The Sky-Splitting Pillar
The surveillance cameras throughout the zone are all down. Citizens awakened by the thunderous roar and tremors from the collapse of a high-rise building…
…At approximately 1:17 a.m., an enormous pillar of light of unknown origin appeared in the sky above the city center. Its diameter alone measured…
…Presumed to be a gas explosion…
“Who the hell just posted that gas explosion rumor? Article number 303379… Was that one of ours?”
“Ah, that was me, ma’am.”
The response team preferred burying the truth early by flooding the web with a barrage of coordinated fake news. Right now, their agents—operating under fabricated journalist identities—were busy churning out articles. Even so, someone had lazily copy-pasted the usual “gas explosion” line without thinking.
“Would the building collapse first and then explode, or explode first and then collapse?”
“…It would have to explode before it could collapse, right?”
“The eyewitnesses said the area lit up after the building fell. Got anything to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry! I’ll fix it right away!”
It was the dead of night. The pillar of light had split the sky and vanished in mere seconds, yet this time the situation felt far harder to contain. They were already feeding footage and photos of the pillar to the AI so any uploads would be automatically deleted the moment they appeared. Still, anyone awake across Seoul at that hour would have felt the sky brighten for an instant before plunging back into darkness.
And they had no convenient excuse to tie it to.
Rumble-rumble-rumble-rumble…!!
Whoosh…!!
Flap! Flap-flap…!!
“Ugh?!”
Maybe it was because she had just been talking about explosions—another massive blast shook the ground beneath her feet. A scorching gust of wind followed, whipping the documents inside the tent into a chaotic whirlwind.
She hadn’t fallen, but it was obvious something else had gone wrong at the scene. Normally she would have handled everything from the comfort of her private office, but with a disaster of this scale, she had no choice but to stuff glucose candies into her mouth and rush out. Now she was directing operations from a hastily erected temporary command post just outside the site.
The deafening explosion still rang in her ears. Fire trucks and police cars had been blocked from entering, yet their sirens kept blaring, making her head throb. She had always hated scenes this noisy.
“…Should we change the story to an accident during demolition work on a condemned building?”
“No, wait—”
“Report from the field team…!”
“What now…”
The response team leader turned to her laptop with a scowl and swallowed a groan as she watched the footage just sent from the field. A colossal pillar of flame rising high enough to dwarf buildings. She recognized it instantly.
That merciless firepower could only belong to Scarlet.
“…We have no choice. Push the meteor impact story. Redirect the narrative to a meteor strike right now!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“There’ll probably be more explosions soon, so rewrite the gas explosion articles to tie them to the meteor as well…!”
“…”
“What are you staring at? You didn’t expect this either.”
The team member who had first posted the gas explosion article shrank back under her glare.
“Delete every video and photo still up. Prioritize anything related to the light pillar first. We won’t finish everything today anyway.”
“Team leader…! It looks like someone was doing a street livestream nearby. The channel has quite a large following, so there are multiple direct viewers…”
“Who the hell goes live at this hour? Temporarily lock the account for copyright reasons and take down the replay and every photo posted on the bulletin board!”
Now that she knew Scarlet had appeared, she couldn’t help worrying about the scene. But as the response team leader, her duty was here. Even so, her eyes kept drifting to the monitor.
The camera the field team had set up showed nothing but a sea of fire where the collapsed building had stood.
“…She’ll be all right, won’t she?”
* Fwoosh… Crackle…
“…”
She must have blacked out for a moment. The air was thick with the stench of burning, and the roar of flames sounded dangerously close. Breathing was difficult in the oppressive heat.
“Ugh…”
A grim premonition told her that if she didn’t get up now, she might never rise again. She forced her head up. Through blurred vision, the world around her wavered—an ocean of fire. Strangely, the flames hadn’t spread to the circular area where she lay.
“…! Everyone, over here…!”
Hearing voices, she turned her throbbing head. The field team’s base camp tent was still standing, though everything around it had melted or been blown away. The survivors and other team members were gathered there, protected by another untouched circular zone. The team leader must have shielded them again with that mysterious sphere of light. Nothing else could explain it.
“Everyone’s safe…”
The last thing she remembered was a massive fireball plummeting toward her before she could even react. The searing heat had felt like her skin was being cooked. The explosion had been powerful enough to knock her unconscious… and yet she had survived the heart of that inferno. It didn’t make sense.
Back then, someone had definitely stepped in front of her…
“Ah, Team Leader?!”
Only now did she recall that the team leader had been with her. She whipped her head around. Why had she assumed the team leader would be fine? Why had she taken that for granted?
“Cough… cough…”
Contrary to her expectations, the team leader sat slumped against a pile of rubble, looking utterly exhausted. She coughed occasionally and struggled to breathe. It was the first time the counselor had ever seen her so defenseless, and the sight hit her hard.
The team leader had saved her from the collapsing building… and now she had been saved again. Because of that, the counselor had always believed the team leader would never show weakness.
“Team Leader…! Are you— are you all right?!”
“I’m… hah… fine. But… how pathetic. Cough. I don’t think I can be of much help anymore.”
If only there were something she could do…
“I need to rest for a moment. Your voice is echoing in my head…”
“…”
The counselor clamped her mouth shut at once, but the team leader’s head drooped anyway. Alarmed, she grabbed the woman’s shoulders—only to find she had simply lost consciousness.
Hisss—! Hisss—!
“Code name Joker and the Counselor confirmed alive at the scene!”
Before the counselor could try anything, the field team arrived with firefighting gear, carving a hazy path through the inferno.
“…”
She felt like a useless cog with nowhere to fit. They quickly loaded the unconscious team leader onto a stretcher and gestured for her to climb aboard as well, but one question still gnawed at her.
Why hadn’t their opponent finished them off while they were defenseless?
Clang! Rattle…!
The answer became obvious the moment she lifted her gaze to the sky.
“Still got some fight left? Beasts really don’t tire easily, do they?”
“…Hah… hah…”
The red-haired woman taunted in a relaxed voice. Across from her, the field team leader could only pant heavily, unable to retort. The two of them leaped between buildings, scaling walls as though gravity meant nothing, continuing their battle. Thanks to the field team leader buying time, the rescue team had been able to reach them in the middle of this sea of fire.
But was she really all right? The field team leader was clearly exhausted—too tired to use her full strength. The counselor clearly remembered how she had staggered and collapsed earlier. If what the team leader had said was true, she had been sinking into that fallen light that devoured life force. Of course she would be like this.
“…Is it really okay to leave her like this?”
Maybe the best thing she could do right now was get as far from the scene as possible so she wouldn’t become a hindrance. All she had managed today was stumbling upon a door by luck; otherwise she had just wandered around uselessly until someone saved her. If she stayed, she might only drag everyone else down.
“…”
But the team leader had called her the key that could let them defeat even an archangel. So maybe… maybe she could help after all? Yet without knowing how, she might only make things worse. She could end up creating a worse disaster than if she simply ran away.
…And it would be her fault.
Her mind was a storm of thoughts—mostly worry and fear. The only clear feeling among them was the desperate wish to be useful.
To want to help with nothing but that feeling, without a proper plan, moving alone… even with her mediocre abilities unsuited for the field… in a place this dangerous… the team leader would definitely have stopped her.
“…Counselor?”
“I’m sorry. I still have something I need to do.”
But right now, there was no team leader left to stop her.