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chapter 33
The situation in Kalininskaya continued to deteriorate.
Inside, distrust among the members spread like an epidemic.
During the purge of Belgrave’s spies, innocent members were killed.
Those who had been close to them resented the purge orders from above.
That resentment led to acts of revenge against members who had merely followed orders.
Thus began a chain of unstoppable hatred, endlessly spreading.
Naturally, the ones who bore the brunt of that rage were the “hunting dogs” who had been most actively used in the purges.
“…This is Nana.”
— Good. The target?
“I’m done with it. Heading back now.”
— Well done. Come back quickly. I have something urgent to tell you.
“Understood.”
Nana gave her report over the phone while driving.
This sort of conversation was routine for her—yet today felt different.
Normally, her superior would have asked for detailed accounts of the process, noting every anomaly.
But today, he simply asked whether it was done. Nothing more.
His voice was heavy, and his words—“I have something urgent to tell you”—kept gnawing at her mind.
“Damn… damn…”
Truth was, Nana had already been uneasy.
From the investigation of the last target’s belongings, it turned out the man had no ties to Belgrave.
She had killed an innocent member.
“I… I only did what I was told.”
Even she, who had slaughtered countless assigned targets without the slightest guilt until now, felt her sanity slipping.
An ally turned out to be an enemy.
An enemy turned out to be an ally.
Then, allies once again became enemies.
Every morning, she woke to find her comrades transformed, as though they had never been what they were the day before.
At any moment, a knife could strike her from behind. At any moment, her name could appear on the purge list.
Driving silently, Nana entered the underground parking lot of the building where her superior’s office was located.
“I have to get upstairs. Fast.”
A chill ran down her spine.
She felt as though only reaching the upper floors could keep her safe.
Click.
She stepped out of the car and walked straight toward the elevator.
In her nervous rush, she forgot to lock the door.
Her hands were trembling.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Each step felt unbearably slow, like it took an eternity.
It felt as though… someone was watching her.
Bang! Whud!
A gunshot rang out.
In an instant, Nana spun through the air and crashed onto the ground.
Clang!
“Ugh… damn it…”
Clutching her head, she scrambled up and ducked behind a parked car.
“…You bastard! Who the hell are you!”
Blood trickled from her head, pain throbbed in her skull—but luckily, the wound wasn’t fatal.
Still, the fact that the bullet had pierced her talisman barrier and wounded an Awakener at all meant one thing: that gun was no ordinary gun.
A high-powered sniper mana-rifle.
Whoever was after her was a pro with exceptional gear.
“You… if I catch you in my sight—!”
Bang!
Ratatatatang!
Another shot.
The bullet pierced through every vehicle in its path, slamming into the ground right beside her.
Thankfully, her position remained obscured, sparing her from a direct hit.
Now’s my chance!
A missed shot.
The perfect moment to rush the sniper.
She leapt from cover, sprinting toward where she believed the enemy to be.
But then—
“Kill her!”
“Uraaaaaah!”
From every direction, murderous shouts erupted.
Dozens of Awakeners hidden in ambush burst forth.
“…Shit.”
Nana had run straight into their trap.
Boom! Crash! Bam!
“You sons of bitches! Aaaah!”
Nana fought savagely, alone against the Awakeners swarming her.
Kalininskaya’s top hunting dog, unmatched in combat against humans.
But even she couldn’t withstand this many at once.
Wham! Crack!
“Gah!”
A sledgehammer slammed into her ribs from behind.
Her barrier was already broken—she felt her bones shatter under the blow.
“Kh… Die!”
She spun, lashing out with the Fist of the Reaper.
But it struck only empty air.
Bang!
“Ghhk!”
The hammer came down on her skull.
Her vision blurred, her consciousness slipping away.
The floor seemed to rise up to meet her.
No! If I fall here, I die!
It was death itself.
She clung to life with sheer willpower.
Her primal survival instinct burned, pushing her beyond human limits.
{ You do not lose your will even in extreme situations. }
{ You enter a hallucinatory state, forgetting all pain and fear. }
{ You have acquired the Active Skill <Berserk Trance>. }
On the edge of life and death, light filled her grasp.
“UAAAAAHHHH!”
Her blurred vision snapped into terrifying clarity—sharper than ever before.
“RAAAH!”
She roared like a beast and swung her fists.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
No technique. No finesse. Just fists brimming with murderous intent.
And yet, far deadlier than any half-baked power.
“W-What?! She’s still fighting?!”
Believing her near death, the ambushers panicked.
But she fought faster, fiercer, more savage than before.
They dove in to restrain her.
Wham!
Three men were blasted away in a single swing, their bodies torn through as if struck by a cannon.
“Sniper! Get the sniper!”
The sniper, watching from afar, had hesitated—too many bodies tangled in close combat. But now? Friendly fire no longer mattered.
Bang! Splat!
The mana rifle tore through her right leg.
The bullet shredded flesh and bone, severing it clean off.
Thud.
Nana collapsed.
Yet even on the ground, the Berserk Trance kept her fighting, swinging her fists wildly.
“Ghhrhhk! Bastards!”
“Sniper! Finish her now!”
But even unyielding will couldn’t move a broken body.
As the sniper aimed for the final shot—
“Huh?”
“What’s going on here?”
The elevator doors opened.
Men in suits stepped out—her superior’s handpicked aides.
“Those traitors! They’re the ones!”
“What?! You bastards—!”
Recognition was instant.
Chaos erupted.
Bang! Clang! Boom!
The underground parking lot became a battlefield.
Blades, bullets, fire, lightning—chaos engulfed everything.
The wide space turned into a war zone, pillars collapsing, the ceiling caving in.
Corpses piled high until the garage resembled a bombed ruin.
“…Khh…”
At last, the carnage ended.
With no victor.
The ambushers who had attacked Nana.
The aides who had tried to protect her.
Most lay dead.
The few survivors were too grievously wounded to fight on.
The bloodbath finally ceased.
“Miss Nana… are you… all right…?”
One survivor staggered to her side.
She leaned against a wrecked car, half-conscious, weakly nodding.
The bleeding was severe. Her body felt drained, her strength slipping away.
“That’s… good…”
Thud.
Smiling faintly, the man collapsed—and breathed his last.
“…”
Nana could not speak.
Then—
In her fading consciousness, she saw a figure she could never forget.
Yoo Shin-Woo…
She blinked repeatedly, thinking it a hallucination.
But his figure only grew clearer.
Black tracksuit. Black cap.
…So that’s where you were… ah.
It dawned on her.
He had been among the ambushers.
Circling the edges, pretending to watch idly while others fought.
That had been Yoo Shin-Woo.
Now, he stood amid the corpses, silently surveying the ruin.
And then—his right eye glowed ominously.
From within it emanated a chilling malice, like staring into the abyss of hell itself.
“Ha…”
The Sword Emperor let out a long sigh.
Everything had gone wrong.
He had been certain he would win the diamond auction.
Yet the unthinkable happened.
The billions invested by Belgrave’s richest patrons, the years spent building a transnational diamond infrastructure—wasted.
[ Diamonds owned: 3,789,624,111 ]
Nearly 3.8 billion diamonds, saved for this auction, remained unused.
He could frame it as stockpiling for the next auction—but that was hollow consolation.
How… how could anyone possibly gather more than this?
Even his hoard had only been possible through dozens of multinational corporations pooling resources beyond national levels.
An annual cost of 200 trillion won, all funneled into quests solely for him—an outright miracle.
And yet, someone had surpassed him.
— Kalininskaya… They must be hiding something.
That was Majon’s voice.
Belgrave firmly believed the winner of the auction was tied to Kalininskaya.
Perhaps it was their boss, Mikhailov, the owner of the “Nese” account that had posted the information.
If not him, then certainly an allied group.
The only task left was to trace even the smallest connection.
For anyone capable of amassing such diamonds had to be an enormous power.
But so far, nothing concrete.
— We used every intel source we had. No ties to the U.S. government. No connections to global conglomerates.
— What about Russia?
— Still… investigating.
— So after all that chaos, you’ve found nothing?
Majon flinched at Flame King’s mocking retort.
— What did you say?
— Am I wrong? You even got our agents exposed—a laughable blunder.
— Watch your mouth…
— Why? Did I lie?
Majon fell silent.
It was true. Their secrecy had been compromised.
Normally it would never happen. But desperate to snatch information about the “Patch Note,” they had acted rashly—and failed.
“Enough. That was my decision,” the Sword Emperor cut in.
“Tch.”
Flame King clicked his tongue, falling silent.
The choice had been collective anyway.
“…We need more investigation. Let’s regroup once we each have further findings.”
— Fine.
— Agreed.
Belgrave had no choice but to keep digging into Kalininskaya’s boss.
For among all the world’s powers capable of wielding such resources, only his name had surfaced.
Mikhailov… just what is hiding behind you?
Ending the call, the Sword Emperor sat at his desk, head in hand.
The more he thought, the deeper the labyrinth grew.
Perhaps… he needed rest.
“Phew.”
He removed his mask.
The strange artifact, fused to his face, slipped away as its magic faded.
His long brown hair shimmered back into its true golden blonde.
The Sword Emperor’s true identity—
To the public, merely a French SNS influencer.
But in reality, the hidden heiress of the so-called luxury empire Louis Bien & Christian Duchamp.
Léa Arnaud had returned to her true form.
