Casino Chaos (2)
Britain. The Secret Intelligence Service — the SIS.
Director Adrian had just received word from one of his field agents.
"There's been an explosion in the VIP room of a London casino. An unidentified armed group appears to have seized the location."
"What?"
The Director's brow furrowed. A bomb attack, of all things, at a time like this — and in the heart of London, the capital, no less. And what was that about an armed group? Unbelievable.
The terror itself was problem enough, but the greater failure was that the intelligence service had missed every sign leading up to it.
"Casualties, the masterminds, the media — where do we stand? Get me a full read on the situation."
"Nothing has been confirmed yet, and it hasn't reached the press."
That, at least, was a small mercy. As long as the world remained unaware, they still had time to respond.
What kind of sons of bitches... Everyone was run off their feet with the World League right around the corner, and now someone pulls this crap?
"That isn't the problem, Director."
"Then what is?"
"...Rachel is inside."
"What did you just say?!"
CRASH! The Director surged to his feet, knocking his chair over backward.
The terror attack alone, he might have grudgingly tolerated. Rachel was another matter entirely. Her fate was bound to the nation's destiny — a crisis that could, conceivably, end in outright war. Hadn't the First World War itself been ignited by the assassination of an archduke and his wife in Sarajevo? Rachel carried even more weight, even more drama.
"What about her escort?!"
Once the Day of Peace began, national-team-level players received protection and management even tighter than a head of state's. A ranker was, in herself, a nation's most precious asset — its very future. There was no conceivable way Rachel had gone there without protection...
"W-well... it appears she insisted she was only stepping away briefly on personal business."
"You lunatics! Does that sound like a valid reason to you?!"
"...The escorts say they had no choice in the matter. According to our information, all Five Emperors have gathered on the scene. Their intelligence services are in complete chaos right now."
"Ha."
There were no good answers to be had.
"The Defense Secretary has been informed — the counter-terror unit is being dispatched as we speak!"
"He'd better! Have you secured a list of everyone inside?"
"Yes, sir!"
The Director's mind whirred into motion. First. Not a single piece of advance intelligence had come in. Any agency that caught wind of a terror threat would pass along a courtesy warning, ally or not. That not one did... made it highly likely this was a plot planned with national-level backing and meticulous care.
And yet — of all days, on the Day of Peace, they had struck, in coordinated fashion, the very place where the Five Emperors had gathered? Disrupting the League. There was no other answer.
Countless nations sat just beneath the summoning superpowers the Five Emperors called home, all hungry for those seats — and the list of candidates was long. India, China, Indonesia, Pakistan, Nigeria, Brazil, Bangladesh, Ethiopia, Mexico, the Philippines, Egypt, the Congo, Vietnam... Remarkably, every one of them was a candidate superpower holding four or more Player Zones — nations that stood to profit the moment the Five Emperors vanished, each with a population above one hundred million.
"For now, start by pinning down the nationalities on that list."
"Understood, sir!"
Grrk. The Director ground his teeth. Whoever they were, they would pay dearly for daring to provoke Britain.
In the end, the counter-terror unit went in — and came away with nothing.
For starters, the VIP room sat eight floors underground — far too deep, with an entrance far too narrow. A handful of terrorists had barricaded it with golem-type summons and dug in for a siege, and there was simply no way through. It was enough to drive a man out of his mind!
Guns and missiles were useless. Anything they fired simply slammed into the barrier, and close-quarters combat was no option either. The golden barrier, a product of the System, repelled anyone the instant their intent to subdue it by force showed itself.
"Do not provoke us again," one of the hooded terrorists said. "Try one more time, and we can no longer guarantee the lives of the hostages in here. That includes the Five Emperors — no exceptions. And be advised: we are equipped with items capable of deactivating your barriers."
"..."
"We have no further demands. Simply stand by."
Insane. Provoking the terrorists was no longer an option. The moment had come for a different tactical response — one mounted at the national level.
An hour after the attack began, the entire world was in an uproar. With a casino in this much chaos, there was no chance the story would stay contained. The victim nations — Japan, Korea, Taiwan, and others — condemned Britain in the fiercest terms for its failure to maintain public order, while the press churned out extra editions in unison.
It was like watching the United States on 9/11. Every aircraft in British airspace was ordered down immediately, all takeoffs were grounded, and inbound flights were turned away.
Meanwhile, the blood-allied nations of the Five Emperors declared a state of national emergency and invoked martial law, proclaiming it to the entire world.
"Laying hands on our nation's rankers crosses a red line — an unprecedented act of terror, the first of its kind in recorded history! We will not hesitate to wage war against those behind it!"
The statements radiated a fury beyond anything words could hold. The nations under suspicion, desperate not to be branded the masterminds, put out statements of every variety — condemning the attack, praying for the hostages' safe rescue. But that was all. There was nothing more to be done. After all, threats only carry weight once you know who stands behind them.
"It defies understanding, sir. However deep we dig, we find nothing... It appears to be the work of special summons." Ever since the world had been turned on its head, summons had been the single greatest driver behind the surge in global crime. The Director tore at his hair.
"Goddamn it. They really don't want anything else, do they?"
"No, sir. All they say is: do not approach."
"Until when?"
"We can't say, but in all likelihood, until the World League entry. Their objective is plain as day. Those terrorists don't seem to have an exit plan, either. They are quite literally staking their lives on this."
"Bastards. First, lock down the London Player Zone."
"Expel the players who've already entered as well?"
"Listen carefully. No Five Emperors, no World League." If any player refused to come out and dug in? Declare them an accomplice of the masterminds. Any nation that failed to enter by the deadline was automatically disqualified anyway — so if everyone simply stayed out, the matter would be perfectly fair!
With that much settled... they were now racing to locate every zone with access to the VIP room and tunneling toward it at full speed. All that remained was to pray. Please. Let them hold out safely in there.
Rachel's mind was in turmoil. There was no way out. If not for the Day of Peace, she would have torn every last one of them limb from limb... But to save the people here, it seemed she truly would have to give up her summons.
Ha. That man behind her. If not for her curiosity about Baek Jinwoo, she never would have set foot in a place like this. She had been too complacent. Too careless. Honestly, even she had never imagined a group capable of striking with such speed and precision.
"I won't say it twice." The hooded giant's voice was ice. Around him, the other terrorists flexed their muscles, looming over the crowd.
"Five Emperors, and all you players. Hand over your summons. Refuse, and we kill every last one of you."
These bastards. They had checked the entry roster, and now they wanted everyone's summons — everyone's but the Five Emperors'. Highway robbery, plain and simple, though she could understand the greed.
"...We..."
Rachel couldn't force out another word. She felt powerless. This was a crisis unlike anything she had known since claiming the world's number one ranking three years ago, and there was nothing she could do. How utterly futile. What good were powerful summons? What good were all the blood and sweat, all the years of being hailed as the strongest woman alive — when a single sudden terror attack left her helpless?
Her summons were precious. But whether they were precious enough to weigh against a human life — that, she needed to think through more deeply.
"...If I hand over all of my summons first, you'll send forty people out of here alive. That's a guarantee?"
A sidelong glance. Rachel stole another look at Baek Jinwoo. First things first. She had to keep him alive. If he made it out, he would surely find a way — put together a rescue plan. He does have a history of blowing a Korean gang to pieces, after all. And later, once the Day of Peace ended, they could strike these bastards from behind and take the summons back.
"Fine. Forty. But any players among them surrender their summons before they go."
"That's not what you said before—!"
That was the moment.
"That's enough, Rachel."
"..."
Thud. Thud. At the sound of Baek Jinwoo's voice behind her, Rachel turned her head.
"And who are you?" Even with the giant's question hanging in the air, Baek Jinwoo didn't spare him so much as a glance.
Rachel. Seeing her in the flesh for the first time — she stood about 173 centimeters tall, just short enough that he could see the crown of her head.
"...Jinugod."
"Spare me that cringeworthy title. Just call me Baek Jinwoo."
"Fine, Baek Jinwoo. What exactly are you doing?"
"Nothing much."
RIIIP! With raw grip strength alone, Baek Jinwoo tore the white cotton shirt beneath his coat clean apart — and the chiseled ridges of his abs dragged every eye in the room to him.
Who is that guy?How is he so at ease with Rachel...?Did he just say Jinugod...? No way. The Jinugod from my memories? The one who held rank 1 in the old BAO?
Swish, swish. Baek Jinwoo began calmly winding the torn cloth around his knuckles. Listening to them, I had already made up my mind. He was going to fight. Even if it killed him, he would fight. Hand my summons over to someone else? That, he would never do. To Baek Jinwoo, his EX-grade summons were worth far more than strangers' lives. Sorry, strangers. But that was reality. At the very least, a man protects what is his with his own two hands.
"Doesn't it feel a little unjust to surrender without even putting up a fight? You're a national representative, after all."
"..." Rachel clamped her mouth shut. No — representative or not, how are we supposed to subdue those muscle-bound Black men? In a real fight, sheer mass was a weapon unto itself, and every last one of them looked to top one hundred kilograms without even trying.
"Is this man insane?" The giant smirked. Look at the sorry sight of them. One glance was enough to tell they were actually preparing to fight. And they weren't even pooling their strength. All on his own—
"Boss! I'll help too!"
"Me too!"
Ah. So not alone after all? Somehow, two punks who would go flying from a single blow had joined the cause as well.
"We'll help as well."
"...Even if we lose, we can't just stand here and watch. Not against bastards without so much as a gun between them."
Kang Geonho, Ahn Gijeong, Hwang Juwon... and even—
"I used to do a little taekwondo, actually."
Whoosh! Even Song Yeonhee, sinking into a perfectly limber split.
"Pfft." A snort burst from the lips of one of the giants. He had tried, somehow, to hold it in behind his hood — and failed spectacularly. It was beyond ridiculous. It was almost adorable!
"K-Khhk!"
"K-Kkkhk!"
"KHAHAHA!"
The laughter spread like a virus, catching one hooded figure after another, until they were roaring with open, unashamed glee. Even the giant who appeared to be their leader wore an amused expression.
"You... truly mean to fight us?"
His voice was thick with genuine curiosity.