Chapter 16
Chapter 16
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 16
Chapter Title: The Inevitability Faced by the Mob (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
* * *
***
The cold sea breeze paused for a moment, and dawn timidly peeked over the horizon.
A small smuggling boat was heading toward Incheon Port.
On the boat, smaller than a cheap fishing vessel, rode two people cloaked in ponchos and one smuggler.
The two people's long ears peeked slightly out from under their ponchos, but the smuggler didn't even glance at them.
The smuggler didn't care who his passengers were or what race they belonged to. As long as he got paid handsomely, that was it.
In that sense, these passengers were good customers. One gold bar each—two gold bars total. An enormous sum just for smuggling two people in.
Thinking today was his lucky day, the smuggler vigorously steered the boat. His dinghy skirted around the harbor, heading for the abandoned pier.
It was a route known only to him among smugglers. Any larger boat would get caught by the guards and turned into a beehive.
But the greater the risk, the greater the reward once you broke through.
Following this path to the sealed Pier 13, security was lax enough to walk right into downtown Incheon.
The dinghy smoothly cut through the water. After steering for about thirty minutes along the stretching dawn light, the destination came into view in the distance.
"Passengers, we're almost there."
The smuggler smiled at Pier 13, his destination. Or at least, he tried to.
'...Lights?'
The moment he spotted Pier 13 in the distance, the smuggler had to tilt his head.
The pier, where not even an ant had stirred before, was now brightly lit everywhere.
Wondering what the hell was going on, he narrowed his eyes and scanned Pier 13.
Between the lights, he could see collapsed containers, something huge, and people in suits milling about.
'...What the hell are those?'
The moment the smuggler felt an ominous premonition, his passengers spoke up.
"I thought this was a decent country, but it's crawling with scum right from the entrance."
It was a chillingly beautiful voice. The smuggler startled and stopped the dinghy.
"...My oversight. Comrade Miridis."
"No need to apologize. Comrade Rime. It's not your fault the advance team's comms got cut off."
"However... it was I who suggested coming to this country."
"Like I said, it's fine. If we're assigning blame, it's mine for coming to Earth in the first place."
Comrade? The smuggler’s head throbbed the instant he heard the terms.
He'd suspected as much from the long ears, but it was true after all?
'Commie elves....'
The smuggler bowed his head deeply to avoid eye contact and cautiously opened his mouth.
"Uh, passengers... there's a problem with the original destination, so we need to head somewhere else. It's just a little detour, so please wait a bit longer."
He did his best not to let his voice tremble, but the response made his body shake.
"No need for that. That pier is the original destination, right? We'll head straight there."
"Uh... but for smuggling, staying out of sight is key."
"If you're worried about being spotted, you don't need to worry at all."
"...Pardon?"
"They've already seen us."
What? As the smuggler raised his head, something at the end of the pier caught his eye.
A suit-wearing figure with a cow head mask.
Whether it was a disguise or a mask, the cow head was staring straight at his dinghy.
'Fuck, no wonder today felt too lucky....'
The smuggler wanted to flee right then, but he had no choice. Hoping the rumors about commies being tough were true, he steered the dinghy toward the pier.
***
Splash—
As Iron Dung Beetle turned on the shower, water poured over his head. The blood and grime accumulated over days flowed down his body into the drain.
He gazed at the reddening floor, recalling the people—or things that had once been people—he'd killed.
Fortunately, he felt no regret or guilt.
Feeling faint relief, Iron Dung Beetle silently washed his body.
He kept going until no more blood flowed from him.
Only after using up a whole bar of soap and ensuring no more blood or filth came off did he leave the shower.
But the moment he opened the door, he froze.
"Uh... I didn't notice before you washed, but you're pretty handsome, huh?"
Waiting outside the shower was Seti, eating cup ramen.
Iron Dung Beetle slightly raised an eyebrow and checked the cheap motel bed she was sitting on.
The bed was piled with all sorts of convenience store foods: ramen, triangle kimbap, hamburgers and bread, cakes, and more...
Half seemed already in her stomach, with only wrappers left, while the other half waited half-unwrapped to be devoured.
"...When the hell did you buy all this food?"
"While you were holed up in the bathroom for thirty minutes showering."
"...."
"I'm the type that has to replenish as much as I exert. I don't usually eat instant stuff like this, but..."
She glanced back and forth between Iron Dung Beetle and the motel room, then cleared her throat awkwardly.
"Ahem, when you're secretly in a motel with a guy, you can't be picky about food."
Slurp. She downed the ramen broth in one go and picked up a triangle kimbap.
Iron Dung Beetle shook his head and sat on the chair by the bed. He'd planned to talk right away, but even dogs don't disturb someone eating. He could wait for her meal.
He watched Seti for a moment, then recalled their last conversation at Pier 13.
—Want to team up? You help with my revenge, and I help with yours against the government. Staking our lives on it.
It was far too wordy for an answer to "What do you want?"
At first, he'd frowned, thinking what nonsense this was, but Seti was serious.
—I get it if you don't believe me. But my offer is genuine.
Iron Dung Beetle had asked who she wanted revenge on. Her answer was short and concise.
—Do you think you're the only one with a grudge against this country's government?
Iron Dung Beetle didn't reply. Too many recent events made him wary of the sudden alliance proposal.
Then Seti started wandering the pier, saying she'd prove her sincerity.
First, she mangled Pig Head's corpse and found the Clerk's body, staging it to look crushed under the Titan.
Next target: Iron Dung Beetle's traces scattered around the pier.
Grenade and shotgun marks on the Titan's body, shell casings, grenade fragments... She pushed them away, smashed them, erased them one by one.
Only after watching it all did Iron Dung Beetle belatedly realize one possibility.
The government analyzing traces and tracking him.
Seti had manipulated the scene out of worry for that very possibility he hadn't noticed. To prevent the government from detecting or pursuing him.
If someone examined the scene later, it'd look like she'd fought the necromancer.
—Like I said before, teaming up with me means you never lose out.
After finishing, she handed him the bag the Clerk had carried.
None other than the bag with the Awakening Potions. Unfortunately, only one vial inside remained intact.
But that was enough. It was a potion the government had dealt with a necromancer to obtain. Even one would be worth billions.
—Why show me this kindness?
—Kindness and favors are the basics of a deal, right?
After hearing that, even Iron Dung Beetle's heart stirred a bit.
He decided to hear her out. Or pretend to, to test her sincerity.
—Shall we move locations first, then?
They left the pier side by side. To evade potential pursuit, they looped around the city outskirts and arrived at a deserted motel.
And... now.
Iron Dung Beetle asked Seti, who was swallowing the last triangle kimbap.
"Mind telling me what makes you think you can make me this offer? Start with the reason."
Munch munch. Seti, cheeks stuffed like a hamster, leisurely swallowed and wiped her mouth before answering.
"Hmm, two reasons."
"...Two?"
"First, your talent."
"Talent, huh."
As Iron Dung Beetle trailed off, Seti smiled faintly.
"The Flying Leg Art you stole from me by eye. You used it perfectly."
"...."
"You know? That footwork you stole and learned. It's called Feather Step. I've trained in it since I was little, and every time I sprained an ankle, the instructors whipped my calves."
Recalling the past, Seti's smile turned slightly cynical.
"I practiced like mad for months, getting beaten until my calves burst. Only then could I use Feather Step perfectly. You know what they said the moment I nailed it?"
"...No idea."
"Genius! The instructor called me a once-in-a-century genius. Heh, get it? Even mastering Feather Step in months earns you genius status. But you? Ta-da, perfect in just three days?"
"Perfect" was inaccurate. Iron Dung Beetle's Feather Step was far from flawless.
While dodging the Titan's attacks, his ankles twisted repeatedly, ligaments stretching to the limit.
Insight lacking, control insufficient. He could use it only thanks to absurd physical durability and regeneration.
But Iron Dung Beetle didn't voice that. Instead, he pivoted with milder wording.
"...Isn't basing my talent on just that one technique a hasty leap? Maybe I just suit that Feather Step thing."
The moment he finished, Seti's eyes curved long.
"...Being able to say that proves you're a talent monster. Talking like you know jack about martial arts, yet your body executes it flawlessly. If that's not talent, what is?"
"...."
"Real martial arts like Flying Leg Art aren't like sports. Once mana handling's involved, it's not about fitting or not."
Seti grumbled briefly, then sighed softly and continued.
"And above all... you used True Strike."
"True Strike?"
"The technique that smashed the Titan's head. Hmm... how to put it, like Flying Leg Art's ultimate move."
"...That's an ultimate move?"
Iron Dung Beetle recalled shattering the Titan's head. Immense power, but no intricate skill.
Pour everything into one strike, body be damned.
That was it. Overcoming the instinctive limit humans set to suppress recoil, loading power.
For him, a gamble banking on regeneration.
Ultimate move? Without regeneration, it'd just be a suicide bomb.
As he frowned dubiously, Seti added.
"Flying Leg Art aside, True Strike is a stepping stone to advanced techniques. Without talent, even learning it's impossible."
"...."
"You felt it when you used True Strike, right? Total body control to complete it."
Ah. Iron Dung Beetle finally grasped True Strike's essence.
Surpassing the body's set limits.
He'd succeeded too easily to notice, but it was unlocking instinct's padlock.
Enhancing senses with mana is hard enough—let alone instinct? If not talent, what is?
"...Now you see why I believe your talent is real, Mr. Iron Dung Beetle?"
Iron Dung Beetle nodded quietly.
He shelved the small realization in his mind for later and pressed on.
"So, what's the second reason?"
"Your thirst for revenge."
Instant, unexpected answer. Iron Dung Beetle frowned slightly.
"My thirst for revenge? What does that matter?"
"You didn't run."
"...."
Seti met his eyes directly and continued.
"When fighting the necromancer. You could have run, but didn't."
"...."
"No matter how fast the Titan or necromancer, Feather Step would've outrun them. Your burst speed's way higher, and the necromancer couldn't exactly drive a car."
"That was..."
"Without me, you'd have died there. You knew it too."
Iron Dung Beetle couldn't muster a rebuttal. She was right.
"But you didn't run. Because dying was better than fleeing."
Seti's blue eyes gazing at him. Deep within swirled emotions he couldn't fathom.
"Right?"
"...."
Her voice, laced with regret, pierced his heart.
"Heh, it's all over your face, Mr. Iron Dung Beetle. You're thinking right now, 'How does she know so well?'"
And at her next words, ripples stirred in Iron Dung Beetle's heart.
"Because I've been in the exact same spot."
Seti slowly raised her head. Her eyes turned not to the dingy motel ceiling, but to a distant past.
"But... I ran."
Iron Dung Beetle couldn't know what past she recalled. But one thing was certain.
She regretted it.
"While running, I thought, 'Better to live and revenge later than die here...'"
Fists clenched, voice trembling.
"But once I survived that way, I never mustered the nerve for revenge again. The enemy was way stronger, and survivors have to live..."
She slowly lowered her head. In Seti's blue eyes, free of the past, Iron Dung Beetle reflected.
"...Pathetic story, huh?"
"Yeah, pathetic."
Kuku, Seti covered her mouth and laughed.
"I'd have gotten mad if you'd even politely said no."
With that, they fell silent for a moment.
Brief thoughts brushed past each other, then Seti extended her hand.
"Mr. Iron Dung Beetle, team up with me? You help me, I help you—staking our lives."
Iron Dung Beetle didn't answer. He rested his chin, gazing at her hand. Calluses here and there, but delicate and beautiful.
A hand from a world utterly unlike his.
"Uh... if you do nothing in this mood, I feel kinda awkward...."
"Seti."
"Yes?"
"Let's join hands. You help me, I help you. But no staking lives."
"...."
"That's my condition."
Iron Dung Beetle extended his hand in turn.
Calluses that no amount of soap could hide, the hand of a cleaner... no, a killer.
Seti blankly alternated between his face and hand, then burst out laughing.
"Fine. Deal."
She reached out. Their hands clasped, and Iron Dung Beetle realized it was the first time he'd ever held a woman's hand.
* * *