Chapter 776

Some questions in this world remain unanswered.

The relationship between troubled times and heroes is one of them.

Do heroes appear first, bringing troubled times in their wake?

Or do troubled times give rise to heroes?

Even after many years had passed, no clear answer had emerged that could satisfy everyone. But when faced with the history of the Great Cataclysm, even those who had argued for the former were forced to turn toward the latter.

A Great War unlike any other in human history.

The Great Cataclysm shattered everything people had thought they knew. It gave rise to countless heroes, then cast them into the jaws of death, leaving behind only their names and deeds.

But many heroes survived, too.

Heroes like those now gazing at the National Assembly Hall, filled with traces of glory, and the enormous round table at its center.

“Ah. This place hasn’t changed. Even the air feels the same as it did that day.”

“It’s changed a little. When did they put up that painting?”

“What are you talking about, hyung¹? It’s been almost thirty years. Weren’t you at the commemorative event?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I never wanted to remember those days again.”

Power beyond that of ordinary humans did not preserve everyone’s youth.

An old man whose hair had turned white with the passing years murmured in a hoarse voice.

“So many empty seats.”

The survivors had carried losses as great as their glory.

Where were the comrades who had once sat around this table and cheered? The ones who had fought back-to-back against monsters surging in from every direction?

“I never thought I’d come back here….”

Yet fate had brought them back, as if playing a cruel joke.

Back to this place marked by glory and pain. Back to swear once more that they would be humanity’s sword and shield.

And new faces were filling the seats left empty by those who were gone.

“Hello, Senior.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Liam. We met during the Defense of Frankfurt, but I suppose you don’t remember me. Haha.”

“I’m sorry. I must be getting old if I can’t recognize someone I fought beside.”

“No, of course you wouldn’t recognize me. I was fifteen then.”

“Fifteen? Were you…?”

“Yes. I was one of the citizens in the bunker. You may not remember, Senior, but you saved my life back then.”

“Well, I’ll be.”

The great trees with sturdy roots were not the only ones to survive the typhoon.

Those who had once been saplings, weeds, or mere seeds had grown, too, and earned the right to sit at the round table.

But warm reunions like theirs were rare among the heroes of past and present. Humanity faced another grave crisis, and the heroes differed in both their values and the course they wanted to take.

Whom would they choose as their representative?

That was the most important question before them today. The older and younger heroes had naturally gathered with those who shared their views.

Two men stood at the center of it all.

Michael Silbert, renowned for his achievements and the first to call for the World Hunter Federation’s reestablishment.

And…

Jin Taekyung.

Michael Silbert repeated the name silently. He shook hands and exchanged greetings with the followers surrounding him, but his shadowed eyes remained fixed on the young man beyond their shoulders.

What exactly did you mean by that?

The voices flattering him seemed far away. All he could hear was what Jin had said moments earlier.

“I’m a little disappointed. That you thought I could hold you back with nothing more than a few criminal convictions.”

The voice had faded, but the memory remained vivid. So did the shock Michael had felt at the time.

His heart, usually so calm, began to beat faster.

Wait. Could it be?

His gray eyes trembled as he watched Jin Taekyung.

Of all the possibilities he had considered, one had come to mind. It was the only way Jin could stop him now.

But… no. It couldn’t be. It was absurd.

It’s all but impossible for anyone else to notice. No, it’s impossible.

Only one person could have done so: Cheon Taemin.

Even he, who had reached a one-of-a-kind realm, had merely sensed something in passing at the time. Michael Silbert, who had immediately noticed the warning sign, had been forced to lie low like a wanted criminal for a long time.

Until Cheon Taemin disappeared from the public eye.

Until Michael was certain Cheon Taemin’s attention had shifted away from him.

And now Jin Taekyung, of all people? Not Sky?

As his unease grew, Michael shook his head inwardly.

No. Everything Jin had said was nothing but bravado.

Bravado meant to search for one final opening after everything was already over. The last desperate struggle of someone who had sensed his defeat.

But why?

Even as he dismissed it as a bluff, Jin’s image rose before him like a haze, clouding his eyes and ears.

“Then what is your intention?”

One question.

“Why did you do those things? What in the world were you doing it for?”

Then another.

“This isn’t fear. It’s pity. You could call it disgust, too.”

That expression. Those eyes. That calm voice.

The young man had lived barely half as long as Michael, yet the emotion Michael had sensed in him was unmistakably close to genuine.

And if it was genuine…

Crack.

Bones shifted under the pressure of Michael’s grip. A strained voice broke through his thoughts.

“G-Guild Master?”

“Hmm?”

“W-Why are you squeezing my hand…?”

“Ah.”

Michael realized what he had done and loosened his grip.

The follower whose hand he had been shaking forced a smile through the pain.

“You certainly live up to your reputation. I used to be a tank, so I can hold my own when it comes to raw strength, but you’re incredible, Guild Master.”

The S-rank Hunters and heads of the great Guilds watching nearby were quick to agree.

“Of course he is.”

“Haha. Odin Guild didn’t become the best for nothing. Michael Silbert’s name has been famous since the Great Cataclysm.”

“Really, this was Paul’s fault. I saw him squeeze first. Hahaha.”

Laughter mingled with flattery disguised as praise.

Michael watched them, then felt a smile tug at his lips.

Yes. This was power.

This was why he had to gain authority by any means necessary.

The actions of the strong were always justified by the weak who feared their power.

It did not matter if they did not respect him. It did not matter if they did not love him.

If he could make them afraid—if he could reign over them rather than lead them—he would have everything.

Michael had first learned that truth in the back alleys of Paris’s Tenth Arrondissement. He had seen gang members walk the streets with guns tucked into their waistbands, and people too frightened to report them. That was when he understood the path he had to take.

This is how the world works.

He gave his followers a gentle smile and turned his head.

Jin Taekyung was with the elders, many of whom had retired once already or still remembered Cheon Taemin’s presence. Several other familiar faces were there, too.

Grand Mage Magic Johnson. Chuck Hagel, who had resigned as United States Secretary of Defense after the vigilante incident. Faye Chen of Hong Kong. Even Prince Felix of the United Kingdom.

They were formidable figures, even among the people gathered here from around the world. But their side held fewer than half of the three hundred seats.

The old generation must have come here looking only toward Sky, while the new generation followed Jin Taekyung.

But whom would they support once Cheon Taemin’s condition became known?

His maternal grandson, whose only claim was their shared blood?

Or Jin Taekyung, absurdly young and so often reckless?

Even Magic Johnson, with all his achievements and popularity, fell short of Michael in fame and reputation.

Whether you wanted it or not, only one person remains.

Him.

The man who had harbored greater ambitions than anyone else and spent years preparing for this moment.

To Michael, the people across the table looked like sandcastles about to crumble.

Still… it pays to prepare for the unexpected.

He slipped a hand into his pocket.

The moment he pressed the pager inside, sending a signal to someone, his eyes met Jin Taekyung’s.

A pair of reddish, heated eyes.

Michael felt the heat in them as keenly as a searing pain at the back of his neck, beneath his armor.

“…Hmm.”

“Oh. What’s wrong?”

“Mr. Silbert, are you feeling unwell?”

“I brought a potion just in case. Good thing I—”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing. There’s no need to fuss.”

Michael answered firmly, then stared at Jin. Had Jin seen his reaction?

He fought down the unease.

But Jin was already looking elsewhere, and the sight of the figure seated beside him steadied Michael.

No—a monster in human form.

Stone-King.

As long as that creature was here, Michael would stand at the center of the round table.

He had to.

—All attendees have arrived. Please take your seats.

The announcement came over the speakers. Michael clenched his fist.

The inaugural ceremony began, but the attendees did not fall silent.

If anything, their quiet whispers grew louder.

“All attendees have arrived?”

“That can’t be right. You must have misheard.”

“There must have been a minor mistake.”

The elders and the younger generation shared the same confusion. One person who surely had to attend was nowhere to be seen.

But after everyone took their seats, no correction came over the speakers.

Only then did they understand.

Cheon Taemin, humanity’s savior, would not appear.

Not today. Not tomorrow or the day after. Perhaps not before this second Great War came to an end.

“What in the world…?”

“Where is Sky? Where is that person?”

What everyone had taken for a simple mix-up set off a rising murmur, then shock and confusion.

And then—

Step. Step.

Someone rose from their seat and walked toward the center of the round table.