Chapter 257
Chapter 257
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 257
Chapter Title: Episode 84. Who is Our Enemy? (1)
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The incident had come to a close.
At the direction of Season, the Federation's support team arrived a beat late and searched the entire underground fortress.
137 dead. Two survivors.
Three were found in total, but one terrorist was killed on the spot due to the impulsive action of a superhuman.
The private second-class who acted impulsively was a 15-year friend of one of the deceased hostages and had enlisted together.
He received disciplinary action. Three months of unpaid suspension. And, as a security measure, 120 hours of mandatory intentional homicide training.
Yoo Ji-tae handed over the information found in the underground fortress to the Federation. It was intel on a regiment-level upper unit in Africa.
He wanted to go himself, but he had gone to the arboretum with Bom and Winter for Winter's homework. And upon returning, he spent time alone with Bom, so he couldn't go.
His absence was filled by Christoph Billivaldt Freeman, one of Kalliovan's five transcendents. The old man who always went on about his "instincts."
A strike team was formed around him, and they raided the enemy's command structure.
However, the 7th round's "Quasar" was far more cautious than Yoo Ji-tae had anticipated.
That place was under the South African Union (SAN), and the actual unit existed.
It was revealed that Quasar had secretly used the command communication room inside the unit's abandoned building. It was a unit structurally neglected in management.
Numerous battalion-level hotlines were connected to that building. The moment they raided, the lines were cut. And as expected, the standby operator in the communication room knew nothing.
Tortured to the end, until death. He denied everything until finally spitting out only false information before dying.
"Heh heh, look at these mongrel bastards..."
The old superhuman with sharp instincts, Mercenary King Christoph, licked his canine tooth.
The next day, the Mercenary King's report arrived.
With a somewhat shocking title.
"I couldn't get a read on where the tail leads."
In about 50 years, Christoph had never once used the phrase "I couldn't get a read." Rather, when he was unsure, he avoided words like "instinct."
So why had he deliberately used "I couldn't get a read"?
— It means the severance of traces is perfectly systematic, doesn't it? My lord.
It was Clone 1's thought, and Yoo Ji-tae agreed.
He wasn't one of Kalliovan's five transcendents for nothing. He had just trembled in front of him; when it came to individual special missions, no superhuman matched Christoph's efficiency.
And even he had found nothing?
This wasn't on the level of "they hid it well."
If hidden, traces of hiding remain.
If those traces are hidden, traces of hiding the hiding remain.
Christoph's words meant there were none at all.
In other words, the communication post had been pristine, as if it had never been used as one. The 0713 unit's communication post was clean from the start.
Put differently.
The communication post had to be understood as a space meticulously crafted by a top-tier ranker whose understanding of "location" and "traces" rivaled Christoph's.
"Tch. That old geezer. I've always been annoyed by his constant talk of instincts..."
"His meds wore off. Or he's senile."
However, after Yoo Ji-tae caused a scene, Christoph had been downgraded in evaluations by the Federation's central command.
His willful personality played a part too.
This couldn't be glossed over lightly, so the next day, Yoo Ji-tae visited the site himself.
And immediately realized how the traces had been erased.
"......"
Rather, the problem was how perfectly they had been removed.
In the world, only two people he knew of could erase mana traces this perfectly.
One was himself.
The other was...
"......"
He was dumbfounded and double-checked his own thoughts.
Is this right? No way.
A moment of confusion passed.
...The other was the woman who had briefly held the world ranking 1 spot when the witch stepped down as Sovereign and Oscar Bljenk ascended.
Her name was Seol Bitnarae.
And the one who had taught Yoo Ji-tae the "Trace Management Mana Operation Technique."
But she was already dead. She died saving people during the Great War. Her body was recovered. There's even a grave.
Maybe she resurrected? But based on experience, unlikely. In seven rounds, he'd never seen her.
The regressor learning the trace management technique from Seol Bitnarae was only because he forcibly extracted the powerful mana from her grave, avatarized it, and learned it.
Not even learned properly. Her avatar had no intention of teaching. He had threatened and stolen it.
Which means, in the 7th round, someone used mana from her grave to summon an avatar and stole the technique from it, just like him?
This needed confirmation. Yoo Ji-tae headed straight to Korea's National Cemetery.
"Entry prohibited from here."
And sneaked into the grave guarded by soldiers.
As he expected. Seol Bitnarae's grave had been robbed.
But he couldn't tell who did it.
There were no traces at all...
On the way back, he felt a twinge of irritation.
Back then, Seol Bitnarae had been furious. Throughout teaching the technique, she vented her agony.
"I never rested a single day in life. Now I want to rest in eternal peace, yet you torment me..."
"Unable to rest, do I not even get to die properly..."
"If only I hadn't known this technique. At least in death, I could rest..."
In the 7th round, vowing to live normally. He realized her feelings. Understood his actions were no small sin. For that reason, on moral grounds, he hadn't visited her grave.
"......"
Yoo Ji-tae felt alert.
This. Wasn't something to take lightly.
Moreover, the command staff, enlightened by the series of events, no longer took this lightly.
Quasar
At dinner, with Zhuge Haeyeon present, Kalliovan said this about Quasar.
'This isn't just an extension of a simple terrorist group.'
'Absolutely not.'
His words were firm. And Zhuge Haeyeon agreed.
As if to prove it, about two weeks later, another incident erupted.
Michigan. Great Lakes coast.
A boy fishing with bodyguards in cold weather suddenly vanished into the water. A massive search ensued. When the boy was found on the opposite shore, he had been torn apart, ears and tongue ripped out.
The boy's name: Michael Billivaldt Freeman.
Mercenary King Christoph's grandson had been murdered.
That day. Yoo Ji-tae wore black.
Bom briefly dyed her hair black and followed him.
Under the cathedral chandelier. Where light poured down. The two attended the funeral mass. Enormously many people came. Cries didn't stop.
"Michael, Michael! If I catch and tear apart all those bastards, will you come back? Huh?"
Someone burst into rage and was restrained by superhumans and dragged away.
"Open your eyes. Your favorite candy is here..."
Someone sobbed, holding out a glass jar of candy.
But the dead child wouldn't return.
Magic engineering advanced. Technology advanced.
Yet no normal way to revive the dead existed.
Human death remained absolute.
Yoo Ji-tae waited in line. Only after a long time could he stand before the deceased.
In American Catholic funeral culture, the casket is open for a final farewell with the departed. Even in this era where religious influence waned, some followed tradition.
He stood before the casket.
A pallid boy lay there.
His half-torn ear caught the eye.
Ripping out tongue and ears. This had to be retaliation for cutting Quasar's communication hub.
No one mentioned it. But no one thought otherwise.
Yoo Ji-tae reached out, touching the forehead of the boy he'd never met alive. And stroked his hair.
"He looks just like Winter's age."
Bom said.
About ten years old.
"How much it must have hurt..."
She said that, mourning a child she'd never met.
He wasn't particularly sad. Even amid this, for a brief moment, complicated thoughts swirled in his mind.
"Wait here a bit. Bom."
"Where are you going?"
"Gonna see someone."
After the funeral, he sought out Christoph.
The aged but massive beast-like superhuman showed no particular grief. He was alone behind the cathedral, puffing on a cigar.
"Christoph."
"Season. You came too."
"Sorry about the kid."
Christoph exhaled smoke.
In the hazy air. The old man replied nonchalantly.
"The Prophet didn't come to comfort a lowly old man. What do you want to say."
"I'd like to talk about what happened after the Africa Quasar communication post op."
"Fine. Get to the point."
"What did you do after the communication post operation."
"Why curious."
"I reviewed the 5th Command Room op logs. Saw your official schedule was blank. No personal entries either."
"Old folks want rest."
"Don't you live thinking you're young."
"Don't act like you know me."
Christoph deeply inhaled the cigar.
His sigh was exceedingly long.
"...Nothing much. Just looked around personally."
"Quasar's traces?"
"Yeah. Chief Torturer Season. You know about seven special forces are tracking Quasar besides you?"
Yoo Ji-tae nodded. The regiment comms he'd found was the furthest lead. Others had no significant results.
"Compiled all their data. Followed my instincts flipping things over."
"What?"
"Governments worldwide... Stirred up quite a few. Probably didn't report 'cause of this old war hero's face. I've probably pissed off a bunch of national governments now."
"So. Results?"
"One thing. Something odd."
Christoph switched cigars and lit another.
"Someone's there..."
"Who."
"Don't know exactly."
"Group? Individual?"
"Don't know that either. Feels like an individual."
"Gender? Age."
"Don't know gender or age."
"Traits. Ranking."
"Ranking, not sure. Probably high. Trait: ghost-like at handling human society relations. That's the vibe."
"Vibe? You saying everything you've said comes from instinct?"
"Yep."
"......"
Yoo Ji-tae's expression subtly frowned.
'Instinct' really didn't mesh with him.
Still, he wouldn't dismiss it.
According to Christoph.
The opponent is an individual.
Ghost-like at handling human society relations.
And possibly, the one who robbed Seol Bitnarae's grave.
"Why think that."
"Something's off. In some countries, something... was weird. But no issues on paper. No one felt the weirdness in their hearts either."
"How do you sense something weird when numbers and people don't. Besides that famed instinct. Anything concrete?"
"If God doesn't know, how would an old human."
"I'm no god. Just a struggling human. Tell me whatever you know."
The old man pondered until he burned a whole cigar.
Finally tossed the butt and spoke.
"Looked too hasty."
"What."
"Prophet, following your words, the Federation prepares for 'Night.' Gathering power. Stirring national wariness. Nations already burdened by the transnational military org's buildup."
"Obvious, isn't it."
"Yes. But the backlash is too swift."
"Basis?"
"My experience. That's why instinct."
"So. Some 'individual' you sensed is steering that flow from behind?"
"Exactly."
More questions followed, but conclusion was one.
By his instinct.
Some shady bastard is moving the world.
To antagonize the Federation.
"......"
Yoo Ji-tae nodded and prepared to leave.
Just before turning.
A soft emotion stirred.
Recalling daily norms, he cautiously asked.
"How you feeling."
"Asking quick."
"If there's work soon, hand it to me or Yuan. Help you rest."
"Nah. Just go. I'm still young."
As Yoo Ji-tae hesitated to turn again, a lingering voice flew, grabbing his ankle.
"Aren't you... a god?"
"Told you, human."
"Human... Acting like an old god... Same creature as me, huh?"
"If creationism right. Yeah."
"Handy, I'm a creationist. Then, fellow human, hear my story?"
He turned to look at the old man.
"I had one son and one daughter."