Chapter 98
Step, step.
The man I had threatened took the lead, guiding us to the "real business site." His chin, which had been stabbed, was sealed with a liquid bandage, so the bleeding had stopped.
"That trained intuition from your combat technique is certainly useful."
Iskan spoke from behind me. He was referring to the intuition of Akies Victima. Since an outsider was present, we avoided making direct references.
If our personal information was exposed, we would have to kill the man. But Iskan genuinely seemed to have no intention of killing him.
"Is this your first time meeting a user?"
"I've only met them often as enemies. The only user you know has already retired."
He was referring to Kinuan, the only user.
"This ability has saved my life multiple times."
"I'm well aware of its usefulness. It doesn't let you exceed your limits, but it does help you reliably reach your full potential. But we prefer to raise the maximum potential itself. If your peak is incomparably high, you can still overpower others even at your lowest."
That was exactly why the Imperial Guard used the Legion. If you dominated in every aspect, minor skills became unnecessary.
Even if I trained Akies Victima to its absolute limit… I still wouldn't be able to defeat an ordinary Imperial Guard soldier imbued with a Legion.
Perhaps sensing my bitterness, Iskan added,
"But I have dozens of times more real combat experience than you. The fact that you detected the anomaly faster than me is impressive."
"You would have noticed the trap even without me. The outcome wouldn’t have changed much."
Iskan didn't deny it. His insight and intuition were on par with mine.
‘The Imperial Guard does not need Akies Victima.’
That was the conclusion from the higher-ups.
Iskan and I stopped talking and focused on the end of the corridor. A faint noise and vibration reached our ears. Something was beyond that point.
'Most likely their business site.'
Bao Zakanan would be there as well.
"Do you know all your clients’ identities and names?"
Iskan asked the man. His voice dropped to a low frequency, carrying an imposing weight.
"I know a few… but most of the list is managed by the higher-ups. Ah, damn it, anyway, they handle it. The guest list that reaches low-level guys like me only has aliases."
The man grimaced as he spoke. He was revealing information he shouldn't have. Given that he referred to a higher-up, it seemed their operation was more organized than expected.
"As I said earlier, we have no intention of interfering with your business as long as we achieve our objective. We don’t want this to escalate either."
"I don’t know who you’re looking for… but if you leave quietly, I’ll keep my mouth shut. If the higher-ups find out, I’m as good as dead. For reference, there are no surveillance devices or security facilities inside. The same goes for the passage we just came through. This establishment prioritizes customer privacy above all else. Even if a person or two disappears, no one will notice."
The man was being cooperative. It seemed he had decided to trust Iskan. Even if he didn’t, he had no other option left.
Stop.
The man halted at the end of the underground passage.
The path we had taken was winding and complex. It had been crudely dug without proper excavation techniques, making it a tunnel that could collapse at any moment.
Outlaws had burrowed through the city's underground like rats. This wasn’t even the city center—it was beneath the ruins, making it a facility even the Empire would have trouble locating.
'This place is nothing like the business districts of the lower sector.'
All businesses in the lower sector fundamentally operated in a gray area.
The upper and lower sectors interacted in a mutually dependent relationship. Or more accurately, it was a one-sided sacrifice on the lower sector’s part. Manpower and resources from the lower sector flowed upward, while discarded byproducts from the upper sector were recycled below.
However, the lawless zone of the ruins was where all of Akbaran’s waste gathered to rot. Simply put, it was a "cesspool." Even gangs from the lower sector hesitated to handle the kind of work that was done here without a second thought.
"Then, we’ll go in."
The man glanced at us for confirmation before opening the door. We carefully observed him to ensure he wasn’t trying anything foolish.
Creeeeak.
As the rusted iron door swung open, the sounds inside grew louder. The difference in air pressure caused the air to stir and leak outward, carrying the stagnant stench past us.
I pressed the side of my mask, partially opening the mouthpiece. The smell rushed into my nose.
'What the hell is this…?'
I frowned. It was an indescribable stench, difficult to separate or analyze. Countless odors were vying to assert their presence.
Iskan was experiencing the same sensations I was. His forehead creased as well.
Urine and feces—both fresh and rotting—mingled together. Beyond that, there was the acrid scent of oil and the metallic tang of blood. The harsh fumes of disinfectants, regularly sprayed, lingered in the air. Yet even that wasn’t enough to fully mask the stench, so they had scattered perfumes all over in a desperate attempt to cover it up.
And then, the distinct artificial body odors secreted by full-body prosthetics to mimic the human scent. The acrid smell of gunpowder, the sharp scent of energy particles, the aroma of cooked meat from somewhere, as if someone was eating, and alcohol, evaporated into the air and drifting around…
Throb, throb.
The stench was already enough to cause a headache, but my heightened senses only made it worse. Even though I didn’t want to, my brain was heating up as it automatically analyzed the scent particles.
Click.
Unable to bear it any longer, I shut the valve on my mask. Finally, I could breathe again.
"Ah, there’s no ventilation in the hallway…"
The man glanced at me and spoke awkwardly.
Beyond the open door, a straight hallway stretched ahead. It was wide enough for about four people to walk side by side. On either side, tightly shut doors lined the corridor.
Clang, thud.
Occasionally, noises came from inside the rooms. The structure prevented any view of the interiors from the outside.
"The client who visited just before we arrived…"
Iskan finally pinpointed the target clearly. Since he knew the order in which Bao Zakanan had entered, finding him wouldn’t be difficult.
"Please handle it quietly. Don’t disturb the other clients."
The man displayed a degree of professionalism as he spoke. He walked down the corridor, checking the numbers on the doors.
…And then, it happened.
Clatter!
One of the doors swung open.
Click!
Iskan and I swiftly drew our pistols, aiming at the open doorway.
"S-save me, p-please…"
A naked boy was crawling out. He looked about the same age as I had been when I first entered the Imperial Guard.
His face was filled with terror as he dragged himself across the floor. The reason he was crawling was simple. He had no legs.
Drip, drip.
Blood gushed from the stumps where his legs had been freshly severed, pooling onto the hallway floor. As he spotted us, he desperately reached out his hand.
"You f-fucking piece of—damn it! How many times have I told you to shut the damn door properly?!"
The man who had been guiding us cursed furiously. A dull voice responded from inside the room.
"You have to give them hope that they can escape. That way, they’ll struggle harder. Not like he can actually get away, so what’s the problem?"
A woman stepped out of the room. Her identity was concealed by a featureless mask, with only her eyes visible through the slits.
She was holding a saw blade, stained with blood and flesh. It was clear she had used it to sever the boy’s legs.
"A-ahhh! Aaaahhhh! G-get away! P-please! Please!"
The moment the boy saw the woman, he froze in terror. His face twisted into an expression on the verge of madness.
"Hee-hee, good, good. I love it when they struggle so healthily. Their flesh is so soft and tender. This makes the money worth it."
Ah, I understood everything now—where the children who frequently went missing in the lower sector ended up… and what kind of business these people conducted here.
"Of course. We only deal in one-hundred percent pure, biological humans."
The man smirked as he spoke to the woman. This situation wasn’t abnormal to them. Their sense of morality had long since been twisted beyond recognition.
What people satisfied here was—
‘The urge to kill.’
And it had to be directed at pure, flesh-and-blood humans…
I already knew that the people here were rotting from the inside out. But facing it directly made it almost unbearable. I must have resisted the urge to pull the trigger dozens of times by now.
Creak, thud.
The woman dragged the boy back into the room and locked the door behind her.
"My apologies. Just a little mishap. That guest always does that."
The man turned to us and spoke casually.
Iskan and I likely wore neutral expressions. We were used to hiding our emotions. But what was Iskan thinking right now? Was he suppressing the same rage and disgust that I was?
"Luka."
Iskan spoke my name. Until now, he had avoided revealing any information.
…That’s right.
Iskan had changed his mind. He no longer intended to let the man live.
"I'm listening."
I responded briefly.
"You search every room and find Bao Zakanan. I'll…"
Iskan raised his gun, aimed it at the man’s forehead, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Bang!
Even as the gunshot echoed through the corridor, no one inside the rooms peeked out. Compared to what was happening behind those doors, a gunshot was a trivial matter.
Thud!
The man collapsed backward, arms sprawled out. His eyes were wide open in death, and blood trickled steadily from the hole in his forehead.
"…I’m going to start cleaning up this trash now."
"Understood."
I liked Iskan. His humanity was commendable.
Iskan grabbed the door the woman and boy had gone through. Against his strength, the lock was meaningless.
Crash!
The iron door was torn from its hinges like a toy and slammed against the wall. Iskan raised his gun toward the interior and fired repeatedly.
"You—you don’t know who I—"
The woman’s voice leaked out faintly. She was spewing the same nauseatingly predictable words. I wondered just how many times Iskan, an Irregular, had heard those exact words in his lifetime.
"Hah, even trash can talk."
The woman, equipped with a full-body prosthetic, didn’t die from just a few pistol rounds. Iskan bounced lightly on his feet, then shot forward like a blur into the room.
Crunch!
A sickening burst echoed. Most likely her skull. He must have crushed her artificial cranium along with whatever was inside. How did I know? Because I’d heard that sound many times before.
I moved as well. Even without a guide, finding Bao Zakanan wouldn’t be difficult. He was bound to be somewhere in here, indulging his twisted urges.
Despite the commotion, no one had any intention of stepping out.
The dead man had led us down a long hallway. Bao Zakanan wasn’t in any of the rooms we had passed. That meant he was in one of the five doors remaining ahead of me.
Creak, crash.
I shattered the lock and pushed open the door. Inside, a man covered head to toe in feces was standing. He had a woman hanging against the wall, mutilating her.
What an impressive fetish.
"What’s this? A bonus service?"
The shit-covered man grinned, revealing teeth so white they looked comically out of place against his filth-smeared face.
"It’s a service, all right. A one-way guide to the afterlife."
I leapt lightly into the air. My body shot forward, and as I reached his side, I swung my heel like a hammer. My inward-curving kick smashed his head down to the floor.
Crunch!
His skull burst the moment it met the ground beneath my heel.
I had no idea what noble family or high-ranking position he might have belonged to.
But one thing was certain.
No matter how corrupt the Empire had become, they wouldn’t hold me accountable for the immediate execution of filth like this. Even the Empire wouldn’t go so far as to protect this kind of trash.
And if… if the Empire did choose to protect them, then I was fully prepared to become a dissident.
Creak, bang!
I opened the next door. What kind of scene awaited me inside?
I didn’t feel like describing it.
"H-hurk, do you even know who I—"
Trash. Nothing more.
I pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Crunch!
And when I broke down the next door, I finally saw Bao Zakanan.
"Ah…"
Bao Zakanan turned to look at me with a bewildered expression.
My lip curled involuntarily, twitching slightly under my eye.
He was dressed in an outfit adorned with extravagant lace—women’s clothing.
And in front of him, a naked man was bound to a cross.
When I saw the man's face, my eyes widened.
'Nikolaos?'
The bound man resembled Nikolaos.
Of course, it wasn’t him. The man had been dead for a while—there were no signs of life.
'A corpse that looks like Nikolaos.'
I had a vague idea of the vile desire that had driven this entire scene.
"My name is Lukaus Custoria."
Bao Zakanan’s eyes widened in shock.
I aimed my gun at him and continued speaking.
"You know damn well why Custoria is here, don’t you, you fucking bastard?"