Black Badger

Chapter 461: Rioters (3)

“Has the device been activated?”

Erich asked the question without taking his eyes off the drone feed.

Shashinsky slid a .32 caliber round between his fingers and answered calmly.

“Yes.”

“How long did they say it would take?”

“Three hours.”

Three hours.

Compared to reclaiming territory, it was absurdly short. But given the current situation, it wasn’t short at all.

Colton’s side would try to destroy the device within those three hours.

Under that kind of relentless assault, he had to defend one assigned device.

There was no way this would end without casualties.

When Hildebert had voluntarily allowed himself to be abducted by CIS, they had taken a considerable blow. It had been long since they’d suffered damage of that scale. It had taken time to recover—damage comparable to when Erich had drawn his blade to ascend to the Elder seat.

Erich had stroked the urns containing the remains of his fallen limbs and wept. Every one of them had been someone he cherished dearly.

In the end, they never became truly happy.

If they had overcome it, grown stronger, and found happiness, he would have forgotten their names and let them go. Strangely, those who followed him blindly rarely met such endings.

This time, though, there would be even more casualties.

Erich Erhart could sense it.

And that was a very optimistic reading of the future.

He would be fortunate if he didn’t lose his own head entirely.

When he had decided to climb to the Elder seat, Erich had never once set his sights on Yekaterina or Colton. That restraint had proven to be the correct decision after he ascended. True, he had liked the number three and had decided to sever the third-ranked head. But there had also been a vague feeling that he shouldn’t touch second or first.

After taking his seat and reviewing information that had previously been sealed from him, Erich understood clearly: knowing his place had saved his life.

Colton and Yekaterina held the nuclear keys.

It was like watching the United States and Russia during the Cold War.

Nuclear weapons weren’t the only problem—but that was when Erich had realized it. Unless an overwhelming game-changer appeared, this rigid board would not collapse.

He wasn’t driven by hunger for power; he simply understood that power was comfortable. He had no particular regret about that truth.

In fact, he himself had soon become one of the pillars of that rigid board.

There was something stable about the number three. For the past few years, he had lived rather satisfactorily.

But the only constant was that everything changes.

“What about the perimeter around the device?”

“We’ve deployed sufficient forces,” Shashinsky replied loyally.

Erich smiled faintly and rose.

“And Prometheus?”

“He intends to break through the rioters and head straight to Falcon’s residence.”

The drones and CCTV feeds showed the four Core devices and the Harlem district where the riot had erupted.

Storefront windows shattered. A car with its bumper dangling smashed through the doors of a closed shop. People rushed into the collapsing interior. Masked men fired guns into the sky.

Gang members gathered in clusters, lifting chairs and hurling them at buildings.

Cars burned in alleys.

Incidents like this happened from time to time.

But this riot wouldn’t subside easily. The police would not enter. Weapons would not run out anytime soon.

“The military is mobilizing.”

Colton Wiseman truly was an efficient man.

Hesh Lyle’s father—Hildebert’s peer’s father—had been a three-star general. Colton had killed him to create justification for moving the military. In the process, he had even taken Luke Lyle hostage.

Erich almost wanted to applaud the opponent’s elegant response.

“If only we hadn’t revived Prometheus, things would have been far cleaner.”

Erich laughed softly to himself.

“A failed gamble.”

Something exploded on one of the screens.

A military missile, apparently a direct hit.

Erich raised one eyebrow as his aircraft were obliterated mercilessly.

“Oh dear. I was fond of those.”

“You must move.”

Shashinsky approached, face hardened.

“It’s time to depart.”

“Don’t look so tense. There won’t be any safe zones left inside Center Core soon.”

“All the more reason to move!”

Shashinsky snapped sharply, grabbing his arm.

Uncharacteristically, he had lost his composure.

From the darkness, the blond subordinate Levi stepped forward.

“The car is ready.”

Even he—usually smiling—was razor-sharp today.

When their eyes met, his eyes curved gently, but something dangerous flickered in their narrowing depths.

“Let’s go, Eric. If you die in this chaos, I’ll go stand before Prometheus and blow myself up.”

“Oh my.”

Erich’s voice held genuine warmth.

“I suppose I’ll have to survive.”

He liked Hildebert Taleb. He liked the subordinates standing before him.

He wanted to survive and witness the finale of this delightful play with his own eyes.

He hadn’t been born with exceptional physical reflexes, so those guarding him would likely suffer for it.

“Let’s go.”

Erich Erhart stepped into the chaos of Center Core.

***

“Seunghyun.”

Yekaterina called his name.

Lee Seunghyun turned and met his superior’s eyes silently. Her pale green irises were as cold as ever. It was rare to read emotion there. She was always quiet. She rarely smiled.

“Yes.”

“Still not moving?”

There was no subject, but Lee Seunghyun understood immediately.

“Yes. There are no signs of movement.”

“So he must have prepared something.”

Yekaterina turned her gaze to the drone feed showing Colton’s mansion.

Colton and Jaeyeon were inside that mansion—the same one Hildebert had once stormed. Even when Hildebert had not fully regained his strength, it had collapsed helplessly before him. Yet now, for some reason, they were not fleeing.

True, three times more forces had been deployed around it compared to before.

But how could that be enough to stop a Hildebert bent on revenge?

Colton Wiseman would know that better than anyone.

“Have they resigned themselves to death?” one subordinate muttered.

Normally, speaking without being addressed would not be tolerated. But today, Yekaterina was unusually lenient.

“No. He is someone who searches for a chance to counterattack until the very last moment. Resolve for death is far from him.”

Had he prepared a massive bomb?

Or was the nuclear launch button located only in that mansion?

Whatever the reason, since he showed no intention of moving, Colton had apparently decided to receive Hildebert at the mansion.

“We should move.”

One of the few who could speak to her first.

Lee Seunghyun approached and said it quietly. The silver-haired woman lifted her head.

She looked at him with an unreadable expression.

“Seunghyun.”

If it had been Hildebert calling his name, he would have answered only with his eyes.

But it was her.

“Yes.”

“Do you like me, or do you like Prometheus?”

His face twisted.

It had been a very long time since Lee Seunghyun had failed to control his expression before his superior.

What are these two doing?

Did they both suddenly develop affection deficiency?

He didn’t voice the thought. It was probably obvious on his face.

He didn’t answer immediately either. Frowning, he looked down at her.

His long-time superior—never emotional, clear in orders, ice-cold and easy to work under.

She had helped him protect the one person he had wanted to protect in his life.

Unable to endure it, he lowered his gaze and let out a breath.

“I like Sasha.”

He spoke a name he hadn’t shaped into sound in a very long time.

“Let’s move.”

“Very well.”

Yekaterina smiled briefly.

Lee Seunghyun closed his eyes and opened them again. He couldn’t understand why she had smiled.

Was she pleased with his answer?

Or amused by his bluntness?

She had already turned and walked toward the door.

He didn’t know. He didn’t particularly care.

Lee Seunghyun had never been a curious man.

Though he did wonder one thing.

When will those two stop asking that ridiculous question?

He checked his rounds irritably and followed his superior.

***

“That Badger, you know. What was it? The one missing an arm and a leg... the guy who shot that noodle commercial.”

“Hildebert Taleb, sir?”

Ska asked from behind his back.

The man sitting in the chair once occupied by Yehyeon nodded lazily.

“Yes, that’s the one.”

The newly appointed Commander-in-Chief sat with one leg crossed, eyes fixed on his pad. He didn’t look up.

His white shirt carried a faint scent of cigarettes.

“Process him as deceased.”

He said it casually.

“There’s no hope anyway, right? They found a lethal amount of blood at the scene. It’s not like he went missing fighting Creatures outside the Core. Why drag this out without issuing a death declaration?”

“No body has been recovered. Additionally, to prevent a decline in staff morale, we have refrained from declaring him dead internally.”

“What morale decline? Badgers die every other day. And it’s not good to keep clashing with CIS like this. They may look like they’re doing nothing, but they hold information. We can’t ignore that.”

Ska didn’t respond.

If he opened his mouth, he might fail to conceal his emotions.

The Commander-in-Chief didn’t care.

“Process him as deceased.”

Still not looking up, the man tapped the table with his finger.

“And those Badgers strangely clustered around the center of Center Core—move them outward. What, do Creatures appear every single day? Why are so many gathered here?”

Again, he didn’t wait for Ska’s answer.

He finally tossed the pad onto the desk, rolled his eyes as if thinking, then waved a hand dismissively.

“Call the Personnel Director.”

Ska barely suppressed a sigh.

“And this Badger who’s supposedly your peer—even if he was attacked by illegal enhanced-body holders, doing this to humans instead of Creatures...”

BOOOOM!

The Commander-in-Chief’s words were cut off by a distant explosion.

It came from Harlem.

***

In Harlem, there was a real owner of the streets.

I opened the front door and stepped down the stairs—only to run into him.

The gang leader of this district.

Half his face was covered in tattoos. A pistol hung in his hand. He stared at us without agitation—like he already had a target.

“Lin.”

He spoke slowly.

“We’ve got something to settle.”

“Guillaume!”

Lin bared his teeth.

“You ungrateful baguette bastard, how many times did I clean up your mess and you’re talking about settling—”

Bang!

The gun fired.

Lin would have been hit if I hadn’t smacked his head sideways with my palm.

He staggered, cursing.

I grabbed him and bolted back up the stairs before he fully regained his senses.

“Sir Knight!”

I’m not a commander—what knight?

“That almost hit my head! I could’ve died instantly! Save me!”

“Shut up and run.”

I reached the rooftop and glanced down at the hellscape below—and at the footsteps chasing us.

“If you keep yelling, I’ll drop you.”

Lin’s mouth zipped shut.

Just as I was about to commend that, my ears caught something wrong.

Something tearing through the sky.

I reflexively shoved Lin and the Old Spider away and drew my blade.

I must have shouted for them to duck—half unconsciously.

My eyes locked on the incoming missile.

You insane ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ bastard!

How many people are down here right now—?

BOOOOM!

My slash split the missile cleanly in two.

It exploded midair, and the shockwave tore through Harlem.