A Package for Ganjeol
Tchick.
Won-goo bound the fallen Cain with coiled Tail Dog tails.
He had special restraints prepared specifically for capture, but the Tail Dog's tail was simply tougher. It wasn't used more often only because it was expensive and hard to source in long lengths—otherwise, there weren't many cords in the world that could match its usefulness.
“Unbelievable. Isn't there a stat that makes you smarter? I had Hyun-seong do this so many times I've forgotten how to tie the knots.”
No matter how good a memory was, some things faded. For Won-goo, knot-tying was one of them. It was a special technique for binding enhanced survivors, and it was anything but simple.
Under normal circumstances he would have delegated it to one of his crew, but every one of them was deep in vicious combat at the moment. So binding Cain fell to Won-goo himself.
Won-goo deliberately held off from joining the other fights.
No field rewarded experience like combat did—and battles against many opponents, especially, made you stronger the more of them you lived through.
Telling friend from foe. Reading the whole board. Keeping your head steady in the middle of it all. People born with those instincts were vanishingly rare. Maybe one in a thousand, if that.
So what was everyone else supposed to do? A related Gift or a stat for it would have been nice, but no such Gift or stat had ever been discovered. Which meant you had to learn through experience.
And in that regard, the Royal Guard of Ganjeol Point made excellent sparring partners. Their enhanced bodies could stand comparison to any Named, and their combat skills were exceptional on top of that. Better still, every weapon they carried was different from the next man's.
The best part was that they'd brought nothing but enhancement-types. Facing enhancement-types meant that even with slightly delayed reactions, everything stayed controllable.
And for Won-goo specifically, enhancement-types were practically his natural prey.
Before the apocalypse had even properly begun, he'd been a coin holder so overwhelmingly rich he'd unlocked his third Milestone Trait—an owner of Turnon's Warhammer, no less. And Turnon's Warhammer was poison itself to enhancement-types built around endurance. Knowing that, Won-goo was extremely careful never to let his hand show.
Even to his closest people, like Fresh, whom he trusted enough. Sanghae and Sapiens didn't know the true extent of his abilities either. All they knew was that the man was harder to kill than a cockroach, and that whatever job you gave him, he'd see it finished one way or another. That was it.
“You're supposed to do it the other way around.”
“Gah! Make some noise when you walk, will you?”
“You left yourself open, Director Gong. That's the part.”
“I did not. It's just that your footsteps make no sound, Mage. You're not even an ex-burglar.”
“You compliment my light step. That's the part.”
“Stop standing there watching and give me a hand. This bastard is scary strong. If I don't tie him down right, we'll have an incident on our hands.”
At that, Mu Beob-sa stepped in and re-tied the knots for him. Bound tight with the special knots, Cain still hadn't come to. It made sense—beaten down while weakened by Turnon's Warhammer, he wouldn't be recovering quickly. He'd wake only after the warhammer's effect wore off. And by the time he did, it would all be over.
“You finished him alone. That's the part.”
“Looks like it.”
“Weaker than his reputation, was he? All Kind should be a top-five man in Ganjeol Point. That's the part.”
“You're telling me. I was braced for something... but Ralph felt stronger, honestly.”
“I see. That's the part...”
“Or maybe I've just gotten stronger. Enhancement-types are sensitive to coin gaps, as you know. They don't have many hidden aces up their sleeves.”
That was the weakness of enhancement-types that Won-goo was pointing at. Versatile in every way, but with no single decisive blow to turn the tide. Mages and their kin, on the other hand, could lose ground all day and then flip the entire fight with one spell.
Needless to say, if All Kind had been anything other than an enhancement-type, Won-goo wouldn't have tried taking him alone at all.
“So he had no hidden aces. I see that now.”
“Why? Does your straw have something to do with that bastard?”
“It does not. And I have no direct personal ties with anyone from Ganjeol Point, so don't misunderstand. That's the part.”
“Whether you do or don't doesn't matter. You two are headed for a final showdown either way. If they're here, tell them to run; if not, tell them to keep their distance. And don't chat too long.”
Mu Beob-sa nodded quietly. Only then did Won-goo notice something out of the ordinary—there was blood splattered across the mage's body.
It wasn't as if he never fought, so the occasional spray of blood or filth was nothing new. But this wasn't that level. He was soaked in it.
“Looks like you let off some steam.”
“They charged in with far too much enthusiasm. I had no choice. That's the part.”
Won-goo frowned and let it fly. “How long are you going to keep this up? The world's changed—shouldn't your convictions change with it?”
“This is not a conviction but a promise. That's the part. And... you made a promise to me as well, did you not? You said you would not touch this matter. That's the part.”
“And look how faithfully you're keeping it. If I can't even drop you a hint, what am I supposed to do?”
“I have done today's work. That's the part.”
“Fine. Did you at least bag one of them? The rest aren't worth a look. Those matching-outfits bastards over there. Those are the Royal Guard.”
At the vanguard, the Royal Guards were tearing through the field with ferocity. Their reputation as all-Named-grade fighters clearly hadn't come cheap. None of them were overwhelmingly dominant, but they fought well.
“Then you took three, more or less. That's the part.”
Won-goo nodded with a surprised look at the word three.
Mu Beob-sa was a mage through and through, which meant he had invested very little in physical stats. Not none at all—there were countless spells, and bearing their strain demanded a baseline of physical strength. But he certainly hadn't invested enough to duel a Named enhancement-type on even footing.
So taking down three Royal Guards had to be credited to Mu Beob-sa's raw, inherent skill. A man who could close the gap in physical ability with sheer, overwhelming technique.
That was Mu Beob-sa.
“Oh. Then you should rest. Want a cigarette?”
“No need. I only smoke that particular brand. That's the part.”
“It is that brand.”
“...?”
“Found it at Respect's hideout. Still sealed. Figured you'd been going without.”
With that, Won-goo handed over an unopened pack—the same cigarettes Mu Beob-sa smoked in the Temporary Shelter. He passed it over, then quickly moved toward the most vulnerable point of the battlefield.
He wanted his crew to build experience against strong opponents, but he didn't want anyone badly hurt. And sure enough, his people were responding smartly, bunching up and covering each other beautifully. That left the other teams.
Montage, Fresh, and Pacific looked like they needed no worrying either. That meant picking one of the shelter businesses—and they were all fighting defensively, so their losses were light. But Dr. Woo was a different story. His style was stubborn and old-fashioned, and there were moments where he looked genuinely precarious.
So Won-goo moved toward him. And not on foot.
The Trailer, pre-positioned and primed, thundered onto the battlefield at terrifying speed. It didn't cut straight across the fighting—it looped wide, staying out of sight until the last stretch before its target.
Faster than ever before. A massive trailer charging at a good two hundred kilometers an hour was its own brand of horror.
KRAKOOM!
A Royal Guard went flying with the impact. The Trailer didn't stop. It just kept grinding forward, plowing through—
Screeee! Thud! Crunch!
Horrendous sounds rang out. Dr. Woo's face contorted.
RRRNNN—!
The Trailer reversed as if performing a confirmation kill, delivering one more blow for good measure. As it rolled past, the sight line opened up, and Gong Won-goo's sly, crooked grin came into view.
“How about it, Doc? Think you're ready for the races?”
“Well, I'll be... No wonder I couldn't bring myself to believe the news that you'd died. It's because of this, ain't it.”
“Happy to see me?”
“Usually a fella like you's the last thing I'd call a welcome sight... but today, I'll allow it.”
“Glad to hear it. You were one wrong step from buying the farm, and I saved your hide. Seems to me you need to retire from that pharmacy of yours, Doc. You've gotten stiff.”
“Been thinking the same thing myself, actually. Ayish... why in tarnation is it so doggone hard to put down even ONE of these pups?”
With that, Dr. Woo brought his sword down on the neck of a fallen Royal Guard. The man was already twisted into a grotesque shape that hardly needed a mercy stroke, but Woo swung without hesitation. He didn't so much as blink after the blade landed.
It was the momentum of a butcher bringing down a side of beef at the slaughterhouse.
“You changed weapons too. Though it looks like a poor fit for you, if you ask me.”
Dr. Woo glanced down at the weapon and answered. “Got it new just this while... but I can't make it work. Doesn't suit me one bit. Want to take it off my hands, Director Gong?”
The sword Dr. Woo held was an odd sight. A sword, unmistakably—but not straight. It curved like a shamshir. Weapons with such extreme curvature weren't really suited to foot combat. They'd originally been made for horsemen striking downward from the saddle. Unless the options were truly exceptional, there was no reason to use one.
“What options does it have?”
“Got a few.”
“Then we'll talk after this is done. Willing to sell?”
“Long as you pay more than I did, I'll sell it, sure enough.”
Won-goo thought of Geum Chul-soo, Su-won, and Dulla as he spoke. Su-won had the Vacuum Blade Claw, but that was a hidden card, not a main weapon. His main armament hadn't been decided yet. The same went for Geum Chul-soo—and for Dullahan.
Come to think of it, Dulla might be the better fit. Swordsmanship comes built-in with him...
That was the beauty of capsule monsters—you could kit them out with items. And with Dullahan's intelligence upgraded on top of that, he'd adapt to a new weapon in no time.
“Then we'll talk once the job's wrapped. There's plenty to discuss anyway.”
“Well, there is somethin' that's been sittin' sour with me.”
“What is it?”
“Sapiens. Sanghae. You knew, didn't you? Don't you dare say no. I ain't the fool you take me for.”
“I knew.”
“Good grief... What an actor... You been stringin' me along like that?”
“I had no choice.”
“So you couldn't trust me, neither?”
“It wasn't about trusting you, Dr. Woo. It's the mole. You know how it is—when it comes to this, the fewer people who know, the better.”
“What was that just now? A mole, you say?”
“That's right.”
“So you're sayin' one of the shelter bosses is in on it. Who?”
“I don't know either.”
“...?”
“But we'll find out today.”
“So it's one of the ones who ain't shown up, is that it.”
“That's right.”
“Then Sanghae...”
“Ah, Sanghae I kept out of it on purpose.”
“...?”
“If he asks whether he was simply left out, I'll confirm it. He's got the eyes of a shelter boss on him, so I couldn't have him show up carelessly.”
“Then that means...”
“I figured whoever it was would make a move. I told Sanghae to stay out of sight and keep watch on it.”
“Good grief... I was fixin' to give you an earful, and now I've gone and swallowed it whole...”
“Let's save the rest of that for later. Let's clean up here first. We're on a tight schedule if we want this finished and the clinic open.”
“You writin' a letter to Ganjeol too?”
“Not a letter—a delivery. I'm going to box that son of a bitch up and ship him.”
“Ayish... Director Gong, you surely done stirred up a hornet's nest this time.”
“Everybody in this business knows the drill—land the first hit or eat the beating. Ganjeol's about to regret ever getting clever with the wrong man.”