Chapter 46
Chapter 46
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Translator: crow
Chapter Title: Side Story - The Good Guy, The Weird Guy, and the Puppy
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India, the slums on the outskirts of Mumbai.
“Pant, pant!”
Foundation C-Grade Agent Carl Harkness bolted down a pitch-black alleyway.
“Pant, pant!”
The confident attitude and smirk he’d had when he first arrived were long gone. His neatly pressed suit was a crumpled mess.
‘Damn it! Maria! Sampson! Hummel! Victor!’
His fellow companions were nowhere to be seen.
‘What the hell went wrong!?’
The “Shadow Hunter,” one of the entities that had escaped when the Foundation was driven to the brink of destruction by the Constellation.
When he and his team arrived here to recapture and re-contain the danger-class entity, everything had seemed normal.
“Hey! You there! Have a cup of tea before you go!”
The entity’s anomalies were fully documented in the Foundation’s database. With the right countermeasures and effective weapons, it was supposed to be an easy capture mission.
“Good lord! A filthy Sudra talking back like that!”
But everything had gone wrong, and the Shadow Hunter toyed with them before turning them into prey.
“Son! You have to feed us all!”
Now, Carl was the only one left.
He vaulted over a wall and reached the factory warehouse ahead. As he forced the door open and slipped inside, he spotted a five-meter shadow leaping over the same wall in pursuit.
“Shit!”
He immediately drew his pistol and fired at the shadow. The palm-sized handgun was designed to inflict massive damage on formless entities and was the perfect weapon for this mission.
“Oh, ooh!”
The moment the bullet hit, a normal human shadow within it tore apart like dry leaves and fluttered away.
“Carl, why’d you shoot me?”
“Maria, I’m sorry.”
Carl ducked inside the warehouse to hide. The entity was fast on open ground but much slower in cluttered areas like this—perfect for shaking it off.
‘Talk about bad luck. To be the first witness to an additional anomaly.’
Cases like this were rare, but there was one unbreakable rule.
‘The first observer of a new anomaly almost always dies.’
Information was 90% of the battle against entities.
Without it, your survival odds were next to nothing.
[The entity hadn’t properly consumed victims while under Foundation control. But now, it’s estimated to have devoured over 500 victims in Mumbai. Did this create a new anomaly? Or was it a pre-existing one only now discovered?]
Carl kept scribbling in his notebook about the Shadow Hunter’s new anomaly without stopping.
[Victims hunted by it have their flesh assimilated into their own shadows. The Shadow Hunter then devours those. However, as an unobserved anomaly until now, the Shadow Hunter can discard one of the victim shadows it’s consumed to evade lethal damage.]
Even if he died here.
[The discarded victim shadow falls away from it, but after 10 to 20 minutes minimum, it gets reabsorbed. In other words, to capture the Shadow Hunter now, you’d need enough firepower to “kill” it over 500 times in 20 minutes.]
Hoping this intel would reach the Foundation.
“Hey, you nerdy-looking bastard.”
It was here. Carl gripped his pistol at the voice echoing from the darkness.
‘Can’t waste lives and make things harder for the follow-up team.’
He pressed the pistol barrel firmly to his temple—the kind that dealt purely physical damage.
“What’re you doing in a creepy dump like this?”
“This is as far as I go.”
The instant he tried to pull the trigger.
Bang—!
“You answer when people ask you something.”
His pistol shattered into fragments that scattered into the air.
“!?”
“Your accent sounds like those California yuppie types. Hey, one question.”
Carl saw it: a cowboy hat-wearing redneck reflected in the painted rebar.
The [Make America Great Again] slogan on his T-shirt.
And beyond the reflection, the double-barrel shotgun barrel aimed right at him.
“Who’d you vote for in the election?”
He was a die-hard Democrat who’d voted Harris this time.
“Trump.”
But he was sharp enough to be the last survivor.
“Good answer.”
＊＊＊
“Looks like some shitty monster’s chasing you. As a fellow Republican, I’ll help ya out.”
The guy was an entity. One that seemed confined to reflections, taking the form of a redneck Republican.
“No, it won’t work...”
It seemed friendly to humans, so Carl started to explain the Shadow Hunter’s anomaly, but the entity was already closing in faster.
“Look at that! The bastard’s eating with his left hand!”
“Fucking noisy. No thanks on undocumented Indian immigrants. Build the wall! Trump!”
The double-barrel shotgun roared. The Shadow Hunter’s upper body shredded, but another shadow peeled off, nullifying the damage.
“That thing uses its victims’ lives as its own! You have to kill it over 500 times in a short span or it won’t die!”
“Then we kill it 500 times.”
He lowered the shotgun.
“...Not that I’d do it that hick way. A great American handles things smarter and cleaner.”
“Son! You gotta get into IIT! We sold the house for your cram school!”
The Shadow Hunter ignored Carl and attacked the reflection. Its hand turned into a sharp scythe and slashed the rebar, but the Republican redneck hopped to another reflection to dodge.
“You know? There were a ton of mutants from the original besides us. The one turned into a woman, the six-armed one, the four-eyed one, the balding one—all wiped out when the mirror dimension vanished.”
Amid the Shadow Hunter’s rampage, only he could hear his own voice.
“We’re the three that survived, including me. Why? ‘Cause we’re mutants so far from the original they wouldn’t even call us copies.”
“Kill the Pakistanis!”
“What’s the difference? If the others were parent-child close, we’re like bananas and humans. Our genes match 60%, but nobody calls that close kin, right? That’s how mutated we are. Hell, one’s a dog bastard!”
He kept hopping between reflections endlessly, but his gaze never left the Shadow Hunter.
“Point is, we got no ‘Origin.’ We spawned from the original but ain’t like it at all. We were born without even murderous intent toward the original. No special mental fortitude like that thing, no urge to chat it out, no thirst for knowledge.”
Finally, he reloaded the shotgun.
“Anyway, people crave what they lack, right? Me too. No ‘Origin’ makes me sensitive to ‘em. Like your monster buddy’s ‘Origin’—staring right through it, clear as day.”
“Ooh! That’s life! That’s enlightenment!”
“That’s why I’m telling you this. One reason.”
He aimed at the Shadow Hunter and pulled the trigger.
“America needs romance to be great again, and ranting solo while shooting when nobody listens? That’s old-school romance.”
Bang—!
The Shadow Hunter’s upper body vanished. It failed to regenerate and fully dissolved.
‘...Dissolved?’
Carl stared in shock at the entity that never died—only fainted—finally gone. The Republican redneck spoke to him.
“So, Republican buddy, we crossed paths for a reason. Let’s shit-talk Harris or something.”
＊＊＊
A one-room apartment in Tokyo. Ishiori Gon was, as usual, glued to his community forums in his room.
[Comiket this time is gonna be insane! Gotta go!]
[Famous cosplayers attending in droves! Hyped AF!]
Freeter, monthly income 150,000 yen, estranged from parents, 40 years old.
With no plans for the future, this middle-aged guy’s life was just anime, manga, novels as hobbies—nothing else. Before bed after browsing communities, he smoked while gazing at the night sky.
‘Man, if only I could really go to another world.’
Hit by a truck? If he was just gonna live like this forever and croak from some disease someday, why not give it a shot?
Lost in such idle thoughts, someone spoke up.
“Hey hey! You there! Wanna go to another world or what!?”
“Who’s that!?”
“Right here!”
A man was waving from the surface of an empty water bottle in the corner of the room.
“Hehe, smelled a kindred spirit, so I came!”
“A Korean!? A Korean ghost!?”
“Oh crap! I was speaking Korean!”
The Korean ghost cleared his throat and introduced himself in Japanese.
“My apologies. Name’s Satoshi. Felt a vibe like mine from you, so I dropped by late at night despite the impropriety. Sincerely sorry for the rudeness.”
His tone was aristocratic, like old nobility, but his gestures were tacky and mismatched.
“S-so why’d you come to me?”
“Don’t you wanna go to another world?”
Satoshi spun an unbelievable tale.
“A fixer named Yi Seung-hoon in Korea can send you to one...”
“Go check it out. You can trust me. As kin, I’d never betray my own.”
“Uh...”
It was absurd. Kid’s fantasy level.
‘But then, the guy in front of me doesn’t make sense either...’
He didn’t fully believe it, but maybe treat it like a Korea trip?
“This is Korea, huh.”
Satoshi had given directions, so finding him was easy.
“Welcome, sent by Satoshi.”
“Oh, thanks.”
Luckily, the guy spoke Japanese, so no communication issues.
“I can only send folks to medieval fantasy worlds.”
The rest was surreal. Magic awakening training, pre-trip studies—it was confusing if this was a scammer putting in effort or legit.
“See you tomorrow then. Off you go.”
If it was real, that’d be great.
That night, Gon crashed in a cheap motel. In his dream, he was atop clouds, drawn into a massive temple without knowing why.
“Ishiori Gon.”
An invisible presence—human or not, formless—held out a die.
“All is up to fate. Roll it.”
He rolled the 1-to-100 die.
“25.”
The entity sounded pitying.
“You’ll be sent to a harsh world, threatened easily in a brutal environment. Life won’t be easy—you’ll need bone-grinding effort to survive.”
Right before the dream ended.
“I object!”
Someone entered the temple. Satoshi, dressed like a lawyer, bowed politely.
“So this is the ‘Origin’ of isekai transfers. Pleased to meet you. I’m Satoshi.”
Satoshi spoke Japanese, but the entity understood.
“You... Hm. State your business.”
“I wasn’t supposed to be here originally. I worked hard to bring him, so I claim a share.”
“What do you desire?”
Satoshi pointed at the die.
“Let him roll once more with my share. And for all I send from now on, apply the same—two rolls.”
“Two dice?”
“Yes, and pick the higher number.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s it.”
He adjusted his rimless glasses with a finger.
“I want everyone heading to another world to live like protagonists. Gotta juice the odds somehow.”
The entity paused, then consented.
“Owe Yi Seung-hoon big, so granted.”
“Thank you.”
The fallen die floated up.
“Roll again.”
Ishiori Gon rolled once more.
“3.”
“Da hell!”
Satoshi yelped in Korean and vanished from the temple.
“I helped plenty!”
＊＊＊
A hospital in Austin, Texas.
“Elsa, feeling better?”
Turning 4 come New Year’s, little Elsa spent another day hooked to an oxygen mask and IV.
“You’ll be better soon. Our Elsa’s such a good girl.”
“Yeah! Elsa’s good!”
Born premature, the girl had lived her whole life in hospitals. Gazing at the city from her window with Mom and Dad was her entire world.
“Santa’s sure to bring gifts, right?”
“Santa Grandpa!”
“Elsa, wanna whisper to Mommy what gift you want?”
“Puppy!”
Sadly, impossible for immune-weak Elsa, but Mom nodded.
“Yeah, he’ll bring a puppy. Mommy’ll be back tomorrow.”
Heading out—double-working with her husband to cover bills—Mom searched puppy plushies. Elsa clasped her hands in prayer.
“Santa Grandpa, I been good. Didn’t cough much, took lotsa medicine, barely cried at shots.”
Praying hard, drowsiness hit as she closed her eyes. Then, she spotted something in her IV bag.
“Woof woof!”
A puppy. A Welsh Corgi, tail intact.
‘Puppy.’
Spotting it, sleep overtook her. Waking, she stood in a flower field.
“Puppy!”
“Woof!”
The girl toddled after the frolicking pup on stubby legs.
“Gotcha!”
“Woof woof!”
“Heehee! Tickles!”
Oddly, she understood the puppy.
No—the puppy’s words reached her.
“Come along?”
Crossing the meadow eagerly, a barren plain appeared suddenly.
“Scary here.”
Dry leaves tumbled, soil crumbly and lifeless, flowers wilted and gone.
“Woof!”
“Eek, Puppy! Wait!”
Puppy plunged in undeterred; brave girl followed.
“Pretty.”
There, a sparkling gem shone like a tiny sun, its light fading fast.
“Woof woof!”
“Huh? What’s ‘Origin’?”
“Woof woof!”
“My ‘Origin’?”
“Woof!”
Puppy licked the gem. Each lick brightened it, transforming surroundings.
“Whoa!”
Soil revived, flowers bloomed, trees grew.
“Amazing!”
“Woof woof!”
Girl nodded at puppy’s words.
“Yeah! I’ll be a good girl!”
Elsa woke.
“Puppy!”
“Elsa? You’re awake!?”
“Oh, our girl!”
Mom and Dad, bedside vigil, sobbed. Last night, her heart stopped; coma. Awake in a day.
“Huh?”
“A miracle! Elsa’s all better!”
They wept again.
“Mommy! Daddy! No crying! Santa won’t bring gifts!”
“Oh God!”
“Thank you!”
Hugged tight, Elsa huffed.
“Not God—Puppy!”