Chapter 533: Dual Identity (4)
Beep-beep, beep-beep-beep!!
The quiet ringing of a cell phone echoed between the two people facing each other.
The moment Myeong, awakened in the man’s body, raised his hand, even the sound was swallowed by darkness and vanished.
The moment the man, whose pupils had turned pitch black, slowly stood up and stepped forward,
Whoosh…!!
The pitch-black magic circle that had spread out around him rotated in place, then neatly folded itself beneath the man’s shadow.
The ceremonial transfer spell of black magic, painstakingly prepared through immense time and preparation. The overwhelming manipulation ability that effortlessly collected and erased the magic circle without even touching it.
A being revered as a monster, possessing by far the most dangerous talent among existing black wizards.
The King of the Underworld, Myeong.
“Quickly.”
Myeong said quietly.
“There’s not much time. And I’m not in the mood for a long conversation.”
“……”
A demeanor that felt more indifferent than blunt.
But Antares wasn’t surprised by Myeong’s reply.
Unlike his chilling actions, which were akin to an avatar of destruction, Pandemonium’s King of the Underworld wasn’t as impulsive and fierce as rumored.
He was simply adept at distinguishing between public and private matters, and the gap between what he liked and disliked was excessively wide.
It was highly likely that someone like Antares was quite far removed from Myeong’s interests.
“You wouldn’t have answered my summons to be here anyway.”
Antares smiled softly and nodded.
“The legacy of the oldest family. Wasn’t retrieving that item one of the few memories you clung to?”
“……”
Myeong didn’t reply. Instead, he simply stared intently at Antares’s face.
But Antares knew that Myeong had consumed another black wizard’s consciousness and answered the summons at this time because of that Black Coffin.
It was an artifact and a symbol used by the oldest black wizard family in this world.
The King of the Underworld collecting the scattered Black Coffins of his family across the continent was neither a hobby nor curiosity.
Because the act of gathering the karma of a fallen family, one by one, constituted a part of Myeong’s very existence.
“I don’t particularly like talking to seers.”
Myeong muttered.
“Most of them are consumed by the future they’ve seen, having decided on an answer regardless of what they say, and then just fitting the cause and effect to it.”
Myeong, leaning leisurely against a nearby platform and looking his way, smiled.
“But if I’m dealing with a prophet who has seen a single outcome and returned, I suppose I can listen for a moment… So, how far did you see?”
“……”
“I heard you were an old acquaintance of that crocodile fellow. If you chose this method despite being with that unruly reptile, you must have your own reasons.”
“Well… I’m not sure.”
Antares replied after a moment of thoughtful expression.
The atmosphere crackled with tension.
Both faces were utterly relaxed, yet the mana raging around them danced with sharp intent.
“At this point, you’ve always been consuming the world’s shadows. Moreover, the current era has the fastest rate of power growth compared to any prophecy I’ve witnessed and returned from.”
“……”
“Considering that, I merely assumed you’d have enough leeway by now to answer the summons.”
Antares smiled faintly.
“I know you don’t frequent Vulcan for personal reasons, but it would be wise to pay attention. Especially if you wish to prevent your family’s legacy from being wasted in such a manner.”
“Yes, so that’s it…”
Myeong muttered.
He turned his chilling, pitch-black pupils and asked.
“You seem to have the right to claim you’ve seen and returned. What is your business?”
“I wish to make a deal.”
Antares said so and lightly flicked his finger.
“I’ll retrieve the Black Coffin that fellow used and hand it over to you. In return, I’ll need to borrow your name a few times.”
A statement closer to a notification than a request.
But neither of them cared about it in the slightest.
“There are plenty of ruffians selling my name right now. The fact that you’re asking for permission, rather than just doing it, must mean you have a specific goal in mind.”
“I plan to directly bring the King of the Underworld’s name into a Vulcan Central Council agenda.”
Antares replied.
“I’ll twist and hide Adamant Thunder’s talent once more. In the process, if I sell your name and mine, I can establish a decent justification.”
“……”
“You know what happened at the Magic Engineering Expo, right?”
That question wasn’t just about the anti-gravity technology Evan presented.
Van and Evan’s dual identity. The true meaning that fact implied.
How much more valuable Lennok’s talent, aptitude, qualification, and potential could become in this world.
Antares was indirectly asking Myeong if he was aware of this fact.
“If you accept, I’ll proceed as I see fit. There will be no further notifications. You just need to temporarily grant me authority to borrow your ‘veil’.”
Myeong’s gaze, which had been listening to Antares’s words, turned cold.
“…You knew from the start that I would accept the offer.”
“Rather than that…”
Antares chuckled lightly at Myeong’s words.
“I just thought it unlikely that you, who obsessively cling to special talents, wouldn’t know by now.”
“……”
An answer from Antares, who had little contact with Myeong, that strangely indicated a deep understanding of him.
“I’ll take that as your agreement and begin. I started this in such a hurry, so there’s a lot to clean up.”
Antares continued, fiddling with the vibrating cell phone in his pocket.
“If I don’t explain this to Adamant Thunder right away, this conversation we’ve had will be utterly… Oh.”
Antares glanced at his phone, chuckled, and showed the screen to Myeong.
A few brief keywords Lennok had sent directly to his number.
[Ancient black magic. Ceremonial transfer spell. City Government Special Forces. Possible Central Council involvement.]
“Isn’t he sharp?”
Antares smiled.
“He just sent an inquiry without any explanation, and he’s already piecing together the situation and deducing my intentions on his own.”
“……”
“It might be difficult now, but someday, he might be able to foresee even the moment I saw and returned from. No, perhaps… maybe…”
He might even walk beyond that, to unanswered questions.
What Antares hoped for and longed for from Lennok wasn’t a grand or magnificent wish.
The power to walk a little further than others. The will and qualification prepared for that.
The dual talent to build it up with his own strength and also tear it down with his own hands.
The core essence that Antares had barely obtained by sacrificing everything, Lennok had possessed from the very beginning.
Myeong watched Antares and quietly muttered.
“Is it another delusion one reaches when facing the end and not going mad?”
“……”
“That would mean you, too, possess the qualification to reach the ultimate end.”
As the young man leaning against the platform gradually relaxed, the pitch-black color of his pupils began to fade.
“Handle the Black Coffin as you see fit. Borrowing my name is fine too.”
“…What?”
Antares tilted his head with a slightly bewildered expression at the unexpected reply, and Myeong laughed out loud for the first time.
“I’ve confirmed where it was hidden, and that’s enough. Anything beyond that is meaningless. Karma that didn’t begin with my own hands is just like that.”
“……”
“There was certainly a time when I was obsessed with that fact, but now I don’t care much. Rather…”
Myeong’s fading gaze was not directed at Antares, but at the cell phone in his hand.
Thinking of the owner of the message that had just been displayed, Antares couldn’t help but smile along.
“I see.”
The Myeong Antares had observed and remembered would never say such a thing.
The King of the Underworld, who had become an avatar of contradiction, burdened with arrogance and desperation beyond limits, overwhelming talent, and karma to match.
Why had this monster, who was sick of his innate talent and karma yet could never be free of them, changed so much in reality?
It meant that there were infinite variables in this world capable of twisting prophecies and fixed futures.
“Indeed, reality doesn’t always follow prophecy.”
With that alone, Antares could endure further.
He could feel that it wasn’t over yet.
At least for Antares, the future and destiny existed not to be conformed to, but to be resisted.
[Subject: Do not accept any requests involving Adamant Thunder.]
=Just don’t accept them, period.
A single-line post uploaded on the deep web.
It was no different from the usual nonsense uploaded on illegal sites that parasitized the city government network, but the story was different if the poster was a member with a Sapphire Tier.
A veteran who had survived more than 20 A-rank designated requests among countless swindlers and criminals.
A client who had placed requests exceeding billions of Cell on the deep web more than ten times and paid the rewards.
It was a gem-grade that only clients certified as core executives of organizations ranked as top-tier within the deep web could hold.
A post suddenly uploaded by an account of a tier rarely seen.
Naturally, comments began to pour in below it.
└What nonsense is this?
└Now that you mention it, there were rumors that Adamant Thunder had returned.
└They said he suffered a major injury, but he’s already taking designated requests? There’s nothing on Jenny’s broker list.
└Someone of that caliber naturally picks and chooses clients. Unverified accounts probably wouldn’t even see them.
Unlike the initial half-hearted replies, accounts with verified ranks began to add their comments one by one.
Underworld professionals who, though not Sapphire, had achieved comparable certifications or accomplishments.
└It’s definite that he suffered life-threatening injuries. Rumors are widespread that he walks with a cane containing a life support system.
└He’s taking requests in that condition? It seems his company isn’t doing so well these days.
└On the contrary. His business is doing so well that they’re short-handed enough to even drag Adamant Thunder into it.
└I don’t think the poster meant it that way.
Amidst the various conversations, another Emerald account appeared in the comment section and put an end to it.
└The injury is real. It’s true he can’t move freely. Even considering that, he seems to have become even more of a monster, so trash shouldn’t even think of challenging him.
As soon as people realized that two gem-grade accounts were saying almost the same thing, hundreds more comments instantly poured in.
└Is it even possible to get stronger after such a serious injury?
└But that account’s tone is a bit arrogant.
└Emeralds can be. Underlings, shut up.
└Why are you picking a fight? Do you want to die? Where do you live?
Unlike those engaging in pointless arguments, those who understood the unfolding situation shared information among themselves.
└There’s talk that his style itself has changed. Most who know are dead, though, so it’s hard to confirm.
└Rumors were rampant that he was a bloodthirsty maniac. Since his injury, he’s apparently shown a greater tendency to rely on firepower.
└It seems he gained some enlightenment from his battle with Madrich Onnion. The power of his lightning magic is insane.
└His combat ability decreased, but his magic power increased enough to more than compensate?
Only then did the commenters, realizing why talk of Adamant Thunder had started circulating at this point, grumble.
Because the news that a wizard notorious for grinding people down in this underworld had become even stronger was not welcome news to his fellow professionals.
└What a messed up story… How are day-to-day freelancers like me supposed to make a living when the world gets so tough?
└Shouldn’t the world get a bit tougher for folks like you?
└Address.
Unspoken complaints, constant personal attacks, and the incredibly seasoned intimidation and provocation from experienced individuals.
Even lunatics who, upon hearing such things, felt a surge of competitive spirit or intense greed.
└Still, if the injury is real, there might be a way to deal with him. If we drag him into close combat, there might be a chance.
└Wearing a life support system means he’s practically a walking corpse.
└That’s why this very post is advising you not to even try that, you idiots.
└Leave them be. Why bother talking to people who don’t understand even when a gem-grade account speaks directly?
└Let’s not be too harsh on friends who won’t even be able to log in a month from now. Give them some warm encouragement.
└Still, it doesn’t seem like there’s no way at all. It’s definitely worth a try. (Edit/Delete)
“Ugh…”
“Indeed.”
Lennok confirmed the edit and delete buttons on the last comment, then tossed the phone he was holding.
The phone landed directly on the blood-soaked man’s chest.
“The reactions are more entertaining than I thought. I also saw your comment.”
“Cough!!”
“How do you feel now?”
“Fu—ck…”
At Lennok’s question, the blood-soaked man let out a hollow laugh.
“I wish I’d listened more carefully…”
“It would be good to get into the habit of seriously considering advice from others, if there’s a next time.”
Click!!
Lennok, pointing the revolver at the man’s head, smiled and nodded.
“If there is a next time, that is.”
Bang!!
As the trigger was pulled, the fallen man’s head snapped back, scattering blood.
Lennok, after a final check on the man who twitched for a moment then stopped breathing, struggled to his feet, leaning on his cane.
Flickering lights and colorful neon signs from the ceiling. The pungent smell of alcohol wafting from broken liquor bottles stung his nose.
He walked past the scattered debris of shattered mirror balls and tables, pulling out his cell phone.
“Jenny, everything’s done here. Is this the last one for today?”
[…You finished already?]
Jenny said, sounding dumbfounded.
[No, I told you to bring a few other freelancers. Why did you go all the way there by yourself?]
“It’s easier to move alone.”
Lennok replied, walking out of the club house, which had been turned into a wasteland.
“It’s also easy to be noticed, and the rumors of my return to the field will grow stronger.”
He glanced at the fearful eyes of the underworld residents watching him from outside the house, and continued walking through the streets.
“I’ll need to maintain this approach for the time being, while the adjustments are underway.”
A situation where the shadowy forces suspecting Van and Evan to be the same person were revealed to be part of the city government’s upper echelons.
As long as Lennok wasn’t affected by the ceremonial transfer spell, the suspicion that the two were the same person would vanish.
But Antares didn’t stop there; instead, he began to track down those forces to protect Evan’s identity.
In the process, he established a justification for Antares to act directly, borrowing Myeong’s name.
By stating that Evan Vylun’s safety would be directly protected by the Antares Mercenary Office, he prevented the city government from arbitrarily attempting schemes like quarantine measures.
Meanwhile, Lennok was busy handling a few more designated requests, demonstrating that this activity wasn’t a one-off for a special purpose.
As Lennok thought this, about to pass through the street behind the club house.
Shhhhk…!!
A chilling sense of déjà vu swept past his neck.
“……”
His aimless steps halted in an instant.
Only then did Lennok feel the unknown strangeness around him and smile bitterly.
“This is…”
A bustling downtown area where various peddlers, criminals, freelancers, and mercenaries bustled about.
The streets, once packed with people to an unrecognizable degree, had inexplicably emptied, and everyone had vanished,
leaving Lennok alone in the middle of a wide crosswalk.
It wasn’t a spell or magical power. It wasn’t even a trick using transcendental energy like mana or spiritual power.
It was an overwhelming surge of fighting spirit, clinging to and searing the entire area.
A gaze mixed with an unbelievably intense competitive spirit, astonishing even Lennok at first glance, was unconsciously making everyone in the vicinity turn away.
I want to fight the opponent before me.
I want to throw myself in with all my might to kill them.
The manifestation of an overwhelmingly powerful and intense will, capable of stunning everyone in the downtown area with such emotions alone, making them retreat.
A transcendent stage where one can exert physical influence on reality merely by stirring one’s own will.
A monster, painted entirely in white, stood on the opposite side of the street.
“I’ve heard quite a few rumors, but indeed, you live up to your reputation.”
An antiquated way of speaking that was utterly out of place in the heart of a city built on such dazzling civilization.
White hair, pure white robes fluttering, a benevolent expression, as if looking down at Lennok with his hands clasped behind his back.
His face held an inexplicable satisfaction, the origin of which even Lennok found difficult to pinpoint.
As if a long-cherished wish had recently been refreshingly fulfilled.
“They say you achieved a brilliant victory against that fellow Onnion; your actions are not awkward in the slightest.”
“……”
“You waver and tremble, yet burn desperately. Truly, an ideal form of mortality.”
The man nodded repeatedly, speaking with clear satisfaction.
“You are already no different from a true warrior.”
“…For someone who just appeared and started talking, you’re only spouting vague nonsense.”
Lennok, lowering his phone, replied in a low voice.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Krod Azlan.”
“Under the humble name of Purity, I serve as a guardian of the Turyeon Gate.”