Chapter 56
Chapter 56
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 55
Chapter Title: The Drunken Colonel
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The old man spotted Jin.
His strawberry nose, swollen from years of chronic drinking, twitched.
"...Hm?"
Deep wrinkles narrowed his eyes.
One second, two seconds... three seconds.
Only after three full seconds did his heavy eyelids slowly lift.
"Huh?"
The man jabbed his bottle toward Jin and spoke.
"Who was it again?"
"...What?"
Jin's face twisted like he'd just stepped on a fresh pile of shit.
The saying "you remember the one who hit you, but not the one you hit" had never hit home quite like this.
That blank, dumbfounded look. Holy shit.
Jin clutched the back of his neck.
"Sir, remember that hit-and-run from before?"
"Mm."
"You plowed into a guy on a motorcycle on the highway. With a truck."
"Ohhh?"
As Jin's blood pressure spiked at the old man's infuriating grunt, a vein bulged on his forehead.
Finally, the old man stared straight at Jin.
"...You're that guy?"
"See? That's what happens when you chug booze like that—you can't even remember faces. I made you chant 'I'm a murderer' three times before bed, right? You doing it? Nah, your face says it all. Knew this would happen. People can't be fixed, huh? Old sayings are spot on every time."
Jin unleashed a machine-gun barrage from his mouth.
The old man, riddled by the verbal assault, said nothing.
Fenrir withdrew his hand from his sword hilt and scratched his cheek.
The others exchanged awkward glances, faces tinged with confusion.
And so, only Jin stood tall.
Gazing at the thoroughly sloshed old-timer, he thought.
Technically not a hit-and-run.
We settled it with an apology and some hush money upfront.
Still annoying he doesn't recognize my face.
The booze, I guess?
As Jin mulled it over internally, his brow slowly furrowed.
It wasn't fresh anger at the old man resurfacing.
Just a familiar yet strange title popping into his head belatedly.
Hold on. Colonel, right...?
At that moment, with a pop!, the old man cracked open a fresh bottle and blew into it like a trumpet.
With each gulp, his Adam's apple bobbed, and the level in the upturned bottle plummeted visibly.
He polished off the whole thing in seconds, wiped his wet lips, and spoke.
"So, mana circuit recovered?"
Jin didn't answer.
Instead, he recalled their old conversation from long ago—
'My body's a total ragdoll. Won't make it to a natural death at this rate.'
'Who you kidding? This is all your fault... whatever. Let's never meet again. Deal?'
Back then, Jin had figured the guy was making excuses after running him over guilt-free.
Apparently not.
Only now did Jin realize this alcoholic wasn't ordinary.
And with that, his long-dormant social radar whirred to life—
Not Resistance, not TB. A colonel from a third force?
Hold up.
Jin eyed the old man with dawning suspicion.
"Sir, you from the City Government?"
A chuckle-laced reply came back.
"Why? Not allowed?"
City Government special forces Colonel John Harrison.
That was the old man's true identity.
Jin was stunned.
Surprised he's a big shot instead of just a drunk?
Nah.
He had some immunity to twists like that.
Courtesy of those Rokhan shots.
"Ta-da! Turns out he's amazing!" was easy enough to shrug off.
So what shocked Jin was something else entirely.
Forty-something?!
That face?
"...No way that's true."
"You think I'm so bored I'd lie about this? Colonel's in his forties, for real. So quit calling him 'sir'... it's awkward for us, y'know?"
The man sighed deeply.
The one who'd guided them here.
Q, was it?
Typical special forces—initials only.
Ironic the colonel spilled his full name.
Whatever.
"...Alcoholism's terrifying."
One drink turns you that prematurely aged. As Jin muttered gravely,
Q jerked his chin toward somewhere.
"Follow me. Taking you to your comrades."
With that, Jin and Fenrir trailed after him.
"Colonel gave the short version, but properly: I'm Q."
"Jin." "Fenrir."
After the curt introductions, the trio descended the stairs to the building's basement.
Sensors detected them and snapped on overhead lights—
Q spoke naturally.
"You must have questions. Fire away."
Fenrir jumped in like he'd been waiting.
"Why's the City Government sending special forces to Mute Town? You've ignored the 40s districts consistently till now."
"Sorry, bad assumption from the start. City Government never dispatched us. We came on our own."
"...On your own? Why?"
Q turned his head at the follow-up.
Answered flatly.
"Chasing the Face Collector."
Jin eyed him as he faced forward and kept walking.
Shock timing now?
Feels like it.
"Face Collector!"
Not even knowing what it was, Jin faked surprise first.
He elbowed Fenrir's side—you fill in the rest—and Fenrir scowled, adding,
"Face Collector—that high-risk criminal active a decade-plus ago? Thought he was dead long back."
"If so, we wouldn't be holed up here."
Jin tilted his head.
Something felt off listening quietly.
"...Wait? So you're stationed in Mute Town not to end the civil war, but chasing someone separate?"
"Yeah."
"Then why save us? Totally unrelated."
Fair question.
But Q shook his head.
"Not unrelated. Big picture: Resistance collapsing helplessly like this? Can't have that. I'm not the only one saving you—my team's combing the city right now rescuing stragglers."
He opened the basement door as he spoke.
Revealed a brightly lit, spacious interior.
Grid-like corridors lined with rooms of distinct purposes on both sides—
Albus lay in one.
Beep-beep-
Hooked to a ventilator, strung with blood packs.
The monitor by his head traced irregular ECG waves.
"Past the worst. Just watch him."
Q turned from the glass-walled scene.
"Back to your question: Simple reason we care about Resistance. Found evidence Face Collector's backing TB. To get close, need balance between TB and Resistance more than ever."
He let out a faint sigh.
To Jin, it sounded like an undercover's lament.
"Supported covertly till now without tipping off, but Resistance pulls a reckless op outta nowhere."
"Reckless op?"
"Ask them."
Jin and Fenrir turned where Q's gaze pointed.
Osia and Den stood side by side, watching them.
Q's voice followed from behind.
"Know you're Solos. Past Resistance gigs too. No clue what wind blew you back into this mess, but we're in the same boat now. Talk it out, then head up. Got work for you."
He turned and walked off after that.
Naturally, Jin and Fenrir's eyes met slowly as they stood frozen.
"Let's get the sitrep first."
"Damn it... yeah."
The basement had a modest rest area on one side.
Just a U-shaped sofa and shelves like a utility room, really.
Still enough to sit, so the group slumped onto the sofa, eyeing each other wearily.
The bearded one, Den, spoke first.
"Thanks. Owe you our lives."
No time to notice before amid the chaos, but under bright light, his face looked a decade older.
Osia too—her wrecked bangs swept back roughly, she muttered bitterly.
"City Government. Since when've they been watching us?"
Her grumpy soliloquy trailed into silence.
As everyone sorted tangled thoughts, Jin flinched spotting something.
(Complete!)
The quest cleared, flooding his brain with rich experience points like a dopamine hit.
Fatigue faded faintly in the instant, and the piled-up XP solemnly declared it was primed to light a new star.
But Jin opened his eyes for now.
Triage first.
"What op went south to make things this bad?"
Osia's face soured visibly.
Just recalling it turned her stomach.
Still, she swallowed her anger, lips moving slowly.
The story went like this.
Watching TB expand influence daily, Resistance concluded the civil war couldn't drag on.
So they hastily formed a strike team solely for Taha.
Core forces, naturally.
Oren Palmer.
A Level 5 Solo, superhuman psychic cloaked in powerful barriers, smashing TB troops.
He even popped an awakener before clashing with Taha.
And his head got crushed.
A lion roared over the pulped remains, and that day, Resistance's stronghold fell.
All too futilely.
"That big a gap?"
"Exactly! And this wasn't their first clash. They'd fought three times in two years. Oren was always slightly pushed, sure, but never an uncrossable gap. We weren't moving blind!"
Excited, Osia got backup from Den.
"Oren was the most gung-ho for this fight. Cocky that an awakener guaranteed victory."
Jin didn't know, but awakeners doped psychics' brainwaves—a drug trading lifespan for temporary power surges.
Even without details, the name evoked it.
Jin roughly got it, thinking.
Even match before? Pops drug, gets head smashed instead?
Two options.
1. Foe played weak all along.
2. Foe powered up suddenly.
Then—
"How long since their last bout?"
Fenrir, silent till now, prompted, and Osia pondered before answering.
"Five... no, six months-ish."
"Half a year."
Fenrir tapped his sword hilt, continuing.
"Sliced Taha's throat. Not deep, but bled plenty. Healed spotless, though—even knit in seconds."
Beastmen recovered far better than humans, but he flatly said neck wounds didn't seal in a dozen seconds, then eyed Jin.
"Guess that agent's intel checks out."
"Face Collector, right?"
The criminal City Government's special forces hunted.
Suspected TB backer.
What'd he do to Taha?
Something smelled.
A chain of ominous scents.
But Jin didn't dwell.
From the moment he entered Mute Town to save Albus, he was braced for anything.
Why?
It was his choice entirely.
Over thirty? Own up to your actions. Duh.
Status window just aligned coincidentally.
So Jin fretted little.
Situations veer weird? Long as he could hunt the best path amid it, plenty.
Yeah, street rat style.
He chuckled unwittingly, trailing off slowly.
"Anyway, let's see this John Harrison. Hear what he says."