Chapter 258: The Road To The Demon King (7)

The top floor of a skyscraper overlooking Chicago.

Under dazzling, extravagant décor, the floor was lined with intricate magic circles drawn by a crow. It looked like a minefield waiting to be triggered.

A dwarf sitting at a table sighed deeply, six cell phones spread out in front of him.

“…It’s already been four days.”

Darulma Dune, the dwarf who had been discreetly contacting every potential ally he could think of, set down the phone and lit a cigarette.

Click, click—

Whether from anxiety or impatience, his fingers kept slipping, causing the lighter to spark without catching flame.

After a couple of failed attempts, he finally lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply.

A sharp burn traveled from his mouth, down his throat, and into his lungs.

As the nicotine coursed through his bloodstream, Darulma exhaled a long plume of smoke and muttered.

“Are you not even a little worried?”

His voice was directed at the girl quietly sitting on the sofa.

The blue-haired girl, who had been meditating with her eyes closed, slowly opened them.

“Worried? Not really.”

“…”

“My sister and the Saintess went together with him. What could possibly go wrong?”

Her words were not just calm—they were almost too carefree. Yet, Darulma gave her a wry smile because he could see that her hands fidgeted aimlessly, and her toes wouldn’t stop twitching.

Of course, she was more worried than a stranger like him was. Anyone would be after sending their family into danger.

Darulma blamed himself for his inconsideration and exhaled another puff of smoke.

“Naturally, I hope nothing’s happened. I truly do. But still… it’s possible something unexpected occurred.”

“…Unexpected?”

Darulma didn’t respond. After all, there were only a handful of reasons why their group would suddenly lose contact in Chicago.

Neti, too, seemed to grasp what he meant and fell silent.

A brief, heavy silence settled in.

Before it could stretch too long, Darulma spoke up with a contingency plan.

“What if we hired a private investigator to look into it? We’d know what’s going on within a day.”

It was a reasonable suggestion—but the response was a rejection.

“That is not permitted.”

Darulma cast a glance at the large crow reciting a spell atop the magic circle.

“…This is the most practical solution we have.”

“And I repeat, it is not permitted. You want to spend money when even a phone call barely gets through? I absolutely cannot allow it.”

“I get that, but… the Saintess, and Yeomyeong…”

“Enough. Don’t forget why we’re hiding here. Or what my apprentice is risking on your behalf, dwarf.”

The crow’s tone left no room for argument, and Darulma fell silent, unable to push the matter any further.

As the dwarf reached for a second cigarette, Neti, who had been lost in thought, suddenly raised her head.

“Ah! I know what the unexpected problem is!”

“…?”

Darulma and Corvus both turned to Neti, puzzled by her sudden outburst. She sprang up from the sofa and added.

“A woman! I bet it’s some chick again, and she’s already messing with my brother-in-law.”

“…”

What the—was that supposed to be a joke to lighten the mood? Darulma froze, his hand halfway through lighting the cigarette, and stared at her.

However, there wasn’t a hint of humor on Neti’s face. She was dead serious as she went on.

“Like that necromancer chick my sister sent on an errand… I’m telling you, there’s definitely another weirdo woman tagging along this time, too. My girl-senses are never wrong!”

While Darulma squinted at her like she was spouting nonsense, Corvus didn’t even acknowledge the comment.

Well, whatever.

Ignoring Neti, who had now taken to muttering something like Poor Saintess…, Darulma grabbed one of the phones off the table.

It wasn’t about doubting Yeomyeong or the Saintess—it was just about doing what he could for now.

With that thought, he began dialing Delman, the headquarters building manager. No matter what came next, he still had to attend the board meeting…

Just then—clack! Corvus clacked her beak sharply.

“…They’re here.”

There was no need to ask who “they” were.

Darulma dropped the phone and shot to his feet, and Neti—already on her feet—shouted something like “Nevermore!” as she bolted to the entrance.

And just before she could open the door, the front entrance swung open first. Three people stepped inside.

“Unnie!”

Neti rushed forward, arms open to hug Seti and Yeomyeong—but then stopped short.

Whatever they’d been doing for the past four days, her sister looked utterly exhausted, and the Saintess was basically sleepwalking.

However, what truly caught Neti’s eye was the fourth figure at the back—just taking off her hood.

A stunning beauty with unrealistic pink hair and eyes.

“…”

So it really was because of a woman, huh? Neti’s eyes widened as the worry that had only existed in her mind stepped into reality.

Regardless, Seti and the Saintess entered the room while mumbling something like “I’m so sleepy…” and shuffled off like zombies to the bedrooms.

Which meant Yeomyeong was left to handle the introductions.

“We’re back. Sorry we’re late.”

“I don’t mind the late part but… um, who is she exactly?”

“Ah, this is…”

Just as Yeomyeong was about to introduce Rashik, Darulma arrived late at the entrance, eyes wide as he interrupted.

“…That ‘girl-sense’ of yours… might be sharper than I thought.”

Darulma Dune was a competent dwarf.

Sure, the Elders thought he couldn’t match the clan head, and the youngsters said he’d just been born by grabbing a silver umbilical cord.

Regardless, Darulma Dune was still a competent dwarf.

The fact that things started shifting within just five days of his disappearance was proof enough.

Things had been ruined. And it wasn’t towards a good direction.

Most of the kinfolk blamed it on the “Red Star,” but the dwarves who’d actually seen the “Red Star” firsthand thought differently.

“The reason the elders and the young ones—so different, like water and oil—have managed to avoid open conflict until now… was Darulma.”

Hal Pagalda, an Elder and executive of Dungan Heavy Industries, spoke as he walked down a long underground corridor.

Soon, the stout man following behind him replied.

“So what you’re saying is… Darulma was the finely-tuned lightning rod—good at taking heat from both sides?”

That man was Kwon Mongjoo, captain of the Sonjuk Mercenary Group—personally recruited by Darulma. Even his footsteps radiated menacing mana, the unmistakable mark of a true superhuman.

“Lightning rod, huh? It sounds more intuitive than ‘middle management.’ I like this term.”

“…”

“Anyway, you’re not wrong. Darulma is living proof that even a lightning rod needs to be good at their job.”

It was hard to tell whether that was a compliment or an insult. But Kwon Mongjoo didn’t bother analyzing it.

Apparently, Hal Pagalda wasn’t looking for commentary either—he smoothly shifted the topic.

“Do you know where we’re heading right now, Captain?”

The mercenary didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced around.

The underground corridor where he and the old dwarf were walking was a hidden place, deep within a warehouse on the outskirts of Chicago—owned by Dungan Heavy Industries.

What struck him as odd was how much the structure resembled a Cold War-era nuclear launch bunker.

But why would a private company—not a military—have a bunker like this?

After a moment of thought, Kwon Mongjoo gave an honest answer.

“…I’m not sure.”

“Really? Even someone at your level can’t figure it out?”

“If I had to guess from my military experience… I’d say this is a nuclear missile bunker.”

“What? A nuclear missile bunker?”

“It seems like that, judging from the thickness of the concrete and the mana detection-blocking paint on the walls. At this level, it would take a near asymmetrical-force-class superhuman to detect anything.”

“Mana detection-blocking paint? You mean they smeared that absurdly expensive stuff all over this entire corridor…?”

Hal Pagalda swept his eyes around the corridor suspiciously—as if he didn’t know what this place really was either.

That alone made Kwon Mongjoo raise an eyebrow. Did he come here without knowing what this place was?

The old dwarf didn’t answer. Silence settled over the corridor once more, broken only by the echo of their footsteps.

Hal Pagalda stopped in front of the large iron door blocking the corridor. Instead of opening it, he clasped his hands behind his back as if lost in thought for a moment, then turned to Kwon Mongjoo and spoke.

“Captain Kwon. Do you know why I personally requested you as an escort and dragged you all the way out here?”

The sudden question made Kwon Mongjoo pause. He lowered his gaze, thinking.

The reason why he followed Hal Pagalda?

On the surface, he was here to fill in for Tian Lin, the Sonjuk member who had fallen to the Red Star a few days ago.

But having a captain cover for a fallen grunt? That was… not normal.

Anyone could tell there was more going on here.

From Kwon Mongjoo’s analysis, this was a political maneuver.

Hal Pagalda’s gesture—offering to take Darulma’s place as the master of the Sonjuk Mercenary Group—signaled that Darulma had been completely ousted.

However, it seemed there was another reason behind Hal Pagalda’s actions.

“I’m not one for riddles. Just tell me directly. Why did you call for me?”

“You’re the strongest superhuman I can trust and call her.”

“…?”

Kwon Mongjoo, momentarily confused by the statement, fell silent. Hal Pagalda bitterly smiled and placed his hand on the steel door.

“There’s been a hole in our internal ledgers since at least five years ago. At first, I thought it was just the young ones skimming money for their lavish lifestyle, so I ignored it… but the missing funds were massive.”

“…”

“Before going to Manchuria, Darulma had been tracking those funds. And recently, he nearly figured out where they were going… then he disappeared.”

The smell of conspiracy hung in the air—not just any conspiracy, but an enormous one.

“Most of those funds ended up flowing here. Doesn’t that seem odd? A hidden underground bunker that’s been around for years, Darulma’s disappearance, the appearance of the Red Star…”

“So you believe all these events are connected?”

Hal Pagalda nodded. It was too coincidental for him to dismiss it as mere chance.

Kwon Mongjoo drew up mana and asked.

“What is it you want from me?”

“Smash this door. As an elder of this family, I need to see what’s behind it.”

“…Did you not inform anyone else about this?”

“If this gets out, it could lead to the division of the family. Until everything becomes clear, I want to be the only one who knows.”

Kwon Mongjoo didn’t criticize the old dwarf for his stubbornness. He was a mercenary, and a mercenary only followed the orders from his employer.

After taking a deep breath, he conjured a massive flame in both hands—an unknown martial art he’d learned from the now inaccessible Chinese border region.

“Please, step back. It’ll get pretty hot.”

As the flame that had once repelled the dragon flame in Manchuria touched the steel door, a chilling hiss echoed, and the door began to heat up.

Hal Pagalda frowned as he watched the door turn red. The door was heating up but didn’t show any signs of melting.

Well, it was hardly surprising. A fire created by human hands couldn’t melt an alloy door—

Just then, the flame swirling from Kwon Mongjoo’s hands condensed into a single point—a tiny flame at the tip of his index finger.

The captain stretched his finger forward, and the steel door was pierced effortlessly. The door began to emit sparks like a welding torch.

Chiing!

Even so, the door didn’t melt. Instead, it was sliced precisely along the path of the captain’s finger.

After Kwon Mongjoo made a quick circular motion, thud! The cut door fell, leaving a hole just big enough for a dwarf to pass through.

“We’ll go in after the heat cools down.”

Having extinguished the flame, Kwon Mongjoo wiped the sweat from his forehead. Hal realized that the captain was an even stronger superhuman than he had imagined and nodded in acknowledgment.

A short while later, Hal confirmed that the door had cooled to a touchable temperature and stepped inside with a determined expression.

What was waiting for the old dwarf beyond the thick steel door was…

A vast factory.

Automated rails moved, robot arms worked relentlessly, and something was being endlessly produced in the factory.

For the capitalist dwarfs, this sight was all too familiar, but the issue was with what the factory was producing.

“What in the world is this…?”

The nearest mechanical arms grabbed a grotesque lump of flesh moving along the rails and inserted a circuit chip into it.

Bzzzt!

The lump of flesh, now embedded with the chip, twitched and convulsed, spewing something that might have been electricity—or mana—before going limp.

Whatever it was, the mechanical arm pulled the chip back out from the limp flesh and tossed it down a chute labeled “DISPOSAL.”

Squelch. The sound of flesh being discarded sent a chill down their spines.

However, the most disturbing thing of all was that, despite the grotesque scene, there was no smell of blood—no stench of any kind in the factory.

A scent all too familiar and sharp—the kind one would catch in a Gulag laboratory.

No… it can’t be…

Hal Pagalda shook his head violently, trying to drive away the horrifying thought forming in his mind.

“What kind of lunatic would do something like this…?”

Could such madness really have been created by one of his own people? His own kin?

Staggering back in disbelief at the sight, Hal Pagalda bumped into Kwon Mongjoo, who had just entered behind him.

Snapping out of it, Hal bit his lip and said.

“…Captain, until I say otherwise, you are not to speak a word of what you saw here. Understood?”

The captain gave no answer. Sensing something was wrong, Hal turned to look at him—and saw Kwon Mongjoo standing still, eyes closed, ears perked.

“Captain? Is something wrong?”

Just as Hal asked with concern, Kwon Mongjoo suddenly grabbed him.

“Apologies, but you need to get out of here right now.”

“What? Why? What’s happening?”

“…Someone’s approaching this place. Judging by their footsteps, at least ten of them. All of them are superhumans.”

No further explanation was needed.

With Hal still startled, Kwon Mongjoo tossed him through the hole in the steel door, then conjured a massive fireball and hurled it toward the machinery on the far side of the factory.

Hoping the flames would erase all traces of their presence.

Whoosh! As the fire spread to the rails, Kwon Mongjoo squeezed through the door himself.

“Climb on. We’re running.”

As the old dwarf scrambled onto his back, Kwon Mongjoo poured every last ounce of strength into his legs and took off down the underground corridor.