Western District Subjugation - 10
Ellyse Bertman ran.
Right after hearing from Ellyna that there was only one person on this side, she pursued the villain at full speed while maintaining the bare minimum of caution.
To prevent any further casualties. To carry out her justice.
She ran.
Her light footsteps rang out sharply as they struck the quiet, dark corridor.
Listening to the sound of her own steps, Ellyse suddenly thought how worthwhile this felt.
How many times had she run solely for a moment like this?
All this time, she had been running for what felt like forever. She ran to raise her school grades and records. She ran to build the kind of stamina that would let her stand proudly as an officer.
That didn’t mean all that running had been pointless or unsatisfying.
Every incident she had passed through had shaped Ellyse Bertman and forged her into the person she was today. There was no reason to disparage those efforts.
Yet it was also true that every single stride had felt like nothing more than a step in a process—growth, record-breaking, preparation for some distant future.
Nothing but fertilizer for tomorrow.
Ellyse had looked at the cultivated soil and felt satisfaction, but she had never fully tasted the joy.
She had only ever waited in anticipation.
When would she finally reach that future? When would she become like it? When would she meet it?
She had always simply waited.
But now, in this moment, Ellyse Bertman finally felt the worth of it all.
Her soul was breathing.
Her body was exhausted enough to collapse at any second, yet she could still run.
The long-awaited harvest had arrived.
To live as the adult she had dreamed of as a child, she was running now.
Chasing one man.
“───Ugh!?”
Thud! Slain Pavlov lost his grip on the ladder and tumbled to the ground.
It had happened purely because he still wasn’t accustomed to having only one arm, but Slain felt a surge of shame at his own pathetic display as he pushed himself up from the floor.
How can someone like me fail at something this simple?
Even so, the moment the nervously hurrying Slain finally reached his destination, his face lit up with relief.
The long tunnel beneath the laboratory that led to his hidden shelter, and the vehicle waiting on the monorail.
A secret passage and escape route he had prepared just in case a day like this ever came.
No one knew about this place.
Even the laborers who had built the tunnel had been turned into test subjects to protect its secrecy.
Slain, who had run here in a cold sweat of anxiety, finally allowed himself a relaxed expression.
He even set aside his worries that someone might have found traces and followed him.
After all, he had taken thorough measures to bury both the passage leading here and every last faint clue behind him.
Yes—Slain Pavlov was safe. No matter how fiercely they chased him, they would never catch up. All that remained was to hide in the shelter connected to this secret route for a while and rebuild his foundation from scratch.
That was what he believed.
“……What is this?”
The vehicle only made a grating creak-creak sound and refused to move. Slain stared down at the useless thing in blank disbelief, then twisted his face in fury and slammed his fist into it.
“You piece of shit!”
He spent a long while kicking and beating the vehicle to vent his rage before he finally regained his senses. Only then did he remember what he had done on the surface.
If he didn’t want to be crushed to death under the collapsing ground, he needed to put as much distance as possible between himself and it—even if he had to run barefoot.
With a hesitant expression, Slain Pavlov gazed into the pitch-black tunnel that would clearly be an arduous journey, then gritted his teeth and took the first step.
He wanted to live.
Slain Pavlov—born in Westania, year 31.
A prodigy of the postwar era, born into wealth and granted every privilege.
He loved knowledge more than happiness derived from people, and knowledge returned that love in full.
From a young age he had possessed a vast fortune in his account. He grew up in a study lined with countless books, finding his greatest pleasure in reading academic papers.
Thanks to that environment, Slain excelled in every subject—language, mathematics, science.
Among them, his talent in biology was nothing short of extraordinary.
While still in elementary school he had already grasped university-level specialized knowledge and was building his own theoretical framework. The word “genius” hardly seemed sufficient.
Until then, Slain had simply been a brighter-than-average, rather unlucky child.
But the change came without warning.
Sometime after leaving elementary school, he visited a redevelopment zone in the Southern District under the guise of a field trip.
For the first time in his life, the boy witnessed human beings living worse than beasts.
The realization that people could exist like livestock struck him with profound shock and delivered a clear epiphany.
He had seen the truth made real.
Eugenics.
The premise that humans in their current state were by no means equal, but divided into superior and inferior specimens.
From that truth he began searching for ways to evolve humanity.
Because one day, a demon had come to him.
A transcendent being that wielded magic and Mystery—an unscientific phenomenon that defied all belief.
Having witnessed it, Slain Pavlov took his first genuine steps toward the evolution of the human race.
With his prodigious intellect as the foundation, he would open a new horizon for a new humanity.
Driven by that ambition, he gathered prisoners of war from other nations, orphans, and the destitute of his own country, dragging them into his laboratory.
He sacrificed them for the sake of humanity.
In total, the number of people who had contributed their lives to that cause reached 17,268.
Slain Pavlov had achieved something no soldier of the Great War had managed, and no serial killer had ever committed.
Yet he justified his research as a necessary sacrifice.
By offering their bodies, these people would allow countless others to transcend their limits.
For that reason, he had killed so many.
To keep the secret, he held the families of every researcher and staff member in the laboratory hostage and planted spies within the police department.
Thus he had blocked all leaks for many long years while stubbornly continuing his work.
Of course, even he had known that a project spanning ten years would eventually be exposed.
But Slain had been confident he could escape no matter what.
He had built connections with corporations and the government. In the worst case he could defect to another country. He could disappear into any of the numerous hideouts he had prepared across the nation.
What truly mattered to Slain was not the test subjects or the facility, but his own knowledge. He could abandon the laboratory without hesitation.
As long as he survived, he could begin again anytime, anywhere.
All he needed was to start over in a place so secret that the police dogs and that madman playing hero could never find him.
Yes—if only I survive……
Slain, sweating profusely as he pressed onward, suddenly realized something.
He turned his head.
He stared blankly at the sign on the tunnel wall that read [500M POINT].
It was clearly a spot he had already passed.
By his own estimation he had walked for dozens of minutes since then, yet nothing had changed.
For a moment Slain wondered if the excruciating pain had damaged his brain, but he trusted his own judgment as always.
A pursuer had followed him.
And it was an existence that a frail scientist’s body could not possibly resist.
Mystery was involved.
Therefore Slain made a swift decision and resolved to revise the contract he had been postponing.
He wished for the demon to manifest not merely to assist with research, but to save him immediately.
“───Abaddon! Come and save me!”
After shouting those words, Slain clicked his tongue.
He had accepted far too great a loss in order to establish a new foundation.
Still, since that loss guaranteed his survival, he soon comforted himself.
After all, a demon was overwhelmingly more powerful than any ordinary human, and no matter how well a human had mastered Mystery, they could never dare oppose a demon.
The main bloodline had always belonged to them.
Not long after Slain’s cry echoed through the tunnel, the sound of footsteps rose from the darkness far ahead.
Clack—clack— The crisp sound of dress shoes.
Slain, listening in a daze, realized another fact.
The demon he had contracted with—Abaddon—possessed insect wings and did not walk upon the ground.
Slain slowly lifted his fatigue-heavy eyelids and stared at the shadow growing steadily larger in front of him.
Thud. Something flew out from within it.
After bouncing across the tunnel floor several times, it came to rest at Slain’s feet.
It was the head of the giant locust—Abaddon—the very demon he had contracted with. Looking at it, Slain thought:
“……What is this?”
His mind went blank for a moment.
Before Slain could even collect himself, the pursuer finally stepped out of the shadows.
Red eyes, ivory hair, the uniform of the Special Affairs Division, a familiar face. An inspector.
Slain remembered at once.
The inspector who had died first in the laboratory earlier—it was this woman.
Did she possess a Mystery related to regeneration?
If so, what principle explained the fact that he had been wandering these tunnels?
Even most demons could only handle a single category of Mystery.
Yet a human was wielding two entirely unrelated types?
Moreover, the fact that she had killed a demon directly suggested her strength itself was extraordinary. Were all inspectors these days monsters, contrary to the information he knew?
No. She’s still human.
A hole drilled through the head would kill her just the same.
Slain broke into a cold sweat and cautiously reached for the pistol at his waist.
“Hello, foolish human. Did you enjoy your little underground adventure?”
It was around then that the inspector, who had been wearing a bright smile the entire time, finally spoke.
……Calling me foolish?
At the unexpected insult, Slain burned with rage, but at the same time felt relief.
Since appearing, the inspector had not taken a single step. She had not closed the distance.
Was she overconfident in her Mystery, believing there was no way a mere scientist could kill her?
Then how about this?
Purified pure silver—the natural enemy of demons. It could degrade the hide of even a powerful demon to the level of a human and nullify all Mystery. A silver bullet forged from that very weakness.
It was insurance prepared in case Abaddon ever became uncooperative.
She might be acting relaxed now, but if her brain were smashed to pulp by the bullet, the bitch would die just like anyone else.
He didn’t know how fast she was, but if the shot landed, he could kill her.
Yes—if it simply landed……
“I’d love to take my time and savor this, but I have far too many promises to keep.”
At the sight of the inspector closing her eyes and shaking her head defenselessly, Slain’s eyes widened.
He swiftly loaded the pistol, gripped it tightly, and aimed the muzzle at her.
Still deeming the inspector foolish for keeping her eyes closed, he pulled the trigger.
Bang—Bang—!
Please don’t dodge!
Perhaps his wish had been granted.
The inspector only lifted her eyelids at the very last moment.
She quietly watched the bullet flying straight toward the center of her forehead.
And then the bullet buried itself there.
As her head jerked backward, Slain smiled brightly—only for his expression to freeze.
The inspector’s head slowly returned to its original position.
The bullet that should have turned her skull to mush hung motionless in the air.
She spoke in a playful tone.
“Too bad.”
Drip, drip, drip—
The demon’s natural enemy—the silver bullet—melted away in an instant for some unknown reason.
Slain Pavlov was rendered speechless by the incomprehensible sight.
No—why?
Even a demon capable of destroying anything could not destroy pure silver.
Even if their creations could crush the bullet with weak flesh, they could never destroy it through Mystery.
……Then why?
Slain instinctively sensed that something had gone terribly wrong. Even now, the screaming sensation from his severed arm had frozen his brain, making him realize the truth far too late.
The inspector who had overtaken him and appeared from the opposite side of the tunnel. Her vitality that allowed her to survive even after her head had been destroyed. The Mystery capable of destroying pure silver, their natural enemy.
Combining all those factors, Slain Pavlov suddenly arrived at the worst possible conclusion.
Even though he could plant spies bound by gambling debts, he had never imagined a monster might be hiding within the police department that performed daily checks to see if anyone was possessed by a demon……
Having sensed his own death, Slain shouted with an ashen face.
“……But there’s no way a demon could destroy pure silver! It’s your heavenly scourge! The limit you have been unable to overcome for thousands of years—how could it suddenly……!”
As if pitying him, the inspector smiled refreshingly and shook her head.
“It seems you’re under a misconception. I am not a demon, Slain.”
“……What?”
“If it can destroy something a demon cannot break, how could it possibly be a demon? Of course, it isn’t human either.”
Having murmured those words, Ellyna Bastard took one step forward.
At the same time she brought her index and middle fingers together on one hand, shaping them like the barrel of a gun. She aimed it directly at the center of Slain’s forehead, now within arm’s reach.
Slain Pavlov stared into the bewitching red eyes glowing before him.
A drop of sweat slowly slid down his cheek. How could this be happening……
“Try not to be so trapped by your own prejudices.”
The inspector mocked the foolishness of the ignorant and gladly gave him the answer.
“God is omnipotent, after all.”
Bang—!
Slain’s brain was reduced to pulp by the silver bullet.
“……Hoo.”
His breath scattered in the cold air of early dawn. It felt as though he had been waiting quite a long time.
And that was probably accurate.
I glanced sideways at the helicopter beside me. With a snort, I muttered.
“Well, there was no way he’d dare fly off into the sky.”
Even if Westania’s military discipline had grown lax lately, they would never tolerate an unauthorized aircraft drifting through an operation zone.
It would be shot down within minutes of taking off.
If he had been a simple-minded fool, he might have run straight for the helicopter, but Slain wasn’t that stupid.
It won’t have been on foot or by vehicle. So he fled through some secret passage after all.
In that case, that guy must have gone to catch him personally. With that guess in mind, I pounded the innocent helicopter with my fist a couple of times and stood up.
There was no need for me to catch him myself. In the end, all that mattered was that the bug died.
In fact, the thought that he would suffer even more was rather satisfying.
Still, the annoying part was the prankster who had tried to toy with me even in a situation like this.
……I wonder what I should demand as compensation later.
A single misstep could yield a great deal.
That was the calculation that had led me to play along even while knowing the truth, but I still didn’t like it.
If he later used the loophole in our agreement during an important moment and tried something strange, it would be troublesome.
With the firm resolution that I would set clear boundaries someday, I turned around.
And there stood an inspector holding a pistol.
It was a familiar face.
Ellyse Bertman, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, swallowed whatever she wanted to say for a long moment before finally speaking.
“Please place both hands above your head.”
“Do not resist.”
“I am arresting you as a criminal caught in the act.”
Only then did I realize I had been thoroughly played by the demon’s scheme.
