Chapter 54
Chapter 54
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 054
Chapter Title: Consciousness Possession
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In the meantime, the sporty-haired guy raised his voice unnecessarily and swung his arm toward the existing inmates who were staring at him like he was some lunatic.
"What's your problem, you bastards?!"
He scowled fiercely and shouted.
"Lower those damn eyes of yours!"
The other inmates muttered at the sight.
"That crazy bastard..."
"He's screwed."
"Fuck, screwed my ass—what's there to screw up, you pricks."
The sporty-haired guy brushed off the tension with a hollow laugh and patted Kyle's shoulder again. Tap, tap.
"What, you guys his babysitters or something? Spitting on a worthless punk like this and making a big deal out of it..."
At that moment, Kyle grabbed the wrist of the hand slapping his shoulder with a snap! and spoke in a soft voice.
"That's far enough, yeah?"
"Ha, you little shit. Let go..."
As he tried to shake off the hand, he flinched.
'What the— this guy.'
The deputy's pupils trembled.
'The strength...!'
"He's still my deputy for now, so I'll give you a chance."
"What?"
Kyle hardened his expression and said.
"Apologize right now, promise not to cause trouble anymore, and say you'll listen well. Then we'll stop here."
At those words, the guy let out an incredulous laugh and glanced at the other rookies nearby.
"You hear that? Hey, he says apologize."
"Hah."
"Fuck, this punk thinks he's hot shit just 'cause he can grip hard. He sees me as a pushover right now?"
Whirr, the sporty-haired guy activated the implant in his right arm and yelled.
"Fuck off!"
At the same time, the booster at his elbow exploded temporarily, accelerating his fist in a surge.
The lightning-fast, vicious strike hurtled toward Kyle's face to smash it in.
"?!"
But suddenly, chilling eyes were right in front of his nose, making the deputy raise his gaze in panic.
"What the...?!"
Kyle whispered toward him.
"Knew you'd pull something like this."
These guys always are.
"Won't apologize even if it kills you."
His fist whipped out in a curve, slamming toward the guy's solar plexus with enough force to pierce right through.
Thud!!
"Gahk?!"
The sheer power lifted the 90kg body clean off the ground as if by magic.
A straight punch followed mercilessly into his wide-eyed face.
Kaboom!!
He spun half a turn in mid-air before his head literally crashed into the floor.
"!!"
"?!"
"C-Crazy..."
The rookies watching couldn't believe the punching power coming from that young face—their jaws dropped wide open.
But Kyle himself was equally shocked.
He blinked down at his fist.
'Uh... I was just gonna go easy on him.'
That was why he hadn't even used any skills on purpose.
There were guards watching, and he couldn't half-cripple fresh recruits on day one.
But what was this?
He scratched his head as he looked down at the deputy—or ex-deputy now—who was literally smashed to pieces.
'...No skills, and I'm already this strong?'
It was the effect of the ability he hadn't fully appreciated until now: Death Forging.
Kyle nodded to himself in realization.
'Yeah, I've died a ton lately.'
And he'd kept getting S-ranks too, so his stats must have shot up from that alone.
Kyle turned to the shocked faces of the rookie inmates staring at him and asked.
"So, anyone still got a problem?"
At that, the rookies exchanged glances and shook their heads at light speed.
"No."
"None."
"No, boss."
"Sorry, boss."
Kyle nodded at how snappily they responded now.
"Good."
Meanwhile, the patrol officer monitoring the scene via CCTV looked up.
"Uh... Sarge. What now?"
"What do you mean, what?"
The sergeant, feet propped on the desk and leaning back, chewed his gum with a smack-smack and replied.
"It's the Butcher. Let it slide."
"B-But Sarge."
The patrol officer pointed at the monitor.
"Th-That guy's turned into complete mush..."
"If one guy's mush makes the rest behave, that's a win."
"Uh... you think?"
"Yeah, kid."
The sergeant glared at the CCTV monitor and said.
"Hey, whatever. Send someone to drag that punk to the med bay or something."
"Got it."
The officer nodded and blew into the radio.
"Heh heh, control room to correction officers. Injury in 3rd Platoon. Injury in 3rd Platoon. Send to infirmary. Over."
"Hah, that guy's got the worst luck. Who picks a fight with the Butcher of all people? Idiot."
His facial bones looked smashed to bits—doubt he'd have the cash for proper implants.
'Oh well, not our problem.'
The sergeant was still chewing his gum when he jabbed at the monitor and urgently called the patrol officer.
"Hey hey! Cam 5!"
"Huh?"
"Shit, there's a brawl in 2nd Company 1st Platoon, you idiot! Get your head in the game! Send guards to break it up now. If they don't listen, make an example—blow one bastard's head off if you have to. Got it?!"
"Y-Yes! Right away!"
Click! Click!
Jim Gordon of the Intelligence Agency grimaced at the incessant shutter sounds of the investigation drones.
"Damn it..."
Before his eyes lay Max Edinger on the sofa, looking like he'd taken his own life.
Gordon gave a hollow laugh after a quick scan of the body.
"Cutting off the tail like this?"
"Sarge."
Cash approached and showed him a tablet.
"We found a suicide note from Max Edinger."
"......"
He snatched it and scrolled rapidly with his finger.
"If you're gonna fake a note, at least copy a handwriting sample and do it right."
Wrote this on a tablet too?
"Hilarious. Absolutely hilarious."
The note claimed everything was Max Edinger's solo act, and he'd killed himself out of fear of arrest.
"Looks like he was in a real rush."
"For a rush job, the scene's staged pretty well."
CCTV was conveniently out from a blackout that day.
No signs of outside intrusion, and the scene screamed solo suicide.
Cash asked.
"Should we request a warrant for Councilor Marshall's location records from Internal Affairs?"
"Hey. Marshall."
Gordon bit down on his pipe as he exited the scene and exhaled sharply.
"Family's basically brothers with the Luthers. Ever think how many Marshall loyalists are hiding in Internal Affairs, which answers straight to Luther?"
He lit the pipe with a flick and muttered.
"High chance it'll get denied. 'Submit evidence worthy of the request,' they'll say."
"Then what?"
"Start over by rooting out the rats inside first."
The forensics leak was a major security breach.
"Fucking bastards... hitting us in the back with our own forensics results?"
One silver lining: they didn't seem to realize we knew about the forensics team yet.
"How? If we go internal investigation, they'll prep ahead."
"Better to set a trap."
Then slam them when they can't deny it.
"But what's the bait?"
Gordon replied.
"That Viper Guild assassin we nabbed this time."
He narrowed his eyes, smoke curling from his lit pipe.
"Use that bastard as bait under forensics pretext."
Meanwhile, in a secret location in Sector 18 of the 8th Special District.
In an ancient temple filled with eerie monster statues, an old man tending the altar fire turned around.
"Was that statement sincere?"
A young man who looked barely into his early twenties nodded arrogantly.
"It was. So have the Torch Summoners of Akio prepare accordingly."
"Hah."
The old man shook his head in disbelief.
"Seems our young mage doesn't know a thing."
He snapped his fingers, extinguishing the torch in his hand, and tightened his purple robe.
"Dragons aren't something you summon so easily."
In the past, when the World Tree still bloomed green and the air held more mystery, dragons were rare but not impossibly so.
"But after the Age of Chaos, they've become something you can't take lightly."
Because most had ascended long ago, leaving the material world behind.
"All that's left are wyverns in the demon realm beyond the eastern mountains, at best."
Summon a dragon in this era?
The old man scoffed.
"A hundred out of a hundred, it'll fall short. Even if successful, you'd get an inferior sub-dragon at most."
"Hahaha!!"
The young man laughed and held up both hands.
"Amusing. Is the summoner of the 8th Special District seriously trying to lecture me? Top of the elite in Sapientia itself?"
At that arrogant remark, the other summoners who'd been watching silently showed furious faces.
"Insolent brat...!"
"A mage tower lackey gets to be this rude?!"
The old man raised a hand to silence them and narrowed his eyes.
"Hoo."
He asked with keen interest.
"Then why make such an unreasonable demand of us, if you know so much?"
"Because with the right catalyst, it's a different story entirely."
"...!"
The young man smirked.
"Isn't it?"
That single line shifted the temple's atmosphere.
The prior outrage vanished, replaced by intellectual curiosity and anticipation.
"A catalyst?"
"You have one related to dragons?"
He chuckled at their reactions and raised his hand. Black-robed figures approached from behind screens, presenting an object draped in fine cloth.
"Remember this: Sapientia is a repository of knowledge and relics."
He caressed it reverently before pulling off the cloth.
A golden staff gleamed in the dim temple center.
The summoners' eyes widened.
"Th-That's...!"
"Behold, and marvel. This heirloom of our Leverk Family—the founder's staff, woven and forged by an ancient ice dragon himself."
"Ooh...!"
They whispered amid the indescribable glow.
"An ancient ice dragon."
"The mage tower has relics like that?"
"With that staff..."
"We might actually summon an ancient dragon type."
"Well? Old timer."
The young man gazed at the purple-robed elder with supreme arrogance.
"Still unreasonable?"
"Heh heh heh."
The old man burst into laughter.
"Hahahahaha!!"
He shook his head a few times before continuing.
"True, that relic could summon a long-ascended dragon back to this plane."
His eyes gleamed in the darkness.
"But summoning is one thing. Controlling its consciousness is entirely another, as you know."
Dragons possessed noble minds unlike other beasts.
"No half-baked ritual will bend it to our will."
"Of course. That's why I came personally to this frigid, filthy 8th District."
"Hoo, you have a way to control the consciousness?"
"Don't lump me with incompetents like you. Naturally I do."
He snorted and pointed elegantly at himself.
"When you summon the ancient dragon, I'll synchronize my consciousness with the ritual."
"!!"
The startled old man asked again.
"You mean possess the summoned dragon's mind?"
"Correct."
"Madness. By the ritual's end, your consciousness would be shredded."
"If lowly things like you tried, maybe."
The man placed a hand on his chest.
"But I'm different."
"Different how?"
"Exactly."
He strolled casually before the monster statues and continued.
"The Leverks stem from a dragon pact, a draconic bloodline. Over centuries, the dragon essence in our blood has faded..."
Tap! He stopped and smirked.
"But I, heir to Grandfather and Father, future head of great Leverk... am exceptional."
He spread his arms wide.
"My mana brims with dragon essence thicker than ever."
The sole grandson born with dragon mana in centuries: Walter Leverk? No—Franz Leverk.
That was the young man's true identity: Franz Leverk.
"With my talent, my mana—perfect affinity for dragons. Possession poses no issue... So just do as I say and skip the needless worries."
"...But grandson of Leverk."
The old man leading Akio's Torch warned.
"Possessing a dragon's consciousness means sharing its life while summoned."
If the dragon dies...
"Yours dies too, no?"
"Hah, pointless worry. What does it matter?"
Franz Leverk smirked.
No matter what the likes of the Mafia Butcher could do.
"Nothing can touch an ancient dragon."