeing the structure with naked eyes—no NVGs. Fluorescent hues gleamed in his gaze.
"···He's here."
A faint mutter.
The woman peering through a broken window ducked hastily.
Instantly, gazes from those lounging or leaning around the cramped room turned to her.
One asked.
"How many?"
"A squad. Problem is, an officer's with them. Our eyes met, I think... Shit. Not sure."
A TB officer? Naturally a beastman.
Human weapons born from beast serum,
TB's founding members.
Faces darkened naturally.
Albus, bandaged around the gut, was no exception.
Fiddling with his dead terminal, he heard the woman speak.
"...No backup, huh?"
"Obviously. Base is trashed. They can't spare us right now."
"Fuck. Bullshit."
She gripped her hair, spitting curses.
"We couldn't lose Oren to Taha. How did..."
"It's done."
He answered calmly, but it stung inside.
Oren Palmer.
Resistance powerhouse, level 5 solo superhuman psychic.
Beaten by Taha.
The fragile balance shattered predictably. Now scattered, how many survivors?
Crushed by despair, Albus bit his lip unconsciously.
"Albus."
He turned at the call, snatching something tossed his way.
Then slowly spoke.
"...Detonator? Why give it to me?"
The bearded man who'd thrown it smirked.
"You're hurt worst. If we all bite it, hit it then. Time it right. Take the officer with us."
Albus stared at his palm, hesitant to reply.
When they'd holed up here,
They'd rigged bombs for worst-case. If it came to it, blow it and go together.
Never thought it'd come to that...
Shit.
Bitter smile, he nodded.
"Yeah."
"Move out."
Someone said it, and the room stirred in response.
They headed to pre-assigned spots.
Moments later.
Alone, Albus pressed his bloody bandage. Then—
Rat-tat-tat-tat!!!
Gunfire echoed from the hall.
Shouts of "Block them!" "Kill!" too.
Albus stayed calm.
Death was expected.
Just his turn last.
Relieved, he sorted his thoughts.
Press when they reach the room?
Stall with talk?
Which officer?
Then he recalled: right before his terminal died, desperately logging into the solo intranet.
Sent coordinates to two contacts on impulse. Maybe pointless.
But fleeting.
Albus gripped the detonator tight, shaking off distractions.
Gunfire slowing now.
His thumb hovered over the button.
Bang—!!
Ear-splitting shot.
"...Huh!"
Albus flinched, nearly pressing.
Another 'Bang—!!'
Chaos outside the door. It burst open—woman and beard rushed in, gasping.
"Someone's here!" "Something came!"
Albus's mind blanked. He pulled his thumb back.
"What?"
"Literal. Someone showed, but not sure if friendly. Helmet on—can't ID—"
Before she finished, another booming shot.
"Tch!"
Albus blinked between them aiming at the door.
Helmet? Who?
Only one it'd be here...
Meanwhile, gunfire closed in.
Screams gone from the hall now—then a crashing impact.
Amid shattering, crunching, explosive destruction, the three resistance fighters' faces hardened.
"...What the hell?"
Beard swallowed dryly, tense.
Thud! Wall shook.
Impact so fierce, dust rained from the ceiling. But not over.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
Cracks spiderwebbed—Albus slapped the detonator in panic.
Kaboom—!!!!!
Roaring blast, wall exploded to rubble.
In slowed time, someone wreathed in purple lightning smashed a hyena's skull into the floor.
Meteor crater dented the ground like a dropped hammer.
From the blood-and-flesh epicenter, Jin slowly rose.