Killdragon's Racist Meltdown

At that very moment, as the third-phase holy ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠water sales wrapped up in a private hall in Gyeonggi Province, Korea.

Far across the ocean.

"You're America's hero!"

"I'm a fan! Please look over here!"

Killdragon was campaigning, strolling down the streets of Washington.

Broadcast makeup and a sharply tailored suit.

A friendly face beaming with a bright smile.

With every step under heavy security, massive crowds and cameras surged forward.

Click! Click! Click! Click!

He passed the red carpet amid nonstop flashing lights and ascended the plaza stage.

One-two— one-two—

Mike check complete.

"I won't drag this out."

He thrust his fist high!

"Make America great again!"

─Woooaaah!

─Make America great again!!

─Make our America great again!!

The plaza shook with fervent cheers.

After wrapping up interviews on stage, Killdragon climbed into the back seat of the limousine for his next schedule.

Slam! Click!

The moment the door shut.

"Goddamn it, how many more of these bullshit stunts do I have to pull?"

He spat out curses immediately.

Elliot Hesson, the deputy director shadowing him for surveillance and control, frowned and replied.

"I told you, no sleep during voting season."

"Fuck, this is suffocating. Waving at those brain-dead idiots only works once or twice."

He kept grumbling, trash-talking the very voters who'd supported him without restraint.

Elliot cut in sharply.

"Don't you want to beat Hitchhiker?"

"......"

Killdragon shut his mouth instantly.

Soon, a notification chimed.

Crunch!

Day 1 of voting, hour 13.

He'd been stuck in second place nonstop.

Why? Because first place was dominating.

That goddamn Hitchhiker!

The outcome was a foregone conclusion.

He'd win in the end anyway.

But seeing that unchanging rank still sparked impatience.

"Stay calm. Time's on our side. Hitchhiker's already scooped up nearly all of Korea's votes, but we've got plenty left to pull in."

True enough.

America still had tons of unregistered voters, and votes were scattered.

Unlike Korea, which had surged early but was now running out of gas.

Ding!

His share had jumped too.

From 72% to 85%.

And that was just the start.

Using megaphones for policy pledges, votes were pouring in from around the world.

The world ran on capitalism, after all.

Poor nations like Korea couldn't even dream of matching it.

"Report just came in. Projections say we'll overtake Hitchhiker in 3 hours and 15 minutes."

"We have to."

They rushed through the schedule after that.

Flutter!

Clap clap clap clap clap!

"A monument for the history books!"

"What a heart-stirring moment!"

He unveiled a long-awaited Killdragon statue by pulling off its drape.

Click! Click! Click!

"Th-thank you!"

"I'll treasure it!"

He toured relief centers, donating essentials.

Live broadcast?

Of course.

Screech!

They arrived at a certain spot.

Harlem's outskirts, Slipwood.

Crumbled walls and the stench wafting through made Killdragon curse inwardly.

Campaign here? A gang-infested hellhole with zero security?

Well, safety wasn't an issue.

Heavy guards.

And he was an S-rank Awakener, after all.

But something grated.

It was a filthy slum crawling with inferior lower races.

Elliot whispered from behind.

"Bear it. The poorer they are, the easier it is to inflate their gratitude."

"......Goddamn it."

Killdragon forced a smile.

He toured the slums, campaigning to residents.

"I read your autobiography! Wh-whoa, even you came from the slums, Mr. Killdragon! I have dreams too—"

What a moron.

Bald-faced lie, and he bought it?

"Mr. Killdragon! You're my hero! Just one hug!"

"Haha, of course."

This filthy scum hugging me?

Full-body decontamination after.

The final vacant lot had a crowd of residents.

Gang-looking thugs dotted the area.

Obvious to an ex-gangster like him.

'Tch, damn niggers, got a show?'

Just chant some beggar slogans left.

Time to escape this hellhole.

Thud.

Up on the makeshift stage. He opened his mouth, but the crowd's vibe was off.

They kept glancing over, passing phones around.

"No way...... right?"

"Faces don't match."

"But that neck mole's identical."

"Evidence photos say......"

Murmurs drifted in.

What the hell were they talking about?

He whipped around to Elliot.

Even he looked flustered, clueless.

Do the job first.

Fist out, he bellowed.

"Make America great!"

Dead silence, against expectations.

No echoes.

Just ice-cold stares.

Weird? What the—?

"Make America great!"

Same again.

As he geared for the third shout.

"You racist fuck!"

Whoosh!

A stone flew, grazing his cheek.

Predict it? No chance.

Seeing red blood on his palm, Killdragon lost it.

"Fuck, you nigger slave, you gone mad! Ah......?"

Time froze.

For him who'd said it.

For the live camera crew.

For Elliot piecing it together.

Everyone felt it.

The residents had been staring at the internet flood: Killdragon's true face exposed.

The moment it proved real.

Gasp!

"You white bastard! Come to mock us—?!"

A gangbanger drew a knife, charging with murderous intent.

Insanely fast.

Definitely an Awakener.

No one could stop him in time.

Targeted Killdragon.

In split-second instinct.

Stab!

Snatched the knife and plunged it into the guy's chest.

Right in the heart.

Thud!

Bright red blood on his hands.

Wh-what......?

This wasn't—?

Cameras cut late, but it was already live worldwide.

The instant Killdragon ignited nationwide racial strife.

The US Management Agency was in full panic.

Gail Crafton, the director, rampaged screaming.

"Take down the articles! Take them down!"

"Th-there's too many!"

Killdragon's past files had hit major sites worldwide simultaneously.

Spreading like wildfire.

Untouchable scale.

Main reason for the speed? Pre-translated into every language.

Deliberate as hell.

But who? And how'd they get the files?

"D-director! Card key!"

"Gimme!"

Gail snatched it.

Headed to the secure zone.

Beep— Beep— Beep—

Through multiple doors to a secret vault.

Opened the small safe on the shelf.

Click! Creak!

"......!"

Empty inside.

No USB, no files, nothing.

"Guh— Hack!"

"D-director!"

Thud!

Gail collapsed from skyrocketing blood pressure.

Click clack! Click clack!

Carmina sprawled on the bed, glued to her laptop.

Running translations to check overseas reactions eagerly.

"Nom! Human karma! Nom! Self-employed!"

Retribution? His own doing?

She always mangled them on purpose?

How not one right?

Munching dry bread snacks without a drink, I offered.

"Want cola?"

"I'm good! Sipping soda with my eyes!"

Killdragon's downfall.

She looked satisfied.

Makes sense—I wasn't the angriest at his past files; it was the allies.

Yulia too.

"Heh heh."

Lounging in an armchair, eyes closed, sipping whiskey (holy water) elegantly.

"Not checking reactions, Lady Yulia?"

"Heh heh, imagining which hell Killdragon's tumbling into now. An appetizer, you see."

These scary folks.

Hati, curled in my lap listening to my heartbeat, perked up at the laptop tune.

Whoa, dopamine's fine, but no more toxic words.

Our innocent fox spirit.

Guilt over polluting her with edgy content.

Instead of answering, mini apple to her mouth.

"No need to know that."

Crunch! Crunch!

Hati beaming happily.

Aah, soul-cleansing.

How is she this adorable?

Fox charm got me dad-smiling; snapped back to reality.

Killdragon.

Didn't expect a live murder on stream.

But fitting end for a masked deceiver.

Slum aftermath? News later.

For now, check this.

Ding!

The vote board.

Killdragon's votes? Plummeting, obviously.

Beyond dropping—shredding.

Like a crashing coin.

Pre-scandal: about 810 million.

Glance.

"Lady Carmina, how many votes gone in under an hour?"

"400 million! Epic!"

What miracle math?

Carmina's calculator wrecked everything but food.

"Study math with me later."

"Ack! Nooo!"

Anyway, truth: 60 million evaporated in under an hour.

"But scarier? This is just the start."

"Yup! Gotta drop more! To hell! Abyss! Mantle floor!"

System stats: most lost votes from US citizens.

Average amp low, but near 2x applied.

"Fatal blow. Even accounting for pulls from China, Japan, etc."

Click. Click.

Refresh vote screen: Killdragon's votes exploding off.

Damn, addictive?

Not stocks.

Ahem, toxic words banned.

Another mini apple.

Checked votes, then stood for next task.

"Lady Carmina, quick outing?"

"Nom!"

Bread snack in mouth.

Arm outstretched for laptop, she rolled off bed.

Roll roll! Nomf!

Grabbed Hati as she arrived, vanished into shadows.

"Lady Yulia, rest up. Just nearby."

"Heh heh, thanks for the thoughtfulness, Your Majesty."

Left smiling Yulia, exited room to streets.

Distribution centers everywhere.

Tents stamped Korean Management Agency.

"One bottle per person!"

"This way! ID please!"

"Drink on-site!"

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Busy agency staff.

Long lines at tents.

Whew, packed.

500 here alone?

Instructed the agency: nationwide holy water distributions.

Loas River line now hundreds-fold.

Can't flood Korea unlimited, but enough for all to enjoy.

Yulia via sense-share:

Not grace exactly.

Main goal: supply.

Murmur murmur.

"Holy water? What's that?"

"Check the vid! Agency chief's in a presser!"

"Hitchhiker's...... the holy water lord?"

Voices ahead.

Glanced at phone.

Can't just boom population.

But solution exists.

Can't grow pop?

"Hitchhiker's a god!"

"Thank you, Hitchhiker!"

Boost amp rates directly.

Day 2 of voting.

Situation shifting nonstop.

Hitchhiker already a religion.

One more miracle? No issue.

Day 1 maxed-out Hitchhiker votes, stalled, now blasting off with testimonies.

Mental comfort of national salvation.

Plus material bounty of holy water.

Gratitude piercing the heavens.

World reactions?

'Korean naturalization' keywords dominating trends again.

And amid it all.

Hitchhiker's charge unstoppable.

Killdragon? Silent post-74.

Killdragon's massive own-goal.

US nationwide: anti-racism protests and riots blazing.

His votes shredded, scattered to others.

Top contender USA effectively out.

Now a chase.

India, China closing fast.

Fiercely.

India unified candidate, votes flooding.

China, seeing US fail, pushed their Awakeners hard.

Public security forced Killdragon votes reclaimed.

Low gratitude for reps.

Amp near 1x.

But pop powerhouses flexed.

Human wave surging.

Even national pledges like US, smaller scale.

World on edge.

Anyone could take first.

Except—

"Time to nail it shut. Scouted enough."

Hitchhiker activated megaphone, declaring a global pledge.