Bad Karma
After wrapping up that walk with Kaedori—who was sporting a whole new look I'd never seen before—peace finally settled over me.
My footsteps back to the Sector's outer wall felt light, tinged with just a smidge of regret (mostly over the roughly 200,000 won in cash I'd blown on that high-speed train ride).
Still, the dominant feeling in my head was pure refreshment.
First off, I'd somehow achieved total independence from the research lab! Whether that's purely a good thing remains to be seen, but for my mental health? It was perfection.
Second, payday was right around the corner. As Executors tasked with the Sector's security, we got all the supplies we needed, so money troubles were never an issue... but doesn't a fat wallet just feel good?
Picturing my future had me grinning naturally.
Brimming with joy, I returned to the Executor Dormitory.
Who should be there to greet me but Carlos—the guy who'd ruthlessly shoved me into that disinfection-or-purification-whatever room.
"You're back. Supplies have arrived for you. Follow me."
Ehhh. I just wanna crash. And supplies? I haven't ordered anything lately.
Curiosity piqued alongside the laziness. Way better than diving straight into a mission the second I got back.
I trailed after Carlos. No chit-chat en route, just like our first meeting—the only conversation was the click of our boots.
But the path felt familiar. Like, really familiar. It was the route to the 1st Platoon that I always took.
I figured supplies meant the parcel locker or something, but maybe they were delivered to the platoon? Or did someone pick up my package for me? Nah, no one in the platoon was close enough to do that...! Tragic, but true.
All those stray thoughts scattered as we reached the 1st Platoon. Carlos handed me a pistol. Oh, and there was a sleek black dagger beside it.
"Executors in the platoon normally get bio-fusion rifles, but make do with this for now."
Whoa. A gun at last! Honestly, it felt less like a powerful weapon and more like getting a shiny toy pistol.
Weapons are relative, after all. Intellectually, I knew this pistol outgunned a standard-issue rifle, but to me, it just seemed as light as a BB gun pellet.
Real weapons were on Lira's level—like her Sky Piercer, or Nova's qubits. Wait, is Sky Piercer an exception? Nah, Lira herself was stronger than the shockwaves it fired—punching through them like they were nothing.
(For the record, I left out the Finisher on purpose. Carlos was in the same league as Lira. The Finisher's real cheat code was the white conclusion bullets—not the gun itself, which just boosted pistol rounds a tad. Even then, it was mostly for extending those bullets' range.)
Still, not a bad vibe. Not my birthday or anything, but it felt like a toy gun birthday present. Boys always preferred realistic firepower over pretty dolls anyway.
Not that I'm a boy now! But my heart was pumping that vibe!
Aaah, what about next mission? With this fun toy gun and knife, should I class-change to bayonet specialist?
"Do you know how to use it?"
"Yes. I do." What, instructions for a toy gun? Swap mags, pull trigger, done.
"For reference, that pistol's called the Reaper. Once the magazine's empty, it sucks blood from the user to generate ammo. The generated rounds' power scales with your activation index."
"Neat feature." Totally hits the fantasy spot! Risky blood drain, but grows with the user—what a dream!
I snorted approvingly, and Carlos let out a tiny sigh before continuing.
"Don't take it lightly. It could cost you your life. No hard limit on blood absorption. Fire recklessly, and you'll bleed out. With your activation index... nah, you'll be fine."
Why trail off like that? He seemed to be assuming something. I was just a totally average 2.5 stage Inspector, after all.
But damn, riskier than I thought—love it. Like a demonic sword that devours your mind, then your body!
Even better? At least it stood out from boring assault rifles.
"I'm not handing it over because I trust your skills. Executors get gear matching their full abilities, including activation index. Can't have you going on missions bare-handed forever."
So much unnecessary talk. Like I'd pass out from anemia mid-shoot. Physically impossible, anyway. And his wording was weird? No mission right now.
"Just so you know, any issues using that pistol, and I'll confiscate it immediately."
"Won't happen." I nodded. Barely resisted sticking out my tongue.
Man, he talked like he was dead certain I'd screw up someday. I wasn't some kid left by the water!
But that Reaper ability... rang a bell somewhere.
My eyes drifted to Carlos's holster. There hung the ever-present Finisher.
Noticing my gaze—after fussing with his uniform—he spoke up.
"The Reaper is the Finisher's prototype."
Wait... mood plummeted. If I'd known that secret, I'd have plugged my ears. Not his old gun, right?
"The previous 1st Platoon leader's weapon. Outdated, but performance is solid. The Defense Bureau maintained it meticulously."
Some old guy's castoff. Not being the first owner kinda killed the affection. Sniff sniff—suddenly smelled musty.
Eh, newbies always got hand-me-downs. Lingering as the baby of the platoon for years, inheriting used gear. Standard.
"Alright, time to head out."
I looked up at Carlos.
"Where to?"
"Outside the Sector."
"Why?"
"I'll explain en route."
Guess "joining off-schedule" wasn't just a one-month thing.
Wait, all that uniform fussing was prepping for deployment?
*****
The ride in the jeep after so long had a familiar face.
Pitbull Terrier! Not in full Pitbull mode right now, but Lira was always feral lately.
At least the break did her good—no bug-eyed glare like before. Actually, no eye contact at all. Saved me from her pre-rage killer stare.
"Reports of a cadaver randomly assaulting Executors and Inspectors."
"Trouble. So this mission's tracking it?"
"Exactly. Unfortunately, no way to pinpoint its location."
"Why not?"
"It has Linker abilities. Moves intelligently, too. Targets platoons with fewer people over crowded ones. Strikes only when external comms are jammed."
"Pretty unique." Still just an attacker at heart. A beast using its brain, I guess.
"Several platoons already hit. Good thing aid arrived in time—no Executor deaths... but two platoons can't operate now."
I glanced ahead. New faces from some platoon rode in the lead vehicle.
Uh oh... bad thoughts flooding in. Hides well, picks on weak platoons despite strength, location unknown... but we're hunting it, right?
Rude to say, but those guys up front looked totally lame!
"The ones ahead are pulled from those crippled platoons. We'll tail by vehicle, then switch to stealthy foot pursuit once in its range."
My hunch was spot-on. They were bait.
Didn't wanna know that. So Carlos had no heart after all! Justice dead in this world—from leering Inspector uncles ignoring a cutie like me, to the 1st Platoon leader exploiting weaklings without hesitation!
Sure, I'd sent Chun-sik and Chun-bae to their doom once, but that was desperate best-effort. Intentions mattered.
Teacher Kant said to judge good will by motive, not results. I wanted to save lives—pure good. Carlos, scheming to use people—pure evil. Plus, I was cute; he was scary. His sin quality was way worse.