Chapter 244: Association President Victor Poison (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 244: Association President Victor Poison (1)
The routine for the Heaven Class was simple. Die, die, and die again in the subspace.
“Ugh, seriously.”
Weapon caressed his solar plexus, soothing his aching stomach.
“…Still, now that a month has passed, these 'survival' classes don't make me want to throw up quite as much.”
'Survival class' was slang—short for 'Getting Used to Death Class.'
Weapon smiled bitterly as he recalled what had just happened.
…
The moment the class bell rang—ding!—they rushed toward Professor Meain.
The cadets swung their armaments with desperate resolve.
Some thrust their swords head-on, some cowardly aimed for her flanks, while others hurled their armaments from her blind spots.
They tried everything, leaving no stone unturned.
The result was…
Thwack!
He closed his eyes, taking the sound of shattering bones as a lullaby.
“Gack.”
His vision blurs. The warm sunlight seeping through the window frame gradually fades to gray. A blackout curtain falls over his eyes. Even the slightest speck of light vanishes.
The next instant, his eyes snap open. Pitch black. He can't even tell if his eyes are open or closed. Ink-like darkness corrodes his skin and mind.
Glug, glug.
His surroundings are an abyss-black sea. Black bubbles burst from his nostrils and eye sockets. A suffocating pressure crushes his entire body from every angle. He struggles, but it's useless.
The process of reaching death is quiet; its end is the abyss.
Now, let's open our eyes from death.
He barely manages to roll his eyes. A comrade who had turned into a bloody corpse alongside him twitches like a zombie. A flash of light passes through those dim eyes. He breathes heavily, supplying fresh oxygen to his brain to confirm he's alive. And he feels relieved.
‘I-I survived...!’
The tears of joy are short-lived. Before he can even savor the preciousness of life, the All-Power throws a straight punch. Her fist slices through the air. The rough contours of her knuckles reflect upon his transparent retina.
Thwack!
His jaw bone dislocates; his nose and cheekbones collapse completely. The narrower the impact area, the more the pressure amplifies. The internal pressure pushes against the optic nerve and eyeballs, popping them out like a snail's eyes.
“Spare me—...!”
Correction.
Thwack!
The process of reaching death is gruesome,
“Gack.”
and its end is miserable.
…
He was a moth leaping into a flame. Even knowing he would die, he had to charge blindly forward.
Twenty times a day. Five days a week, excluding weekends.
Weapon curled into a ball. The fingers wrapped tightly around his knees trembled violently.
“Ughhh...”
Just then, someone sat down next to Weapon.
“Is this seat empty?”
Abel asked for permission only after already sitting down. Why even ask then? Just as he was about to retort, Abel covered her mouth.
“I think I'm gonna throw up.”
“……”
Weapon sucked in his lips, clamping his mouth shut. Vomiting was contagious. If the person next to you started displaying their breakfast, you'd feel compelled to join in.
‘Not today.’
Weapon shifted his butt away to widen the distance. Abel shot him a sharp, stinging glare. She thought it was exasperating coming from a guy who was practically a pizza factory just a few days ago.
Even so, she didn't show it outward. She had a specific purpose for approaching Weapon.
“Hey, um... you know.”
She cleared her throat to initiate the conversation.
“Do you know why Kang Geomma was absent today?”
“The Chief's reason for being absent?”
Weapon tilted his head.
“I do know. I had to call him briefly this morning and heard about it then. He said he had an urgent business trip with the Academy Principal. But I don't know the specifics. Didn't ask.”
“On purpose? Why?”
“The Chief operates on a completely different level from us, you know. It might be classified, so prying felt a bit off.”
“Ah, true...”
Abel paused before continuing. Having broken the ice with trivial chit-chat, it was time to get down to business. She spoke covertly, like a spy meeting in a back alley.
“By any chance, do you know what Geomma is doing on December 18th?”
Weapon shrugged.
“Dunno, the Chief didn't say anything to me. Besides, he's the type who doesn't care about events like that. He only found out about his own fan site because I told him. He probably forgot that day is the 'Festival of the Seven Champions'.”
The Festival of the Seven Champions. It was a day to honor the noble achievements of the Seven Champions, the disciples of Balor Joaquin.
In the early days, the festival had a solemn atmosphere. People reportedly gathered at chapels, shedding tears while praying and fasting.
‘They say it was like that just a century ago.’
However, nothing withstands the test of time.
The sanctity of the festival became commercialized. Though some elders voiced discontent, public sentiment had long been seduced by commercialism. After all, this was much better than starving and praying.
Thus, the Festival of the Seven Champions transformed into the grand finale event of the year. Unused candles were replaced with colorful decorations and lights, while fasting and prayers turned into gift exchanges.
Joaquin Academy also hosted festival celebrations. Furthermore, given its roots in the Seven Champions, the scale was magnificent.
“I see. Makes sense...”
Abel fidgeted with her fingers. In that moment, Weapon felt frustrated. Does Abel really think I don't know?
“You're basically asking who the Chief's partner is for the festival ball, aren't you?”
Abel's expression contorted strangely before her face instantly flushed bright red.
* * *
Meanwhile.
The Antarctic Base, Angel Factoria, was in utter chaos. Only Victor Poison comfortably crossed his legs.
‘My god.’
The male escort's eyes widened in horror. He couldn't close his gaping mouth.
Serving as an escort, he had seen and experienced all sorts of situations. Thanks to that, he had managed to maintain a decent level of composure even when confronting the Association President, who had reappeared after decades.
However, right now, the escort's face betrayed his emotions completely. It was hard to hide them. The footage broadcast across thousands of monitors was just that shocking.
New models lined up densely in the ash-gray cavern. Although crudely patched with pieces of scrap metal, their ivory wings made their identity clear.
Agents of God. They were Angels.
“A-Are those really angels?”
At the escort's question, the Association President curled the corners of his mouth.
“Of course. I have my dignity; would I push off a knockoff as the real deal? There's no certificate of authenticity, but they are indeed angels. And...”
Sitting in his chair, the Association President tapped his feet.
“...they are right beneath the Antarctic soil.”
The escort said nothing more.
He simply looked back and forth between the floor beneath his feet and the monitors in silence.
Victor let out a hearty laugh.
“It seems many of you are surprised. Well, considering they aren't dinosaur fossils but preserved in whole form, I suppose I would have reacted the same way.”
The silent female secretary chimed into the conversation.
“B-But Association President, if those are truly angels...”
“Why? Do you want to say this is sacrilege? But what to do? It is sacrilege. Besides, as my second daughter's secretary and escort, don't you two already know?”
Victor's eyes darkened. The secretary and the escort held their breath.
“...the secret history of our Poison family?”
It was the angels who had laid a curse upon the Ancients and slaughtered them. According to oral tradition, it was because the Ancients committed a profane sin.
Though a distorted secret history, the modern secretary and escort had learned it that way. Even Medea, an Ancient, had never informed them about that part—because she didn't know the truth either. That was how scarce information regarding the inner workings of the Ancients was. After all, it was an event before humanity even used the unit of 'century'.
Modern humans don't even know the origin of the Festival of the Seven Champions from just 700 years ago. There was no way they could know what happened thousands of years ago.
However, it wasn't solely because humans were ignorant and foolish. It was because the False Gods had interfered with human history, preaching distorted information.
“Lest there be any misunderstanding, my discovering these angels was purely by chance. Which means my reason for coming to live in Antarctica is also completely unrelated to the distant past tragedy of our Poison family.”
The secretary knit her brows and responded to the Association President.
“...Even so, the world will not believe it. If people find out about this, Mr. President—no, the entire Poison family—will not escape condemnation. If the party who turned angels into cyborgs is an Ancient...”
“I know what you mean. They'll call us 'victims turned perpetrators.' Or they'll claim the Ancients and Demons were in league all along.”
Victor rose from his seat and walked closer to the screen. Then, he reached his hand toward the monitor.
Crackle.
Static electricity flickered in the gap between his fingers and the screen. It looked as if man and machine were communing.
“When I was born, electronic devices like this didn't exist at all. There were mechanical devices, but compared to today, flooded with smartphones, they were primitive things that burned coal and spewed steam.”
Victor gazed at the monitor. His gaze was deep, like looking at an old vintage analog TV.
“Do you know what's truly funny, though? The moment I was born, the era began to change rapidly. The clatter of horses' hooves on the streets faded, and one day, things with wheels started rolling about. Not long after, lumps of iron were flying through the sky.”
He pulled his hand back from the monitor. Then, he swept his eyes across not just one, but hundreds of monitors.
“In the surging rapids of such an era, I was always the same. Unchanging.”
Victor once had a close friend. A friend with whom he had shared his childhood.
The friend knew Victor was an Ancient. Even so, the two got along well.
One day, the friend said:
—Victor, I don't care if you're an Ancient. Any hero who fights for humanity deserves respect!
And time passed.
A long time for the friend, but a rather short time for Victor.
Ten years. The friend became an adult, while Victor remained just a boy.
Only then did the friend realize.
The disparity between Ancients and humans, that even the time taken for granted was not fair, and that this green-haired boy took no joy in it whatsoever.
Whish.
The friend threw a stone at Victor.
—You cursed Ancient! The reason you live so long is because you're stealing the lifespans of ordinary people like us!
Ten seconds. That was the time it took for yesterday's friend to become today's enemy.
“Around the time humans launched artificial satellites into the sky, the Hero Association was founded as well. Around then, I looked up what that friend was doing. Out of curiosity. A tiny curiosity about what had become of him. And I found him. He was in New Zealand.”
“……”
“So I went to see him right away. And what do you know? That friend welcomed me looking young! Overcome with surprise, I called out his name! And do you know what he said?!”
The Association President whipped around and shouted at us.
“‘How do you know my deceased grandfather's name?’ was the reply! I felt like I'd been struck in the head with a hammer.”
“...Father.”
Medea withdrew her unconsciously outstretched hand. Victor kept talking.
“It was from that moment. The moment I resolved to go into seclusion. I searched for a location. A place untouched by human hands, yet isolated from the flow of time. And the place I finally found is this Antarctic land you are standing on right now.”
Victor's dream had been simple. He had wanted to clink beer glasses with his friend and reminisce about the old days.
He simply wanted to live alongside people.
“Yet, by pure chance, the ancient enemy of our people was sleeping beneath these icy fields. Imagine my astonishment!”
The world did not permit him even that. So he chose to become a madman. It was a world impossible to endure without going insane.
“In that moment, I made my decision. I would turn those cursed feathered fiends into a legion for humanity! Considering that my remaining life's work, I devoted decades to it. And today, I finally put an end to it.”
Victor strode over and stopped right in front of my face.
“That legion of angels will be of help when dealing with the 4th Corps Commander, Permush. Though thousands of years have compromised their durability, employing them will reduce the blood humanity must shed. If there are additional settings you desire, I will prepare them. I will spare no technical support either. In exchange...”
I flinched and took a step back. The unblinking look in Victor's eyes was ominous.
Grab.
Suddenly, Victor wrapped both of his hands tightly around one of mine.
“When everything is over, will you slay me with this hand?”
From his clasped hands, I could feel the madman's deep regret.