Chapter 797

In just a few days, the main force had built a solid command structure and amassed tremendous fighting strength.

The World Hunter Federation had led the way. The major powers of the G20 were among the first to lend their strength, and even the UN peacekeeping forces, forged into elite troops by the Great Cataclysm, had joined them.

The people gathered in the strategy room were the head and limbs that moved this enormous body.

“So…”

Chuck Hagel had listened to my explanation in silence. Now he spoke slowly.

“That fucking terrorist has been covering Michael Silbert’s ass from the very beginning?”

I nodded without hesitation.

“Yes.”

“You believe him? Huginn, I mean.”

“Am I crazy? I wouldn’t trust a bastard like that.”

“Then what do you believe?”

“His fear.”

Chuck Hagel studied me for a moment, then tapped the ash from his cigar.

“Sounds like it’s true.”

“At least, that’s how it felt to me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Not a hundred percent. Maybe ninety-five. Even Huginn has no reason to lie in a situation like this.”

“What about the other five percent?”

“The people visiting him with knives in hand are filling that in. Maybe we’re up to ninety-seven by now.”

The first confession was the hard part. After that, it got easier. Now that Huginn had started talking, he’d drag out everything he knew—even things he’d forgotten.

Pain wasn’t what broke a strong person. It was the fear inside them.

Of course, he’ll be tortured plenty before then.

Everyone here probably knew what was happening, but no one said it aloud.

What mattered now wasn’t Huginn, who was probably being reduced to a bloody mess. It was what we did next.

We had to make a new plan on the assumption that everything he’d confessed was true. The Prophet wasn’t just some lunatic terrorist. He was strong enough to kill a Grand Mage on his own.

“How strong do you think he is?” Team Leader Choi asked cautiously.

Chuck Hagel smacked his lips. “Hard to say. We know next to nothing about him.”

“Mr. Hagel, this may be an impolite question, but if you’d been in The Prophet’s position and targeted Siegfried Bassmann, how would you have fared?”

“I’d met Siegfried. We weren’t close, but I could’ve taken him out easily. For someone he didn’t know, though? Given how reclusive he was, it would’ve been close to impossible.”

“Then could it be…”

“It’s one of two things. Either The Prophet was so strong that Siegfried couldn’t even defend himself properly, or…” Chuck Hagel paused. “He was someone Siegfried had met before.”

“……!”

“……!”

The strategy room went cold.

The weight of what Chuck Hagel had said stunned everyone. We didn’t know which possibility applied to The Prophet. Either way, we were dealing with someone far stronger than we’d expected.

“Jin was right to call the search teams back,” Hagel said. “If they stayed scattered, they’d be easy to pick off one by one. Of course, if The Prophet is that strong, gathering a few hundred people might not help.”

He was right. Even among S-rank Hunters—practically strategic weapons in their own right—there were clear differences in strength.

It was unlikely, but if The Prophet was comparable to Michael Silbert, it would take three average S-rank Hunters attacking together, backed by a supporting force, to bring him down.

The problem is, where the hell did someone that strong come from?

No matter how I looked at it, I couldn’t figure it out.

The World Hunter Federation had already cleaned house and accounted for the whereabouts and circumstances of every living S-rank Hunter and every other major Hunter.

He’s not an insider. So what is he?

An unknown outsider. And from what Huginn had told me, an outsider who’d appeared no more than five years ago.

Huginn had first seen The Prophet three years ago, but he’d last seen the fourth Muninn five years ago.

Siegfried Bassmann, meanwhile, was a veteran among veterans who’d fought countless battles during the Great Cataclysm. He might have been a scholarly mage, but no one earned the title of Grand Mage through books and research alone.

However talented The Prophet was, there should have been an unbridgeable gap between them. Some kid who’d dropped out of the sky a few years ago couldn’t overcome a gap like that.

Except…

I was living proof that it could be done.

“The System…?”

“Hm?”

“Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

Chuck Hagel raised an eyebrow. I acted like nothing had happened and changed the subject.

“Anyway, how’s the withdrawal going?”

Team Leader Choi answered. “More than seventy percent of the search personnel have returned.”

“Faster than I expected.”

“We mobilized every means of transport we have. We’ve also informed Magic Johnson, Faye Chen, and Prince Felix of the situation and made the withdrawal of all search teams their top priority.”

This was the operations headquarters, but the others each commanded a force of their own according to their abilities. We’d had to spread out to search this vast region thoroughly. Making every team travel thousands—sometimes tens of thousands—of kilometers¹ back here whenever it needed to return would have been stupid.

“All of Team A1 has returned.”

“Team B2 is still on its way back. We expect them within fifteen minutes and remain in contact.”

“We’ve temporarily lost contact with Team D4. We suspect interference from magical power and have dispatched a support team as a precaution.”

Reports poured in from all around the room, starting with Team Leader Choi.

Some search teams under headquarters command hadn’t returned yet, and others were out of contact. For now, though, there was no reason to worry. As magical power levels rose, mana communications and radio signals naturally grew less reliable.

And even if something like a Monster Wave happened, that guy could handle it.

Beep.

—Emergency transmission, emergency transmission. This is Team F6. A monster army has appeared ahead. The monsters appear to be undead. Requesting support.

“……”

“……”

Team Leader Choi and I met eyes and sighed at the same time.

“Tell them not to attack.”

“Uh, they’re probably on our side.”

Chuck Hagel had sprung to his feet the moment the radio sounded. Now he looked as though he’d bitten into something foul.

“Damn it. Is it the guy I’m thinking of?”

“Yes. Judging by Team F6’s current coordinates, it’s definitely him. They must’ve gotten confused.”

“Tell him not to scare the troops. Plenty of them haven’t seen him in person. We don’t need the confusion.”

“The Skeleton King will take that into account, so there’s no need to worry too much—”

Beep-beep!

—Emergency transmission! Emergency transmission! There are too many monsters! There’s a boss, possibly a named monster, and it’s laughing like a maniac! It’s terrifying! Requesting support!

“……”

Chuck Hagel gave us a flat look.

Team Leader Choi glanced away and muttered as if to himself, “No one will get hurt. Probably…”

“That last word didn’t sound very confident. Am I imagining things?”

“Yes.”

I let out a long sigh.

I’d sent that bastard to bring the troops back, and now he was scaring them instead.

Judging by the looks on the faces of the commanders seated around us, they were wondering whether we ought to deal with the Skeleton King before The Prophet.

You’re dead when you get back.

Just as I muttered to myself, another urgent transmission rang out.

Beep.

—Engagement in progress! Engagement in progress!

“Again?”

He was really dead.

But as I wondered how I could deal with the Skeleton King in a way that would make the story of his getting his ass kicked spread far and wide, an unexpected follow-up crackled in my ear.

—This is Team J1! Multiple dead! Multiple injured! Send support as fast as you can, aaagh!

Crunch. Splaash!

A chill ran down my spine.

The gruesome sound of flesh tearing and that scream came through the radio. Everyone in the strategy room, myself included, sprang to their feet.

“Fuck!”

“Find the transmitter’s coordinates! Now!”

“Sound the alarm! Dispatch the nearest search team to those coordinates immediately!”

“Teams P3 and P4 are moving within thirty-five kilometers²!”

“Get the orders out! Hurry! And request support from the Skeleton King, too!”

Wheeeee!

The alarm blared through the speakers and spread into the darkness.

I threw myself out the open window and shot high into the air. A flash lit up the distance. I drew up my internal energy.

Bang!

The wind rushing past me seemed to carry the metallic scent of blood.

Whoosh. Boom!

Bone and flesh burst apart with a heavy rush of air.

The headless corpse dropped to its knees, and furious shouts erupted from every direction.

“No! Haruka!”

“You bastard! How dare you!”

Shing, shing, shing!

Blades swept through the darkness, cutting through sand thrown up by the force of their swings. They drove toward the enemy who had killed their precious comrade.

They thought they could cut him to pieces.

Then the sand beneath their feet surged upward, became enormous spikes, and pierced their bodies.

Thud! Crunch!

“Ghk.”

“Guh…!”

Their final gasps escaped as dark red blood soaked the sand.

Hundreds dwindled to a hundred, then a hundred to dozens, in little more than ten minutes.

Those who watched it happen trembled with fear that reached their bones. S-rank Hunter Yamamoto Genji was no exception.

This… This can’t be real.

People could call him Swift No-Show or an S-rank janitor, but he was still a veteran Hunter who’d fought his share of battles.

Even Yamamoto had never seen a fight this brutal or this one-sided.

Overwhelming power. Destruction. Terror.

No word he knew could describe the gulf between them.

He was too frightened to run. Too frightened even to swing the sword he’d drawn.

“What… What the hell are you?”

Slice!

An invisible wind cut down another person in place of an answer.

The tank who’d charged forward with a scream split in two, massive Tower Shield and all. Blood sprayed through the air, vivid even in the dark.

Splaash. Thud-thud!

Deep night. Dim moonlight.

A lone figure stood amid blood falling like a sudden downpour.

Rustle.

The hem of a long robe brushed the blood-soaked sand as the figure turned. Yamamoto Genji suddenly realized who had ambushed them.

“The… The Prophet…!”

Beneath the low-drawn hood, the figure’s lips curved gently upward.

The Prophet thrust out both hands and raked them down through the air like claws.

Whoosh! Slice!

Had space itself warped, or had he imagined it?

Yamamoto looked around in a daze. Corpses lay everywhere: faces gone, holes punched through chests, limbs severed.

Before he knew it, he was the only one left alive.

For the moment.

I’m going to die. I know it.

The fear of death was the one thing everyone shared.

Step.

Yamamoto took a step back without realizing it. He didn’t notice the sword hilt slipping from his sweat-slick hand.

No. He didn’t care.

If only he could survive. If only he could make it back to Japan alive.

But the next moment, someone’s unfamiliar voice pierced his ear.

“Where are you going in such a hurry, foolish servant?”

“……!”

Just as Yamamoto Genji froze like a statue—

“Over there!”

“Someone’s there!”

“Get into formation!”

Vrooom.

Transport vehicle engines and people’s shouts sounded from every direction.