Chapter 93
Chapter 93
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 93
Chapter Title: Weeding Out the Fakes
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I listened to the endless chatter crackling over the radio, then pressed the button down hard. A shrill beeeeeep echoed across the channel.
It was originally meant for Morse code signaling, but it worked just as well for shutting everyone up.
"Everyone, shut it. You think if you keep yapping, the fakes are gonna announce, 'Hey, I'm a fake!'?"
Panicking was pointless. What we needed wasn't babbling back and forth.
— So what, should we do some friend-or-foe armbands or something?
"Should've thought of that earlier."
As if those would help. Anyone with eyes could spot someone sneaking through the dark at night, check their armband, and mimic it on the spot.
What idiot would rely on that crap to tell friend from foe in a real fight?
It was just something the military made soldiers wear during training to avoid looking like they were doing nothing. Had to keep busy, right?
A password might've been useful. I spoke calmly into the radio.
"Everyone, don't respond no matter what. Just listen to me."
They copied appearances, not memories. That gave us something solid.
"Remember what we had for dinner last night? When you meet someone, check that first. If they can't answer, kill 'em."
Last night's special was prime sirloin steak. If someone forgot that... well, with memory that bad, getting killed by another hunter might as well be natural causes.
Hell, they'd probably forget how to breathe soon and choke on air anyway.
— That won't hold for long. They'll figure it out eventually.
"Until they do, we've thinned the fake herd a bit, haven't we?"
Another voice chimed in—I couldn't tell who through the static.
— What if they've copied memories too?
"Messing with a sapient being's memories is insanely hard."
It was worlds apart from tweaking emotions or spotting fake behavior. Manipulating or extracting a person's experiences and memories, then interfering? Near impossible.
"Memory manipulation isn't some ugly, stinky fatso flashing his phone at a girl to mind-trick her."
Memories and experiences were higher concepts, far above emotions or reason. Bad memories bred bad feelings toward certain things; good ones did the opposite.
Reason worked the same way. People drew on past experiences and memories for logical judgments. Emotions and logic depended entirely on them.
Even Paradox Flame needed massive output to burn memories away—and I couldn't handle that level yet.
— Got it... Yeah, we can work with that in a few ways.
"Don't talk too much over the radio."
No memories didn't mean no learning. They could analyze our chatter and adapt.
I finished up and scanned my surroundings slowly.
"Who... are you?"
In the forest of gems, someone emerged. Their face was hidden behind a white mask. Their body gave no clue if they were male or female.
And as I'd guessed from the radio, their voice was distorted.
They wore a drab gray suit. Even my spear—my main weapon—was gone. No distinguishing by gear, either.
"So that's how I look to you, huh."
I must look the same to them. No visual tells here.
"What'd we eat for dinner last night?"
They hesitated with an "Uh..." I charged instantly. Who the hell needs time to remember prime sirloin? Answer fast—that stuff was delicious.
I swung my fist; they dodged. I let out a small grunt of admiration.
"Thorough, aren't you."
Our physical capabilities were perfectly equalized. No overpowering with strength or speed.
But I still controlled Paradox Flame. One of those inscriptions the gem bird carved into the sand had exempted me, right?
"Smart choice. Pretty wise, even."
If they couldn't control Paradox Flame, the whole Erosion Core's malice would burn up. Not what the core wanted. A compromise.
After a few exchanges, I spotted an opening and smashed my fist into their skull.
Crack! Their head burst open.
"Won't last long anyway."
Sorting fifty out of a hundred with sirloin? That'd be a miracle.
I'd asked first this time, but soon fakes would turn the tables. The questioned real would have to answer to avoid suspicion...
Our menu would spread among the fakes fast. Another approached.
"Dinner last night?"
"Sirloin."
"Name."
"Han Kyung-seok."
I nodded.
"Good. What university did you graduate from?"
"..."
Boom. Caught one already.
I knew the personal details of everyone here for the Jaun Valley subjugation. I'd forget eventually, but not this soon.
I rushed in, blocked their kick, grabbed the leg, smashed the knee with my elbow, then pummeled their face till they were done.
"They've got some kind of hive mind, huh."
I figured they'd share via radio: "Dinner was sirloin!" But no such chatter from the fakes.
Sirloin was burned. I shared that over the radio and continued.
"Everyone, come up with your own questions to ID partners."
Problem was, they had to be good ones. I knew details on the others here, but most hunters didn't know their teammates' bios cold. Unless they teamed up regularly.
So we'd fall back on Jaun Valley memories...
"But those are common knowledge."
Like "What city did we raid last?" Filters one, but once they learn the answer and throw it back, it's useless.
"What a pain in the ass."
I muttered, then keyed the radio.
"This is Yoo Chan-seok. I'm firing a flare."
We'd packed flares, obviously. A hundred hunters operating without operator support? Basic kit.
About ten on me. Fired skyward, they'd be visible far off. The mosaic sky shifting colors nonstop would make spotting tough, but...
Hunters, though. If dizziness stopped them from seeing flares, they deserved to die here.
"When you see flares go up, head to any of them."
Radio on, I loaded a flare.
"Firing on three. One, two, three."
My flare launched—along with nearly fifty more. Knew it. I spoke fast.
"Doesn't matter which one. Go kill 'em all."
Everyone but me was fake. Radio crackled back.
— But that means Yoo Chan-seok the hunter gets attacked too!
"It's fine. Even if you all come at me, I'll win."
Same specs, sure. But technique, experience, savvy? No contest.
Fifty rushing me? I'd take 'em. This'd filter more fakes.
Head hurt from all the scheming. As I waited, someone zipped in.
"Shit, you scared me. Nearly jumped out of my skin."
"Skins don't jump."
I fired back instantly.
"...You?"
Hard to imagine two people quipping like that. But instead of answering, Han Sang-ah charged and swung a downward kick.
I nudged her ankle aside; the kick veered into the shimmering sand. Thud! It erupted.
I grabbed her arm, twisted the joint, and slammed her down. Her head planted in the multicolored sand, legs up in a handstand.
She yanked free, snorted out sand, rubbed her nose, and said,
"Yeah. Seems like Yoo Chan-seok."
"It's me, dummy."
And you're Han Sang-ah. No fake could nail her vibe.
"Han Sang-ah. Nice to see a familiar face."
"How'd you know it's me?"
Impossible not to. Two hours with her, and anyone would clock it.
"Deny it all you want; not buying."
The mystery woman before me was definitely Han Sang-ah.
"But for manners, final goal?"
"Club Sandai."
I nodded. She shot back,
"First Erosion Core we cleared together?"
"Gyodong Island."
One real confirmed. Any fakes mimicking her now get wrecked. Though I doubted one could fake her convincingly.
Find Jeong No-hun, and we'd have our headhunter core.
"You memorized the other hunters' details too?"
She nodded.
"Every last one. Forward, backward, whatever."
We could ID anyone we ran into. Age, family? Near certain.
En route, we met seventeen more. Thirteen fakes, four real.
"No sign of Jeong No-hun."
"Maybe he's dead."
"Jeong No-hun? I trained with that guy."
Equalized stats or not, he wouldn't go down easy.
"Plus, he's not the type to get done in anywhere."
You needed more than a nice personality for back-alley cred.
Worry about worriers.
"Anyway, we need to group up."
Wandering aimlessly? No end in sight. Gather, sort fast, execute publicly.
"Wish we could light a fire or something."
Problem: no living plants here. All gem imitations. Even the monsters were ghosts.
A world of minerals and phantoms. To rally people...