Chapter 791

As far as I knew, the Middle East mattered more to the world than most people realized.

Depending on how you defined it, it stretched from Western Asia to the countries of North Africa.

And since the Great Cataclysm, active resettlement policies had pushed its population past a staggering three hundred million.

That wasn’t all.

The oil fields that had sustained the region were still doing their part, while Gates scattered throughout the area yielded Magic Gems—a resource that had rapidly overtaken oil in importance.

Of course, half the Magic Gems obtained that way probably disappear through back channels.

That was just how things worked around there.

There were no powerful civic groups or government agencies to investigate corruption, so even when resources came in, plenty leaked out the back.

In the Middle East, royal families held virtually unlimited wealth and power. Terrorist groups operated openly, and hypocrites who’d started as revolutionary leaders had evolved into dictators.

To them, the law was gum they could spit out whenever the flavor was gone.

Michael Silbert knew exactly how to exploit that.

Smuggling Magic Gems and leaving them unrefined were grave crimes under international law, but there were plenty of loopholes.

Especially in the Middle East and Africa, where terrorist groups and rebels were everywhere.

But a man who was already dead was no longer the problem.

It’s the one who’s still alive.

Tap.

I set down the tablet and rubbed my eyes. Staring at text for hours had worn me out.

Or maybe it was those three syllables I couldn’t get out of my head.

The Prophet.

Thinking of someone whose face I didn’t even know, I gazed out the window.

As the plane’s wing cut across the cloud-choked sky and rain poured down, the voice I’d heard on TV seemed to rumble like thunder.

“Following God’s will, we will not stop. Starting today, we will judge and punish you.”

Who was that bastard?

Even though the voice hadn’t been altered, I couldn’t make out their gender or age. Their face was hidden, too, beneath a hood pulled down low.

Did they cover up so carefully because people would recognize their face?

Probably, but even that wasn’t certain. The Prophet was as hard to make out as the storm clouds outside the window.

“The weather’s bad.”

A voice spoke beside me. Still looking out the window, I answered.

“It sure is. Doesn’t look like good flying weather at all.”

“It’s worse than that. This is about as bad as it gets.”

“Think The Prophet planted a mole at the weather service?”

“What makes you think that?”

“What do you mean? It’s the perfect setup for an assassination.”

Team Leader Choi dropped into the seat beside me.

“I can tell you two things. First, the airport forecast was accurate. This is just a change in the weather caused by magical power. Second, if I were The Prophet, I wouldn’t waste my time.”

“Why not?”

“Even if this plane crashed, you would survive, Mr. Jin Taekyung.”

“…Oh.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“Who knows? I’ve never been in a plane crash.”

Even that was a ridiculous answer. A crash from this height, in weather like this, should obviously be fatal.

Team Leader Choi seemed to think so too. He shook his head, then glanced at the tablet on the table.

“Have you read it all?”

“Yes. Enough times to be sick of it.”

Some material had been added, but about half of it was already painfully familiar.

Before the World Hunter Federation was founded, I’d spent several nights reading those same documents over and over.

They concerned Michael Silbert, so naturally they covered The Prophet and the Middle East too.

“What do you make of them?”

“Hard to say. I can tell you at least three things.”

I glared at the tablet, crammed with text.

“The Middle East is damn huge, so finding The Prophet quickly will be tough. And that bastard is damn good at hiding.”

“And the third?”

“That fucking bastard has an enormous amount of unrefined Magic Gems.”

Right. That was the problem.

The Prophet had launched indiscriminate terrorist attacks around the world, then gone quiet after Michael Silbert’s death. The public figured they’d gotten scared and was starting to relax.

But that only made me more uneasy.

This mood. This calm before the storm.

They’re planning something bigger. I’m sure of it.

I’d been given a Main Quest unlike any before, one important enough for the System to name it Cataclysm.

That was why I’d mobilized the World Hunter Federation immediately.

Even after setting aside the personnel needed to prevent further terrorist attacks and monster waves, we’d sent a full hundred thousand troops to the Middle East.

Every one of them was a Hunter. That made for an enormous force.

Even Korea, recognized worldwide as a Hunter powerhouse, couldn’t mobilize that many Hunters, regardless of their individual levels.

Some people had murmured that we were deploying far too many troops right from the start, but that nonsense died as quickly as it started.

That was how much authority and power the World Hunter Federation held now.

The UN General Assembly, representing nearly every country on Earth, had given its approval. All of humanity supported us.

If the United States had called itself the world’s police, the World Hunter Federation was recognized as such by everyone—and untouchable.

Even Russia, which had clashed constantly with the Western powers led by the United States, had promised to cooperate fully with the Federation and warned the Middle Eastern countries that objected.

—If you don’t want to die, clear a path.

The diplomatic cable was long, but that was the gist.

Vladimir Furin, Russia’s president for life, was deeply upset that a terrorist attack had destroyed Red Square. He’d also been itching to settle the score with several Middle Eastern countries that had sided with Michael Silbert at the recent UN General Assembly.

So what choice did they have?

The Middle Eastern leaders hadn’t been thrilled at the prospect of a hundred thousand Hunters showing up, but within a few hours they’d thrown open their airspace and territorial waters.

International condemnation was one thing. They might also find themselves drinking radioactive tea¹ one sunny morning.

But the whole world’s cooperation wouldn’t make The Prophet fall into our hands on its own.

“How far has the search gotten?”

Team Leader Choi answered at once.

“Everyone is doing their best, but so far, no one has found anything unusual. The area is vast, and it’s only been a day since the search began.”

I knew. That was one of the main reasons I was heading to the Middle East myself.

Even so, I couldn’t help asking again, even if it was premature.

“How long do you expect it to take?”

“In the worst case, more than sixty days. That estimate assumes we mobilize every Federation Hunter and all the allied forces that joined afterward.”

“…Sixty days.”

“Again, that’s only the worst case. If we put everything we have into it, we may well finish sooner.”

Would we, though?

I said nothing, but unease stirred inside me.

They’re not going to be easy to deal with.

The Prophet had evaded surveillance around the world even before the Federation was founded.

The worst terrorist in history, far beyond the South American drug lords or even his much older predecessor, Osama bin Laden.

Some people might have thought it was amazing we could catch someone like that within two months…

I wasn’t.

Two months is too late.

If my guess was right, The Prophet had an enormous quantity of Magic Gems. Unrefined, and therefore all the more dangerous—a ticking time bomb.

No one knew when it would go off.

In a month. In two weeks. Or…

It could be tomorrow.

And when that bomb went off, the Cataclysm named in my Main Quest would begin. It wasn’t hard to imagine.

If that happened, a disaster on par with—no, possibly even worse than—the terrorist attacks The Prophet had carried out so far would sweep across the world.

“It’s your turn now. Let’s see you struggle with everything you’ve got. I’ll be watching from up there.”

A voice suddenly echoed in my ears.

Now I understood what Michael Silbert’s last words had really meant.

But just as I’d sent that bastard, who’d seemed impossible to stop, plunging into the depths of hell, I was ready to fight again.

And I had a suspicion that was close to certainty.

The Prophet isn’t ready yet, either.

A hungry person wouldn’t hold back with a delicious meal right in front of them.

The Prophet probably hadn’t finished preparing to set off the bomb. They were lying low, holding their breath so they wouldn’t be found before the cooking was done.

I have to find them before that happens. No matter what.

I looked at Team Leader Choi.

“What about the cargo? Is it behaving?”

“The cargo? Oh.”

Realizing what I meant, Team Leader Choi gave me a wry smile.

“It’s been quiet. Though it does cause trouble now and then.”

“Keep a close eye on it. We’ve got a mountain of things to find out about The Prophet.”

“Understood.”

I nodded and turned back to the window.

Through the distant, hazy storm clouds, a city shone brightly in the darkness. It was drawing closer.

The desert night was cold.

A young man handsome enough to draw admiring looks from anyone who saw him gazed up at the black sky and murmured.

“…I think something just passed by. Was that him?”

“What?”

“Nothing. Talking to myself. Anyway, where did we lose contact?”

Xiao Shen tilted his head at the Skeleton King’s reaction, then answered.

“About thirty kilometers² farther southeast, Mr. S.”

“Mr. S… I thought I told you not to call me that.”

“Oh. Sorry, Mr. King.”

“…It still sounds strange, but I don’t entirely mind it.”

“Thank you!”

“Don’t get excited, you young human brat.”

He grumbled, but the Skeleton King was in a pretty good mood as he headed toward their destination—just as he’d said.

Actually, he was rather pleased.

That little kid isn’t bothered by me?

Ever since his identity had been revealed, the Skeleton King had felt eyes following him wherever he went.

Some people watched him warily, if not with outright hostility. Others smiled and treated him with kindness.

Sometimes even curiosity, depending on the kind, was a burden.

That was why the Skeleton King had chosen to conduct his search alone. Being alone was easier. It gave him a chance to escape all those eyes, if only for a while.

But this little brat from China had joined him without a second thought and stayed with him ever since.

That devious human said the only good Chink was a dead Chink. Looks like there are exceptions, even if they’re rare.

Smiling to himself, the Skeleton King arrived at their destination with Xiao Shen.

It was a patch of sparse woods and desert where a search squad had lost contact an hour earlier.

“This the place?”

“Yes. No doubt about it, Mr. King.”

“I don’t see anything around here. Are you sure—”

The Skeleton King had been frowning as he surveyed the area, but his eyes suddenly flew open.

“…What’s that?”