Chapter 80
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 80
Chapter Title: Gruesome Massacre
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Among the Black Dragon Clan's affiliates, Black Dragon Construction boasted one of the highest revenues, second only to Hotel Leviathan.
Its position was that prestigious—working there was practically seen as a fast track to success within the clan.
But at least in this moment...
No one in the Black Dragon Clan envied those who worked at Black Dragon Construction.
No era ever idolized or envied the dead, after all.
Especially not when their deaths were so gruesome.
"Turned into complete mush, huh."
"...You're saying that after seeing this carnage?"
"Gotta say something."
Rimon replied nonchalantly, his gaze fixed on the horror before him.
"The more gruesome the body, the more objectively you have to conduct the autopsy."
A neck twisted like a corkscrew full 360 degrees. A fan stabbed into both eyeballs. Entrails dragged out from a split-open abdomen.
The corpse was horror incarnate.
It looked like the killer had put every effort into making the death as nightmarish as possible, the malice dripping from every detail.
Even Wailing, always stone-faced, couldn't smooth out her furrowed brow.
But unlike her, Rimon's eyes remained utterly calm as he examined the body.
"Hmm... Abdomen first? Then eyes after the movement slowed, neck last."
Was it the eye of a Sword Master?
Or the experience of someone who'd created countless corpses himself?
Just from a casual glance, Rimon reconstructed the exact moment of the killing and nodded to himself.
Then, as if that was enough, he spun on his heel and asked casually,
"Where's next?"
"Do I need to answer?"
"Yeah, guess not."
Nodding once more.
Rimon followed the bloodstains on the floor into the bathroom—another corpse, hacked to pieces and jammed into the toilet.
Compared to the twisted-neck body from before, this one was no less gruesome. If anything, worse.
But that was just the beginning.
A body with its head caught in the doorframe.
A body with its face completely shredded off.
A body skewered like kebab on a sculpture.
And beyond those—from the cafeteria to the stairs, offices to the lobby—every corner of the building was littered with corpses. Not a single one intact.
The elevator was the worst.
Whoever crammed multiple bodies in there had stuffed it so full that arms and legs protruded from every gap, enough to make anyone gag just looking.
"Hmmm."
Even amid it all, Rimon's eyebrow didn't twitch.
He simply examined each wound, cross-referenced with his memory, and gathered clues about the perpetrator.
His unflappable demeanor was so detached that the Black Dragon Clan warriors standing guard actually looked annoyed.
How much time passed?
After touring hundreds of bodies from the first floor up, Rimon finally stopped in one room.
Once a lavish office where he'd been received by the branch chief, now shattered and blood-soaked, hideous beyond words.
"......"
And at the center of that room.
He stood before a single corpse, mangled into an unrecognizable pulp of blood and flesh.
"Branch Chief Wang."
Only then did the middle-aged man turn around—distinguished by his upward-curling mustache on both sides.
Wang Gineung's face lit up in surprise at the sight of Rimon.
"Sword Duke, sir? What brings you here?"
"Don't look so shocked. I'm not here to beat you up like last time."
"...Assisting with the investigation, then?"
"Guardian's the Black Dragon Clan's dedicated security firm. Can't just sit on my hands when an affiliate's employees get massacred."
"Not entirely massacred. Some were on vacation, business trips, or field work—those are safe."
Wang Gineung paused briefly, then pointed a finger at himself.
"Including me, on medical leave."
"Lucky break."
"Tell me about it. Who'd have thought getting chewed out by you that day would turn into such a blessing?"
Wang Gineung chuckled good-naturedly.
Then he swung that same finger toward the corpse in front of them, his tone sheepish.
"Well, thanks to that, my cousin here ended up like this instead."
Rimon stared silently for a moment at Wang Gineung's grinning face, even before Wang Giseong's body.
Then he dipped his head slightly.
"...My condolences."
"No need, sir. The guy was my proxy, and he couldn't even protect his staff—I'm grateful you're not punishing me."
"No punishment to give. Your cousin fought his best to the end."
Unlike the blood-drenched chaos elsewhere, this office—furniture, walls, ceiling all smashed—clearly showed Wang Giseong's desperate last stand.
But Wang Gineung just shook his head.
"It's the results that matter."
"So no one survived anyway—effort and struggle mean nothing?"
"Stock's gonna tank from this. How's 'best effort' gonna fix pitch-black despair?"
"Fair point."
Rimon smirked at Wang Gineung, who grinned while dismissing effort as worthless for making money.
Even in his prime during the Heroes' Age, people valued results over process. Fruitless effort or empty honors got buried.
Let alone this Iron Age, where money and power ruled all.
A never-give-up spirit? Lucky if it wasn't mocked outright.
"On that note, Sword Duke, sir—mind if I ask a small favor?"
"What? Catch the killer for you?"
"Opposite, actually. Stay out of it if you can."
An unexpected request.
The kind you'd never hear from a victim's kin, let alone expect.
But instead of surprise or confusion, Rimon narrowed his eyes at Wang Gineung.
"Planning to reclaim your honor yourself?"
"As you know, the Seven Dragon Society's a complicated outfit. Lose face and do nothing? You're done."
The Shanghai Wang Family was already precarious.
Now, with patriarch Wang Gineung beaten by Rimon and bedridden—then his proxy Wang Giseong murdered—their reputation had hit rock bottom.
If Rimon caught the culprit on top of that?
The Shanghai Wangs would be laughingstocks not just in the Black Dragon Clan, but the entire Seven Dragon Society.
"So you'll catch them yourself?"
"Yep. Do it right, and we bounce back the stock too."
Wang Gineung rubbed his palms together with a sly grin, lowering his voice.
"Not asking for free, of course. I know you need achievements to tout."
A whole affiliate massacred, prominent heir killed.
If Rimon led the resolution, it'd be major merit—and earn him favor with the clan.
Wang Gineung wasn't shortsighted enough to hand over that chance for nothing.
"Step aside, and the Shanghai Wang Family backs you."
"You'll support me? Your family?"
"Yep. Our rep's already trash. Clinging to you now? No new hate to eat."
Wang Gineung said it straight-faced.
Then, grinning expectantly, he pressed Rimon.
"Deal? Pretty sweet trade, right?"
No empty words.
A storied family like the Shanghai Wangs—even on the fringes—had built centuries of influence in the Seven Dragon Society.
Their backing would smooth Rimon's path ahead.
"Nah, terrible deal."
"...So you'll butt in after all?"
"Don't need your payoff. Catch the bastard, beat him bloody, grill him—whatever. Your call."
That explained it.
Wang Gineung's face had hardened instantly, but Rimon's follow-up left him baffled.
"You serious?"
Why toss away a chance at their support?
He asked like he couldn't comprehend, but Rimon replied evenly.
"Avenge your blood kin—it's your right. No need to dangle some petty deal for what's natural."
"......"
Blood debt was sacred.
Thus, brutal, lawless revenge—washing blood with blood—had to be pure to hold value.
An anachronism, spouting what any modern would call immoral without batting an eye.
Yet this Sword Master had cast aside all profit, toppled nations, defied emperors to avenge his subordinates' blood.
Idiot of the world?
Or just plain madman?
Wandering between the two, Wang Gineung finally bowed deeply.
"Shanghai Wang Family patriarch Wang Gineung—I'll never forget your grace, Sword Duke."
"Grace? Nah. I was busy anyway—dumped the chore on you. Don't sweat it."
Rimon shrugged indifferently and turned.
Then, as if it just occurred to him mid-step, he added,
"Oh, and this isn't meddling—just thinking out loud..."
"...?"
"Three perps."
"...!"
Wang Gineung's eyes flashed.
His tracers had pegged a small group, but not the exact number.
But Rimon wasn't done.
"Handiwork screams seasoned killer—mass murderer with priors. Duke-class player or higher."
"Woman a bit over 170cm. Two men just under 180cm."
"Patterns say woman's melee. The others: special and ranged."
"If anything, look for military vets or trained lunatics. Faster results."
Wang Gineung's sharp gaze grew odd, then frantic, as Rimon went on.
Too detailed for mere traces—like he'd seen them himself.
"How do you know all that?"
"You see it, you know."
Rimon smirked.
Then, walking away, he murmured,
"It's what I've done my whole life."
Wang Gineung watched Rimon's departing figure, struck anew.
That white-haired man was Humanity's Last Sword Master.
The unparalleled hero who'd saved the world more times than any in history—and the deadliest swordsman who'd cut down more lives than any other.
"...The princess sure picked a scary guy for her consort."