TRPM 32

chapter 32

About five cargo trucks were driving down the road, keeping a distance from one another.

Not too slow, not too fast.

The trucks maintained the same steady speed.

“… Where did they say we’re headed again?”
“The abandoned factory.”

Inside one of the trucks, in the driver’s seat and passenger seat, two men started talking.

“Damn… an abandoned factory, huh? Fixing that place up is gonna drain me again.”
“We’ll also need to build a space in the basement to lock up the hostages, so it’s gonna take some time.”
“Did I join a crime syndicate to end up doing construction and interior work or something…?”

He had joined thinking life in a crime syndicate would let him run wild however he pleased.

“Well… maybe you could have, if that so-called ‘Artist’ hadn’t ruined the hostage situation at the big-box store.”
“Ha, damn it…”

The man spat a curse and lit a cigarette.

“Roll down the window.”
“Got it.”

He obeyed the driver’s words, rolling down the passenger-side window.
The cool wind brushed across his right cheek—

CRASH!
“…Ghhk?!”
“What the—”

Blood sprayed across his left cheek.

The man with the cigarette couldn’t understand what had just happened.
He had only opened the window to let the smoke out…

“…Hey…?”
“……”

For some reason, the driver beside him had a sword lodged in his heart.

‘What the… is this…’

The shattered windshield made it clear that a sword had flown in from ahead, skewering the driver’s heart.
But why… suddenly?

‘Wait—more importantly, the truck…!’

With the driver dead, who knew what the truck would do.

He rushed to grab the wheel—only to realize he didn’t need to.

“What the hell… why’s the truck still…”

Even though the driver was dead, the truck continued moving calmly, slowly easing its speed.
He found it strange, but—

Thud!
“Uh…”

Another sword pierced his heart.

And then—

CRASH!
BANG!
BANG!

Not just their truck—
glass shattered and impacts resounded from the other cargo trucks as well.

Swords rained from the sky, smashing through windshields to impale drivers and passengers.
Some pierced straight through the cargo walls to strike whoever was inside.

“Mmph…! Mmmph!”
“Ghh…! Mmmph!”

Muffled, terrified noises came from those gagged inside.

While such sounds filled the background, the trucks slowed and eventually stopped.

And a man walked past them.

…No, more accurately, my puppet did.

‘Worked out just like I thought.’

It was an idea that came to him on the spot, but fortunately, he succeeded in killing them all before the criminals could even react.

Not only those in the driver and passenger seats, but even the guards stationed in the cargo holds were skewered by swords piercing through the walls.

One might ask what happened to his earlier concern about the mental trauma the hostages would suffer.

Of course, he had prepared for that as well.

Creeeeak…

He opened the cargo door.

Light poured inside, revealing a dead criminal slumped near the entrance.

And deeper inside—

“Uhh…”
“……”

People sat bound and gagged, huddled together.

It looked as if they were staring at the corpses with open eyes, but in reality, they couldn’t see a thing.

For their sight was enveloped in darkness.

‘There are plenty of ways to blind people temporarily.’

For example, a word-spell using the concept of “blindness.”

…If only he had used this spell back during the supermarket hostage crisis, he wouldn’t have needed to resort to the Sword of the Mind.
But back then, he had been more accustomed to martial arts than to magic, so the method never came to mind.

Magic, to him, had always been nothing more than a supplement to his martial arts—or just a convenience for daily life.

And besides, his magic had always been inefficient.

But now things were different.

‘The Harmonization Divine Art isn’t just martial arts—it’s the fusion of magic, aura, and psychic power.’

It was a small realization, but one that greatly broadened his perspective.

Even if magic consumed far more energy than martial arts, it was still one of his skills.

So from now on, he decided he would make active use of it.
…At least when moving through his puppets.

His true body would continue to act strictly as an aura user.

Anyway—

“Levitate.”

Using word-spells and telekinesis, he lifted all the people trapped inside the cargo.

Some flinched or struggled, startled, but that didn’t matter. As a psychic, he was practically at the peak—like an Aura Master in aura terms, or a Grand Mage in magic. Such weak resistance posed no hindrance.

After pulling all the hostages out, he closed the door and repeated the same process with the other trucks.

Once everyone was rescued, he clapped his hands lightly.

“Release.”

With the word-spell uttered—

The rescued people blinked in confusion, then erupted into chatter.

Their sight returned, their gags vanished, and the ropes binding their arms dissolved. Naturally, chaos followed.

He watched them, pulled out one of the criminals’ phones, and made a call.

[Thank you for calling Yangpyeong Police Station. How can we help you?]

“Five cargo trucks near Route 6, close to Namyangju.”
[Sorry, what?]
“You’ll get the details through video.”

He ended the call shortly after.

A text arrived on the phone, containing a link. He tapped it.

‘What was it called again? Live 112?’

If he remembered correctly, this allowed the police to track the caller’s location and view live footage from their phone.

He handed the phone to one of the freed hostages.

“Uh…?”
“The police will use that phone’s camera to find you. Stay here and receive their protection.”
“Ah—yes!”

Realizing he was their rescuer, the person bowed deeply.

“Thank you for saving us, Artist!”
“…Wait, Artist…?”
“It really is… Artist, isn’t it? The Hero of Yeouido?”

Though he hadn’t said so himself, they recognized him immediately.

Well, it wasn’t strange. With swords piercing the trucks, it was only natural they’d think of the one known for scattering blades—the Artist.

“Try not to look into the driver’s seats or cargo holds. The corpses of your kidnappers are still inside.”

Leaving those words behind, he erased his presence.

To them, he would have seemed to vanish in an instant.

‘That’s the hostage rescue finished…’

All that remained was to deal with the remnants.

And he already knew where they were, having extracted enough information earlier.

Not that he intended to deal with them himself.

‘Better to use those who bear grudges against them.’

With that thought, he sent telepathic messages to a few individuals.

“Senior.”
“Hm?”
“What do you make of this scene?”
“……”

At the junior officer’s question, the senior quietly replied:

“If we think of justice, it should be made known. But at the same time, it must not be.”

Contradictory words.

But the junior agreed with his senior’s sentiment.

After all—

“To think those believed to be serial killers and robbers were actually framed because of hostages… and that even the police who framed them were themselves blackmailed through hostages.”
“If we don’t reveal it, those wrongly accused will go down in history as criminals. But if we do, the hostages’ lives could be endangered…”

The radios and documents hidden in the safe behind the bookshelf at the site were things far beyond their authority to judge.

As officers with relatively sound morals, they didn’t worry about tarnishing the police’s image.
They only worried for the victims and the falsely accused.

Yet the dilemma was cruel.

“We can request an embargo, but… it won’t go our way, will it?”
“Reporters will tear into it the moment they smell a scoop…”

At the very least, the truth must not spread until the hostages were safe.

So they reported upwards with that in mind—

“…What? The hostages have already been rescued?”
“Yes. According to them, the Artist appeared and saved them.”
“The Artist…”
“I suspect he may have discovered this site before you did.”

Their worries had been meaningless.

“The officer who’d been tampering with the crime scenes was arrested on the spot. He tried to resist at first, but once he heard the hostages were safe, he confessed immediately.”

And not just that.

“The awakened ones who’d been falsely branded criminals because of hostages… they all gathered at one location, beat down everyone inside, and surrendered to police. From the looks of it, that was one of the kidnappers’ hideouts. Somehow, they all learned the hostages had been saved.”
“…How on earth…”
“The precinct is investigating. Fortunately, they’re all cooperating fully in exchange for being allowed to meet the rescued hostages, so results should come quickly.”

But one thing was certain:

“The Artist deliberately hunted down a crime syndicate. And thanks to him, crimes we never even knew about have been erased.”

And the police had merely been dragged along by his intentions.

“In the end, the outcome isn’t bad. But the fact that the police danced to the tune of one man… that’s not exactly a good sign.”

They knew the Artist wasn’t evil.

But still, his identity was unclear, and his actions bordered on vigilantism.

And vigilantism, in a nation of law, was undeniably illegal.

“In short, the Artist has already broken multiple laws. So this was only a matter of time.”
“You mean…”

The police chief sighed deeply.

“The Artist has been added to the wanted list.”