Chapter 713: House Robbery (6)

Outskirts of the Central Front. Deadrise’s Rear Supply Unit.

A few days before the satellite production operation began.

With less than a day left before departing for Vulcan, Starkton returned to the unit and scheduled a meeting with someone.

“Lord Deimus.”

“You’re here. Have a seat.”

In a dark room, dimly lit by a screen.

Deimus pointed to a chair without looking back at Starkton.

As Starkton nodded expressionlessly and sat down, Deimus finally put down the documents he was holding and turned his body.

Deimus, rubbing his brow with a tired expression, asked.

“Were you waiting here in advance? You should get more rest.”

“There isn’t much entertainment before deployment. Don’t trouble yourself.”

As Starkton answered calmly, Deimus let out a small chuckle.

“They say you’re the most diligent under Grisbern. The rumors are true.”

“On the contrary, I find it quite rare for a commander to be in the rear, sir.”

Starkton’s eyes gleamed.

“Has something happened at headquarters?”

Deimus was one of Deadrise’s busiest field commanders across all units. He commanded the highly expensive 6th Special Mobile Corps on the Central Front, rarely showing his face in the rear.

The fact that this meeting happened at all was purely because Deimus was in the rear before the operation began.

For Starkton, it was a good thing to gain information from an experienced commander before being officially dispatched to Vulcan.

However, the very fact that Deimus was here in the rear was not a positive sign.

But Deimus shook his head at Starkton’s question.

“…Let’s just say it’s for personal reasons. There’s someone I need to meet separately.”

“Someone you need to meet—”

“Enough with the pointless chatter, let’s get to the main point. You didn’t come to ask me that, did you?”

Deimus said, pressing a button on a remote control.

Simultaneously, the screen lit up, displaying someone’s profile.

“Normally, Vulcan isn’t my jurisdiction, but recently, I had an opportunity to acquire information about a dangerous element outside the front line.”

Deimus said, turning his gaze toward the screen.

“Various variables exist across the continent. But among them, if I had to pick the most dangerous and unpredictable type, this individual would be at the forefront.”

Beep!

Though it was labeled as someone’s profile, there wasn’t much written in the profile section itself. An empty blank space with no photo. Several encrypted characters were intermittently missing.

Instead, only the ‘Special Notes’ section at the very bottom was densely filled.

“Adamant Thunder. This is all the information currently gathered on the most belligerent wizard in Vulcan.”

Deimus explained, looking at it.

“Excluding unconfirmable information such as name, origin, and age, the special notes that have been cross-verified and filed are as follows.”

Deimus immediately pointed to the bottommost ‘Special Notes’ section of the profile and said.

“A pure spell-based wizard. A combat-specialized lightning-attribute user. An extremely rare multi-attribute holder. An 8-level extreme ability user. A natural born Mystic Eye wielder.”

“Hmm…”

A continuous string of words that made one gasp just by hearing them.

Every phrase describing that wizard held an invaluable worth on the front line.

Deimus’s words didn’t end there.

“He’s known to be skilled in marksmanship, and his ability to operate equipment, including bikes, is exceptional. He’s not just comfortable with advanced technology, he’s even presumed to handle it better than specialists.”

“…”

“But Adamant Thunder’s true value isn’t in such secondary abilities or talents.”

Deimus said to Starkton, who was staring fixedly at the screen without blinking.

“Attempts to uncover Adamant Thunder’s magic system have not been non-existent, but very few have obtained accurate information. Due to the extremely low number of survivors from related operations, the quality of leaked information is also insufficient.”

“…”

“Looking at his accumulated achievements, evaluations, and actions over the past few years, one can only infer that he is obsessively devoted to combat… The origins and dispositions of those he has worked with and fought against are all different, making it difficult to discern his true intentions.”

Deimus continued, twirling the remote control.

“He’s someone whose mindset and motives are impossible to guess, considering he caused such a commotion in Machina even after being severely injured. If possible, it would be best to prioritize avoiding contact and not provoking him.”

“What should we do if we encounter him during the operation?”

Starkton also knew that avoiding Adamant Thunder if possible was ideal.

However, as the operation itself was taking place in District 59, a shadowy area, it was clear that they couldn’t escape Adamant Thunder’s sphere of activity.

It wouldn’t be strange if that wizard, whose actions and thoughts were unreadable, noticed them and made a move at any moment.

If they happened to encounter Adamant Thunder, they needed a means or countermeasure to safely escape.

But Deimus stared at Starkton for a moment and then asked.

“Lieutenant Colonel. What do you think it means for an 8-level Arch-wizard to be rumored to be consumed by bloodlust?”

“…I don’t understand the question.”

“At the point where he transcended Hierarchy based on a mindset obsessed with combat and blood, he’s already closer to a madman with no chance of rehabilitation.”

Deimus averted his gaze.

“Therefore, the possibility of normal conversation being established upon encountering Adamant Thunder is extremely low. Even if communication occurs, the meaning he perceives will be entirely different.”

Starkton, understanding the meaning belatedly, clicked his tongue.

“He’s not even on a level where he can be considered human. How is he still alive in that demonic realm with such a disposition?”

“He’s someone who defied the laws of the world, which are inherently irreconcilable, and yet transcended Hierarchy, perfectly intact.”

Deimus answered indifferently.

“If he’s still alive after making enemies of all sorts of monsters and geniuses, isn’t it because there’s a talent there that defies common sense?”

“…”

Starkton’s low gasp in response.

Was Deimus so certain that Adamant Thunder was mad, yet, conversely, still highly evaluating him?

Deimus turned off the screen, leaving Starkton with a slightly wavering expression.

“I’ll send you the profiles of high-hierarchy superhumans, including Adamant Thunder, operating in Vulcan’s underworld. Make sure you share them with Grisbern later. Not that he’ll read them anyway.”

“Thank you.”

Deimus looked down at Starkton, who bowed his head, with an expressionless gaze.

“Your readiness to prepare for variables is commendable, but don’t mistake your priorities.”

“Priorities, sir?”

Deimus, who had risen from his seat, answered while pressing his temple.

“I didn’t share the filed information for you to fight or defeat Adamant Thunder. It would be best not to consider the operation once you’ve encountered him. There’s something more important.”

“Something important…”

“It’s the virtue I prioritize most as a field commander.”

Deimus looked at Starkton, then muttered as he walked out of the room without lingering.

“Survival.”

Regret, no matter how quick, always comes too late.

No matter how much advice one receives and prepares, the worst possibility always arrives worse than imagined.

Before the fleeting recollection faded from his mind, Starkton’s right foot was completely crushed.

Crrunch!

The moment the imbalanced greatsword missed, sending its cleave wildly astray, Duren, caught in the shockwave, was thrown backward and slammed into something.

CRASH!

“Kugh!”

“…!!”

Duren, his shoulder half-caved in, convulsed, unable to stand properly, and Starkton, his one foot pulverized, grit his teeth and swallowed the pain.

Both men desperately fixed their gaze forward, unable to attend to their injuries.

At the end of their gaze, the whirlwind of flames Duren had conjured raged, melting the ground.

Whoosh!

A wizard emerged, calmly parting the searing whirlwind like a curtain.

Lennok, leaning on his staff with his right hand, looked around and smiled.

“I intended to leave only one of you alive, but it’s not going as planned.”

At his words, Starkton gritted his teeth and rose to his feet.

“You monster…!!”

Two high-hierarchy superhumans who had perfected their Hierarchy. What’s more, they were armed with forbidden artifacts and fought in perfect sync.

They continuously received magical power from the forbidden artifacts, wielding their Miniature Universes without restriction.

Starkton and Duren themselves had rarely fought battles with such disregard for waste and efficiency.

Yet, they were only barely holding their own against that wizard, who stood alone on the other side, wielding limited magical power.

They were merely struggling to escape the gradually deteriorating battle situation.

“K-khack…!!”

Snap!

Seeing Duren manually pop his dislocated shoulder bone back into place, and Starkton applying the flames of his greatsword to his ruined right foot to stop the bleeding, Lennok frowned.

“You’re using crude methods. I could throw you a hemostatic agent.”

“What I blurted out to you earlier. I retract it.”

Starkton said, looking at Lennok with heavy eyes.

“You are not the chosen one. Rather, you are the one who chooses.”

“…”

Having survived countless battlefields, they could understand the meaning of the prowess Lennok displayed.

The culmination of effort and practice accumulated even before he was aware of who he was, was present there.

The experience and time, subtly ingrained in every exchange of offense and defense, felt undeniably clear.

They, too, realized that Lennok was someone who had chosen his own destiny to reach his current state.

“I don’t really know what it means to choose one’s destiny, but…”

Crunch!

He forcefully stomped the ground with his pulverized right foot.

The pain, starting from his toes, shot up his spine and rattled his mind, but Starkton didn’t flinch.

“I, too, can choose where I die!!!”

BANG!

Once with his crushed right foot, once with his good left foot.

As Starkton pushed off twice, the flames of the Jak-hon clung to his entire body, transforming into an immense pressure that weighed down the space.

Survival.

Ultimately, he had failed to uphold any of Deimus’s advice, but Starkton sensed the inevitable outcome at this point.

Deimus, too, must have given the warning precisely because he thought it would be difficult, not expecting him to actually achieve it.

Every moment of his life as a soldier, from the moment he enlisted, had been like that.

Lennok looked at Starkton and nodded.

“A soldier. I understand.”

As Lennok raised one hand, cold energy simultaneously gathered at his fingertips.

Ice-element unique magic.

Property Transformation Overload.

[Sinful White]

Crrrackle!

The Jak-hon’s flames and the Sinful White’s cold converged and exploded, blooming red and white flowers on the ground.

“H-huh…!!”

Starkton’s body, completely covered in white frost, stiffened rigidly.

The restraint suppressed his movements by freezing even the blood flowing from his wounds and the circulation itself.

The moment Lennok removed the Charm of Earth’s Embrace, which was in the form of prayer beads, from his wrist to place it around Starkton’s neck—

Fwoosh!

“Not, not yet…!!”

Duren, holding flames that consumed his own flesh, desperately formed hand seals.

Lennok’s gaze darkened as he looked at the colorless ripples writhing beneath his feet.

“A Domain.”

Since Duren couldn’t possibly wield the Jak-hon again after losing it once, this was a Self-sustaining Domain deployment, guaranteed by self-sacrifice.

Considering Duren’s magic, he must be planning to use a powerful mirage illusion to bind Lennok here.

“I know how twisted human sacrifice is as a spell. Just by using humans as ingredients, it can go beyond the caster’s control and transform into an entirely different concept.”

Lennok, planting his staff at his feet, and touching the bandage on his left arm, said.

“Sometimes it continues to operate even after the caster’s death, as if it’s alive on its own. That’s why—”

“What are you trying to say? Are you going to babble about being wary of my magic now?!”

“No.”

At Duren’s sharp interruption, Lennok smiled and shook his head.

“That’s why I had several chances to kill you, but I didn’t.”

“…!!”

“I thought it would be a disaster if the mirage spell ran wild and warped the surrounding perception, preventing me from pinpointing the factory’s location in time.”

“How arrogant…!!”

“So.”

Lennok raised his left hand and pointed at Duren, saying.

“I won’t allow a Self-sustaining Domain. I don’t feel like seeing a mirage again now.”

Clack!

Simultaneously with the bandage unraveling from his forearm, a crimson wave pierced through space-time.

It wasn’t just surging heat, but living flames bound to his arm.

Its form had changed, but the moment Duren realized it was the true body of the Phoenix Hall, which he had so desperately sought, his face was filled with horror.

Fwoosh!

The colorless ripples swirling beneath Duren’s feet suddenly stopped their movement and were sucked backward into the prayer beads.

“W-what is this?!”

The recoil of the Domain deployment being forcibly canceled against his will surged through his entire body.

His blood reversed, and his blood pressure and magical circulation rapidly increased, causing blood to spurt from his pores.

“T-Tower Master… authority… Gurgle…!!!”

Duren’s body began to break down in various places, unable to withstand the sudden blood pressure changes, and the impact quickly rushed back to his heart.

His heart stopped on the spot from the recoil of the Domain cancellation.

Duren’s body, unable to even breathe properly, stiffened and then collapsed forward.

Groooowl…!!

Frozen Starkton. Torn Solcier. Breathless Duren.

As Lennok looked at them and took a step toward Starkton, who was still alive—

Whoosh!

A pure white object flew from the other side and completely shattered the block of ice that trapped Starkton.

CRASH!

“…”

Lennok, who had evaded the attack with Flicker, turned his gaze with a slightly stiff expression.

That throw just now was at a speed and trajectory that could not be avoided with ordinary reactions.

It was an unusual strike that seemed less aimed at the ice and more at confirming Lennok’s reaction.

The moment Lennok realized this and looked up, a chilling female voice echoed from beyond the mist.

“I seem to be late.”

[Grrr…!!!]

At the same time, a monstrous roar erupted from the pure white object that had fallen at Lennok’s feet.

“Meryllda.”

The form of a giant wolf, with parts of its pure white mane torn and bleeding.

Though its eyes still shone fiercely, full of fighting spirit, it seemed to have sustained considerable injuries.

It was bleeding profusely from various places, as if it had been forcefully thrown out mid-fight with someone.

But even as its body trembled, Meryllda’s gaze was fixed clearly on the other side of the mist.

Whoosh!

As if responding to that hostility, a woman slowly walked through the mist.

She had no particularly striking features, but her expression was not just stern, it was chillingly eerie.

The woman silently looked around, then smiled upon seeing Starkton, Duren, and the horribly dead body of Solcier.

“It seems you all were having a lot of fun without me, weren’t you?”

“Cough, cough!! Director…”

Starkton, collapsed amidst the shattered ice, gritted his teeth and lowered his head.

“I apologize. It’s due to my inadequacy…!!”

“No, there’s nothing to apologize for.”

The woman said, casually tossing something she held in her hand.

“Gurgle…”

Something drenched in blood, incomparably more so than Meryllda.

Lennok’s eyes narrowed as he realized that the thing, barely breathing, was in the shape of a wolf.

It was Killian, so covered in blood that he was on the verge of death, crushed and barely clinging to life.

The woman, who threw Killian away like trash, smiled at Lennok with her eyes.

“Rather, I should be the one apologizing. I almost messed things up by falling for a petty provocation.”

“…”

Leaving Lennok, who did not reply, the woman’s gaze intensified.

The woman, too, had known who Lennok was even before she appeared here.

The brief entertainment enjoyed at the District 47 casino.

The promise that was never even heard.

All those memories, dismissed as trivial matters, had come together to form this catastrophe.

“Right. The strong luck at the slot machine, the respectable combat skills, even the daring I liked… there was a reason for all of it, wasn’t there?”

Behind the woman, who muttered as if spitting, faint figures flickered by.

During a brief emotional fluctuation, a strange chill and ghostly wails echoed, as if ghosts had possessed and disappeared.

A cold, desolate wind blew, enough to freeze everyone in place.

Whooosh!

Touching her shoulder with one hand, she slowly stretched her neck.

“Let’s move, Adamant Thunder.”

The woman, with a faint blue spiritual form shimmering behind her, grinned broadly.

“The match we couldn’t finish at the casino. We decided it would be a wager today, didn’t we?”

An 8-level physical superhuman, Ghost Princess Peshia Grisbern.

The monster who had kept herself tethered to the casino under the guise of a match had returned now, before the operation was even over.

“…Are you sure?”

But Lennok, knowing that fact, slowly walked towards her.

Lennok, facing Peshia amidst the surrounding flames, sneered.

“There won’t be any coins to continue the game if you lose here.”