Villain Executioner (3)
Those with superpowers—mana powers, that is—couldn't be controlled by modern weaponry.
Mana is an alien substance utterly different from any existing concept! It's a material on another level entirely from any modern energy source! Because it came from outer space, no contemporary force could contain mana.
To put it simply:
An E-grade 17-year-old high school girl with powers matched the firepower of an entire tank. Even at E-grade—far from the weakest F-grade—she possessed tank-level lethality and destructive power. An F-grade could shield their body with a mana barrier against bullets flying from afar, enduring a hail of gunfire until their mana was fully depleted. An A-grade was jokingly said to have legion-level strength. And S-grades? They were national assets, living nuclear weapons.
In this mess, with every single one of these powered individuals under 25 and no adults around, there was no way to guide these kids—whether born with powers or awakened later—down the so-called "right path."
Stop using your powers!
What do we do? Can't kill 'em, right? Pisses you off? Makes you mad? Even guns are useless!
Watch your mouth, talking to an adult like that!
Adult? Hah! You powerless piece of trash! I'm way superior to you! Pay up, you deer-starved bitch—cough up the condolence money!
Th-this psycho!!
The global situation had escalated beyond national rivalries into a clash between good and evil, order and chaos, the old generation versus the new.
The good kids who listened became heroes, while the delinquent types—the juvenile offenders—turned into villains.
Those who used their powers to protect the old world order. Those who used them for personal gain.
This world isn't about heroes versus villains. Someone had said that about this worldview once.
It's model students versus juvenile delinquents. Villains were almost always powered-up juvenile offenders, while heroes were the class goody-two-shoes who got praise from teachers after awakening their abilities. Not wrong at all.
Villain Red Scarf—a fire-starting ability user who, at age 10, burned animals to death and was raised in the "Child Superpower Mental Training Center" thereafter...!
The guy currently charging toward my apartment—Banpo Jjaye in Seoul—to set it ablaze was just like that. A psychopath. Sociopath. Or a superpower supremacist. Convinced that since he had powers, why bother following the old laws and order? He was hell-bent on proving himself through terrorism right now.
"So the kid's got no common sense, and his knowledge is stuck in the 2010s?"
My apartment was in terrorist crosshairs because of a simple misunderstanding. Ridiculous.
"Typical juvenile delinquent nonsense."
Absurd, but even real historical terror attacks often stemmed from misconceptions more than you'd think. Especially from an arsonist delinquent who thought his powers made him superior.
"A tank barreling up at 200 km/h toward Seoul? Of course it's chaos."
He was rocketing north on the Gyeongbu Expressway at insane speeds, but there was no stopping him.
"What a shitshow."
Descending the stairs and stepping outside, I saw people fleeing Banpo-dong in terror.
"Heroes!! Where the hell are the heroes?!"
"Damn it, they're all in Busan! Isn't there anyone? Some hero visiting hometown?!"
"What are the pursuit teams from Busan doing?! Catch that bastard now! Don't let him reach Seoul!!"
He was fleeing Busan's heroes while heading for Seoul to terrorize it—using his powers, mana, and speed to shake them off.
"Tch."
Heroes were those model-student types. If a thief shoved an old lady while fleeing, they'd stop chasing to administer first aid.
"This guy's dead set on never living peacefully in Korea."
He'd crossed the line—way past it. No place for him in the light world anymore.
"Exile-bound, huh?"
But in the shadows? Countries fearing Korea's rise might shelter a Korean defector villain?
"Is this punk trying to flee to China or Russia?"
Terrorize Seoul, fake his death crossing the sea, then resurface as "Zheng Going" or "Zheng Gorblyainsky." Plenty did exactly that. Korean heroes got peanuts compared to their power elsewhere, where nations threw billions to poach them.
That was the novel's "setting," after all.
"This little peninsula's been ridiculously blessed."
In the lore, it was because "that thing" slept underground on Sejong Island, but Korea was mana-blessed.
What got you hailed as a unique hero abroad made you just another A-grade nuisance villain like Red Scarf in Korea.
"Pull up Hero Nav! No heroes in Seoul?!"
"Shit, capital region's empty! The ones from Seoul are overseas!"
No choice now. Watch Seoul burn.
Babababa, babababa, bbam!
My smartphone rang—not the default tone, but something like a tokusatsu team opener.
"...Ugh."
The screen blared a huge "Ω," with a black dragon emblem in the middle. I ducked into a secluded spot away from prying eyes and answered cautiously.
"...Yes, Chairman. Got your call."
[Aigoo, Manager Do. How've you been?]
A slightly childish voice from the other end. Sounded like a chaebol heiress to eavesdroppers—code to hide her identity. The caller was the leader of the world-conquering organization Imae Mangnyang, "Black Dragon."
"Yes, doing well thanks to you, Chairman. And how are you faring?"
[Thanks to you, Manager Do, I sleep like a baby these days. Hehe. But listen, got an urgent cleanup for you.]
"Your orders, I follow. What's up?"
[That red scarf punk? Need you to collect him~]
Red scarf. Code, but metaphorical—not preset, so a bit of thinking required.
"Collect, or clean?"
[Oops, my bad. It's trash—don't bring it to HQ. Got it?]
She'd shifted from collect to clean, confirmed as "trash."
[Keep our environment green, green. Bag it up nice and dispose properly. Hehe, count on you!]
Call ended. Sudden orders, but no sitting idle.
'He's hitting Chungcheong Province soon.'
Intercept in Seoul, risk exposure. Head south a bit.
Vroom.
I mounted my bike in the lot—my beloved steed Dark Knight-Black Knight, bought with my first Imae Mangnyang paycheck. Chongsu named it that; I'd wanted "Rattletrap."
"...Huh?"
A chill down my spine. Someone approached from behind—
Thud!
"Ow...!"
Someone's head smacked my back. Thinking assassin, I whipped around.
"Who—"
"S-sorry...!"
A black-haired woman in a hat bowed deeply, hands clasped.
"Sorry, but could I borrow your bike?! It's urgent—I'll pay you!"
"Why the bike...? Wait."
I scanned her up and down.
"...Snow White?"
The wild heroine had appeared...!