International Cooperation Project (1)
Suyeon had always been my Zhang Liang.
"We must kill civilians whenever the opportunity arises."
That was how she opened, two or three months ago at an internal strategy meeting.
"Direct confrontation with the Round Table carries too much risk. Even finding them is dangerous, and killing them is far worse. But British hunters operating overseas are different. Those civilians make easy, visible targets—far simpler to eliminate than the Round Table's house soldiers."
British hunters accounted for an abnormally high share of the global high-risk hunting workforce, especially considering the UK's population and terrain. There had to be unseen Round Table influence behind the emergence of so many natural Awakened ability users. The broader Britain's reach grew, the more room the Round Table had to maneuver.
"Hunters recognized in the international market possess above-average talent as ability users. And qualitatively superior hunters are a resource that's nearly impossible to replace with sheer numbers of inferiors."
In environments teeming with massive natural Awakened beings, ability users lacking sufficient mana dominance couldn't wield their powers effectively. Even without such factors, disparities in Awakened abilities created gaps in combat and survival prowess that headcount alone couldn't bridge—like how no amount of armored cars could stand against a single tank.
"By hunting them down, we can indirectly evaporate the Round Table's opportunity costs. Force their hunting dogs into other deployments, waste their masters' man-hours... They're the type with much to protect and much to gain, after all."
With that, Suyeon calmly took a sip of the sea inside her mouth—tea, that is.
"In that sense, maritime accidents seem like a solid choice. With sea Awakened like Leviathan or Wadatsumi Kiyotamahiko on the prowl, wiping out groups of hunters from a specific nationality won't raise suspicions of foul play. It plays to your strengths as asymmetric warfare, hyungnim."
Eventually, the Round Table—burdened by mounting circumstantial evidence and stress—would strike back. But their limits were clear. The ocean was too vast, and in that expansive battlefield, where I held the environmental edge, it would only multiply my hunting opportunities.
That was the core of Suyeon's proposal. Thanks to keeping her sound advice in mind, I didn't let a rare opportunity slip away unnoticed.
Kuung—! Kiiiuuung—
A metallic dissonance echoing from beneath the waves. The death rattle of a sinking ship.
The low rumble of watertight bulkheads rupturing clashed with the high-pitched screech of the hull tearing apart—like a pleasing orchestra to my ears.
'Getting the hang of this.'
My new weapon, held at the ready: vibration.
Super-directional sound waves, forged from my dominion over water. Tuned to the steel hull's natural frequency, the waves triggered mechanical resonance, birthing catastrophe.
The same principle as shattering a glass with one's voice.
The Golden Age's Eye let me discern any material's resonant frequency at a glance.
British bastards in life vests leaped into the sea one after another. Prey splashing down, kicking up white foam from the inertia of their fall.
"...!"
One spotted me, eyes widening. I fired a vibration straight at the sharp-eyed human.
Underwater sound speed was over four times that in air. The British Awakened ability user, struck at 1,500 meters per second, burst like a blooming crimson flower.
Human fragments sank beneath the spreading blood.
Wuuung—!
Mana surged forth, ordinary vision shimmering and fracturing. Each vibration I unleashed popped bodies like ripe fruit—a sight satisfying enough to watch alone.
To avoid suspicious patterns from targeting only Awakened, my magic swept through users and normals alike. The linear sound waves produced only faint echoes in other directions.
The incantation's complexity and circuit occupancy were high drawbacks, but compared to gas explosions, it was far more versatile. Underwater gas blasts risked self-damage at close range and were limited to my dominance radius.
Water vibrations that had merely cleaned armor against Cartel Knight Commander El Maestro—once a trivial trick—had evolved, through relentless refinement and meditation, into a high-level technique capable of shattering ships. As a mage, I couldn't help but feel profound satisfaction.
More honing ahead.
"Hyungnim."
Kyung-tae's voice crackled over the radio receiver.
"Time to wrap up, I think. P-3C patrol squadrons are airborne. Warning nearby ships to clear the lanes left and right."
The relay came via wired connection to a Styrofoam antenna fragment. From afar, it looked like drifting trash—a buoy antenna. Through it, Kyung-tae piped real-time navigation alerts from Japan's Maritime Security Agency Traffic Center.
This was the Seto Inland Sea. Japanese waters.
Sonar buoys and depth charges raining down would be a hassle.
"Got it. Heading back soon."
I retuned the mana cycling through my circuits. A 40-meter-diameter magical amplifier formed.
Uuuuung—!
Until now, I'd been practicing precision shots, popping them one by one. This sound wave spread conically—a wide-area slaughter tool.
The broad waves propagated at sound speed, detonating the flailing bodies in unison.
Fuel leaking from the ruptured hull ignited under intense vibrational friction, erupting in waves of fire.
Thus ended HC Middlesbrough's expedition group—one of the British hunter outfits under long-term contract with the Japanese government—in pathetic annihilation.
No sooner had I completed the objective and withdrawn than turbo-prop engines hummed faintly from the choppy surface.
A noise distinct from the heavy thrum of large ships' hearts.
'Quick, aren't they.'
This area southeast of Hiroshima, near the Geiyo Islands, was a vital shipping lane close to key military bases. The approaching P-3Cs, judging by trajectory, had scrambled from Iwakuni to the west.
Factoring flight speed, they could cover from Iwakuni airfield in about six minutes. My first strike on the target ship was roughly seven minutes ago—testament to the Maritime Self-Defense Force's 31st Air Group swift response.
Thwak—
Cylindrical sonar buoys pierced the surface in sequence. State-of-the-art active sonobuoys at $1,300 apiece.
Reusable in theory, but in swift currents like this, they were expensive disposables scattered without mercy.
High-risk hunting followed economic logic, after all. The squadrons' profligacy stemmed from Japan's massive losses to sea Awakened.
'Japan's coastal hazard rate up 40 times normal, was it?'
Global shipping insurers pegged rates to UK industry assessments by sea zone. Critical for our Nameless Company's international arms division, reports came irregularly to me.
The latest noted Lloyd's designating Japan seas as high-risk zones.
Ships in such waters got no standard coverage—requiring war-risk riders. Insurers already treated man-versus-nature as war.
War premiums multiplied vessel value by hazard rate. At 0.7% for Japan now, a 10-billion-yen megaship faced 70 million yen extra just to pass through.
These hikes were throttling Japan's economy—hardly time to skimp on sonobuoys.
"Any new intel broadcast?"
Kyung-tae replied.
"Nothing special. Breaking news, though. Wadatsumi hit another ship..."
Perfect. They hadn't a clue.
The humpback superorganism Wadatsumi Kiyotamahiko—casually split as Wadatsumi or Kiyotamahiko—wielded sound waves as weapons. Detecting ultra-low frequencies from across the globe, this 30-ton behemoth had refined innate talents into magical attack tech via mana-forged sound.
Other whales shaped sound with mana, but only Wadatsumi among observed specimens could pulverize double-hulled steel in one blow.
Buuuooo—!
Jet noise streaked overhead. No signals on sonobuoys, yet the patrols widened their search, combing the lanes relentlessly.
Wadatsumi's bounty stood at 5.5 billion yen. Even active SDF personnel could claim 30% of Awakened bounties per policy—pilots hunting with fire in their eyes was natural.
Descending the bustling sea to a deserted beach, Kyung-tae awaited.
"Great work today, hyungnim."
"Work? It was a pleasure."
"Glad you enjoyed. Back to the lodge now?"
"Yeah. Getting peckish."
"Yep."
Our temp base for Japan ops: a hotel in Imabari City. Twenty minutes south on the national highway from this beach.
Entering town, a patrol car tailed, signaling inspection. Our high-risk hunter plates gave it away.
Green base, white letters, black border, elongated plate, starting with Japanese kanji 「猟」 for "hunt."
"Licenses, please?"
One cop hung back rifle-ready; the other approached hand on holster, mangled English demanding credentials. Their guns had auto-signal emitters on firing.
"One at a time, in order, slowly."
No issue. We were legally dispatched hunters under Korea-Japan cooperation.
After checking IDs-cum-licenses, confirming no unregistered firearms, the cop softened his glare.
"Thank you for cooperating. Korean hunters—duly noted. Stick to your registered zone. For hunts or area changes, get approval from the local station's Hunting Safety Planning Division."
Canned spiel.
"No worries. Fully briefed. Check shows no issued ammo, so relax, officer."
Kyung-tae's fluent Japanese drew wide eyes, then a light smile as he waved us off.
Our licenses: fruits of Korea's high-risk hunter and special certified ability exams.
Two days after North America HQ return. Personality tests, orals, tactical shooting practicals, fitness, reinforcement coefficient measures.
My exam was lenient—unlimited practical retakes—but annual renewals and mandatory training aimed to elevate hunter quality, per government policy.