Chapter 23
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Not for Viewers Under 19?
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The Iron Age had dawned.
After dungeons and constellations appeared.
Many people became Players.
Just conquering a dungeon to form a contract with a constellation and acquire skills was allure enough.
Especially nowadays, more than half of humanity could be called Players.
"Ahh, mic test. Mic test."
But the vast majority were level 10 or below.
Mid-tier Players were surprisingly few.
To level up, one had to conquer dungeons, but the deeper you went, the exponentially harder they became.
That was why high-level Players received preferential treatment.
No matter how skilled a Player was, risking their life to challenge the dungeon depths wasn't something just anyone could do.
"Can you hear me? Hear me? You better be able to hear me."
In that sense,
the Monarchs were truly astonishing.
Beings born with genius talent, contracting with Monarch-grade constellations wasn't enough—they even had heaven-sent luck.
Only such people could reach the absolute realm of level 100.
Even though more than half of humanity had challenged the dungeons, the fact that only ten had reached the deepest floor proved their greatness.
"If this broadcast doesn't get through to the Infinite Monarch properly, that bastard's head is gonna roll."
"……."
But at this moment,
Lee Cheongi, one of those great ten Monarchs, was uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
And rightly so.
It was a phenomenon being experienced by the entire nation... no, most of the world right now.
Watching a head of state sweating bullets with a blade to his throat on TV was that shocking of an experience.
"...Park Director, what the hell is going on here?"
He was so flabbergasted that,
even though it was a recording, Lee Cheongi paused the TV to ask about the situation.
Park Hyeon-gun answered with a pale face to his question, which openly displayed bewilderment unlike his usual self.
"There was an incident at the Blue House."
"What kind of incident could lead to a broadcast like that?"
"Well..."
Park Hyeon-gun was at a loss for words.
No matter how he thought about it, he couldn't figure out how to explain without sounding like a lunatic.
But he couldn't not answer.
In the end, he explained the circumstances.
Rimon had suddenly stormed the Blue House, taken President Han Jeongguk hostage, and everything that followed.
After hearing it all, Lee Cheongi finally asked after a silence,
"...And then he demanded a press conference?"
"Yes. He said if even one domestic broadcaster was missing, he'd take out the VIP."
"Why didn't you catch this before it blew up like this? If something like that happened, we should've gotten a request for support from our guild."
"The VIP blocked it. He said mobilizing guilds for something like this would destabilize the country..."
"That would've been better than him being taken hostage and paraded on TV, don't you think?"
"……."
Lee Cheongi's cold assessment.
Contrary to his words, he could understand the president's choice.
Just the rumor of the Blue House being attacked would turn the country upside down.
Not to mention if the perpetrator was Rimon?
And if they couldn't even stop one Rimon and had to call in guild support?
It would end his political career.
Whether framed as letting the National Savior Hero stage a rebellion, or failing to handle one non-Player civilian's rampage.
So he'd tried to block information and resolve it on his own as much as possible...
It was the right political decision.
Tactically, a complete blunder.
"What the hell made him think he could handle that guy on his own?"
"An aide with Information Analysis skill advised that weapons would work since he's not a Player."
"He believed that nonsense?"
"Seems the VIP, being a high-level Player himself, thought he could at least negotiate with his skills in the worst case..."
"And this is the result."
Lee Cheongi sneered.
Rimon had massacred 150 high-level Players.
Not to mention the 909 Unit armed with top-grade exoskeletons as a bonus.
Despite knowing that full well, believing firearms or his own skills would work on Rimon?
Utterly clueless.
But what could be done?
The deed was done, and the president was paying the price for his misjudgment.
Having grasped the general situation, Lee Cheongi tapped the desk with his finger, resuming the paused footage of Rimon.
"First off, plenty of you must be wondering why the hell I'm pulling this stunt here."
It was an all-too-obvious point.
How Rimon had become a rebel.
Even Lee Cheongi, who knew most of the circumstances, lost his composure watching this footage.
How baffled would the public be, suddenly seeing the president threatened with a sword to his throat on TV without context?
"Turn off your damn heads."
"...Pardon?"
"I'm telling you not to worry about what I'm doing, you idiots."
"...???"
The nation—and perhaps the world—sporting question marks over their heads.
To them, Rimon cut straight to the chase.
Don't bother wondering why he was doing this.
"I have no intention of answering whatever you ask, nor of spouting pathetic excuses to justify this shit."
"Does that even make sense?!"
"If it doesn't, what? Should I lop off the president's head right now? Huh?"
"N-no! That's not what I...!"
The middle-aged reporter who reflexively objected to that beyond-imaginable statement stammered when Rimon pressed the sword close to President Han's neck.
One wrong word, and the president might drop dead because of him.
He had no choice but to watch his tongue.
"B-but isn't this kind of broadcast usually for issuing a statement?"
Whether due to his experience,
or prioritizing the scoop over the president's life,
the middle-aged reporter cautiously posed the question.
Rimon replied indifferently.
"Who decided that?"
"Pardon?"
"Who said you have to issue a statement when holding a hostage on broadcast?"
"Well, to claim legitimacy for the hostage situation..."
"That's why I'm asking why I'd bother with that pathetic crap, you fucking bastard."
The middle-aged reporter reflexively responded to the outburst that would've been a broadcast violation if not forced airtime.
"H-hey, this is live. Could you tone down the language...?"
"This retard's bitching about fuck while I'm about to X."
"F-fuck?!"
"Hey, you crazy fuck. The president's head is about to go live nationwide, and you're worried about a little cursing?"
The middle-aged reporter was speechless.
There were limits to fretting over broadcast standards.
A curse word or two wouldn't make this any uglier.
'He's not wrong... so why does it feel so unfair?'
Whether the reporter felt aggrieved or not,
Rimon continued with a scoff.
"Claiming legitimacy is for cowards hiding something. I've got nothing to be ashamed of under heaven—why would I make excuses?"
'Is that something you should say!?'
The middle-aged reporter's jaw dropped.
The guy pressing a blade to the president's throat live and staging a hostage crisis was brazenly saying this—it was absurd.
The other reporters and cameramen in the press room were equally dumbfounded.
But logic doesn't work on madmen.
Unable to point it out directly, the reporter asked something else.
"Th-then why did you request a press conference?"
If not to claim legitimacy, why demand broadcast on all channels?
Didn't that mean he had something to hide?
Or was he truly insane?
A question packed with all sorts of doubts.
Rimon answered nonchalantly.
"Oh, this? Just to send a message."
"A message? To whom?"
"Who else, you fuck? Didn't you hear me say I'm sending this broadcast to the Infinite Monarch?"
"...If you wanted to contact the Infinite Monarch, why not just call?"
The reporter snarkily retorted without thinking.
Rimon snarked right back.
"Yeah, like that'd get through. He'd probably ghost me and make me wait ten years."
Not wrong.
The problem was replacing a call with a live hostage crisis being utterly insane.
But Rimon wasn't doing this without reason.
"Besides, I've got an offer that bastard can't refuse."
"That bas... wait, what did you just call the Infinite Monarch?"
"Infinite Monarch Lee Cheongi. Seems I've been getting under your skin lately, so here's a special gift for you."
Ignoring the reporter's chatter,
Rimon stared straight into the camera with a cold voice.
"Come to the Blue House by midnight tonight."
"Come alone or bring your whole guild—I don't give a damn."
"Soon as you show up, the president walks."
"But if you don't... the president dies."
"…!"
The press room froze in an instant.
Not because of the brutal threat.
It was Rimon's attitude—discussing the president's death as casually as an ant's life—that chilled everyone to the bone.
"Won't end with the president."
"Next, the prime minister. Then the deputy PM."
"After that, ministers and assemblymen one by one—same message each time."
Mad words.
Impossible for a normal person.
Even if possible, they wouldn't dare execute.
Something only a complete lunatic would say.
But those watching the broadcast didn't dismiss it as bluff.
Not just because a lone superhuman had raided the Blue House and taken the president hostage.
Rimon's golden eyes, serene as a frozen lake, made them realize:
The man before them was a madman capable and willing to follow through.
"If you think you can stop me, try."
"If you're confident you can protect every high official in this country from me."
And they remembered.
Memories buried in oblivion.
Old tales from grandfathers.
The National Savior Hero everyone admired before the Iron Age.
Humanity's Last Sword Master, a terror to enemies.
What manner of being he was.
"What, you could just watch all the kids die. Then you could swoop in and swallow the country whole."
"Or sweep away one annoying relic and play the hero who saves the nation."
"Your choice."
"Just remember one thing."
"Whatever you pick, you'll have to settle things with me someday."
I'm not forcing your hand,
it's all up to Lee Cheongi.
Despite the fresh smile playing on his lips, Rimon's eyes held not a trace of mirth as he wrapped up.
He then dragged the ashen-faced, frozen president out of the press room.
"Oh, one more thing."
As if it just occurred to him,
Rimon halted.
Then grinned at the camera.
"Good little bastards, don't try this at home. Get caught imitating, and you're dead."