Chapter 1: Bloodline Front (1)
He sauntered into the office, his casual demeanor belying the tension in the air, and plopped onto the guest sofa.
“Hmm… You’ve got quite the talent scout, don’t you?”
“Get to the point.”
Jenny’s curt response was met with Manson’s cold, metallic gaze.
“Dray, was it? That mercenary’s security setup was so tight, I spent a good six hours out there with him. Who even is this guy?”
“Ex-special forces. He’s used to commanding mages, even if he’s never dealt with someone as crazy as you.”
“Ah, that explains it! No wonder he can give orders without setting my nerves on edge. He’s got that military precision down pat…”
“What’s your point?”
It had been nearly a week since Manson, penniless, had accepted Lennok’s offer to work for them.
While Jenny doubted Manson would betray them just yet, she couldn’t trust the freelance multi-body adapter. His thought processes and values were too alien, a consequence of his rarity.
After all, he was a madman who had turned his head into a machine to manage the strain of controlling multiple bodies.
His chaotic history only added to the enigma. His client choices and job criteria were bizarrely skewed, earning him the title of ‘pleasantly insane.’
But instead of showcasing his madness, Manson bowed his head, resting his chin on his fingers.
“Remember when I said I had a beef with the Cartel? You recall that, right?”
“…Yeah. That’s why you joined us, didn’t you?”
“Right. There’s more to it, though.”
“What?”
Manson tapped his head, where his temple should have been.
“I forgot because my memory’s fuzzy, but it just came back. I need to tell you.”
“And you’ve managed to stay alive this long? What is it?”
“I think the Cartel might’ve experimented on my body back then.”
“…What?”
“They were into artificially altering human bodies, and I think I participated in their experiments for a hefty sum… or so I remember.”
“…”
His confession, delivered while holding her gaze, lacked any conviction—a talent, if it could be called that.
Manson’s head-tapping and shrugging offered no hint of truth.
“Anyway, considering the guys Van’s been dealing with lately, I think their experiments succeeded. I was spacing out at work and realized that.”
“Is that so? Good.”
Jenny nodded.
“Tell Dray I’m extending your shift. The more you think, the more memories might surface, right?”
“Ugh? No way! Wait, I think I remember nothing now…!!”
As Manson panicked, the office door burst open.
“Alright, time’s up, you lunatic. Let’s go.”
Velver and Velita, as if on cue, dragged Manson out of the office.
They had been assisting Dray in monitoring Jenny’s safety outside of his scheduled shifts.
Velita winked as she pulled Manson away, while Velver, ever steadfast, spoke up.
“That stock you recommended last time? It’s skyrocketed.”
“You’ll keep taking my investment advice, right?”
“Sis, are you trying to embarrass me?”
Jenny watched Velver being dragged away, a faint smile on her face. Her thoughts turned to Manson’s words.
Among the Cartel executives Van had faced, Virgil stood out for his sheer strength, though little else was known about him. Girard and Iola, however, were different.
Girard’s power surged when he was injured, while Iola used magic eyes to enhance her combat abilities.
According to Van, both seemed to be manipulating the nature of their magic—if Manson’s story was true…
“It’s no coincidence that the Cartel executives are altering their magic like that…”
This information could be crucial against the Cartel. Jenny made a mental note to inform Van when he returned.
Just then, the office door slammed open for the third time.
Dray stumbled in, drenched in sweat.
“Jenny!”
“What’s wrong?”
His expression said it all.
Dray’s words confirmed her worst fears.
“Dyke Corporation’s weapons factory has been attacked.”
“…”
“They’ve made their move.”
After three days away, Lennok’s first stop wasn’t Jenny’s bar, but Dyke Corporation’s weapons manufacturing plant in the 50th district.
The abandoned factory grounds, purchased for their expansion, looked like they’d been bombed.
[According to Phanea, this was a new factory site under construction for their expanded weapons business.]
Jenny’s calm voice came through the earpiece.
[Only a couple of Dyke employees were on-site during the attack. The rest were construction workers.]
“Strange,” Lennok muttered, surveying the distant factory ruins.
“The timing and location are off. If they wanted to make a statement like I did, there were better targets…”
Virgil’s promised two-week truce had ended. Targeting the bar again would’ve made sense, but why Dyke’s site?
And why a new factory with no significant assets or personnel?
Jenny provided the answer.
[Word got out that Girard Ozet’s transfer passed through Dyke’s site when we captured him.]
“So…”
[They’re not just retaliating. They’re sending a message.]
“Interesting. Betrayers silencing each other. And what’s waiting beyond this…”
[Right. It’s likely an insider faction that betrayed the Cartel’s chairman. Facing them directly might reveal everything. But there’s a bigger issue.]
“What?”
[They’ve seized the magic core we pre-lifted for assembly. Phanea said losing the core is fine, but if it explodes, this entire area could melt.]
“Great, more headaches…”
Lennok sighed, standing up.
“It doesn’t matter. Tell Phanea I’ll take the core.”
[What?]
The core, known for its instability despite efficiency, was perfect for Lennok’s custom modifications.
Phanea wouldn’t refuse such a request.
As Lennok turned, Killian approached the factory grounds.
“Sorry to dump this on you right away.”
Killian, unfazed, replied, “What were you even doing for three days? And where’s your usual coat?”
“Just some business.”
Lennok wore a black cardigan instead of his thick coat.
His senses had returned that morning, but his body felt stiff.
Even his coat felt heavy, so he’d grabbed a cardigan from the lab.
With the warming weather, it wasn’t a bad choice.
But the warming air contrasted sharply with the thick stench of blood before him.
Surveying the blood-soaked ruins, Lennok asked, “You know the situation?”
“It’s our company’s mess, of course. Shareholders are panicking. They’re begging us to prevent a core explosion at all costs.”
Killian sighed.
“I know it’s awkward to ask, but… please.”
Lennok, instead of responding, began channeling his magic, expanding his sensory range.
The Cartel knew his abilities, so the culprit was likely a high-ranking executive.
He had captured Girard once, using the Charm of Earth’s Embrace to catch him off guard.
Killing the frenzied Girard would’ve required far more effort.
If someone was waiting for him, knowing Girard’s defeat, they’d have an even deadlier plan.
‘And the systematic torture of the factory workers might not just be for show…’
Girard’s power relied on self-inflicted wounds to alter his magic’s nature.
If other executives had reached Level 6 through similar conditions…
Lost in thought, they soon reached the factory’s center.
Conveyor belts for thousands of guns lay abandoned, metal molds crushed like toys.
And amidst the destruction, a man sat alone, playing a violin, surrounded by a sea of blood.
Corpses hung upside down from the ceiling, flesh scattered everywhere.
The massacre was beyond words.
The man, isolated in death and blood, played on, his melody haunting the ruins.