Chapter 34
Chapter 34
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: Wings of Steel
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An 80-car train racing through Siberia. Even if you figure each car's length at just 14 meters, the total surpasses 1 kilometer.
Such a long, massive beast charging gleefully along the tracks was bound to draw someone's attention.
Spare time, my ass. Amid hundreds of wings whipping up a storm like crazy, who's got spare time?
"Damn, everything's going just swimmingly."
For example, monsters from the Erosion Zone.
We're in the thick of battling a swarm of bodyless wings right now. Grotesque things—massive wings plastered with eyeballs everywhere. Like peacock feathers that crawled straight out of hell.
And that's not all. The wings are forged from metal, sharp as razor blades. Hundreds swarming the train like a locust plague? A real pain in the ass.
"If Lee Se-eun could jump in, this would be a cakewalk."
Not gonna happen. To keep this train barreling down the barely intact Siberian rails, we've got operations and repairs running simultaneously in spots.
The track repair crews working in real time can't fend off monsters solo. If they go down, our kilometer-plus train's staring down derailment.
So Lee Se-eun's glued to the train's front end, no bandwidth for troubles elsewhere.
"No clue which bastard dreamed this plan up."
Tethering the heavy hitters in one spot without unleashing them. If I were commander, I'd lop off that idiot's head and parade it through the market square.
I bolted for the ordered spot. The spear in my grip stretched and shrank on its own, shredding the pesky eye-studded wings surging in.
"Outta the way!"
I yelled it while clamping both hands right below the blade, extending the spear full-out for a pole-vault spin.
Hanging in midair, the train kept rolling—I swung nonstop, thinning their ranks from the sky.
"One, two."
Landing clean on car 57. Just as urgent as they said: a handful of hunters barely holding back the steel-wing frenzy. Cargo containers already sported slashes all over.
"Scram!"
I snatched a wing lunging for my head, smashed it barehanded, then swept the scene.
"Cargo's not the target."
They're just out to carve up people. Small mercy?
"Yoo Chan-seok Hunter, thank you!"
The defenders fighting them off bowed my way.
"Head elsewhere."
I can solo this; better they plug other holes.
"You there—take five."
Called it to one of the hunters bugging out.
"Huh? I'm still good..."
"Wanna drag everyone down? Rest up."
Came out bossy on reflex. Mana's tapped, body's beat. By my gauge, he's off the combat roster.
"You drop, it's game over. Recover fast, get back."
Spear kept whirling through my words—stretching, snapping short, pulverizing the swarm.
"Roger."
He peeled off; I ground on. Kinda rote, really. Sense 'em, smash 'em one by one.
"Damn, they're swarming hard. Numbers game?"
Massacred a ton already, but endless wings still circled the speeding train. Thousands, easy.
Hunters hustled nonstop, dropping 'em, but total wipeout? Fat chance.
Took orders, darted cargo-to-cargo atop the racing train, mopping up clingy freaks.
That dragged on for a solid two hours.
Finally, the stubborn bastards either bailed or hit their turf's edge.
"Hoo."
Hunters collapsed on the roof, faces drained. I shrank the spear max, hooked it to my belt, no chit-chat.
Eyeballed the downtime crew. Grim vibes.
"Max out mana recovery. More scraps inbound possible."
Hunters mid-elixir ampoule slurp shot me baffled looks.
"How you... Yoo Chan-seok Hunter, still fresh as hell?"
"What're you on about? Drop the formal crap in this mess—keep it snappy."
He nodded, pressed on.
"Your mana's untouched."
"One of my killer perks."
Fished a chocolate bar from my pocket, chomped. Scratched-up Han Sang-ah sheathed her blade mid-that, tossed in:
"You soloed hundreds easy. We'd be screwed without ya."
"Ditto. One of my charms. Embargo Tower scouts sharp."
Gave Han Sang-ah a quick once-over, opened up.
"Grab some eggs. Time to gauge your drills."
She hopped up compliant, fetched 'em quick.
She stabbed away with chopsticks, needles, whatever—demo'd results.
Checked the innards, nodded.
"Fully cooked now."
"That's raw."
Not the egg—your four-egg poke game. What to do with her? Talent and sense swapped bodies or what?
"This drill's tapped out. Hands got finesse, no doubt."
"Boss made me grind it—duh."
I declared it, snagged one of her eggs for phase two.
"Eggs again?"
"Yup, eggs. Different twist, though?"
Wistful look crossed her face.
"Eggs are luxury overseas. Russia scale? 3,500 won a pair."
News to me. Korea's 6,000 for ten—not cheap either, double my old memories. Mild overseas, though.
"Geumyang Group heiress, right?"
"Hence the egg drills."
No sin training with eggs. Practice, not play—food gets eaten after.
"Watch."
Cracked mine into a bowl. Shell contents: yolk and white scrambled yellow.
"Internal Crush Method?"
"Heard it called that."
Channel mana, pulverize insides sans shell damage.
"Plain smash ain't it. Basic mana tweak does that."
"Word."
She could yolk-bust shell-intact now, probs.
Not my goal.
"Scramble it thorough—crack-and-fry ready."
"Tall order."
"Training's the point."
Her mug lit with fire. Face like an open book.
"Heads-up: not combat tech."
Dumps efficiency outside niches.
Piano-wise? Etude. Bang Hanon for concerto gold.
"Mana control reps. Real fights? Your polished kit."
"Clear."
Chatting Han Sang-ah, scanning—I froze, snatched the radio.
Airbase briefing flashed—answered:
"We hit Khabarovsk outskirts, yeah?"
Briefing hit threats—including Nikola's armed mob turf around there.
Train eased speed. Quick glance: boulder mountain—hundreds of tons—choking tracks, oiled and torched for tough clear.
Lee Se-eun cut in via radio. Horizon erupted—insane mana scale churning.
"Shit."
Mana so vicious, eyeing it dizzied—train-locked.
Her voice. Same beat, horizon spewed monstrous white-hot beam train-bound.
Didn't connect. Midway: one figure wedged in. Lee Se-eun.
Two-handed sword slash flashed—train-vaporizer beam rocketed skyward.
"Yo, that ain't human."
Bat that off? No casual feat. She ping-ponged a mana nuke.
Top 10, yeah? Fits the bill amid hunter hordes.
Awe-worthy. Arcing beam blew sky-high—night flashed noon-bright.
"Hundreds strong."
Glow lit shadows: hundreds armed humans charging the slowed train.
No sooner spotted than eerie horns blared, horde rushed—song swelled.
"What tune?"
Han Sang-ah fired back:
"Cold War Soviet march. Lyrics now... 'If foes dare test our might, make 'em quit testing forever.'"
"Psycho fucks."
Lunatics left, right, center.
Train slowed regardless. Kilometer beast needs ramp-up time post-brake.
"Least Lee Se-eun Hunter's free now..."
Train halts, repair folk bunker to panic rooms, she mobilizes. Battlegear hunter muttered it.
Sudden: hundreds of papers bloomed round Lee Se-eun—purple lines webbed 'em.
"Talismans?"
Use screamed instant. Street talk: breaded her. Classy: sealed tight.
No approach; she stays till seal shatters.
"How the hell so quick?!"
Beefy seal's tough. Speed? Mind-blower.
Trapped solid. Shit just hit complication mode.