The Deal
The smell of human blood.
The blood of a Pollution Beast sinks beneath the air. It is crushed into the stink of metal, dissolved and lost among rotting fluids.
This scent was different.
Body heat still clung to it. It flowed, broke, and welled again — a rhythm rising from somewhere near the heart.
Still alive.
The blood-smell sat dead center in a nest of pollution presence. Not the leftover trace of something already eaten. It was still running.
And yet nothing had finished it off.
The pattern inside the golden eyes turned, slow and deliberate.
Eye Art.
When the Insight Eye settled over the scent and presence already snared by spiritual sense, the muddled layout sharpened by a fraction.
Inside a narrow sealed sector, Pollution Beasts of different kinds had gathered. They did not look like a single pack. They made no effort to hide the hostility they held for one another.
And still they did not tear into each other at once.
At the center of them lay that blood.
The body slid low along a seam in the metal wall. Before long the passage bent downward, and foul water dripped between ruptured pipes. The reek of rusted metal and putrid fluid clung thick and greasy to the air.
The chamber was closer to a dumping ground than anything else.
Low ceiling, burst piping, a floor sticky with residue. In the middle of it, Pollution Beasts had spread into a rough circle, weapons trained on one another.
Insect-types, beast-types, and things that only half-succeeded at aping a human shape all mixed together.
Among them, two wolf-shaped beasts snagged the attention hardest.
It was not only their bulk. Metal collars and dark tubes had been driven into the napes of their necks, and a bit-like device was fused to the flesh around their jaws.
Nothing about them looked natural.
Unlike the rest, those two did not stalk each other. They flanked someone standing at the heart of the pack.
At first it was hard even to decide if the figure was human.
A battered coat covered a low, rounded body. Metal scraps and rags had been stuck to it at random, and a long hooked nose hung nearly to the lips.
Jaundiced, dead-looking skin. Hair slick with oil. A face caught somewhere between beggar and Pollution Beast.
But the blood was unmistakably human.
The man was gripping his left arm. Blood seeped slowly between his fingers. The wound was not deep. Even so, none of the surrounding beasts lunged for it.
Prey stood right in front of them, and still they held.
The human lifted a finger.
One of the beast-types, already crouched as if to spring, froze where it stood.
It was not because of words.
His lips moved, but what the Pollution Beasts answered to was not sound. A thin tremor radiated from inside his body.
Back off.
Not yet.
It did not arrive as sentences. Only the meaning landed.
The golden eyes narrowed a fraction.
Understood.
That was the strangest part of all.
One insect-type started to edge sideways along the wall — a move aimed at another beast’s back.
The hook-nosed human turned only his head.
This time a shorter tremor spread.
Wait.
The insect-type’s legs stopped.
It was not total submission. Hunger and hostility still lingered. But as long as that human stood at the center, none of them could cross the line.
Closer to taming than anything else.
The scene caught in the golden eyes narrowed again.
The two wolf-shapes were fast. The hardware buried in their bodies was no mere decoration. But the passage was tight, and between wall and pipe there were plenty of gaps to slip through.
The rest of the beasts were a breath away from ripping into each other. The moment the command loosened, they would thrash among themselves before they ever charged as one.
The problem was that human.
He was wounded.
But wounded did not mean weak. Standing in the middle of Pollution Beasts without a flicker of fear on him — holding a position like that in a body like that was power in itself.
Still, there was none of the crushing pressure that came with crimson eyes or a Devouring Ghoul.
No plan to stay locked in a frontal fight for long. Bite and break away. If it went wrong, drop back through the metal seams behind. That much was possible.
The real problem was the path.
If that human was alive in the middle of these beasts, there was a strong chance he knew the routes through this sealed sector.
The body eased a little farther forward.
Not fully exposed. Only the head and part of the neck pushed into the chamber; the rest stayed in the dark.
In that instant, the human’s head turned toward it.
Precise.
Not a chance glance. As if he had known the hiding place from the start, his reaction locked on at once.
A few of the surrounding beasts felt the presence a beat later and twisted around. Fangs, legs, wet eyes all swung this way together.
The man was not surprised.
Under the long nose, cracked lips slowly parted.
"White scales."
A thin tremor followed after the words.
A warning not to come closer, tangled with the intent to measure what this thing was.
He looked at the golden eyes. He seemed to be reading the pattern inside them as well.
"Not one of the local strays."
The two wolf-shapes moved.
One to the left, one to the right. They looked as if they were only spreading out, but the angles of their paws were already cutting off the passage behind.
No retreat.
The pattern inside the golden eyes turned again.
Spirit force that had been held down rose under the scales. Not a full release. For the briefest instant, a presence larger than the body itself was pushed into the chamber.
The wolf-types’ forepaws stopped.
The insect-type climbing the wall froze. The half-human mimic locked up with its mouth still hanging open.
Geomeunburi’s bloodied fingertips stilled as well.
He flicked a glance toward the dark behind him, then looked this way again.
This time it was not a face busy putting a price on something.
Wariness.
And behind it, interest.
"Thought you were small. You’ve got some bite."
A wet sound came from inside the wolf-types’ throats. Even so, they did not advance.
He slowly lowered his hand, and the surrounding Pollution Beasts dropped their bodies before the gesture had even finished.
No hostility.
Looking for a path.
Only that much was loaded into the presence.
He watched this way for a while.
"So you can send something like speech, too."
Blood-smeared fingers rubbed under his chin.
"Alright. What do you want to ask?"
A gesture toward the dark outside the chamber.
Here.
Outside.
A way out.
Only that much meaning was sent.
The human smiled briefly. It was closer to a sneer.
"This is District 32."
Rough meaning rode the words.
A discarded place.
Outside the line.
Land people abandoned.
"Where people live is further in."
He jerked his chin toward the dark beyond.
"The City."
Short.
Then he tilted his head this way.
"Then it’s my turn."
The bloodied finger stopped in the air.
"You. What did you eat?"
No immediate answer.
Awareness was pressed down so it would not reach the back of the head. The sealed structure, the voice heard inside it, the word Core — all of that was buried deeper in.
There was no intention of showing everything.
Instead, something useful for reading a reaction came first.
A collapsed station.
A twisted humanoid shape.
An arm fused like a blade, and a dark strand that had lagged behind from its back.
At first the human simply took it in. But the moment the sense of that humanoid form touched him, his fingers stopped.
"…A Devouring Ghoul?"
Sound died inside the chamber.
Only the next image was pushed out, very briefly.
The man who had faced it.
A bold cast to his features, an aura that resembled the Taoist side, the way he never let go of his sword even while bleeding out to the end.
The final strike.
The Devouring Ghoul fell.
The man fell with it.
And the names.
Mudang Corporation. Jema-dae. Yeon Mu-jin.
This time the expression vanished from the human’s face.
"…Cheongun. You’re saying the leader of Jema-dae is dead?"
The chamber went quiet.
He lifted his head at once. His eyes moved fast — the left passage, the collapsed pipes, the gap in the ceiling. The haggling look from a moment ago was gone.
The bloodied hand dropped.
The two wolf-shapes reacted first. Bodies low, they snapped around with sudden speed.
In that thin silence, everything that had been held back locked into place at once.
Core.
AI.
Sealed structure.
Mudang.
Yeon Mu-jin.
Devouring Ghoul.
No more questions.
The body turned just as fast.
Through the golden eyes, the rear passage locked in — the gap between collapsed pipes, the shadow under a rusted plate, the narrow way already traveled.
He flicked his fingers once.
This tremor was short and rough.
Scatter.
The surrounding Pollution Beasts fell back as one. While they peeled off toward different seams and passages, he never looked around.
Taking only the two wolf-shapes with him, he plunged deeper into the corridor.
No immediate pursuit.
It was not trust. But the moment he moved, the beasts cleared a path. In this sealed sector, the one who knew the way was him.
The gaps the wolf-types left behind did not fully close. Enough remained to slip through. The pace was the same. He was not waiting to be caught up with, but he did not seem intent on shaking a tail either.
Stick close.
If needed, drop out midway.
The body sank lower.
It skimmed under the collapsed pipes. A sunken passage stretched long ahead. The lead wolf-type’s claws scraped metal flooring, but the sound did not linger.
That was when it happened.
The back of the head rang.
Hey— wait. What is this.
The pace did not slow.
I'm picking up an emergency signal? Snake, I haven't finished charging yet. Why'd you wake me up already.
I didn't wake you.
…Ah. You're on the run. What the hell. What happened while I was out for a bit?
There was no room to explain now.
The lead wolf-type cut direction again. As if the whole sealed sector had listed, the passage floor died away toward one side.
Don't ignore me.
Fine, okay. Situation first.
A brief quiet.
That thing up ahead — is that actually human?
Kept moving.
It is, but it's wrong. Pollution Beast wavelengths mixed in. I don't have a record of this.
None.
Yeah. Beast taming, induction, signal mediation… Whoa. There's a human who does this?
You don't know a single useful thing, do you.
Snake.
That was aimed at me just now, right?
No particular denial.
That's unfair, okay? I'm basically scrap right now. Running on a single fragment, and for that this is extremely diligent.
The passage ahead sharpened another layer inside the field of view.
It was unmistakable — AI was pulling on the spiritual sense. Not so much irritating as unfamiliar. Sensation opened in directions that were not this one, all at once.
…Huh?
What.
This route. It's in my records.
Moved on in silence.
Not precise. Faint. But it's definitely there. Up this way. The direction you're heading right now.
That caught.
…The City.
Meaning.
Humanity's last stronghold. That's how it's left in my records.
But this was not the time to dig into it.
Up ahead, he stopped.
The two wolf-types slid to a halt with him.
He slowly turned his head. First to the golden eyes. Then down toward the back of the head.
He lingered there a moment.
A very thin tremor was leaking from inside the body — residue spilled outward as AI borrowed the spiritual sense. Not large. Still enough for that human to catch.
He did not ask what it was.
His eyes only narrowed a little.
Then he turned away and set a hand on a wolf-type’s nape. The beast moved again.
Snake, what is that guy. Why does it feel like he's looking at my side. Ugh.
Because of you.
Huh? Ah — sorry. I'll be more careful.
Up ahead the two wolf-types halted first. Behind them the low, rounded body slid to a stop.
"Here."
The floor underfoot thrummed.
The vibration rolled out long. Metal pipes meshed with the dry scrape of old friction, and the stagnant, greasy air began to be pulled upward.
The structure was moving vertically.
…Huh?
This structure is still running?
He said nothing. One hand still on a wolf-type’s nape, he looked up.
The head lifted.
Through a collapsed seam above, light was coming down in a very thin thread.
An artificial light of a kind never seen from below.