Shock and Awe (2)
Ryu Geum-cheol worked without rest, narrowing his precious sleep to the bone as he scoured every possible angle of his latest mission handed down from the party and the nation.
Just days earlier, something truly pleasant had occurred.
A man who introduced himself as the most genuine person of the Republic had appeared and handed over the most likely movement information for the Hong Kong Governor.
Of course, Ryu Geum-cheol himself could have obtained the Governor’s schedule. Meeting the chairman of Cheonma Sangsa, Ham Cheon-ho—his outward superior—and the Governor had already been arranged in advance. If he could map the representative’s itinerary, he could deduce exactly when the Governor would be present.
Yet the information delivered by that man of the Republic included not only the meeting but the full sequence of movements: where the Governor had come from and where he would go, all logged down to the minute.
With data this detailed… the mission would succeed, no question!
Of course, whether the mission succeeded or failed could not be known until the final moment. As a true person who had been thoroughly educated that superstition held no place, Ryu Geum-cheol refused to rely on the supernatural.
Yet did not the proverb say, “When a person is destined to succeed, Heaven will grant him the time to prepare”? Human beings must complete every possible step first if they wish to claim absolute victory.
With the mission deadline approaching, Ryu Geum-cheol’s trembling heart could no longer be restrained.
So on the morning of April 6—more accurately, the pre-dawn hours before the sun had even risen over the horizon. The air was unnaturally cold, yet that was of no concern. Within hours the execution site would be transformed into thousands of degrees of flame, after all.
Ryu Geum-cheol had used the data from the man of the Republic to conduct one final sweep of the explosives’ placement.
Precautions against duds, and against the possibility that the enemy had already prepared countermeasures on their side, Ryu Geum-cheol inspected the pistol and the remaining knife he carried tucked against his chest.
At seven in the morning, the Governor of British Hong Kong and the representative of Cheonma Sangsa met exactly as before—at the Governor’s residence.
Only the bare minimum of personnel were required for such a high-level meeting. A translator, a secretary, and a few close-range bodyguards.
Ryu Geum-cheol had secured his position among the bodyguards by accepting the last few years of deceptive loyalty.
Because the security of the Governor’s residence was far more lax than anyone had expected, he had quietly installed the explosive device smuggled from the Republic inside the building.
And now he was waiting for this very moment.
The Governor of British Hong Kong, and the representative of the Republic that was rapidly rising as a new power—Ryu Geum-cheol seized the instant their hands met in greeting—
—and detonated the bomb.
The electrical signal traveled through the phone, and the makeshift explosive beneath the table erupted with a deafening boom.
In Ryu Geum-cheol’s vision, time seemed to slow to a crawl. Even a second divided by a hundred felt as though he could perceive every single tick.
The wooden table where the explosive had been placed exploded into a thousand pieces and flew outward in all directions. The razor-sharp splinters shot toward the humans like high-speed blades.
The targets, of course, did not remain still. They moved physically.
Their bodies, twisted by the blast pressure and wind pressure, crumpled like paper and scattered.
Most of the figures that seemed to fly with their backs bent over would likely never rise again once they struck the ground.
To Ryu Geum-cheol’s bitter regret, he himself was among those flying figures with his back already folded.
Although he had deployed defensive magic, the explosion’s angle had been such that he still took in a considerable amount of energy.
Still, the fact that he had used telekinesis to fold his own body even more sharply in the opposite direction was the only reason he had not died outright.
Even if the targets had not perished, he could not fall here and now.
His concern proved correct. The Governor and the representative who had been hurled by the wind began to stir and show signs of rising from the floor.
Ryu Geum-cheol reached into his pocket to draw his pistol.
He was a bodyguard of Ham Cheon-ho of Cheonma Sangsa. Even if he pulled out a gun now, no one here would suspect him.
“Kuuu…”
A scream burst from his lips. He did not know why, but it sounded familiar—like the scream he had emitted days earlier.
Or had it been a dream…? Yes, it had occurred in the nightmare where his soul—his mage’s final pride—had been torn apart and shredded into fragments.
Let the nightmare be forgotten. The nightmare of the Western girl giggling as she tied him to a chair and applied electric shocks—that had been painfully real.
Forget it, forget it. Yes, forget it.
Repeating this to himself, Ryu Geum-cheol barely managed to rise and pointed the pistol at his target. First, the Governor.
Strictly speaking, the Governor of British Hong Kong ranked higher than the representative of a large corporation. If only one of the two had to be eliminated, it should be this one.
Even in the homeland, if a binary choice arose, they had instructed to prioritize this target.
The magazine had already been loaded.
He released the two safety mechanisms in sequence—fortunately, no reaction came from the other side in all that time—and pulled the trigger.
BANG! The recoil traveled through his entire body. His already folded spine gave a sharp jolt as he felt the vertebrae scream in agony.
The bullet, traveling at nearly the speed of sound, struck true. The Governor’s body on the floor twitched once before collapsing flat again.
Again. Twice more. Every time the trigger was pulled, the body jerked.
Even from a glance, the expensive carpet beneath was soaked with warm blood. It would be difficult to clean.
Is he still breathing? Are they really dead?
There was no time to think. He could not even move his own body to check.
Time kept ticking, second by second by second. This was a problem—somehow the passage of time felt even faster.
Adrenaline surged, and the slow time suddenly reverted to normal speed.
Similarly, the other bodyguards who had been knocked senseless by the blast seemed to have recovered and were attempting to restrain him.
So Ryu Geum-cheol shifted his gaze to the next target. The magazine was finite, but the will of the people was infinite.
He pulled the trigger again and again. One shot, then another.
One more time, just one more—click, click—damn, it must have been damaged when I rolled around on the floor earlier?
Since that was the case, he had no choice but to force his way to the end…! Ryu Geum-cheol casually dropped the pistol and reached back into his pocket for the knife.
With every step, it felt as if a one-ton sandbag were tied to his ankle, and the seams of his boots creaked loudly.
He barely raised his arm to line up the angle for the stab.
He had trained the knife technique hundreds of thousands of times in Hamhung. Once it struck, death was certain—
BANG!
A bullet fired from far away sent the knife flying. A spray of bright red blood arced through the air.
The pain only arrived after a breath.
“Aaaah—! Aaaah—!”
His thumb and pinky were grazed by the bullet and carried away with the knife. Blood spurted from the holes where his fingers had been.
Fortunately, his arm had already moved to thrust the blade, so Ryu Geum-cheol’s remaining three fingers simply punched dull and heavy into the representative’s back.
Even that blow lacked strength. Ryu Geum-cheol rolled across the floor in agony from the loss of his fingers.
The more he rolled, the sharper the agony became in his spine, which had been folded once before. The scream that escaped was pitiful.
Damn it. Of all times…!
Ryu Geum-cheol steadied himself. Even if a tiger bit him, he would survive if only his mind remained clear. Even in the middle of the most dangerous battlefield, if only his mind remained clear, he could complete the mission.
The spirit of the total explosive bomb emphasized by Comrade Lee—what was it, exactly? What mattered was an unbroken heart.
Ryu Geum-cheol began crawling. No gun, then a sword. No sword, then his fingernails. No fingernails, then his teeth.
He possessed no magical talent. Magic could only be used by someone with a clear mind and sufficient leeway to activate it, and he instinctively knew he could not use it in his current state.
Ryu Geum-cheol crawled laboriously toward the representative. If he bit through the throat and tore out the carotid artery, massive bleeding would kill him instantly.
Of course, he himself would not survive either.
Even the pistol bullet lodged in his own back while he crawled slowly was already beyond what two hands could pull out.
His right thumb and pinky were gone, leaving only eight fingers, but even if they had remained, it would not have helped.
Ryu Geum-cheol gathered every last ounce of strength and screamed the purpose of this operation and the message for the entire world.
The survivors would spread his cry far and wide.
Even the workers being exploited under the bloody labor conditions of South Korea would respond to this cry.
“We are not machines! The entire people of the peninsula fight against unjust exploitation and oppression—together!”
KWAK!
Ryu Geum-cheol bit into the representative’s throat. The acrid taste of blood that welled up was still vividly felt even as he died.
His gums and teeth weakened. The bullets that had beaten his back grew even more numerous.
He was firing blindly in all directions, half-panicked.
Ryu Geum-cheol found even that satisfying. Some of the bullets meant for him might accidentally strike this evil corporation.
In his gradually fading consciousness, Ryu Geum-cheol’s body was suddenly kicked.
That, too, was surely the loyal bodyguards who had rushed over hurriedly pushing him aside.
He did not care. After all, he had risked his life to successfully complete the mission for the Republic, and both the Governor and the representative were already as good as dead.
Ryu Geum-cheol was certain. The mission had succeeded.
…?
Something felt wrong. More people were charging at him than at the Governor or the representative.
Logically, if the enemy had already been neutralized, the victims should have been checked on first. Wasn’t that the normal procedure…?
It made no sense. A completely illogical situation. Of course, launching such an operation was already irrational.
Over the fading edge of Ryu Geum-cheol’s hearing came a strange sound. The language was English—or Russian.
“Wow, this guy really bit off the throat with his teeth. I had no idea he could do that.”
“Good thing Miss arranged perfect slime for any wound. Otherwise, you two would have died for real.”
“Heh, it really shows how far-sighted Miss is. She said she’d be in Florida, America by now, right?”
“Yeah. More precisely, Miami, Florida. She’s probably meeting someone from the American Magic Defense Agency and chatting.”
It was utterly incomprehensible. Miss…?Miami, America…?
The body that had just been kicked had flipped again. In other words, the back that had been facing upward moments ago was now facing downward.
Thanks to that, even if Ryu Geum-cheol barely opened his eyes, he could indirectly glimpse what was happening outside.
So squeezing out his last drops of strength, Ryu Geum-cheol opened his eyes to a scene he could never have imagined.
“That’s… wh-what…?”
A glistening pink blob was crawling over the bodies of the Governor and the representative.
The grotesque, writhing mass moved like a snail over the wounds, and every time it did so, faint magical traces flickered.
The wounds… were healing. It was sucking blood from the surroundings and pouring it directly into the wounds while simultaneously ejecting the embedded bullets as if spitting them out.
The surreal sight left Ryu Geum-cheol utterly stunned. He laughed—an involuntary, disbelieving laugh.
Could the mission have failed? A hollow laugh escaped, but that hollow laugh could not last long either.
“Brother, this guy is laughing.”
“Leave him. He must be dreaming a pleasant dream.”
Amid those mocking laughs and sneers, Ryu Geum-cheol lost consciousness.