What a Good Fight
A good fight—that's the feeling. ……………
While I was listening to the little thoughts' lecture, the battle between Yeom Hana and Tera Chad had already been raging for a while. And it was quite the spectacle. Red lightning and a bronze meteor streaked back and forth across the road like cannon fire. Every time Yeom Hana's foot hit the asphalt, the ground exploded, and each clash of her kick against Tera Chad's fist sent shockwaves shattering the windows of nearby buildings.
Nice shot. It looked just like those action animations on TV. Especially Yeom Hana—she was clearly getting better with every exchange. The time from strike to recovery was shortening by 0.02 seconds per hit. She's adapting to the suit. In real time.
Boom, boom, boomboomboom.
Sitting on an overturned police car, swinging my legs as I watched, a thought suddenly struck me. The kind of "fight" ordinary humans talk about is supposed to be filled with fear and hostility, but I wasn't sensing any of that from those two. If anything—how should I put it? It felt like a rough exhilaration, the pure joy of throwing everything you had into the clash itself.
A threat entity harming humans, a human harming the entity. For a duel between hunter and prey, these emotions were awfully unique.
Right after the fierce collision of their bodies swept past like a storm.
Tera Chad straightened his stance first.
"Looks like it's time to wrap this fight up, huh, sap!?"
Tera Chad's outline was trembling faintly. The edges of his bronze skin were blurring into the night air. Time's running out. He knew it too.
"...Alright. Here I go!"
From the opposite side of the road, Yeom Hana, who had been steadying her breath in position, kicked off the ground. Her body arced into the air in a parabola, soaring about 15 meters up. Her red hair, backlit by the streetlights, trailed long behind her like a comet's tail.
"Mass Point-Blank Kick—!!"
With Yeom Hana's shout, the entire Neutronium Suit enveloping her body shuddered. The armor plates on her shoulders, forearms, and chest converged on her right leg, drawn by a single will.
Oh, I can guess what that's about. Mass Point-Blank Kick. Concentrating the suit's dispersed neutronium mass into a single point in an instant, temporarily achieving neutron star density. That's why it's called Mass Point-Blank. Nice naming. And she figured out this application on her own, without me teaching her. Impressive.
Tera Chad countered. His giant thighs compressed to their limit, then exploded with quadriceps power as he stomped the ground. A third crater formed in the middle of the road, and the bronze meteor shot straight up.
The moment their trajectories crossed in the night sky, light arrived before sound.
BOOM—!!
The shockwave spread in a circle, shattering windows for hundreds of meters and snapping streetlights like matchsticks. When the light faded, the two bodies landed behind each other.
Yeom Hana skidded across the road, carving a groove over 10 meters long in the asphalt. And on the opposite side—Tera Chad stood with his back turned. A hole punched clean through the center of his torso.
It wasn't flesh made of blood and meat, so no blood or organs spilled out. Instead, light particles crumbled from the hole's edges like sand.
Tera Chad, gazing down at the hole in his body, turned halfway around.
"Fine kick! Beautiful form, sap!"
Even facing defeat and imminent dissolution, his face beamed with a dazzling toothy grin. Yeom Hana, staggering to her feet, stared at the giant with a strange expression.
"Ha, you're like this right up to the—"
Tera Chad's outline unraveled rapidly. His bronze skin disintegrated into light dust from the edges. Dissolution started at his feet and climbed to his knees. But he didn't stop posing. He threw both arms behind his head, striking that pose he'd shown for the first time tonight. Even with the hole in his body, it didn't waver.
"Life is long! Your path doesn't end until the moment you stop! So keep moving forward!"
With his final cheer, the bronze giant's form scattered to the winds. Only light particles remained where he had stood, swirling briefly before vanishing.
Clap, clap, clap.
I couldn't help applauding. Good. Really good. Inside my mental world, it was a full-blown festival. The little thoughts cheered and jumped around; some even hugged and bounced off each other.
One guy was especially loud.
The fierce-eyed thought with the sharp glare—the one who suggested dicing up the muscle monster last time. He was clenching his fist, eyes sparkling.
He really took a liking to Yeom Hana. Can't blame him—it was fun to watch, even for me.
Okay, calm down. The fierce-eyed thought pouted but quieted for now. Though his fist was still clenched.
In the meantime, one of the drifting light particles settled on the back of my hand. A fragment of the mental energy that made up Tera Chad.
Oh. New flavor.
The taste from the Threat Management agents in the lounge was a bittersweet nobility born from swallowing the fear of death. This was a whole different breed. Burning hot-blooded fire flavor, maybe? Like charcoal-grilled over an open flame. Crispy char on the outside, hot juices trapped within. Tongue-numbingly hot, the heat sliding down my throat to my gut.
This must be all the emotions condensed in Tera Chad's entire being, released upon dissolution. Get strong. Stand up. You can do it. So that's what those insane cheers taste like.
Mmm. Delicious.
I closed my eyes to savor the aftertaste. When I opened them again, there was Yeom Hana, panting. Her cheeks were still faintly flushed. The fight was over, so her heart rate should be dropping.
Let's see. Wow, so many varieties. Elation at regained power. Shame over exposure. The thrill of battle. Respect for her opponent. And more besides. Too many and too tangled to name each one. Like a cocktail, all mixed together—try to isolate one, and the rest clings on.
Some incredibly complex state of mind. If I approached and said hi now, it'd just confuse her more. Better give her some alone time.
I turned my gaze. Where Tera Chad had vanished. The light particles were gone, but my eyes caught something. Residual traces of mental energy. To normal senses, it'd just be empty air, but mine picked up a thin thread like the end of a skein.
Follow it, and it'd lead straight to whoever summoned Tera Chad. That hot-blooded fire was a pretty decent treat. The Homo sapiens who imagined such a being must be quite the show themselves.
Shall I go peek at the culprit's face?
Pat pat. ……………
Tracking the residual mental energy trace was easier than expected. I followed the path of the light particles from Guro Digital Complex, across Guro-gu's residential streets, up the outer wall of an apartment complex, and through a 3-millimeter gap in a 7th-floor balcony window.
Tight squeeze, but slime form gets me anywhere.
The living room was a mess. A man lay sprawled on the floor facing the ceiling. Blood streamed from his nose, foam caked his mouth. Eyes bulging like they might pop out.
Nosebleed first, then foam mixed in. Brain overload followed by convulsions, huh. This guy's the one who summoned Tera Chad.
But—
Sniff sniff. Ugh. Stench.
Not unwashed body odor. I'm used to that from on-duty agents. This was... cold, metallic, unnatural. Not something that should come from the living.
I turned to find the source. On the desk. A silver pen-shaped syringe, cap off. Tiny droplet on the needle tip, and on the side—a familiar logo.
Microgenics. Ah, this. The gray tracksuit guy—Shin Chang-seok—told Yeom Hana never to touch this company's drugs.
Lick. Ew. My brow furrowed the instant it touched my tongue. Iron taste. Cold and slick like fresh stainless steel from the factory. Then an artificial aftertaste like melted plastic creeping up the back of my nose.
Disgusting. Not covering rotten meat stink with spices—this was deliberately stripping away the flavor of human emotions.
Truly vile.
The thought in the doctor's coat started analyzing the drug's composition in my mental world.
If it's that good, what's the problem?
...Why?
Got it. So it's made by someone treating humans as disposable tools.
The doctor-coated thought continued.
Remote puppetry?
Surveillance too?
Hmm, surveillance cam, huh. I looked down at the collapsed man's face. Bulging eyes. And over the pupils—something floated.
A blue rectangle. Like a computer blue screen projected on the pupils, a thin window overlaid on the irises. Reflected inside: this room's ceiling, and me standing beneath it.
Ah, someone's peeping.
Beyond the blue screen, somewhere far away, someone was watching me through this man's eyes.
Hi there, mister. I met his gaze and gave a casual wave.