Intersecting Triangles (3)

Lee Jun and Seo Yoon sprinted down the long, unbroken corridor.

Then came a second explosion.

It felt considerably distant… but if it was this direction, chances were it was the auction hall.

"At this volume, won't response personnel be here soon from outside?"

"They've probably set up full soundproofing measures already. Cutting off all communications and severing the place from the outside world would be part of it too."

And there was a strong possibility they'd taken steps to ensure no one could leave the building at all.

Of course, rationally speaking, pulling all of that off simultaneously would be extremely difficult.

Only one possibility surfaced in Lee Jun's head.

Separating the space itself.

A handful of artifacts capable of that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠did exist.

Though he doubted they'd invest something on that scale for this operation. If the goal was to take down an S-Class… well, he could see it happening.

"Let's focus on finding Jeong-hyeon first. If it's the auction hall, those three will manage things somehow."

Lee Jun trusted the three of them.

Even if Jeanne were neutralized, Timothy and Siara were there.

Both were stronger against human opponents than against monsters, so no matter the scale of the ambush, they would hold.

The more pressing problem right now was Choi Jeong-hyeon, who was with Kaufman.

Finding her was the priority.

And then—

"If we turn right here, the passage on the other side—"

"Boss!"

KUUUUNG!

"Ugh…!"

A fire shutter dropped without warning.

No—dropped wasn't the word. At that speed, slammed down was more accurate.

A massive steel wall descending as if it had been waiting for precisely this moment.

Caught off guard, Lee Jun's reaction lagged for an instant. Seo Yoon threw herself at him, and the two of them rolled clear just past the firewall.

"Boss, are you alright?"

"I am… thanks to you, Seo Yoon."

Startled by the sudden turn, Lee Jun stared at the firewall. What it implied was clear… control of this building had fallen into Liberation's hands.

The fact that it operated free of the Technical Bureau Chief's remote controls confirmed the space had been partitioned outright.

"This is… quite sturdy, it seems."

Seo Yoon rapped her knuckles against it beside him. A dull thud rang out with each strike against the steel wall. It was solid clear through.

"…It was built with monster-driven disasters in mind. Strong enough that even an ordinary hunter would struggle to break through."

Lee Jun shifted his gaze from the firewall itself to the door set into one side. Where a passage should originally have continued, the opening had been welded shut.

So… they'd laid traps to seal off escape routes, had they?

"Still, thanks to you we made it across. That's a relief."

"I'm glad I could be of use."

"Haha, you're allowed to say that with a smile, you know."

With the quip, Lee Jun let out a light laugh.

Right. Roughly, he understood now.

"Shall we… head for the auction hall again, then?"

"Understood."

"No telling what happens this time either, so Seo Yoon, take point for now. I'll call out the directions."

Now, let's see how this goes.

"Yes, sir."

Oh-ho.

Lee Jun turned and watched her take the lead without a word.

And then—

Click—

Lee Jun pressed the muzzle of his gun against Seo Yoon's—

No. Against the throat of the one disguised as Seo Yoon.

"If I saw through ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you this easily, I have to say I'm a little disappointed."

The figure answered without turning around.

"Ha. How'd you catch on?"

There was laughter threaded through the voice.

"Kgh…!"

"Damn it… damn it, damn it all!"

Thanks to the artifact used moments ago, the ambient mana in the air was extraordinarily dense. An environment tailor-made for a mage, through and through.

And yet.

None of it landed.

"What kind of insane bullshit even IS that!"

What that doll was doing right now was the sort of thing that would make mages everywhere tell it to shut its mouth. Parsing and reversing the casting of not one person, but more than ten mages, one by one, every single time?

Did that even sound plausible?

And it wasn't only magic that failed to touch her.

Spears, blades, fists. The attacks of martial-arts-type awakeners were… all likewise turned away by that rabbit doll.

It had passed the point of laughable.

"You useless things! There's only three of them over there! Do SOMETHING!"

At the woman's frantic lashing out, the girl who had stayed silent until now finally spoke.

"I think people who treat their comrades carelessly aren't very good people."

The woman scoffed at the girl's words.

Comrades. She couldn't stand those pretty little words.

"Ha, comrades? That's a word for trash too weak to stand on their own two feet! You must not know much about the world yet, but anyone who spouts that kind of flower-brained nonsense is—"

Flinch—

The woman couldn't force out the rest.

Because from the girl who had shown nothing but blank indifference until now… a considerable fury was radiating.

"So that's how you've always seen it."

"Ugh…!"

A sensation like a hand slowly closing around her throat.

The girl's expression didn't change. Neither the pitch nor the volume of her voice wavered.

And yet… emotion bled through all the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠same.

For an instant, the woman wondered if her own senses had broken. The gulf between what her eyes saw and what her instincts screamed was that wide.

"Wh-what… what is this…"

At that moment, Jeanne raised her right hand.

Even Timothy and Siara could only watch the gesture, tense and silent.

"Did you believe that if you stripped away the souls, we'd have no answer over here?"

Ever since the gate incident and her awakening, Jeanne had poured every hour since into shoring up her own weaknesses.

In the end, the problem was simple: her own combat power had fallen behind. She'd compensated with the overwhelming versatility of her innate ability—but someone had once offered her advice.

"You can't rely on that forever. There'll be times you can't use your innate ability at all. Say, for instance—in a place with no souls whatsoever."

When he'd given her that advice, to the triplets who had not yet opened their hearts to the outside world at all, he had laid out idea after idea with those red eyes gleaming. He said he'd kept turning the problem over and over in his head.

He'd say, what if we tried it this way?

Somehow, that man looked like he was genuinely enjoying himself.

"Found something for you. Here."

What he handed her was a single scroll. An artifact—no less than a myth-grade skill scroll. A treasure beyond any valuation, and he'd tossed it over without ceremony.

Far too easily. Expecting nothing in return.

"Why give it to you? Nothing deep. It'd be meaningless sitting in my hands anyway, so better it goes to whoever gets the most use out of it, right?"

That was the day it began.

The day she found the courage to trust another person again.

"…I don't like you. Any of it."

Jeanne gathered her mana, murmuring the words.

Who was this person, to think she understood anything?

Understanding nothing at all.

I don't want her speaking of us.

From this moment on, this place belonged to her alone.

The second saint of Orleans. The girl who bore the name of a great one. The living incarnation of a winged battle-maiden—a Valkyrie, the one who guides souls forth.

Warriors devoted to her and her alone began to rise from the very ground.

Lee Jun flinched at the chill racing down the back of his neck.

This cold.

…Jeanne?

He'd ruled out her deploying the Einherjar because the backlash was too severe—but it seemed she'd run into an opponent who left her no other choice. Could a Liberator have arrived on that side as well?

Still, Lee Jun had no margin to spare for Jeanne. Worrying about an executive was one thing, but among the Liberators currently in action, no one held an elemental advantage over her. A Jeanne with Valhǫll unfurled was precisely that kind of existence.

So… for now, he had to focus entirely on the enemy in front of him.

Kaufman, still keeping his back turned, asked:

"Impressive. How did you know at a glance?"

How had he caught on?

Small details in the speech patterns. The overall atmosphere. The polish of something prepared in a hurry—it showed.

Well, nothing about Seo Yoon has ever gone public, so I'd say that was a decent effort.

Though it was also true that it fell far short of fooling Lee Jun.

But he had no desire to explain all of that point by point. There was no reason to, either.

So he answered simply.

"Do I owe you an answer?"

"Kik, funny. You're a lot better than I'd heard."

Only then did the man turn around. The Seo Yoon they'd been looking at vanished without a trace—the disguise scattering like a mirage, leaving a single man standing there.

"Nice to meet you. You know my name?"

"…Jeff Kaufman."

"Right. And I know yours, so we can skip introductions, Mr. Vice Chairman."

Around 175 centimeters tall. Brown hair, murky blue eyes, a face that put him in his mid-thirties. The same appearance Kang Tae-san had described in a previous timeline. That sharp-featured Caucasian man offered a greeting.

"Rather shabby, for the first S-Class I'll be killing."

A cheap provocation.

It might have landed on someone with a fragile pride, but to Lee Jun—a man who had spent a lifetime marinating in self-loathing and remorse—it slid right off.

Lee Jun scoffed at it.

"I'm disappointed too. Of all the Liberators, my first opponent is the weakest one."

Of course… Kaufman wasn't actually the weakest, but this was a provocation of its own.

And it landed—cleanly. Not so much through the barb itself as through the word Lee Jun had put in his mouth: Liberator.

"Delighted. One of the twelve supreme executives of Liberation. Liberator, Jeff Kaufman."

At those words, Kaufman's expression curdled.

An asymmetry of information.

This was the kind of setup Lee Jun loved best.

The brink of death is strewn everywhere, at all times.

In this industry, that was simply a fact. To be a hunter was a profession of handing over your life.

I don't want to die…

Right. She didn't want to die.

Anyone could die at any moment—but that didn't mean it didn't matter when. Everyone wanted to live.

S-Class hunters were no different… and neither were the D-rank nobodies scraping the bottom of the barrel.

"Ugh… ughhh…!"

Choi Jeong-hyeon's body twitched where it lay collapsed on the floor.

Her right hand—the mechanical prosthetic that had replaced her lost arm—kept venting some kind of vapor, without pause.

"Haah… haah…"

The vapor entered through her nose, through her mouth. Breathe in slowly… breathe out.

Gradually, a measure of calm returned.

"Boss… Seo Yoon…"

Her consciousness was hazy. And still, she searched for someone.

"I have… to get up…"

Skreee—

She planted her right arm against the ground and pushed herself upright.

Perhaps because her senses had sharpened, the sound of the prosthetic moving rang out louder than ever.

"It hurts…"

Her chest was damp. Soaked with the blood that had poured out of her. The floor where she'd been lying face-down moments ago was pooled crimson too.

"……"

Her head ached. Everything swam.

Was it from losing too much blood? Or from the knowledge that she might die here all over again?

Was this what the Boss had once pointed out to her… what he'd called trauma?

"If I stay like this… I really am… a worthless piece of trash, aren't I…"

She forced apart her trembling legs and, bracing against the wall, dragged herself into a stumbling walk.

Are you going to run? From here? After all this time?

Then what does that make the people who believed in you until now, huh?

Her gaze fell to the right arm braced against the wall.

The prosthetic.

The person who'd entrusted this to her… what kind of expectations had he carried when he scouted her?

Truthfully, she still didn't understand. Whether she was worth anything like this.

"But…"

If she stopped here,

she really would become trash.

Because someone had placed his hopes in her.

Her abilities might fall short—but her footsteps had never stopped.

Just like, once upon a time… the original owner of this prosthetic arm.

And so—

The back of the girl staggering forward in search of something to protect was glowing, faintly, so softly that it would have been easy to miss.