Chapter 95: When Whales Fight, Shrimp Get Crushed (2)

The Master does not speak of monsters, violence, disorder, or spirits.

– Analects

The moment he got home, Lee Taebaek swallowed the Divine Pill of Extraterrestrial Origin.

Elixirs didn’t lose potency just because they were delayed a bit. But after seeing that pill’s radiant allure, he couldn’t put it off until tomorrow.

‘It’s like waiting two weeks for a package.’

Lee Taebaek sat cross-legged in perfect posture. Just as he was about to close his eyes, Jasbi hovered nearby, fidgeting awkwardly.

“Don’t make a fuss here—go play outside.”

“B-But…”

Jasbi tapped her index fingers together in front of her.

“Don’t you need a guardian when you’re doing that Energy Circulation thing? I think I could do it for you.”

“I do, but I’d be fine here. The landlady downstairs is around.”

“Ah, the genius mage Goeun said she’s stepped out for a bit!”

How long had it even been since she got back?

No matter how busy she was as a broker, there was an impatience in Goeun’s movements. Lee Taebaek had a pretty good idea why.

‘She’s preparing for the end.’

The Kergel Magic Tower’s reach was extending. The Heavenly Demon would dispatch assassins to execute the apostate. Judging by Chae Hakgyun’s reaction, they’d be quite the monsters.

Goeun had no intention of resisting.

Because…

‘It’s because of me.’

And perhaps Jasbi now, too.

Goeun figured that if sparks were going to fly onto these two, she’d offer up her own neck willingly.

A true denizen of Cham City and a mage to boot—she was doomed either way. Worrying about others’ safety with her own death looming.

She was utterly unqualified in every sense.

‘That’s why she’s friends with Kang Hyeonseong.’

A bitter taste filled his mouth.

Lee Taebaek loved this world.

It was a feeling he couldn’t emphasize enough.

Yet he couldn’t treat all his creations equally.

That’s what being human meant. Even as the Creator, he was just another person. No matter how much he wielded selfish powers like buffs, nerfs, and patch notes (unbeknownst to him). His soul was thoroughly human.

Enough digression, Lee Taebaek.

One sentence would have sufficed.

‘I want to save Goeun.’

Their bond wasn’t that deep. They’d shared meals only a handful of times. He’d summon her now and then under the pretense of imparting wisdom, only to puff away on cigarettes. Who kills people with secondhand smoke?

‘Still.’

Goeun looked after the Hundred-Fold Sect’s strays in his stead when he was busy. Even now, with his visits growing scarce, she still went to Branches 1 and 2. She was probably heading there right now, too.

“…If that woman disappeared, the kids would grieve more than I would.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.”

Lee Taebaek’s eyes darkened.

“Then I’ll leave it to you, Jasbi.”

“What exactly…?”

“Why ask and then freeze up? You offered to guard me.”

“F-For real?!”

“I don’t say fake things to fake humans.”

“That’s mean-!”

Jasbi pouted her cheeks even as she grumbled. She seemed thrilled. He didn’t particularly care to know why she enjoyed standing guard for others. Maybe as a hacking AI, voyeurism was baked into her default settings.

Jasbi clasped her hands behind her back smartly.

“Just leave it to me!”

“My faith… is fading.”

With a sigh, Lee Taebaek closed his eyes.

He focused his mind intently. He consciously flung open his energy pathways. To let the pill’s energy flow smoothly through his body.

The world slowed.

No, slowing it wasn’t enough.

To maximize the pill’s efficiency, he had to suspend time—freeze it solid. Only then could he fully contemplate his inner self.

Then let’s pull this out.

‘I haven’t needed it yet, so it’s been on hold.’

Lee Taebaek momentarily excluded Magic Power from the nerfed stats. His Mental amplification dropped to 461x, but it was fine. He could offset it with this.

Haaaa…

His breath fogged the air—then crystallized instantly.

This persisted right up until Energy Circulation truly began.

‘I must grow stronger.’

He etched that resolve into his subconscious like a tattoo.

The skies over the City were busy.

Especially the upper layers. Aerial vehicles—those exorbitantly priced ones—were commonplace here. Frequent logistics demanded it.

They weren’t chaotic. The vehicles occupied the skies in neat rows and columns, delivering goods safely to their destinations.

Most drop points were megacorp skyscrapers. Any major player in the City needed an aerial parking lot. Daesung Group was no exception.

Daesung was a newcomer among megacorps. It started in a small Eastern nation. “Humble beginnings, grand endings,” as the saying goes. Daesung made that its motto. They scripted their own “Miracle on the Han.”

They elevated Korea’s global standing.

Pride for any Korean. Daesung’s leadership, like other megacorps, chased profits. But they avoided blatantly inhuman acts.

Because the chairman was Korean, they emphasized sentiment. What quaint ideals in this era.

‘When everyone’s stabbing backs.’

Still, that earned Daesung a solid reputation. Odd that they’d never had even one Ten Wing until recently.

Of course, that was then.

“……”

The woman idly pondered such trivia, then looked up. Clutching a stack of file folders, she had sharp, striking features. The kind of picture-perfect secretary any chairman would covet.

Thud thud thud thud.

A roar tore through the smog-choked clouds. A massive hunk of metal approached.

Its frame dwarfed the surrounding vehicles. Others had to yield to its bulk.

“He’s here.”

She murmured.

“We’ll prepare, Director.”

A response came from behind. Stalwart men stood at attention flanking the secretary-director.

“What’s his schedule today?”

“One moment, please.”

One guard touched his ear. After communicating via ear socket, he leaned in close.

“The chairman wants to see him immediately.”

He whispered.

“Typical Korean… so impatient. Got it. Tell the Secretary General I’ll escort him personally.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Then an aerial vehicle halted atop Daesung’s building. Thrusters on its wings adjusted its position with precision.

The woman tucked back a windswept strand of hair. The vehicle’s landing reflected in her glasses. Dust billowed from the pad.

Ziiing.

The door unfolded like a dried tongue. A foot emerged from the shadows, thudding down the stairs.

The woman and her men bowed.

“Welcome.”

She lifted her eyes slightly. Her glasses glinted sharply.

“Sword Master.”

“……”

“We’ll escort you to the chairman’s office right away.”

Sword Master Muyachi silently straightened his tie.

“Wow, first time meeting since we signed the contract.”

Daesung’s chairman was far more affable than his reputation suggested. Freckled age spots dotted his face, but no shadows lingered there.

He’d minimized cybernetic prosthetics. Only his right eye was artificial. Hard to believe this was Daesung’s head—the pioneer in semiconductors.

“It’s fine.”

Muyachi shook the offered hand. Soft skin. Just the eye was prosthetic, as it appeared.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Everyone knows Chairman Gwak is busy.”

The chairman laughed heartily.

“Busy or not, I’m a desk jockey. You’re the one who works with your body, Sword Master. The Mercenary King, no less.”

“Excessive flattery feels insincere.”

“Hahaha, guess this country bumpkin got too rich—words sticking to my tongue. I’ve gotten chatty. Sit, let’s talk. You must be tired from the flight.”

“Appreciated.”

The chairman hummed as he took the prime sofa seat. Muyachi sat beside him.

‘Interesting.’

He observed the man while suppressing his presence.

A down-to-earth fellow. Newcomer megacorp or not, megacorps were megacorps. Even if belittled, Muyachi would shrug it off.

Other megacorps treated even executives like bugs. They’d fawn before Ten Wings but leverage their corp’s name for arrogance.

This chairman was different. He treated Muyachi with genuine respect—no sales pitch obsequiousness.

‘What’s his angle?’

Didn’t seem like it.

Muyachi shook off the suspicion. The employer’s personality mattered little. As Mercenary King, professional poise was ingrained.

“We’re both busy, so straight to business.”

“Good.”

The chairman’s smile deepened.

“I called you about the Ten Wing Monkey. What do you think of him?”

“The Monkey?”

Muyachi’s brow twitched.

“He just got booted from Siesta. Thinking of taking in the stray ape, molding him into something useful. I’d like your opinion, Sword Master.”

Noting the displeasure, the chairman pressed on undeterred. That was the Daesung chairman—steel guts befitting a CEO.

“Sounds like you’re getting serious about recruiting Ten Wings.”

Muyachi wasn’t one to back down. He struck at the heart, even against a megacorp head. But the response defied expectation.

“Yes, exactly.”

The chairman crossed his legs leisurely.

“No point hiding it, Sword Master. I want more power. Our capital rivals any megacorp. Country boy made good.”

His cybernetic eye blinked softly.

“But we’re always at the megacorp kiddie table. Know why?”

“Just the power gap?”

“Hilarious, right? In a world where money rules, violence still matters. And it’s true. Money fluctuates. Look at the recent megacorp stock crash.”

“Violence doesn’t?”

“No. A megacorp chairman or a lower-district roach—punched hurts, stabbed kills the same.”

Roach—a glimpse of his worldview.

Muyachi noted it.

“Then I don’t recommend the Monkey.”

“Why? Share your wisdom.”

“He bites his masters. No sides in violence.”

“Siesta collared him.”

“Other Ten Wings kept him in check.”

“We have you, Sword Master.”

Muyachi was firm.

“I didn’t contract with you to babysit.”

“Heh heh heh. Well then.”

The chairman smacked his lips regretfully.

As Muyachi spoke again while the man sipped red tea…

“What if…”

The chairman tilted his head.

Muyachi continued.

“…there’s someone better than the Monkey?”