Chapter 438
Chapter 438
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 438
Chapter Title: Chapter 438
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 438
Chapter Title: Assembly (2)
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Black Dragon Society.
Now completely overshadowed by the Reverse Heaven Society, it was a name that barely registered anymore—one that wouldn't surprise anyone if it vanished entirely tomorrow.
The only reason it hadn't been snuffed out yet was its deep roots, having lurked in China's underworld for at least several decades before the Great Cataclysm even struck.
But even that was ancient history now.
'Black Dragon Society... The name feels unfamiliar, but there's a ton of data on them in the database?'
It must have been that influential back in the day.
In the early days, when Returners were just starting to appear one by one.
They'd lucked out when one of their core executives returned as a Transcendent master, allowing them to successfully refine their constitutions and ride a wave of prosperity.
Sure, that came with rivers of blood both inside and out, but power shifts always brought that kind of mess—nothing special there.
Ironically, that very Transcendent who turned the organization upside down lost his life to someone even stronger before a few years had passed.
'The key point is what they gained in the process.'
Most notably, they began favoring Returners from the Murim world—those who wielded martial arts among the mysteries.
There were practical reasons for that, of course.
For some reason, a hugely disproportionate number of Chinese Returners hailed from Murim dimensions.
Given that most Murim transplants were East Asian to begin with, perhaps the subconscious of Awakeners played a role in selecting their destinations.
'Just like how vampires dominate in Europe.'
With their growth stalling upon returning to Earth, the only way for them to get stronger was to hone their skills through exchanges with their own kind. So it wasn't strange that the Black Dragon Society ended up centered around Murim folk.
Of course, chasing that extreme direction so doggedly was what led to their pathetic downfall.
"...Which is why we believe relocating to Korea is the Black Dragon Society's one and only shot at revival. The Korean Peninsula has always been an area the Reverse Heaven Society inexplicably ignores."
The forces the Reverse Heaven Society had committed to Korea were mere scraps compared to their mainland China power—like a drop in the bucket, or less.
That's why they hadn't taken it seriously even when those forces fully withdrew, ceding territory entirely—Black Eagle said quietly, bowing his head.
'To put it bluntly, they just wrote off the Blood Alliance that now rules Korea's underworld.'
Chinese looking down on Korea as a minor nation was nothing new.
No matter how formidable the Transcendent Pante might be, they probably figured he couldn't handle insidious schemes like this one alone.
"Alright, I get your motivations."
Heinz 2nd nodded slowly.
Black Eagle was the vanguard sent ahead for preliminary work.
If the plan succeeded and the Blood Alliance crumbled completely, perfect. Even if not, it would at least keep them too distracted for other matters.
"So what you're saying is..."
Just dispatching someone of Black Eagle's caliber—a master teetering on the edge of Transcendence—spoke volumes about how seriously they took this operation.
"The Black Dragon Society's ringleader for this mess is right there?"
"...Yes, my Lord."
Though they'd badly misjudged the opposition's capabilities in the process.
Heinz 2nd extended one hand, pointing toward the distant city, then gazed in that direction.
Heilongjiang Province at China's eastern edge, and one of its largest metropolises—Harbin City.
'Good. Let's get a look at the mastermind's face.'
The city's nightscape unfurled beautifully before his eyes, as he stepped up personally to wrap this incident up for good.
***
The number of beings called Transcendents on Earth was estimated at around a hundred.
It was impossible to pin down exactly, of course.
Not everyone advertised their existence or operated in the open, and plenty of regions had become cut off from the outside world for various reasons.
Africa, a lawless wasteland overrun by warlords; South America, where superhuman cartels overshadowed governments; the Middle East teeming with extremist terrorists—these were black holes for information without special means.
All anyone could do was guess based on Transcendent ratios per population.
But there was one fact the public never suspected.
Every one of those isolated regions shared the same shadowy backer.
It made sense—they were the ones who'd ignited the chaos in the first place.
Whether Africa, South America, the Middle East... or anywhere else, it was all the same.
In that light, today was an extraordinarily special day.
The shadowy cabal that had always pulled strings from behind the curtain was holding a gathering.
A hidden world of pristine white marble floors etched with elegant motifs, exuding the solemn air of a temple.
Screeech—
With a faint creak, the door linking to the outside swung wide. A Hispanic middle-aged man with a stylish Kaiser mustache and a scar slashing across his eye strode in confidently.
He glanced lightly around before heading straight for the central round table.
Clank! Clunk—clang!
Each step echoed with heavy metal clangs.
Thick plate armor encasing him head to toe sans helmet, a warhammer the size of a grown man's torso in hand, and a massive shotgun slung across his back, swaying with his motion.
As the fully armed man, primed for battle, approached the table, a Black man already seated there—who'd arrived early and claimed his spot—curled his lip in a sneer.
"What a flashy entrance, eh? Your Excellency Dictator. Not very fitting for the last one to show."
Unlike his counterpart, he bore no real weapons or gear.
Just bone-and-feather talismans draped over his body.
But for this shaman who'd reached Transcendence, those ritual tools were his true arsenal.
"Keh heh heh! Sorry about that! Had a little unrest in my territory, you see. Business demands attention to a lot of details—unlike you war-addicted junkies just burning through the cash we hand out."
The Hispanic pulled a thick cigar from his breast pocket.
He bit off the end with his teeth, spat it on the floor, lit up, took a deep drag, and slowly exhaled toward the Black man.
The air around them thickened with tension.
"...Hmph! As if smuggling drugs is something to brag about so shamelessly."
"Better than pointless wars while you pigs just gorge yourselves, no? Wouldn't you say, Mr. Self-Proclaimed Liberator?"
"Pointless? We've freed countless nations from exploitation and villages from chains through our struggles. You filthy dictator... did you just call our holy war meaningless?"
"......"
"......"
A frigid silence hung between them.
It didn't last.
Whoooosh—!
A ferocious storm of surging energy whipped up.
The shotgun's massive barrel, brimming with power, swung toward the Liberator, while something manifesting in the air bared its fangs at the Dictator.
A powder keg on the verge of explosion.
"If you two don't want to get beaten half to death, cut it out."
But they weren't alone.
Both men flinched at the languid female voice.
A disheveled blonde with her head planted on the table, unmoved amid the commotion.
No one here could ignore her warning.
Even as fellow Transcendents heading South America and Africa branches, they had to yield before her absolute supremacy.
"Tch, count yourselves lucky."
"Ha! Look who's talking."
In the end, they retracted their auras and slunk to opposite ends of the table.
Though their glares never broke.
With ideologies and temperaments polar opposites, friction was inevitable whenever they shared space.
Luckily, their territories had kept clashes rare until now...
'Ugh, already exhausting.'
The Judge, blonde head still on the table, let out a deep sigh.
This wasn't the first brawl she'd mediated, truth be told.
They'd already butted heads multiple times since arriving.
'All so headstrong and prideful. And with zero camaraderie to begin with...'
Each had joined the Reverse Heaven Society for their own reasons.
Some owed life debts or growth aid too vast to repay; others saw it as the path to their ambitions; still more feared or revered the Society Lord.
She wanted to let them slug it out, but with the Lord's orders hanging over them, she couldn't just let executives go for the kill.
Especially with her equal—a peer in rank—absent on the Lord's business.
And also...
Her gaze drifted to the empty seats, now devoid of their owners.
'I knew from reports, but seeing it firsthand really drives it home.'
This convocation, personally called by the Society Lord and mandatory for all high executives above branch head level, still had numerous vacancies.
'From the Ruler on down: the Strategist, Scribe, even Nagaraja...'
Not just them, either.
The Executioner—second only to the Lord in raw power—and the Doctor, the Lord's right-hand alongside the Oracle, had fallen too.
She bore at least partial blame for the Executioner's demise, having handled support bombardment; she couldn't gloss over this lightly.
'I confirmed he escaped and halted the strikes. How the hell did someone with such cheat-level powers fail to get away?'
Was the Executioner incompetent, or Masquerade too competent?
She grumbled inwardly a few times, then steadied her breath.
Personal grudges aside, she had to separate duty from dislike.
If Masquerade's forces were that strong, her side needed countermeasures pronto.
Screeech—
As tangled thoughts churned in her mind, lost in contemplation.
The outside door creaked open again.
A dozen-plus high executives, all radiating ominous auras regardless of age, sex, or race, turned as one.
With all possible attendees already present, they could guess who this was.
"Kept you waiting."
And right on cue.
A low voice emanated from the doorway—the presence they'd all been awaiting.
"Ah!"
"The Lord's arrived."
"Lord!"
An ambiguous timbre: a mundane youth, or an extraordinary elder? Even her divinity couldn't quite grasp it.
The Judge swallowed hard, wiping clammy palms on her hem.
"Hm, looks like everyone behaved. Good job?"
The Oracle followed, her tone laced with amusement.
Glancing her way now and then, she seemed to have divined every incident here.
'Knew and dumped it all on me. What a sadist.'
The unexpected twist came right then.
"Wahaha! Long time no see, everyone! All well, I hope? Ah... I heard about it too. The Executioner... that Executioner...! Sob!"
A high-pitched, bubbly tone shifted to genuine grief, tears streaming as a chestnut-haired middle-aged... cyborg wailed openly.
The Doctor, who'd vanished to retrofit his resurrected body.
"Waaah—! Hic! Sniff!"
As everyone stared blankly at his erratic display—far more unhinged than before—his emotional rollercoaster didn't stop.
"Aaaah! Unbelievable! Losing the Great Demon, the Great Demon's body, to them! So many experiments left untried, and now that prime specimen's gone!! So jealousjealousjealous! Unacceptable!"
Grief twisted into envy.
His priorities had always skewed that way.
"...Phew, but thank goodness. I secretly made a homunculus of the Executioner just in case. Without it, I'd have lost my mind. Heh heh heh heh!"
His outburst peaked in absurdity, leaving all dumbfounded.
The Executioner had repeatedly challenged the Society Lord, always ending up barely clinging to life.
The Doctor had aided his regenerations each time—and apparently run every possible experiment in the process.
Even harvesting materials without permission for a homunculus.
Getting caught would've been disastrous.
A artificial lifeform mimicking a divine being threatened their very godhood.
Water under the bridge now, though.
"Hm? Why the stares?"
The Doctor tilted his head innocently.
"We gathered here for a reason! Come on, let's get started!"
He clapped gleefully, beaming.
"A strategy meeting to capture every last Masquerade member as lab rats!"
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