Vengeance
There was another entrance to the Kobold Dungeon.
Most dungeons occupied a single space, but every now and then an entrance would spawn somewhere completely removed from the main body of the dungeon. The Kobold Dungeon was one such case. It had an entrance near Shelter Sabbath, but another entrance had formed in an entirely separate region. That was how Ralph's gang had entered—and then, eventually, they had run into Director Gong.
"The Human Cook Gang. I'm sure you've all heard of them. Around these parts, they're practically the definition of terror."
The woman giving the speech at the dungeon entrance was a Named survivor called Potion. She was a bounty hunter, and famous to boot as one of the region's best healers.
Potion's reputation rested on her skill, yes—but also on her looks. A round face, round eyes, a modest nose, full and round lips, and smooth, fair skin. She was a beauty impossible not to look at.
There was one more feature that drew every eye, though she tried her best to cover it up: her bust. It simply refused to be hidden. A truckload of men had approached her because of it, and nearly all of them had been shot down before they could take two steps—Potion wasn't a healer who merely handed out heals. She was a Named who could fight plenty well on her own.
"We really need to be careful. Ralph in particular—just think of him as a troll, only smaller."
"I heard those bastards really do eat people. So they're basically trolls already, aren't they?"
"They're cunning beyond any troll. And they've only grown stronger by now. Don't focus on Ralph alone. There's Sde, the one who carries a saw around. Then there's Bat—his reputation isn't quite as high, but he's more than earned the label of monster. And the rest of their crew are no pushovers either. Every single one of them could be called a Named. We're numerous, yes, but that is exactly why we cannot afford to get careless."
More than fifty survivors had gathered. They were people Potion had personally rallied, and among them were those with grudges against Ralph's gang.
"Y'all know all about them bastards, don't ya? What we're wonderin' is whether them bastards we wanna tear apart are actually here. That's all, right?"
A man in sunglasses, speaking in a thick rural drawl. He didn't look particularly well-groomed, but everyone stepped aside to make way for him the moment he spoke. Even in a crowd made up entirely of capable survivors, this was a man whose strength earned him respect.
Montage. A survivor rumored to be a former detective.
"Y'all saw the look in everyone's eyes, right? Nobody here's got no warm feelings for them bastards. So whether they're here or not—that's the only thing that matters. Everything else can wait."
"Right. We can decide all that after we catch 'em," one of Montage's companions chimed in. Montage shot him a sideways glare, and the man quietly shuffled back.
"They're here. The survivor is from the most recent gang to be victimized by the Cook Gang. He barely escaped with his life. His Gift is Tracking—he can locate wherever a marked target currently is."
A gaunt, skeletal man stepped out from the back. His eyes bulged out like a frog's, which was exactly how he'd gotten his nickname: Frog.
"A Gift that valuable?"
"From what I hear, it doesn't trigger easily."
Potion said nothing more after that. The activation conditions of a Gift were sensitive information.
"So they are here, then?"
"Yes."
"Then let's go catch 'em. What's the bounty on Ralph's neck again? Forty coins?"
"It's risen to fifty gold coins. Sde's is thirty. Bat's is twenty. Ten apiece for the rest."
Potion held up the contract as she spoke.
Fifty gold coins. It was an enormous sum—but looked at another way, it also wasn't. Those who had suffered at the hands of Ralph's gang were countless; even if each of them had pitched only a few coins into the bounty pool, fifty would have come together in no time.
Survivors rarely posted bounties unless there was something in it for them. But exceptions existed. And for lunatics who didn't just kill your comrades but cooked and ate them, a bounty was more than justified.
Once the situation had been laid out, the survivors began their search.
It proceeded remarkably fast. A dungeon wasn't always crawling with monsters. Especially since they had arrived right after Won-goo's crew had swept through the whole place and left—so the hunters who'd come for Ralph's gang found nothing but empty halls.
"This here looks like one hell of a big scuffle took place... What do you think, missy?"
"Call me Potion."
"Sure, sure. Miss Potion. Something feels off, though..."
At that, Potion turned and looked at Frog.
"He's here."
"He's here, they say."
"That ability of yours—is it really certain?"
"It is. It's been verified back at the shelter. Would we have come without checking that much?"
"Then how come he ain't showin' himself? With bounties that size, they say he don't flinch even when a whole truckload of hunters comes pourin' in."
"Ralph especially. He doesn't know fear."
"Haa... And yet he won't come out? There's nothing but signs of a massive fight around here."
"Boss! We found another entrance over here!"
"Where?"
Montage and Potion moved to the newly discovered entrance. It was the one Won-goo's crew had come through—the one connected to Shelter Sabbath.
"There's traces here too. Did they flee this way?"
Then Frog stepped forward, emphatic.
"No. He's here."
"Haa... You're tellin' me we've stirred this place up top to bottom and he still won't come out? It ain't like there's some secret room here. Hey. Is this for real? You sure he's actually here? Everyone here's busy people, and if this turns out to be a wild goose chase, I'll rip your gut wide open."
Frog stared straight at Montage.
"I'm not in the mood to joke about something like this. I couldn't even hold funerals for my teammates."
"Then why won't he come out? That ability of yours—"
"Blood."
"...?"
"If there's blood from the marked target, I can chase them to the ends of the Earth. Our teammates... that's why they let me live. They told me to get out alive and avenge them."
Tears streamed down Frog's bulging eyes as he stared. Montage clicked his tongue at the sight.
"Tsk... Well, yeah, they did do a number on you. Haa... But hey, Miss Potion."
"Yes?"
"My boy here's got a genius eye for readin' a scene. Been doin' it professionally since before the world went to hell, so he's the real deal. And this—this here's strange. The traces at this spot don't say a fight was about to happen here. They say a fight already happened here."
"I'm confused by that too. But this man's ability is certain."
"Ah!"
Then Frog shouted, as if something had just clicked.
"What is it?"
"There is one possibility."
"What?"
"If he's dead..."
"...?"
"...?"
Everyone looked stunned at Frog's words.
"Killing Ralph is extremely difficult. That's why we brought people focused on subduing him, not killing."
"Frog, was it? You sure about that? Last I heard, even with half his neck cut off, it just grows right back. Who the hell could kill a bastard like that?"
Just then, a voice called out for Potion. It was a signal that something had been found. The group followed, and there they all stood, unable to hide their shock.
"Frog. Is that him?"
A headless corpse the size of a giant. Without the head, identity couldn't be confirmed with absolute certainty—but the body closely matched the Ralph they knew.
"He was tied up... and tortured, it looks like. Well, that part was deserved."
Ralph's entire body had been torn to pieces.
"I don't think it was torture."
Potion said.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean he wouldn't die, so they did that in order to make him die."
Montage examined the traces around the corpse. In his mind, an image took shape of an unknown figure locked in a fierce struggle with Ralph. That was how intense the traces were.
"Magic... you think?"
Frog asked.
"Possibly. If so, that would make it plausible."
"No, look here. It was a straight-up brawl."
"...?"
"...?"
"Look at these traces—one guy went at Ralph hammer and tongs here. Smaller than Ralph. But... swinging some kind of blunt weapon. And then two groups split apart here and stood watching. The traces spell it right out, don't they?"
Montage's skill was astounding. Even with the scene badly compromised, he was reconstructing the past with precision.
"But why... would only the two of them fight when his crew was right there?"
"Could've been a deal. Can't tell that from traces alone... But one thing's certain. The two of them fought."
"Who on Earth would face Ralph in a one-on-one..."
"No idea. But one thing I do know for sure... he's an even bigger monster than Ralph."
"What's that supposed to..."
"Miss Potion. I don't know much else, but nobody out-reads a scene better than me."
Everyone's expressions grew complicated. Frog, in particular, who had been brimming with vengeance, felt a hollow emptiness creep over him.
"We came up empty, sure, but... if there's one silver lining, it's this: them bastards ain't the crazy kind."
"Sanghae's shop isn't this way, though?"
Jeon Hye-ji asked.
"Sanghae gets all dramatic about things. We can head over later. There's something we need to do first."
"Who are we going to see?"
"Baek Seol."
The place Won-goo took her was the Dart Pub. Pub or not, there were no customers—few enough survivors were well-off enough to drink here. It stayed in business only because the liquor was priced so high that the occasional visitor was all it needed to turn a profit.
"You said you've been coming here a lot lately, so I stopped by—and there you actually are."
"Director Gong. You came?"
"I did."
"Is it because of the shelter's atmosphere?"
"Oh, come on. Plenty of people could brief you better on that. You're no expert on it."
"Then is it Cheonchu Mountain again?"
"No, no. This time I want some outside information."
At that, Baek Seol retrieved the darts she'd been throwing and took a seat. When she glanced at the bartender, he slipped into the back room.
"What, you'd taken this place over? And here I thought you were planning some incident here."
"It's always been mine."
"Really?"
"I just never advertised it. Beer?"
"Pour it."
Baek Seol slipped behind the counter with practiced ease and pulled a draft beer. It was plain beer with nothing added, yet it cost a small fortune—one glass equaled a full day's entrance fee for the shelter. The place was murderously expensive in every possible way.
"Outside information is expensive. I'll have to put in a request for it, you know."
"And I need to give you a heads-up."
"About what?"
"Yang Jun-sik. Bat is still around, right?"
"He's undergoing training."
"That bastard was part of a gang that ate people. Whether he actually ate anyone himself or was merely among those who did, I can't say. Either way, he was with them."
Baek Seol's brow creased. Won-goo gave her a brief account of what had happened in the dungeon, and her expression turned grave.
"That's no ordinary grudge, then."
"There'll definitely be a bounty on him, right?"
"At that scale, certainly. I'd have posted one myself."
"But not from anyone around here. So spread the word far and wide."
"Understood. Then should I dispose of that friend of yours?"
"Why? Is his skill useful?"
"Very."
"Even so, doesn't it leave a bad taste in your mouth?"
"That's the thing—it does."
"Belonging to a gang like that with skills that good—Yang Jun-sik must have a bounty out on him too. Take the bounty and hand him over. That's the cleanest solution."
"Depends on how large the bounty is."
"It won't be small."
"And if it's less than what I paid you, Director..."
"Then that's just your luck."
Won-goo flashed a grin and downed his beer in one gulp.