Chapter 263: The Terror Live (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 263: The Terror Live (2)
One of the terrorists reflexively lowered his eyes. The severed head of the comrade who had charged ahead tumbled across the floor and bumped against the tip of his shoe.
Lifeless pupils stared up at the comrades who were still breathing. Covered by a milky film, the eyes seemed to say:
‘See you in the afterlife, friend.’
Terrified, the terrorist kicked the head away to break its gaze. Panting hard, he looked around at the chaotic carnage.
If anything, that guy had died intact compared to the others, whose skulls had been chopped into neat little cubes like diced radishes. Eyeballs popped out of sockets were getting kicked around, and fingers were sliced segment by segment like sausages.
Gulp. The disguised waiter swallowed hard and raised his eyes again. That single strike made it painfully obvious who this butler-attired middle-aged man was. His face alone might have left room for doubt, but seeing those monofilament wires made it impossible to mistake him.
‘Rakshasa Karon.’
In the underworld, the Rakshasa was a legend. A beast that slaughtered heroes. A hitman who took any contract regardless of the target's rank. A fiend who butchered his enemies with razor-sharp wires spun like spiderwebs from his fingertips.
Why had such a demon of the night revealed himself here at the academy? Ever since pledging his loyalty to the Nibelung Family, he shouldn't have stepped onto the frontlines even once.
Karon cracked his neck from side to side, rubbing the back of it.
“Hmm. I’ve been away from the field for too long. I intended to kill ten at once, but I only managed to clear five.”
“That’s why I told you to step outside the castle with me more often,” Shail replied, crouching low to spring forward.
“…Shail, I’d rather rust away than get into a car driven by you. Regardless, we can chat after burning through this trash—”
Before Karon could even finish his sentence, Shail kicked off the ground. In the blink of an eye, she burst into point-blank range. Her sharp awl pierced right into an eye wide with shock at her explosive speed.
Splat. Blood splattered across Shail’s cheek. She spun gracefully like a gymnast, various blades narrowly grazing her slender waist.
A momentary opening. Wires lashed out like whips, dicing limbs into tiny squares and triangles. Shail’s awl finished off the target with absolute certainty.
“Th-There are only two of them! Rush them all at once… Gah!”
An arrow slammed straight into the shouting man’s Adam’s apple. His stiff neck twisted back. Through his fading vision, he caught sight of a girl with sky-blue hair nocking another arrow.
“Two of us?”
Ryozo tilted her head, her side bangs falling gently over her shoulders. She released the taut bowstring.
Thwack.
The man gifted with an arrow right between his eyes crumpled to the ground. In that split second when attention shifted to him, a blade flashed in front of the rest. A smooth arc sliced through the enemies' nerve.
Slash.
Abel’s sword cleaved through cervical vertebrae. Back-to-back with Shail, Abel exchanged a brief glance with her. With a slight nod, the two burst forward simultaneously.
The disguised waiters' eyes darted frantically back and forth. Arrows flew at the back of their heads, while corpses piled atop corpses right in front of them. Though superior in numbers, they were the ones trapped like rats.
Their plan to drug everyone with sleeping pills and take them hostage had completely gone up in flames.
Originally, they intended to move after the ball officially commenced, but some punk-looking kid had sniffed out something wrong. Even with his palm pierced, that punk had knocked out one of their team members.
That was why the infiltration team had moved prematurely. From that point on, the entire operation had unraveled.
The terrorist leader was utterly baffled. How could these brats be so unnervingly calm? Were they even kids at all? Even for Joaquin Academy cadets, this was far beyond normal. Their mental composure was colder and deeper than seasoned veterans who had clawed their way through the underworld.
They had accounted for various variables during the planning phase, but this was entirely beyond expectations. It was no different from getting hit by a sudden truck.
“Dammit.”
At this rate, they couldn't even buy enough time before he—the Heavenly Sword—arrived. Once Kang Geomma showed up, annihilation would be a matter of seconds. They would have to surrender their necks without even putting up a fight.
Even amidst his inner turmoil, nearly ten more died. Blood gushed out like fountains between fingers trying desperately to cover shattered clavicles, while a fine silver net swept over the remaining enemies. Arrows and awls pinned the feet of those wretchedly trying to flee straight to the floor.
Surrounded on all sides. Wailing echoed incessantly from every direction.
In the end, the man who served as their leader had no choice but to scream out, cold sweat drenching his spine.
“F-Fight with your lives…!”
It was hard to tell whether it was a battle cry or a desperate shriek. One thing was certain, however: it wasn't the kind of command a confident terrorist leader would utter.
* * *
Greeting us as we kicked open the shattered dressing room door was a crowd of masked men.
“There’s fucking tons of them.”
Kang Geomma muttered absently. Masked men packed the hallway tightly like grease clogging a pipe.
Underneath their masks, they wore waiter uniforms. It was easy to guess how they had bypassed the academy’s strict security.
Disguise.
‘Dammit.’
The darkest place was under the lamp. Naturally, I had Vixbig thoroughly screen all hired staff. Yet loopholes existed everywhere.
‘Who would’ve thought the catering agency itself was a front company?’
The angriest among us was undoubtedly Medea, the Academy Principal. Her face contorted into a furious grimace as she spat out curses.
“Hey, you sons of bitches. Do you have any idea where you’re standing right now? You should pick your fights based on who you're facing. You think having numbers on your side means jack shit?”
Just then, a voice echoed from beyond the crowd of masked men in the distance.
“Of course not.”
The masked men parted in an orderly fashion. A man stepped forward, walking briskly down the opened path.
“The Tyrant, the All-Power, and even the Heavenly Sword. What trick could we possibly have up our sleeves to stop you?”
A sly sneer curled on the man’s lips. Meain took a step forward, the older sister stepping in for her worked-up younger sister.
“Since you know that, where do you get off acting so cocky? What, planning to throw your lives away?”
“Yes. That is correct. Although we are mere nobodies, we can at least buy some time, can’t we? That is precisely why we are here.”
“You guys really lack the capacity to learn, don’t you? Seeing how you keep crawling out like cockroaches even after dying by the dozens.”
“Disparage us all you like. But our deaths are a single step toward our grand cause. We have not a single regret about sacrificing our lives.”
The man shrugged and smirked mockingly.
“Ah, but in case you were worried about being bored, this group is composed entirely of mages. Unfortunately, those who weren't chosen were sent toward the banquet hall. Still, those over there were selected as elites among our terror squad.”
“How dare you… lay a finger on the cadets, my students?!”
“My, my. How terrifying, Principal. Please, calm yourself. Isn't taking hostages second nature for terrorists? The method to save those cherished students of yours is simple: kill every last one of us. Then the path will open.”
The man sneered with a confident face. He was prepared to die anyway. He had nothing left to lose. His bold words stemmed from that absolute resolve.
“Now then, everyone. Instead of wasting time like this, hurry up and—”
Step.
A single footstep cut him off cold. Kang Geomma stepped forward. Everyone who had been holding their breath flinched instinctively. The sheer gravity of his step filled the hallway with suffocating tension.
“Overwhelming with sheer numbers… It seems you guys did try to prepare for me in your own way.”
The villains weren't complete idiots. Kang Geomma had fought them ad nauseam. Thus, the enemy must have deduced that his explosive powers operated like a short-burst sprinter.
“But what’s the point of improving? You were dumbasses back then, and you’re still dumbasses now.”
His dark pupils constricted. The moment the man saw that, he frantically barked orders. The bravery he had shown in front of the Tyrant and the All-Power evaporated from his face.
“Attack!”
Action moved faster than the shout.
Kang Geomma choked up on Murasame's hilt. Then, he plunged the blade straight into the corridor wall. A dark crimson aura soaked into the stone, instantly swallowing the entire hallway.
[The Authority of the Fierce Horn manifests.]
The packed ranks filling the corridor collapsed in a heartbeat. The wall of bodies crumpled to the floor like stalks of grain caught in a typhoon.
“…!”
Only the spokesperson remained standing on two feet. Every other sign of life had been snuffed out. He had annihilated the mob of villains with ridiculous ease. Their deaths failed to buy even a second of time.
Medea and Meain were equally stunned, staring blankly as if doused with ice water. They had expected a messy, drawn-out brawl. They thought it would waste a considerable amount of time. Yet their expectations were smashed to pieces.
‘I thought I couldn't be surprised by Geomma anymore.’
Kang Geomma delivered fresh shocks day after day. The twin sisters shut their mouths. They immediately proceeded to do what they had to do.
‘Confirming the kills.’
The sisters moved without delay, pulping the downed enemies into bloody smears like hyenas cleaning up leftovers. Blood painted the hallway in grotesque splatters.
Stumbling backward, the man tripped over a hunk of mangled flesh and hit the ground. The Heavenly Sword approached at a leisurely pace, stepping over the piles on the floor.
“Humans learn from their mistakes.”
From beneath his messy bangs, cold black eyes looked down at the man. The atmosphere grew spine-chillingly frigid.
“But since you abandoned your humanity, you only repeat them.”
In an instant, the man yearned once more for the life he thought he had accepted losing. He wanted to run from death. His desire to survive crushed his grand cause underfoot.
As his mind scrambled in panic, the distance closed instantly. Kang Geomma squatted down right in front of the man. Amidst the twin sisters bursting corpses around them, the atmosphere between the two was eerily silent.
The man considered resisting, but couldn't. Crushed by sheer terror, his body refused to obey his brain.
Kang Geomma brushed back his disheveled hair. He hooked his index finger into his bow tie to loosen his collar, but stopped himself. This knot was the last work left behind by his stylist.
“Your purpose for infiltrating.”
Kang Geomma spoke bluntly. When the man froze up, Geomma grabbed him by the hair, bringing his face close to whisper so he would understand clearly.
“Purpose.”
“Th-Th-That’s…”
The man sobbed, tears and snot pouring down. Dammit, he desperately wanted to spill everything, but his tongue kept slipping.
“Why can I never get used to how fast you villains flip your attitude? Where did all that bravado from a moment ago go?”
Tsk.
“Just die. I’ll ask someone else.”
Murasame flickered. The blade dripped blood as soon as it sprayed a burst of red.
Thump.
A round lump fell onto the floor. Kang Geomma lightly flicked the blood off his sashimi knife. The blade rattled slightly—it seemed to have taken damage when rammed into the wall.
Kang Geomma's brow furrowed, but he soon stood up and turned around. The twin sisters were also about finished over there.
Without waiting for the twins, he moved out immediately, heading toward the banquet hall where chaos was surely breaking out.
* * *
The standoff in the banquet hall was tense.
“Vicious little bastards.”
Karon clicked his tongue quietly. The terrorists were fighting back stubbornly with desperate tenacity.
“They aren't complete small fry.”
Moreover, they burned with fighting spirit. Though suppressed at first, they had snapped out of it. A rat cornered will bite a cat.
“Numbers beat skill! Push them back!”
A terrorist shouted. He nimbly dodged attacks, waiting for the right moment.
A large number of mages had been sent to the dressing room where the Heavenly Sword was. Though they were destined for annihilation, it would take at least twenty minutes for him to reach here. They had to seize this place within that window.
Unlike the squad dispatched to the dressing room, these men fought to survive. They kept scouting for an escape route in case things went south.
‘Still, reinforcements should arrive soon.’
When that happened, they could turn the tables. The leader calmed his pounding chest and directed his forces.
Creeeeak.
Suddenly, the doors to the banquet hall swung open.
The terrorist leader’s face lit up. Reinforcements at this precise timing!
However, in the next moment—
Everyone, including him, froze in absolute horror. Because the person who opened the door was the last being they ever wanted to encounter.
“Ah…”
Someone let out a long, hollow sigh.
An accident was manageable somehow. But before a calamity, there was no way out.
And in the end, calamity had arrived.
Kang Geomma stepped through the entrance, drenched from head to toe in blood. Beyond him, corpses shredded by his sashimi knife lay scattered across the hall floor. The terrorists' hope vanished into thin air.
“If I listened to my mood, I’d kill every single one of you right now,” Kang Geomma said, standing still by the open door while lightly flicking the gore off his sashimi knife.
“I have things to ask, so I’ll leave one of you alive. I’ll give you a choice. Die by my hands, or negotiate among yourselves.”
At that sentence, the terrorists darted their eyes between their weapons and their comrades. You could practically hear their wheels turning.
“Just so you know, I don't have much patience.”
Kang Geomma pushed them for a decision. The terrorists made up their minds all at once.
Woooooah…!
Their battle spirit ignited once more. Only this time, their blades were pointed at their comrades, not their enemies.
“I’ve hated your guts for a long time now!”
“That’s my fucking line, you bastard! Die!”
A frenzy of violence driven by the desperate urge to live echoed noisily through the banquet hall—a tragic, frantically pathetic sound.