Plan B
"Fuck..."
"Sorry first off. I'll apologize. But could you cut the swearing? It kinda hurts my feelings."
"Shut up, you fucking bitch..."
Swish—!
"Gahk...!"
Something hazy and indistinct phased straight through the body of A-rank villain Driller. His body crumpled to the floor like a doll with its strings cut. The resentment and emptiness in his eyes slowly faded as his pupils dilated.
"Haa... I'm fucking exhausted. That bastard's mouth just wouldn't shut up. Why the hell did I even agree to help..."
The ghost who killed Driller—no, Ji-na—let out a deep sigh as she scanned her surroundings. There wasn't a trace of battle anywhere, no blood splattered even a drop. The pristine space was littered with people collapsed just like Driller, their pupils dilated. All of them had fallen to Ji-na.
Their limbs were intact. But they were dead. No matter how perfect the flesh, a soul severed from its body was no longer alive.
"Time to head home and crash..."
Her face heavy with fatigue, Ji-na trudged back to her place. Despite committing murder with her superpower, not a shred of guilt crossed her features. Only exhaustion lingered—like someone numb to killing.
"Hm? Who's this?"
I checked my phone at the sound of Yuna's bubbly, aegyo-drenched announcement.
The text was from Ji-na.
"Nice. Ji-na's got some real skills."
For this 'Jet Stream War,' Ji-na had agreed to help me out—but just this once. Since I was already getting her assistance, I figured I'd milk it and asked her to cut down Jet Stream's minions. She made it clear she hated getting involved, but she helped anyway.
And unlike my expectation that she'd handle maybe one, she took out two executives. Ji-na was no ordinary superhuman.
"Ah... Can't wait to fully conquer Ji-na. She's so damn good, I wanna stuff her womb full of my cum."
After wrapping up Jet Stream, I'd set something up. Truth was, I'd been meaning to make a move on her for a while, but annoying shit kept popping up. Now that she'd exceeded expectations, I couldn't put it off anymore. Time to claim her as mine and stamp my mark.
"Can't just sit back myself."
So far, Jet Stream's underlings I'd handled: Dragonian, Giga Elephant, Dari On, Driller. Four in total.
Level 10s—no, even Level 40 superhumans, and a Level 8 like Ji-na matched them? Unacceptable.
"Problem's Prime Knight though..."
Jet Stream had 19 executives under him. All A-rank villains. But the big three—his pride and joy—outshone the other 16 by miles.
Taking out the trio would halve his forces. Dragonian and Giga Elephant were done. Just Prime Knight left.
Issue was, Prime Knight stuck to Jet Stream 24/7. He went solo for district checks sometimes, but not today.
"Quantity over quality? Or quality over quantity?"
Even quantity wouldn't net many more. Maybe three at best. Time was short.
Come morning, Jet Stream would realize I was hunting his men. He'd prepare countermeasures—maybe even step in himself, bringing his goons en masse. Sneaky bastard.
Jet Stream wasn't dumb. Even if I taunted him with 'scared? huh?', he wouldn't fight me one-on-one. I'd publicly demolished White Knight, the so-called strongest hero. He knew he'd get fucked in a fair fight.
So quality it was... but Jet Stream was the snag again. Could I handle a Level 10 and Level 9 at once?
"Tough... but doable?"
I'm no average superhuman. Add an extra Level 8?
"Very tough."
Multiple Level 8s?
"Nope."
Decision made.
Succubus had spilled everything. Fail to take Jet Stream and Prime Knight in 10 minutes, and reinforcements arrive. The undefeated me tastes defeat for the first time.
"Can't have that."
Answer was clear: quantity over quality.
"Let's go."
*****
Better than nothing.
"....."
Jet Stream stared at his subordinates with a hardened face.
Of 19 seats, seven were empty. Nearly half absent.
His pride, Dragonian and Giga Elephant, included.
But what could he do? The dead don't move.
Bam—!
Unable to contain his rage, Jet Stream slammed the desk. It split clean in half, unable to withstand an S-rank villain's power.
"....."
"....."
No one spoke despite the shattered desk. Not even his right-hand, Prime Knight.
Is this even possible?
Not just anywhere—right in Jet Stream's territory, seven executives assassinated. Including two of the trio.
Weird. Just yesterday, they'd been laughing here together.
This couldn't happen. Impossible.
Maybe everyone, even Jet Stream, was acting to fool him.
"....."
Prime Knight stared at the firmly shut door. Maybe those seven would burst in with a 'fooled ya!'
But the door stayed shut. No executives came.
This was reality.
Ah...
Prime Knight finally faced it.
Th, that fucker...! Who the hell...!
His lord's fury infected him. A chilling aura leaked from his body. Killing intent.
But he stood still. Before his lord, etiquette mattered. Save the rage for solitude or enemies.
We got arrogant.
Too long at the top, they'd grown complacent. Knowing young wolves circled the fallen king, yet executives acted solo, trusting their power. Blind to the wolf at their throats.
"One hour."
"....."
"Find them. And catch them."
"Yes!"
Jet Stream's vague, impossible order. No one objected. Excuse it, and you'd be the eighth corpse.
Once everyone left, only Jet Stream and Prime Knight remained.
"....."
Staring silently at the door, Jet Stream finally spoke after a long pause.
"Surveil Succubus."
"Yes."
No explanation needed; Prime Knight nodded as if obvious.
He'd escaped reality from shock but quickly regained cold reason.
Sorting his thoughts, he spotted the one executive oddly uneasy: Succubus. Now named by Jet Stream.
Boss and top execs saw her as traitor.
The seven dead shared loyalty to Jet Stream—and solitude at death. Others dined or drank together.
Fun fact: Succubus was alone at her mansion... and survived. Others, even Dragonian and Giga Elephant, died. Suspicious.
Prime Knight's deduction. Jet Stream went further.
"Succubus fucked someone. Find out who."
"Sex?"
"Yeah. Or bought cum and shoved it in. Point is, she's not to be ignored now."
"Pardon?"
Succubus had hidden her explosive growth from Steel Armor's semen. Fooled other execs, but not Jet Stream's senses.
"Don't touch Succubus rashly."
"...Yes."
Shocked, but Prime Knight hid it. Don't touch rashly meant: you might lose to her.
Unthinkable with an S-rank right there.
"I'll be going then."
"....."
Prime Knight bowed to Jet Stream and left.
Alone, Jet Stream closed his eyes, suppressing rage inwardly.
Haaa— The fury escaped as smoky breath, filling the room. It didn't subside until the haze choked the air.
*****
Succubus slipped out and boarded her waiting car.
"Haa..."
"Tough meeting, sis. Now..."
"Shh. Quiet and drive."
"Ah, yes. Sorry. Heading out."
Succubus silenced her sister mid-sentence. Still in Jet Stream's turf. No Steel Armor talk till clear.
The car glided smoothly toward downtown.
"We'll head out then."
Nod.
Prime Knight's car followed.
*****
"Good thing I have a clone."
Without Mark Two banging Lamia for me, I'd be home fucking Elis sloppy in Ji-na's bed.
Anyway, I was in District 81, between my turf and Jet Stream's.
Why? Plan A—kill the trio—failed. Time for Plan B.
"Hope they listen."
If not, fists it is. I'm a pacifist at heart—hate using violence.
Bam—!
"Get over here!"
"Who the fuck?!"
"Crazy?!"
I kicked open the sealed door and strode in. Criminal scum playing cards and smoking jumped up in shock.
Fists? Nah, feet. Still pacifist.
"This the hideout of A-rank villain Don Quixote, ruler here?"
"Who're you?!"
"Yo, hold up."
"Why? Blast him..."
"That's Steel Armor, ain't it?"
"...What?"
"Who?"
One recognized me; others panicked visibly.
Idiots for not spotting me sooner. Eyes for show? Black suit, skull-masked face—only me in Dark City.
Should've known instantly. Decorative eyes.
"What brings you here, sir?"
"Ahem!"
The smart one approached politely. I cleared my throat sternly and stated my business.
"Fetch Don Quixote. I have urgent words for him!"
Spoke like a Joseon-era noble. Today's concept: Lord Steel Armor. Add hanbok and gat hat, perfect!