The Number Society
From a distance, the Number Society watched the multinational survivors die.
There were surely those among them who felt something like pity. The sight of a two-meter armored monster crushing bones, bursting organs, and ripping out brains was the kind of gore you only saw in splatter films, after all.
But the survivors watching showed not a flicker of disturbance. They were far too busy tracking Taderson's movements, exactly as Won-goo had ordered.
"Director."
When no one else came to speak with him, Geum Chul-soo sidled up close.
"What is it?"
"Should I get Dulla out?"
"Get him out. This time, we have to."
"Understood."
"Not now, though. The moment the battle starts."
"Yes, sir."
Won-goo turned and looked over his crew.
"This time, everyone needs to be ready to take some hits. This opponent is no joke."
They all nodded.
"And Raphael—you don't stick to Taderson."
"......?"
"Don't get in close and trade blows. You're the one whose damage lands on him best out of everyone here. So hang back, watch for your opening, then close the distance in one burst and land a single clean hit. You don't need to hit him often. Just like that."
A nod.
Taderson was an armored monster, which meant it carried a certain resistance to bladed weapons. That didn't mean it took no damage at all—its armor was, for all intents and purposes, its skin.
"It's about to end."
"Yeah. Pacific. You gathered them well enough, anyway? Stupid, sure, but brave."
"I *told* you I was brave."
Won-goo had called them brave because the multinational survivors hadn't run. Faced with a monster like Taderson, fleeing was the natural response. The terror that floods in when reality defies your expectations—and Taderson in particular was hard even to judge: was your attack landing, or not? Even battle-hardened veterans often felt fear creeping in when trading blows with the thing.
And yet the multinational survivors were fighting desperately without running. Most of them, right up to the moment of death.
"They must have dealt it decent damage by now?"
"Nothing like enough."
About ten left, maybe. When the survivor swinging his axe most ferociously of all had his neck snapped, the rest finally broke and ran.
KRA-KA-BOOOM!
As the survivors fled, Taderson let out a long, bellowing roar. Thanks to its magnificent armor, the thing's appearance evoked a medieval knight—but its savagery was pure monster. Its horrific diet only reinforced the impression. Taderson loved rotting meat. It would leave the corpses within its territory to putrefy, then come back to tear them apart. Watching the beast crouch over a body on all fours, feeding like a wild animal, you understood exactly why everyone praised that fancy armor.
KRA-KA-BOOOM!
Taderson loosed another grotesque roar and moved to chase down the fleeing survivors.
Won-goo didn't miss that opening. It was, in fact, the one clear window for taking Taderson down—the monster lacked anything like a human's finely-tuned senses. Humans were fundamentally weak creatures, designed to react violently to the smallest threat. Taderson was different. Possessed of overwhelming toughness and physical power, it didn't register anything as a threat unless it came very close indeed.
Today, Won-goo intended to hunt Taderson by exploiting exactly that trait.
KA-ANG!
Won-goo normally never led from the front—but this time, he shot ahead of everyone else, closed the distance, and brought his war hammer down hard on the back of Taderson's head.
KA-ANG!
A bright metallic clang rang out, like someone beating on a tin can. The instant Taderson turned around, Won-goo was already retreating, fleeing. Taderson found new prey and moved to pursue it—drew itself up as if to roar again—
But the roar was interrupted by another survivor's attack.
PA-ANG!
A heavy chunk of rock came flying and cracked against Taderson's skull. The thrower was Fresh. The veteran knew exactly when to steal a monster's attention, and had the sense to match his weapon to the situation on the fly. These were things you couldn't pick up without years of hard experience. Fresh was rated as low-tier among the Named in this area, but not a single soul underestimated him—for precisely this reason. Nothing about him stood out, and yet he adapted to any circumstance flawlessly. A survivor you could drop anywhere and get your money's worth out of.
"Nice throw, Fresh!"
Attention swung back to him. This time, it was Lee Hyun-sung who blocked it.
PA-KANG! SKREEEE-KREEEK!
The Chinese cleaver came in from behind. The blade raked across Taderson's throat with a hideous shriek of metal.
WHUMP!
Taderson swung its arm as it spun around. Against close enemies, its reactions were lightning-fast—and devastating.
PAAAH-ANG!
Lee Hyun-sung snapped the cleaver back up and caught the blow.
WHUUUUNG!
And still his body went skidding backward. Taderson had done nothing but turn and swing once, yet the impact was enough to send the hulking Lee Hyun-sung flying. It was the kind of force that made you understand why something barely two meters tall got classified as a Large Species. Lee Hyun-sung had been built as a mental-resilience and recovery tank, but it wasn't as if he'd neglected Strength entirely. Even so, Taderson's power was enough to bowl him over.
KRA-KAAAH-ANG!
The moment Lee Hyun-sung went tumbling, Suwon was already on Taderson's heels, activating his Claw. An invisible energy sharp enough to rend most targets to ribbons—but on Taderson, it barely left a scratch.
ZZZIT-ZZIT!
Next, Suwon switched weapons: the electric stun baton. Originally Jo Mu-sa's weapon, passed down to him. The current made Taderson's movements sluggish for a moment—but the damage was negligible. Despite the metal armor, lightning was not Taderson's weakness.
PAAAAH-AAAANG!
Out of that brief window of sluggishness came a massive strike. Raphael—hood pulled up, mask on—drove her enormous sledgehammer straight down from above. A sound like a tolling bell rolled out across the field, and Taderson's body seemed to sink into the ground beneath it.
The impact was tremendous. And Taderson was completely fine.
The watching survivors kept their faces neutral, but inside, they were reeling. Expectations never survived first contact with reality. Even having predicted this, even having prepared for it, the thing was shocking.
It doesn't even flinch from an attack like that?
While everyone wore the same stunned thought, Won-goo was already executing his next move. Hand signals. He flashed the retreat command through the crew's silent code, and Montage and the others immediately dove in. Fresh and Yeongyeong too—every one of them carrying a blunt weapon in addition to their usual arms. Standard equipment for taking down Taderson. But that was merely the baseline of a Taderson hunt; blunt weapons wouldn't fundamentally change the outcome. They didn't hit meaningfully harder. The real reason for carrying them was that ordinary weapons shattered quickly against Taderson's towering defense.
VWEEEEENG!
As Montage's and Fresh's crews closed in on Taderson, one survivor charged out ahead of them all.
Pacific.
At full speed, he moved so fast he was nearly invisible. A wheelchair hitting the pace of a racing cycle—an absurd sight. More absurd still was what he did next: without shedding a single ounce of that speed, he drove himself straight at Taderson.
"Huh?"
Everyone's faces froze. The correct play was to slow at a safe distance, or swing wide and strike in passing. Instead, Pacific was bearing down on Taderson dead-on. He wanted a head-on collision. So everyone stared, gaping—it looked suicidal. But Pacific was moving far too fast for anyone to shout a warning, let alone grab him.
Not everyone was surprised, though. Won-goo and Fresh just watched, calm. They were among the few who had known Pacific back before the wheelchair.
WHUUUUSH-BOOM!
Pacific ramped the wheelchair up to its maximum and slammed into Taderson with tremendous force. He hadn't pulled any special trick. He'd simply used the wheelchair for a blazing approach and, at the last instant, thrust his head forward into the impact. A headbutt, so to speak. By any sane logic, a human skull colliding with an armored monster was incomprehensible.
And yet Pacific was fine.
It was Taderson who went flying back—flying back and then toppling flat onto the ground. That was how hard Pacific's headbutt had hit. Everyone gaped at him, and Fresh and Won-goo gave the smallest of approving nods.
"Still got it."
"So he's an Enhancement type, then?" Jeon Hye-ji asked as Won-goo dropped back.
"Special type. His body absorbs drugs far better than anyone else's. Minimal side effects, too."
"Ah……"
"Precisely classified, it's Special Enhancement. Back before he looked like this, people gave that classification the respect it deserved."
"I can imagine."
"And as you can see, he could still go pro tomorrow."
Won-goo's plan was a rotating assault. Split up by crew, take turns attacking, pull the monster's attention. They hadn't drilled specifically for this hunt, but they'd worked together before—and every one of them was a veteran, no amateurs in the bunch. The rhythm was clicking together nicely.
But if this had been all it took to bring down Taderson, Won-goo would never have hesitated to hunt it long ago. This wasn't the whole of the monster. It had no special abilities, but its close-combat prowess alone was superb.
Having adapted to the situation with unsettling speed, Taderson began its counterattack. The first one caught in it was Joce.
Taderson had been soaking up attacks patiently, which had emboldened Joce into pressing deeper than he should have. He'd overextended—and Taderson closed the distance in a flash, fist already flying.
"Hey! Joice!"
Montage bellowed, instincts flaring. Sensing his doom, Joce crossed his arms in front of him. Taderson's massive fist came hurtling in, and he perceived it as if in slow motion.
If that thing connects with my head, I'm dead on the spot!
Pure instinct. He jerked his arms up just in time, and the blow was barely caught on his forearms.
Even so, the force was catastrophic.
KWA-CHAK!
The bones in both arms shattered on impact, and Joce went tumbling away, hurled a great distance. Kiss sprinted to him at once, while the rest of Montage's crew scrambled to draw Taderson's attention—to keep it from chasing Joce down and finishing him.
The one saving grace was that Taderson, freshly "born" as it was, lacked real intelligence. After several rounds of resurrection, even this gambit wouldn't have worked—it would have pursued Joce and crushed his windpipe without a second thought.
Once the distraction crew pulled back, Yeongyeong and Fresh took their turn landing hits. Yeongyeong fought as well as her reputation promised. Her eyes were extraordinary—she read every one of Taderson's movements and struck accordingly. Then it was back to Won-goo's crew's turn.
And then Pacific helped out again. This time he used the wheelchair to approach, attacking Taderson with the Claws mounted on both hands. The Claws looked slightly short for the job, but each time Pacific struck, they shot out with a metallic *CHI-ANG!* to lend their weight.
Then Won-goo's crew's turn again—
And suddenly, a meteor fell out of the empty sky and crushed Taderson flat.
KWAAAAAAH-BOOOOM!
Small as meteors went, the power was staggering. The blast radius was modest, but it was more than enough force to knock Taderson off its feet. Everyone watched with wide eyes. None of the people gathered here had an ability of that magnitude.
"What's this? Why are there gnats buzzing around here?"
A new voice. Every head turned toward it.
"You…… you're the Number Society."
Fresh stammered the words, recognition dawning in him. A woman stood there in a costume straight out of a sentai show. Behind her, figures in matching outfits emerged one after another.
"Haah……"
This time even Won-goo couldn't help but be thrown. Coming face to face with the Number Society had never been part of his plan.