Chapter 319. in the Dead of Night (5)
At the sa ti, Ranking No. 1 and No. 2 were both getting lost in useless thoughts.
My god. No matter how many tis I check, it's always the sa disgusting bug-like number.
Sir, I'm sorry to interrupt, but with 33Aw, wouldn't that at least make it about guinea pig level?
Of course, there was quite a gap between imagination and reality. Kim Giryeo had, at this point, already completely reversed his true level sowhere along one of the side paths of that cave. However, for those currently facing a powerful enemy over by the grassy area, there was no real way to know exactly what kind of danger their separated teammate was in.
If those things are voluntarily treating him as their leader... then that spear-wielding beast is probably unusually strong, even compared to the S-ranks here.
It was a mont when all the fabricated effort built up as an alien creature backfired. Since Jung Haseong and Esther didn't know the truth, they didn't actively commit to a rescue. Perhaps, seeing him willingly allow himself to be captured and distanced by the beast, they assud Kim Giryeo had a plan—or hoped that the blonde Awakener, having taken down the most troubleso enemy, would join the fight later. The hunters had placed their trust in a fallen magician.
In this world, faith and hope were originally considered ingredients more vital to sorcery than mana itself. But when that very ingredient becos warped—Can miracles still function properly, even in tis like these?
This is really strange.
Yes?
I, I assud the wounds I inflicted when you first ran away were healed with potions. But now, while you're getting hurt in real ti, why is that thing still rampaging like crazy... What is it, a zombie or sothing?
The situation was looking bad in more ways than one. The foreigners clad in black leather were beginning to adapt to the flas, like monsters who didn't even know what pain was.
Even without [Appraisal] abilities, I can tell—both of them are fully geared to the limit...!
The enemies were decked out in secretive items—so rare and dangerous that no country had even registered them in the PIXY database.
Thanks to securing a proper position from the beginning, the fire mage was able to pin down the enemies from a distance for quite a while. At tis, the onslaught of attacks even pushed them back like a barrage. However, within barely a hundred seconds, the gap began to close rapidly. Even when Esther, fueled by fear for her own safety and that of her comrade, cast a curse that blinded the enemy—the tide of battle continued to grow increasingly unstable.
This is seriously frustrating. The wounds are definitely increasing, but why aren't they getting tired?
What's even more puzzling is this very "why?" part. Why do they imitate beasts when they're clearly human? Why did they seize control of the dungeon?
Those kids who aren't even real monsters.
Or why did they go on such an aggressive hunt, targeting an S-rank from another country who had been living quietly, to the point of baring their teeth wide enough to rip their jaws open?
Because the driving force behind those brutes in human skin is still unknown.
***
How did you end up doing sothing like this?
A few years ago.
Brooklyn.
Eastern United States. A leisurely lunchti.
Hey, Brooklyn Morgan. We're tead up now, so we'll be seeing each other often. Don't ignore like that, alright?
It was a ti so distant that even the exact date was hard to recall. To be precise, this was during the early days of the [Spectrum] guild's founding. While South Korea was still at the stage where Seo Esther was debating whether to base her mission in the Magic Tower or the Grand Hall, Spectrum had already gathered three renowned S-class hunters, including an immigrant from Italy.
But as anyone could tell by simply flipping the perspective—there was a certain contradiction in the fact that top-tier eskers were joining a company to work. After all, this was an era when monsters were already rampaging through the streets, and a single high-quality mana stone could emit as much energy as a nuclear power plant produced in a year.
The late-erging S-rank superpowered individuals were talented enough to safely clear even highly dangerous A-rank gates, so, fundantally, they were all high earners. They had so much money that no amount of "high" could fully describe their wealth. Moreover, since most monsters that instilled fear in ordinary citizens were, given the circumstances, able to be hunted and killed by them,
Where were we?
To use a taphor, an S-rank awakened one is like the only hunter in a world without guns. With the single phenonon of awakening, they possess power, authority, and wealth—a complete package. So why would people like that willingly place a superior above them, soone to obey absolutely for the rest of their lives?
The reason I signed with Spectrum.
Labor is typically a good ans of fulfilling one's desire for self-actualization. However, despite that advantage, at least the S-ranks here weren't tied to their work for such wholeso reasons.
More precisely, you were asking how I ended up joining this company, right?
What the—so you were listening the whole ti while pretending not to know.
Tuk.
A rather bear-like man leaned his back against the wall. Now in a relaxed posture, he continued the conversation calmly.
Actually, the truth is...
Brooklyn Morgan, whatever the reason your contract was placed, let clarify beforehand that the reason you joined the Spectrum guild is...
Service?
Yeah. You could say it's like serving a sentence. A few years ago, my family had their factory stolen from them through fraud.
Hmm.
But as frustrating as it is, that con artist turned out to be even more capable than I thought. Since he was a co-founder from the start, he wasn't lacking in business sense at all. The guy went from living in a house with a crooked roof to moving into a luxury villa in Ro in just three years...
Ah, Ro. That place really is sothing.
Plus, after that human made money, they dragged around several $5,000 bodyguards and lived like a king, having a great ti right up until the dungeon shock.
The man with a rather warm, gentle face let out a soft chuckle.
So I got sick of the sight of him, broke into his house, and blinded him with my thumbs. Told him even if he healed with potions, I'd co back and do it again—and I kept that promise, more than once. So, you know, it's no surprise that a once-successful businessman was eventually found at the bottom of a lake.
At that, Brooklyn had paused for a mont and asked a question.
Was that after you awakened?
Of course. It was thanks to gaining superpowers that I could finally take down all his bodyguards and confront him face to face.
Wow, that's surprising. So the S-rank immigrant everyone in Arica welcod was actually the main culprit of such a disgusting assault case? First ti I'm hearing that.
Of course, the man leaning against the wall and watching his conversation partner continued speaking smoothly, as if he had prepared for this mont in advance.
The reward Spectrum promised for joining was to clean up the ss—to make sure this incident never leaked out anywhere.
Hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt from fraud. Family suffering. And so brutal revenge.
And a stable supply of dungeon resources was just a bonus.
Alcoholic.
Sure, all the stressful stuff is over, but I still feel this thirst that won't go away. It's not just about the buzz—honesty, I just think most alcohol tastes really good. It's one of life's little pleasures.
As the conversation drifted toward a topic bound to tickle humanity's innate curiosity—revenge, murder, and shady deals—Brooklyn finally showed a flicker of interest in the man by the window. He had killed soone in the na of vengeance, to get back at the one who had hurt his loved ones. And now, in exchange for having that cri buried, he was working under Spectrum's umbrella. It was a storyline that felt strikingly familiar to soone else's past, wasn't it?
Bubbling.
Sunlight stread through the gap in the curtains, casting soft streaks of gold across the room. A woman with short, golden hair was boiling water, likely to brew a pot of black coffee. The Italian man—who had recently changed his nationality—watched her intently for a mont. Then, without warning, he struck up another conversation.
Brooklyn.
Co to think of it, I just noticed sothing now. It looks like you've got a scar on the back of your neck.
A scar?
It's hard to see in a mirror. And it's not that big, so I didn't notice it until now.
If an Awakener who pours healing skills onto their body every day still has a scar, it's likely not because they neglected the wound, but rather that a slight mistake occurred during the healing process.
Want to erase it for you?
The man, leaning comfortably against the nearby wall with his legs stretched out, spoke in a calm tone.
With just a bit of anesthetic and a pair of forceps scissors, I can make it clean again. I'll take care of it while you drink your coffee. I've practiced a lot on my own skin before, so I'm practically an expert at this now.
At first, he had asked why she joined the company, but when the woman clearly seed unwilling to answer, he naturally shifted the topic.
You, with the scruffy beard and leg hair, talking about skin care?
Hahaha. This is fashion! Why, you really don't like this?
A refreshing laugh soon followed.
Brown hair. A matching brown beard. Height nearly equal to Brooklyn, even in high heels. But with nearly double the body mass, and so on.
Enzo.
Enzo Chiano. An S-rank hunter of the Spectrum Guild.
To be honest, the person who had led the conversation so far wasn't soone you'd describe as classically handso. If anything, he looked more like an ordinary farr than a high-ranking awakened. And yet, surprisingly, the entire reason he had been speaking to Brooklyn this whole ti was nothing more than strategic seduction.
Like everyone else in the world, he had his own charm—sothing rough and macho, perhaps.
After all, emotions aren't born from looks alone. Mammals, by nature, are creatures more easily swayed by the warmth of soone's arms than by the cold perfection of a Michelangelo sculpture. So really, nothing about it was impossible.
As expected, S-class healers really are that rare, huh?
The Spectrum administrator had given a direct order to Enzo, who could practically be called a founding mber.
Brooklyn. Try to get along with that transcendent new human being no matter what. And if possible, form a special relationship with them.
Enzo Chiano, who accepted the proposal without resistance, had just fabricated a story about his pre-employnt past that resembled the other person's—all for the purpose of fostering a sense of kinship.
The higher-ups must really want her on their side, if they're resorting to such a clichéd tactic.
It wasn't out of any grand sense of duty. Nor had he succumbed to the words of the [Knight's Oath] contract holders, which would beco aningless anyway once dead. It was simply deception and scheming, born from a hunch that this route might be less boring.
I can sohow tolerate your beard, but honestly, those leg hairs are just a bad choice.
If I suddenly showed up all clean, wouldn't that be weirder? Want to shave and show you later?
If you don't want to drink a 30-ounce iced Aricano, then just stop.
The Arican male S-class hunter, who seed simpler than anyone else, actually had a rather complicated inner self.
To put it simply, he was twisted. In other words, strange. Highly capricious—he sotis helped others, but so rarely that it was a stretch to call him good-natured. It was as if he had chosen alcohol over cerebrospinal fluid to bathe his brain; living drenched in drink, how could any part of a person not end up broken?
Anyway, Brooklyn. Sit down. I'll erase the scar on your neck in no ti.
For a while, Enzo followed his superior's orders and made efforts to win the favor of the strong. He simply acted kind at all tis. The ga of giving sothing to others was sothing he could focus on even amid a dreadful hangover, and in truth, Brooklyn's attitude did grow noticeably softer day by day.
Then, did the lightning-type Awakened from Arica successfully achieve his goal?
It was an easy ga.
This is an idea that Enzo Ciano once had.
Hmm?
Of course, that was what he thought—right up until Brooklyn Morgan's spearhand strike pierced his liver.
So ti after that, Enzo saw the smiling face of the healer and felt a surge of confidence—enough to invite her to the upcoming year-end party.
Oh my. There's soone crazier than in the world.
Because when Brooklyn heard that, she suddenly beat up Enzo Chiano as if he were a dog thief who had just stolen her beloved pet.
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