The Start of the Storm 2
No one comes to prison without regrets. Sure, some try to act tough and glorify their crimes, but if you've got any brains, you mostly regret your sins. Even a short five-year stint like this—most criminals had issues with their environment. Poverty, loneliness, self-esteem, lack of education... or mental defects. People raised with love have a glow about them. That's how you spot them right away.
"Hoo..."
Most of the Blood Raven mercenary members were from the outcast underclass. You could tell at a glance—they had no skills, nothing but their bodies, which was why they'd ended up here. It reminded me of myself swinging a pickaxe at construction sites.
"People who can only dig or hammer—over here."
"People who know farming—over here."
"People who rank in the top ten at swordplay and brawling around here—over here."
One-eyed Taylor proudly lined up for farming. Right at the front, too. When our eyes met, he scratched the back of his head. So the guy who looked like he was born for fighting... He really was just built like a villain. A villain's face suited for farming and eating well? Tsk. The problem was that the guy I'd set up as captain was saying, "I can't fight."
I gave the Blood Raven members a knowing nod.
"A captain doesn't have to be the best fighter, right? Right?"
"......"
"Answer me!"
"Yes!!!!"
"No, sir!!"
A thunderous response echoed across the square.
Six guys claimed confidence in fighting. They were all big, with decent muscle.
"Alright. You lot are the guards. Private security for this Red Club (Area 599). Got it?"
"Yes!!"
I noted a good crowd gathering behind one-eyed Taylor.
"More people who know farming than I thought?"
"Yes!!"
One-eyed Taylor answered brightly, and the rest croaked back like frogs in unison.
"The diggers and hammerers start building houses here tomorrow. I'll supply all the materials."
"Yes!!"
Their crisp responses were getting me pumped up too. The wise saying that even if you can't work well, respond well—spot on. Even restaurants say if you shout "Welcome!" and "Come again!" loud enough, you'll do fine.
"But bro... where do we farm?"
"Wait and see."
I stroked the Ancient Druid Wood Ring and scattered the wheat seeds I'd brought onto the ground. The wheat Marlin grew was bigger than normal, with much larger grains. I'd brought those seeds.
"Those grains are huge, bro?"
Focusing my mind on the ring, warmth spread from my fingertips, connecting to the earth.
Rumble rumble rumble.
"Ooooh!!"
As the ground shook, they all stared at me in shock. I raised one hand to calm them.
The grains turned into a small wheat field in an instant, and the harvested grains from that spread outward again—some dropped to their knees.
"A miracle..."
I pictured the wheat field Marlin had tended in my mind. The muddy swamp was perfect for it. The sight of a golden wheat field completing in seconds was magic even to me.
"Ta-da."
I struck a cool pose with both hands up. This was my magic, so worship me—this gesture carried that message.
All the Blood Raven mercenaries looked up at me with awe.
"No way."
"Long live the Seventh Prince!!!"
"Long live Hadojin!!!"
Suddenly cheers erupted—my first time with flattery like this, and it didn't feel bad.
"Bro, this isn't a dream, right? Not some illusion magic that vanishes when we wake up?"
One-eyed Taylor looked anxious.
"Alright, everyone. Let's turn this Area 599 into a livable village. And you all saw it, right? Me slicing that Brutal guy's neck in one shot."
"Yes!!!"
"Spread the word. It's fine."
"Yes!!!"
They sure answered well, these guys.
# # #
Deep in the Holy Cross Cult's main headquarters, 'Eden,' there was a space isolated from the outside world—a pale white room. The '7th Surveillance Room.' It monitored the cult leader's seven sons 24/7, recording everything. This intel went straight to the cult leader—the cult's most sensitive eyes and ears.
"Team leader, contact from the cult's 'shadow rats' in Red Club (Area 599). Anomalous activity related to Hadojin. Monitor 7."
Surveillance chief Park Jintae frowned at his subordinate's report. He zoomed in on one of dozens of monitors.
The screen showed blurry figures moving, filmed by a phone camera.
"Anomalous activity? Red Club is just mercenary brawls. Like always."
Park took a casual sip of coffee. His main job was watching the 'heirs.' A fuss over the officially disqualified 'seventh' Hadojin was beneath him.
Hadojin. To Park, that name meant 'failure' and 'disgrace.' Born between the cult leader and the upper demon Succubus Queen, showered with expectations. But the result was pathetic: flower arranging and knitting, overflowing with estrogen—an egenam. Park's own 'heir disqualification' report ended all surveillance on him. No point wasting resources.
"According to the shadow rat... 'Death's Carrot Roel,' mid-level exec from Giant Mercenaries, was killed by Hadojin."
"What?"
Park nearly spat his coffee. Roel—he knew the name. Giant Mercs sent her to take over Blood Raven. Foreign forces entering the Republic of Korea Cult were under strict watch. Rumors said she soloed A-rank gate mid-bosses, infamous for her cruelty—an aura user.
"Hadojin really killed her?"
"Shadow rat says it was too fast for eyes to follow—her head separated. That's her head in Hadojin's hand on screen now."
Park's casual expression vanished. He stood and approached the main screen.
"Amplify the camera audio."
Static noise buzzed as the enlarged video appeared.
A man stood in the square center: Hadojin. In his hand, something with long hair—a head.
"That... a person's head?"
"Amplifying audio."
- Ah. I am Hadojin, the seventh son of the Republic of Korea Cult leader... known as the Seventh Prince.
All surveillance agents' eyes turned to Park. He doubted his ears, staring through the silhouette. It was definitely the egenam Hadojin they'd watched recently.
But the vibe was totally different. Overwhelming presence dominating dozens of vicious mercenaries. Casual cruelty holding Roel's head. Boldly calling himself 'Seventh Prince.'
"Team leader... is that really... Hadojin?"
Park couldn't answer his subordinate's trembling voice. Cold sweat trickled down his spine. His heart pounded ominously.
Egenam... heir dropout... all an act?
If so, this wasn't simple. Fooling the cult's eyes and ears perfectly, revealing claws once surveillance lifted. Clear deception and declaration of war against the cult.
"Deploy shadow rats. Don't get caught. Track everything on Hadojin—power, allies, goals. Miss nothing. This is beyond me. Report to the Elder Council."
Park's voice was firmer than ever. He sensed it: the egenam they'd branded a failure had returned as a massive storm to shake the cult.
… .. .
Days later, in the cult Elder Council chamber. Twelve grand elders sat around a huge round table.
Silence. Suffocating silence dominated.
The eldest, Elder Yoon, broke it. He stroked his long beard with a bony hand, eyeing the report.
"You've all read Park's report."
No one replied. The contents were shocking.
One strike beheading 'Death's Carrot Roel.' Seizing over fifty Blood Raven members instantly. Turning wasteland to wheat field with presumed Ancient Druid magic.
All by Hadojin, deemed egenam days ago. No one could believe it easily.
"If true," one elder finally spoke, "we... let a monster loose. No, we forged a monster and released it ourselves."
"Acting?"
"Park's analysis says high possibility. Monitored for over a decade, he mastered our criteria and patterns, faked egenam to withdraw from heir race. Revealed true colors post-surveillance."
The room stirred again.
"That young... such cunning and patience?"
"Forgot his blood? Mother is Hell's lord, Succubus Queen. Can't be ordinary."
Elder Yoon said lowly, eyes cold.
"Issue is intent. Why quit heir race? Why build forces now?"
"Rebelling against Father...!"
"No rash judgments."
Elder Yoon cut in firmly.
"But can't ignore. His power unknown. Report says mana unlike any—maybe awakened Succubus power."
Tension gripped the elders. Heirs delayed awakening young via physical control. Hadojin escaped their plans, with demon power—a double-edged sword. Ultimate weapon if controlled; disaster if not.
"Test his vessel again."
Elder Yoon concluded.
"Academy enrollment season nears. If ambitious, won't skip cult heart—the Academy."
"Lure to Academy?"
"Not lure. Set the stage. See his dance—threat or hope? Must confirm."
Elder Yoon stood, scanning elders.
"Inform other heirs. Especially... Hadomong."
"Second son? That arrogant brute? Won't leave Hadojin alone."
"That's what we want. Cage beasts together, see true nature and power."
A chill smile curved Elder Yoon's lips.
"If true heir with Father's blood, he'll crush Hadomong easily. If not... just a novice, we handle him."
Elders nodded agreement. Cult wanted no chaos, but craved new power.
"Tell Park," Elder Yoon ordered leaving. "Stop direct surveillance on Hadojin. Prepare special 'stage' at Academy. Invite audience—his brothers, most enthusiastic ones."
In 7th Surveillance Room, Park felt strength drain hearing council decision.
"Crazy... old farts..."
He cursed, slumping into his chair. Not just testing Hadojin—a high-stakes gamble for cult's future. And at center: the boy he'd called failure.
Park rubbed his face dry, watching monitor: Hadojin laughing peacefully with family.
What... are you really?
His eyes held primal fear beyond caution, for an incomprehensible being.
The cult's massive gears began grinding from Hadojin's tiny foreign speck.
That screech heralded a massive storm devouring all.
The cult now saw in the boy they'd mocked as egenam—glimpses of the leader's youthful madness and ambition. Disappointment turned to anticipation. Would he be new hope, or storm of ruin?