Category: A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 61

    Tanjin’s estimated rank was ‘Gamma+++’ or ‘Beta-’.

    This wasn’t a standard ranking system, but rather a makeshift classification—essentially slang—created by the administrators of the Tree, who struggled to precisely gauge combat power due to the wide range of ranks.

    In other words, in terms of pure combat ability, Tanjin was at the top among Gamma-tier entities but fell slightly short of Beta-tier ones.

    Of course, since this wasn’t a rank derived through meticulous evaluation and classification, but rather based on the administrators’ accumulated experience and data, there was some margin of error.

    Since personal judgment played a significant role, difference were inevitable. However, for higher-ranked administrators, this system still proved useful.

    After all, having more data points to understand an entity’s characteristics was always beneficial.

    Taeseong’s evaluation was: ‘Even among Beta-tier entities, this one is on the weaker side.’

    Bottom-tier Beta.

    Converted into slang, it would be ‘Beta—’.

    His only noteworthy trait was his insane regenerative ability—nothing else stood out.

    Of course, this was simply because Taeseong was harsh in his assessments; according to the Tree’s official ranking system, Tanjin was undoubtedly Beta-tier.

    The Tree’s ranking system didn’t solely consider combat power, but regardless, Tanjin posed a significant enough threat to be classified as Beta.

    “They say snakes prefer humid places, don’t they?”

    At Taeseong’s signal, the floating blue flames scattered in all directions, creating a scene similar to fireworks.

    The fire began spreading rapidly, igniting the trees and grass around them.

    Seizing the opportunity, Wairang, who had just been leisurely chewing on Nure’s severed head, kicked off the ground and lunged forward, fully prepared to feast.

    [Grrrraaaah!]

    The sight of him charging into the panicked serpent-men was satisfying to behold. Since Wairang, a being of shadowy smoke, couldn’t be killed through physical means, there was nothing to worry about.

    “Eat well.”

    [Woof woof!]

    Perhaps it was affection growing, but Taeseong found himself wishing for Wairang to eat plenty and grow strong. Was this what it felt like to be a parent?

    [A wolf! A wolf has appeared! Kill the wolf! Kill it now, you fools!]

    [Fire! Fire! I hate fire! It’s terrifying! We need to put it out! Where’s the village chief?]

    [Priest! The fire is spreading! Mother, please save us! Save us from this disaster!]

    Pure Chaos.

    The serpent-men, who had lived in peace for decades, were thrown into chaos by this sudden catastrophe.

    They were unsure whether they should prioritize putting out the fire, assisting their priest, finding their village chief, or killing the wolf.

    “Grow big and strong.”

    Kwaang!

    Tanjin’s tail slammed into the ground. Of course, Taeseong easily dodged it.

    [You bastard… How dare you destroy my village… my followers…]

    “What do you mean, ‘your followers’? They belong to the snake god you serve, not you. All of you keep spouting ‘Mother’ and ‘God’ as if you’re devoted, but deep down, you’ve deluded yourselves into thinking you’re the true gods.”

    [Silence! You dare act as if you know anything! I am… Wait, Mother? What do you mean, Mother?! Of course, I consider it an honor to become part of her…]

    Why was it that every single snake-worshiping bastard was so damn talkative?

    Swoosh!

    As Taeseong swung his sword, Tanjin’s severed head should have immediately started regenerating… But before that could happen, the blue flames devoured the exposed flesh.

    [Kraaaaagh! What did you do to me?!]

    Regardless of his cries, the flames burned even fiercer, suppressing his regeneration.

    Where two new heads should have emerged, nothing appeared.

    “So this is the answer.”

    Taeseong’s muscles tensed, his power surging explosively. His sword, now coursing with brilliant blue energy, carved through the air, unleashing a crescent-shaped slash that cut down everything in its path—colossal trees, the air itself, boulders, and even Tanjin’s six tails.

    Slash! Slash! Slash!

    [Kkeueeek!]

    Once again, the blue flames consumed the severed tails, preventing their regeneration. What should have been twelve new tails simply sizzled, emitting a mouthwatering aroma of cooked meat.

    “Smells delicious.”

    [How… How can a mere human possess such overwhelming strength…? What are you? I received Mother’s blessing… How could a human…]

    “Shut up.”

    It was a bad matchup. More precisely, a bad matchup for Tanjin. But whatever, let’s just say it was mutual.

    As Taeseong advanced, Tanjin’s heads trembled violently and let out panicked screams.

    [Stay away! Don’t come near me! I’m warning you—stay back! I warned you! Aaaagh! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! No, no, don’t come any closer, you monster! You damn monster! Why are you tormenting me when I’ve done nothing wrong?!]

    A twisted smirk curled on Taeseong’s lips.

    How shameless.

    They hadn’t hesitated to sacrifice helpless humans to their so-called Mother, but the moment their own lives were in danger, they started whining and spewing nonsense.

    Utterly disgusting.

    A cloud of venomous mist spewed from Tanjin’s mouths, its potency strong enough to dissolve anything it touched.

    Yet, Taeseong didn’t falter—he simply kept walking forward.

    […I want to live.]

    And then, he swung his sword.

    A single slash.

    Just one.

    And with that single stroke, Tanjin’s poisonous mist and all of his remaining heads were severed.

    One clean cut.

    […Mo…ther…]

    This was his final will.

    At Taeseong’s gesture, intense blue flames erupted from Tanjin’s entire body. The flames rapidly engulfed him, burning fiercely, and soon, a savoury, roasted scent filled the air.

    Gulp.

    Taeseong swallowed his saliva, stepped closer, and then bit into one of the tails, chewing it thoroughly. Sizzle—the flowing juices coated his tongue, filling his mouth with flavour. A surge of energy coursed through his body.

    “…Delicious. Meat should always be eaten grilled.”

    Lee Taeseong, utterly absorbed in his meal, had completely forgotten that Wairang was still engaged in battle. Even as he savoured the meat’s juices, his hands continued slicing off more portions.

    About ten minutes passed.

    By the time he was finished, Lee Taeseong had consumed every last trace of the three-headed serpent Tanjin’s corpse. It was a sight almost impossible to believe—how had that massive creature fit entirely into his small body? It was as if his stomach contained a black hole.

    “Now that was satisfying.”

    For someone who had just devoured an entire Beta-ranked creature, such a remark seemed utterly absurd.

    [@@!#$@#%@#%#!@]

    Perhaps due to consuming Tanjin whole, a strange static noise rang inside his head. However, when he consciously ignored it, it soon faded away.

    Rubbing his stomach, Taeseong began swinging his sword through the air. Though he moved effortlessly, each swing sliced through the wind with a sharp, piercing sound.

    “My strength has increased significantly.”

    Nodding in satisfaction, he suddenly severed his own right arm.

    Swish!

    The keen blade of Hoirang sliced through Taeseong’s enhanced body as if it were mere tofu.

    “Oh.”

    But before even a second had passed, his arm had already regenerated. To the average observer, it would have seemed as though it had never been cut in the first place.

    A remarkable regeneration ability.

    ‘So now… can I grow a second head as well?’

    Curious, but not eager enough to experiment, he dismissed the thought.

    At last, Taeseong looked around. The village was engulfed in blue flames, and the ground was littered with the corpses of snakefolk. Some had been reduced to mere ashes, unrecognizable from their original forms. Others had limbs torn apart, likely Wairang’s doing.

    [Huff, huff!]

    From the distance, Wairang came jumping over, its belly noticeably swollen. Its tail wagged cheerfully.

    Judging by its size, it had grown to at least ten meters—far beyond what Taeseong had expected. He had told it to grow well, but its rapid development was startling. The aura it emitted was significantly stronger than before.

    “I need to move faster. Now that we’ve had a good meal, it’s time to earn our keep.”

    [Growl?]

    “Don’t give me that ‘I don’t understand’ look.”

    At Taeseong’s gesture, Wairang caught on and lowered its body. Taeseong climbed onto its back, letting himself relax against its fur. It was as soft as clouds—an incredibly comfortable ride.

    “You can feel it too, right? That’s where we’re heading.”

    Wairang responded by wagging its tail instead of speaking.

    There were no communication devices or compasses that worked in this place. Even Taeseong couldn’t determine the precise direction, so he relied on the flow of energy as his guide.

    Right now, in the vicinity, he could sense a powerful clash of forces. Rather than moving aimlessly, he decided it was more efficient to follow the strongest presences.

    ‘Just hold on a little longer.’


    At the same time.

    In the southeastern part of the Jukai Forest, Lee Eunha’s group was advancing at a rapid pace. The biggest issue in this area was that neither communication devices nor compasses functioned.

    The former prevented them from staying in contact with their separated comrades, while the latter made navigating this huge forest nearly impossible.

    However, Lee Eunha had already mapped out the terrain in her head and devised a temporary solution. As they moved, they divided the land into sections numbered 1 to 50 and left markers at each stop.

    “Sector 15…”

    This system at least allowed them to tell if they were going on loop or not.

    Fortunately, they were making steady progress. Signs of battle were evident everywhere.

    The bloated corpses of fallen Administrators floated lifelessly. Their eye sockets were hollow. Without their specialized suits, it would have been difficult to even identify them as remains.

    Scattered across the ground were severed limbs, broken bones, and intestines—enough to trip over. The sheer number of corpses made one thing clear: a lot of people had died here.

    There were also various messages written in different languages. Most were expressions of hatred, desperate pleas for salvation, or cries for help.

    The sight of grotesque creatures feasting on human flesh had become almost routine.

    “For those bastards, it must feel like an all-you-can-eat buffet came straight to their doorstep.”

    “…”

    “F***. F***. F***. F***. F***. F***. F***.”

    Gi-jun spewed curses under his breath, but the group was too exhausted to respond.

    The only one still grinning was their team leader, Taesan.

    Crunch!

    With a cheerful expression, he had just pulverized a monster whose head had been replaced with a hand.

    “Prepare for battle.”

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 60

    Taeseong’s shadow-dwelling Wairang smacked its lips. It seemed that, from its perspective, the snake-humans looked quite appetizing.

    “…Can’t you speak?”

    Taeseong curiously looked around. The interior of the village wasn’t particularly special—just a bit outdated in terms of era. The only thing that really stood out was a shrine located deeper within the village. Despite its appearance, it seemed that these beings also worshipped something.

    A thought crossed his mind—they might be worshipping the ruler of this forest. Or, given their serpentine forms, perhaps a snake-related deity.

    From a distance, he had briefly entertained the notion that this could be a human settlement.

    However, now that he saw it with his own eyes, he realized that humans establishing a foothold in this forest was an impossibility. One could choose to classify the beings before him as human, but unfortunately, they were not. Once human, they had been transformed into yōkai by the grace of the “Serpent God.”

    “Nure-onna.”

    The moment he spoke, the snake-humans observing him flinched.

    “If I recall correctly… that was the name, wasn’t it?”

    At last, Taeseong remembered. During a prior conversation with the helicopter pilot, he had heard about a snake yōkai called “Nure-onna.”

    What other yōkai are there, you ask? When I was young, the “Nure-onna” was quite famous. Their face is that of a normal human, but the lower half of their body is a snake. They were notorious for luring traveling merchants and devouring them. According to rumors, they were once followers of the evil deity “Yamata no Orochi” and transformed because of their worship…

    Oh! Now that I think about it, there have been many sightings of snakes in the Jukai Forest. You never know, Administrator. Be careful—they might have built a village somewhere, hidden from human eyes.

    “I dismissed it as nonsense at the time… but the bastard was right. Tell me, are you all followers of Yamata no Orochi?”

    In response to Taeseong’s question, the largest of the snake-humans approached.

    Her face was breathtakingly beautiful, one that could turn heads anywhere. But her lower half was serpentine—an anaconda-like tail, at least 20 meters long.

    ‘At least 20 meters…’

    The grotesque contrast between her mesmerizing beauty and her massive snake body was enough to make any ordinary person faint on the spot.

    【Who are you?】

    A voice as beautiful as polished gemstones echoed in his ears.

    Without lowering his gaze, Taeseong replied, “I asked first.”

    […]

    The snake-woman narrowed her eyes at him.

    She, too, could not grasp what this man before her was.

    ‘Strange. Ominous. Mysterious.’

    Though he appeared human, his aura was no different from that of a great yokai. There were unfamiliar scents mixed within him—some animal, some ghostly.

    But most peculiar of all…

    She could sense the presence of Yamata no Orochi.

    【That is correct. We are devout followers of Orochi-sama. This village exists to serve him, and I am its chieftain, Nure.】

    Just as he suspected. These beings were fanatics worshipping the Serpent God.

    Taeseong had already learned from an exiled Onmyoji that there were cultists devoted to Yamata no Orochi. That man had even built a shrine deep in the forest to conduct human sacrifices.

    ‘At least that Onmyoji still looked human… These ones are all snakes.’

    That meant the scale of this place was incomparable. A whole village created solely for worshipping Orochi. Every single being here had received the Serpent God’s “blessing” and become snake yokai.

    ‘Well, for them, there’s no better place to settle than this forest.’

    It was far from human eyes, and if there was ever a place deserving to be called a kingdom of yokai, this was it.

    Here, they could grow stronger in secret, offering up humans in sacrifice until the Serpent God was resurrected.

    【If I may ask… What is your relation to Orochi-sama?】

    “Relation, huh…?”

    He had eaten its tail, so…

    “You could say we’re one and the same.”

    【One and the same…? H-Have you perhaps… received the blessing of Orochi-sama’s tail?】

    Taeseong gave a slight nod.

    【I knew it… That explains why I could sense Orochi-sama’s presence within you… You are one of his children!】

    “…Children? Me?”

    【If you have consumed Orochi-sama’s body, then you are, of course, his child. After all, all of his children will eventually become one again. It is an honor to be nourished by the Great One!】

    Taeseong frowned. He had no idea what she was talking about.

    From the context, it seemed like they referred to those who had eaten parts of Orochi as “children.” And eventually, these children would… merge?

    【Ahh… You must be hearing his voice even now. It was Orochi-sama’s will that led you here! There is another child in this village—one who has consumed three of Orochi-sama’s tails. Would you like to meet them?】

    Apparently, the “children” could hear the voice of Yamata no Orochi in their minds.

    How… HOW can you remain unaffected…? A mere human… How dare you resist my will…? Wait… You… I see now. You were never human to begin with…!

    Now that he thought about it… He had heard a voice in his head before.

    But it had been so annoying that he had erased it from his mind.

    ‘So that’s what it was talking about.’

    However, something else caught Taeseong’s interest.

    ‘Three tails?’

    Even consuming one tail had granted him immense regeneration. Then what kind of power did the one who had eaten three possess?

    Gulp.

    Taeseong unconsciously swallowed.

    From the depths of his shadow, Wairang also seemed to grow restless with hunger, attempting to crawl out.

    ‘Stay put. If you keep acting up, I won’t feed you for days.’

    Whimper… Whimper…

    ‘Yeah, I know how you feel. I’m feeling pretty hungry myself. So just stay still for a bit. I’ll let you have some snake meat today.’

    Both master and companion were enduring their hunger, clutching their growling stomachs.

    As Taeseong moved, the gazes of the snake-people poured in from all directions. Some looked at him with curiosity, some with reverence, and some with open hostility.

    It didn’t matter.

    They were all going to disappear soon anyway.

    ‘There must be at least 200 of them.’

    Nure, who had stopped in front of the shrine, spoke.

    [This is the sanctuary where we worship Lord Orochi.]

    As expected, the thick stench of blood and rotting corpses filled the air.

    Inside, a massive altar stood.

    Far more bodies were piled up here than he had seen before, stacked into a mountain. Corpses lay beside it, corpses lay beyond it—no matter where he looked, there were only corpses.

    Judging by their appearance, most of them seemed to be humans who had drifted into this place.

    “Were the sacrificial offerings the humans who wandered into this area?”

    [That is correct. The master of the forest has acknowledged our domain, allowing us to offer any humans who enter as tributes to Lord Orochi. At times, when offerings are scarce, we go out beyond the forest to obtain them ourselves.]

    “If I had known, I would’ve brought some with me. It’s a shame to show up empty-handed when meeting my siblings.”

    [It is of no concern.]

    And behind it all, a massive snake lay hidden.

    Unlike the snake-people, this one was a true serpent. The only difference was its abnormal size and the fact that it had three heads and three tails.

    ‘It feels like standing in front of a massive boulder. If it’s this big lying down, just how massive would it be when it rises?’

    Even Nure, who was over 20 meters long, looked tiny in comparison. There was no need for further explanation.

    ‘So this is the “child.”‘

    [Noble Tanjin, please awaken. A new child of Lord Orochi has arrived.]

    At that moment, the enormous snake stirred, lifting its colossal body. Three heads turned toward Taeseong.

    “Nice to meet you, brother.”

    Being a polite man, Taeseong greeted first.

    Tanjin, still groggy from sleep, stared at him with its three heads before finally speaking.

    [This thing before me… is supposed to be our mother’s child?]

    Nure answered respectfully.

    [That is correct.]

    “You don’t recognize me?”

    Tanjin’s three heads flicked their forked tongues, moving as if trying to assess Taeseong in their own way.

    Then—

    Suddenly, Tanjin’s faces contorted with rage, and a furious roar burst from its mouths.

    [Nure! What have you brought here?! Mother says that thing is not a child, but a monster!]

    Once again, a monster was calling him a monster.

    Taeseong was starting to get annoyed.

    He was clearly a human, born of human parents, yet actual monsters were calling him a freak.

    [How dare you call that wretch a child when he has ignored Mother’s words, defied her will, and slain his own kin?! Tear him apart this instant!]

    “You lot are hilarious. Weren’t you just saying that anyone who ate that snake bastard’s tail was a child? And now you’re suddenly changing your tune? Ah, I see—So you mean to say, a traitor is no child, huh?”

    [One who rejects Mother’s grace has no right to speak of being a child!]

    “Well, I suppose you’re right. I’m a perfectly normal human. It wouldn’t make sense for me to be the child of a snake. Fine. As of today, I forsake my status as a child. And you—I’ll be sending you to your mother first, Three-Headed Snake. With three heads, at least you won’t be lonely.”

    Nure stared blankly at Taeseong, as if struggling to grasp the situation. Meanwhile, Tanjin thrashed violently, tormented by the nagging voice of its mother echoing in its mind.

    “Dinnertime, Wairang.”

    [Grrr!]

    Taeseong drew his sword from the subspace and swung it at Tanjin.

    A crescent-shaped arc of blue sword energy slashed cleanly through two of its heads.

    Swish!

    But in that instant, from the severed necks, new heads sprouted—two for each, making a total of five.

    Seeing this, Taeseong had a sudden thought.

    ‘If I make good use of this, we might be able to solve world hunger. Though I can’t vouch for the taste.’

    [Kahahahaha! You pathetic worm! Slice me a hundred times, a thousand times if you will—Death does not exist for one blessed by Mother’s grace!]

    In the past, this would have been a troublesome foe.

    No matter how finely he sliced it, with this level of regeneration, it would recover instantly.

    Indeed, having consumed three tails, Tanjin’s regeneration was far superior to his own, having only eaten one.

    However—

    “That would’ve been a problem before.”

    Dozens of blue flames flickered into existence around Taeseong, floating in the air.

    The glow of the fire illuminated the area, reminding them of a long-forgotten truth.

    The inevitability of death.

    “But not anymore, right?”

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 59

    Team 4’s leader, Taesan, looked at his dumbfounded subordinates and grinned broadly.

    “Ahahaha! How have you all been?”

    Oh Haeyoung and Yu Gi-jun responded with blank expressions.

    “T-Team Leader Taesan…?”

    “Am I dreaming right now?”

    Taesan picked up Haeyoung’s severed arm from the ground and approached her.

    “Luckily, it was cut off cleanly.”

    “…R-Really?”

    Taking out a bandage from his pocket, Taesan attached the arm to the severed area and began wrapping it.

    Entity Name: ‘Regenerative Mummy’s Bandage’
    Grade: Delta.
    A bandage once used by a mummy with exceptional regenerative abilities, widely utilized by administrators for emergency treatment.

    “Don’t move. If it gets attached wrong, we’ll have to cut it off again. It should be perfectly reattached in about ten minutes.”

    “…Thank you.”

    Haeyoung still looked dazed as she gazed up at Taesan. And she wasn’t the only one reacting this way.

    “…T-T-Team Leader… L-Long time no see.”

    “Oh! Assistant Manager Go Yeonghui! It has been a while. From the way you’re sobbing, you must be overjoyed to see me again. What a relief! Hahahaha!”

    Tears streamed endlessly down Yeonghui’s face.

    It was understandable—Taesan was her savior. When everyone except for Eunha had resigned themselves to death, he had miraculously appeared and saved them. If she could, she would have kissed his feet. Whether Taesan would appreciate that, though, was another matter.

    Leaning weakly against the wall with a pale face, Eunha wiped the nosebleed dripping down and tossed two peas into her mouth.

    Gulp.

    Only then did colour return to her face.

    “Hah… Now I finally feel alive. It’s been a while, Team Leader.”

    “Yes, long time no see, Deputy Leader Eunha.”

    “Judging by how good you look, you must have been living quite comfortably. Meanwhile, your beloved subordinates were suffering like dogs in a foreign land.”

    “Hahaha! That’s why I came all this way!”

    “At the cost of a year of my lifespan, sure.”

    “Hahaha! Losing a year of life is better than crossing the Sanzu River today, isn’t it?”

    Though the Jack’s Peas had enhanced her body’s recovery, they couldn’t restore lost lifespan.

    As she quietly waited for her arm to be reattached, Haeyoung asked curiously,

    “Lifespan? What do you mean?”

    “It’s exactly what it sounds like. I burned a year of my life to summon the Team Leader here. Considering the lives at stake, it was a cheap price to pay.”

    ‘My Small and Beautiful Painter.’

    That was the title of the novel Eunha had retuned from. A grotesque world blending fantasy and horror. The brush the novel’s protagonist wielded was now Eunha’s exclusive weapon.

    Entity Name: ‘The Painter’s Brush That Draws Anything’
    Grade: Delta.
    The brush used by the legendary Painter Who Draws Anything. Whether it was the artist or the brush that was remarkable—or both—remained unclear, but the novel’s protagonist could truly draw anything.

    The breathtaking sight of them painting in midair was still vivid in Eunha’s mind. It was the only moment since arriving in this world that she hadn’t regretted her fate. She would likely never witness such beauty again.

    But the real problem was that she was the one wielding the brush.

    The novel’s protagonist had been a once-in-a-century genius blessed with endless talent and opportunity. Meanwhile, Eunha was just an ordinary person who had fallen into the story. Despite barely clawing her way back to reality, handling such an overpowered artifact came with a cost.

    If she pushed beyond her limits, it didn’t just drain her stamina or mental energy—it consumed her lifespan.

    Compared to the Painter Who Draws Anything, she was nothing more than an insect.

    Yet, as her exclusive weapon, she couldn’t just discard it. She knew better than anyone how powerful its potential was.

    “I thought I’d just need to get stronger to solve this issue… but at this rate, I’m going to die before that happens.”

    Haeyoung’s large eyes welled up with moisture before she finally teared up completely.

    “Deputy Leader Eunha… You sacrificed your lifespan for us…?”

    Startled, Eunha quickly denied it.

    “No… It wasn’t just for you guys… I had to do it for myself, too. Don’t worry about it.”

    Understanding dawned on Gi-jun’s face as he nodded.

    “So this is what you were preparing behind the scenes, Deputy Leader Eunha. Just how far ahead did you foresee all of this…? If it weren’t for you, we would all be dead. Thank you, truly.”

    Yeonghui, who had been smiling brightly, also stepped forward.

    “Thanks to you… we survived. Thank you, Assistant Manager.”

    As they had guessed, Eunha had prepared the painting in advance to summon Taesan in case of the worst scenario. It had just been a precautionary measure—but in the end, the worst had happened, making it the best possible decision.

    Watching the heartwarming scene unfold, Taesan laughed heartily.

    “Hahahaha! Deputy Leader Eunha! You’ve become a true leader now. Excellent, very excellent! But where’s manager Lee Taeseong?”

    “…Sigh. Team Leader. You didn’t read my report again, did you?”

    “Ah, did I? I thought I had read it…”

    “I told you last time. Assistant Manager Lee Taeseong is in isolation because of the incident he caused.”

    “Ah, that’s right! That’s right! I completely forgot. He’s in isolation. A shame, really. He would’ve been a great asset here.”

    “Indeed. By the way, Team Leader, you did inform Chief Choi about coming here, right?”

    “…Inform about what?”

    “…Don’t tell me you didn’t say anything? I told you before—there was a chance I’d summon you, so you should have given a heads-up in advance.”

    “…Ahem.”

    Eunha held her forehead and let out a sigh.

    “Oh dear, how did I end up assigned to a team like this… The team leader, the team members—none of them ever listen. None of them.”

    She was referring to Taeseong and Taesan.

    Scratching his head awkwardly, Taesan spoke up, trying to offer some consolation.

    “Well, at least communication devices don’t work here, so there’s no way for Chief Choi to contact us! No need to worry!”

    “That’s not the problem, though…”

    That’s really not the problem.

    Eunha parted her lips as if to argue but ultimately closed them again. She realized that saying anything was pointless.

    ‘Yeah, what does it matter right now? The priority is getting out of here alive.’

    Although her lifespan had been shortened, with a powerhouse like Taesan joining them, they now had a wider range of options for strategizing.

    “Team Leader, you understand what it means that I summoned you, right? Our situation is at its worst. If we stay here like this, we’ll be trapped in this forest and die without accomplishing anything.”

    “Hmm, sounds even more serious than I expected.”

    “Yes. We’ve been completely isolated from the main force. If we want to survive, we have to reunite with them somehow. That’s our only option.”

    As Taesan nodded, the massive muscles on his back twitched. Looking at his broad frame, it felt like there was still some hope.

    “Don’t worry. I’ll carve us a path.”


    Taeseong stood in a daze, staring at the empty spot where the woman had been.

    Just moments ago, she had appeared before him, but now she had vanished without a trace, like a illusion.

    Someone else might have questioned whether they had been hallucinating or mistaken, but not Taeseong.

    His sharpened senses told him with certainty that what he had seen was real.

    ‘That was definitely Yukina.’

    The faint chill that had seeped from her was unmistakable.

    The only difference was that it had become more intense—and that other energies were mixed into it.

    The Executors had declared that Yukina was dead.

    So then, what exactly had he just seen?

    It wasn’t an illusion or some phantom trick. That much he was sure of.

    There were two possible explanations.

    One, the tree’s report had been incorrect, and Yukina had actually been alive all along.

    However, this would mean the tree had made a mistake in its information, which was unlikely. The tree had even attached an entity to Yukina’s body—it wouldn’t have been careless about such things.

    That left only one possibility…

    For some reason, the deceased Yukina was wandering around this place.

    He didn’t know why, or how, but he had a very bad feeling about it.

    “It’s a relief Sooah didn’t come.”

    This place was far too dangerous.

    And if she had learned that her master was dead, there was no way she would have been able to handle it emotionally.

    For now, he had to move.

    The forest was vast. He needed to cover as much ground as possible.

    His communication device was useless, and even his compass didn’t work.

    That meant he had to rely solely on his map and instincts to navigate.

    He walked for about an hour.

    During that time, he crushed the heads of over a thousand yokai and absorbed their cores.

    Perhaps as a result, the yokai, which had previously swarmed him in packs, had stopped appearing.

    Maybe they had learned.

    Or maybe word had spread.

    Either way, it was a shame.

    Most of them had seemed to be in the Delta to Gamma range, so even if their cores weren’t worth much individually, absorbing them had steadily increased his power.

    Now that they were gone, he found himself missing them.

    ‘They won’t approach me unless I reveal more of Dueokshin’s power, huh?’

    He glanced up at the sky.

    There wasn’t a single star in sight.

    Dark.

    Endlessly dark.

    It was pure, absolute darkness.

    If not for the ghostly flames illuminating his surroundings, even Taeseong would have struggled to make his way through.

    This place wasn’t just eerie and unpleasant—it was suffocating.

    Humans tend to panic when they can’t see anything.

    Even those with the strongest mental fortitude will, given enough time in darkness, begin to spiral into anxiety and despair.

    And on top of that, Taeseong was completely alone.

    Have you ever imagined floating all alone in the middle of a blackened ocean, with no land in sight?

    Most people, upon picturing such a scene, would experience an indescribable sense of fear.

    Endless solitude itself can drive a person mad.

    “…A village?”

    Up ahead, he spotted walls and an entrance.

    Mostly constructed of wood, it had all the hallmarks of a settlement.

    “What the hell? Are there people actually living here?”

    Considering the sheer size of this forest, it wasn’t entirely impossible.

    Perhaps there had been people who had made this place their home long ago.

    But for that to be the case, they would need to have enough power to defend themselves from the yokai.

    And before long, Taeseong realized that his assumption was correct.

    “They do seem capable of protecting themselves.”

    The village was filled with inhabitants.

    Humanoid figures—with human heads, but serpentine bodies.

    Taeseong hesitated for a moment, wondering whether they could really be called “humans.”

    Then, gripping his sword, he spoke.

    “If anyone here considers themselves human, raise your hand.”

    He prided himself on being fairly open-minded.

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 58

    The Jangsanbeom sprang up and slashed its massive claws, prompting the two knights to raise their shields simultaneously.

    Kwaang!

    A powerful impact rippled outward, shaking the cave momentarily.

    [What kind of taste would your innards have? When I chew on meat, the juices flow. The fleshier the human, the lower the quality—dry and flavorless. But the human brain? It’s sweet. Sweet and a little salty. Sweet. My favorite delicacy is the brain. Kikik.]

    With a voice that sounded like a woman in her mid-twenties, the Jangsanbeom spoke eerie words, its mouth stretching to the ears in a grotesque grin.

    From the back, where she had been observing the battlefield, Lee Eunha shouted,

    “Gi-jun! Yeonghui!”

    [Gi-jun! Yeonghui!]

    The Jangsanbeom mimicked her voice mockingly.

    At the center, Gi-jun clenched his fist tightly, focusing his mind, while beside him, Go Yeonghui pulled the trigger of her pistol, which was as large as her own face.

    An invisible force seized the Jangsanbeom’s back legs. Immediately after, two bullets, infused with condensed fear, shot toward it.

    Bang! Bang!

    [Heehee! That tickles. It tickles!]

    But it wasn’t enough to stop the Jangsanbeom. The thick white fur covering its body deflected all of Yeonghui’s bullets.

    [You look delicious. I wonder what your brain tastes like? Ihihihihi!]

    The Jangsanbeom swung its front paw fiercely at Oh Haeyoung, who was draped in the red cloak. Instinctively, she raised her axe to block, but the sheer difference in strength sent her backward, leaving deep marks on the ground. If Gi-jun hadn’t lifted her up with his telekinesis, their formation would have crumbled.

    Haeyoung steadied her breathing and charged forward with a beastly roar. A faint red aura shimmered around the axe in her grip.

    “Hyaap!”

    The fear that she might die here.

    Facing an overwhelmingly powerful opponent, her body should have recoiled in terror. Yet, Haeyoung burned with fighting spirit instead. It wasn’t that she wasn’t afraid—she simply steeled her mind with the thought that if she collapsed, it would all be over.

    [Yes! That’s it! The deciding factor in battle is momentum! If you falter, even the strongest warrior can’t unleash their true power! Even if your limbs are severed and your chest is pierced, keep swinging your weapon, warrior! Let us march together to Valhalla!]

    ‘Old man! What Valhalla?! I have no intention of dying yet! I plan to live until I’m old and gray! I swear it!’

    The spirit within the pendant was none other than Ragnar Lothbrok—the king of all Vikings and a legendary hero.

    The mightiest Viking.

    Oh Haeyoung had yet to fully awaken his true power, but even the Tree organization classified him as an “evolving entity” due to his immense potential.

    [This time, aim for the chest! Don’t shrink back! That beast is nothing but raw strength with clumsy, unrefined movements.]

    Thanks to the old ghost’s advice, Haeyoung’s combat instincts had sharpened rapidly, and now, they were shining through in this battle.

    “Uaaaaaaaah! Die! Die! Dieeeeeee!”

    [That wretched cloak… What is it? It reeks of misfortune! It reeks of misfortune! I must tear it apart! How dare you! How dare you! How dare you!]

    The absolute difference in rank between an Epsilon-grade and a Gamma-grade entity was evident. Proof of that lay in Haeyoung’s body, which was being shredded with every second that passed.

    Her hair, coloured with blood, clung to her face in tangles. Her left shoulder dangled loosely. Her right thigh, where flesh had been torn away, exposed the white of her bone.

    Judging by her appearance alone, she looked like she could collapse at any moment. And yet, she was growing stronger.

    This wasn’t just about sheer willpower.

    The heat of battle, the stench of blood thick in the air, the reddening vision, the sensation of her blood constantly draining from her body.

    These things only made her more exhilarated. And as her excitement rose, so did the latent madness within her. Having held onto the pendant for so long, she had begun to assimilate Ragnar Lothbrok’s traits as a warrior.

    The more she bled, the stronger she became.

    The more intense the battlefield, the stronger she became.

    The more wounds she suffered, the stronger she became.

    The more she killed, the stronger she became.

    A berserker.

    “Slash! Slash! Slash! Kill! Kill! Kill!”

    A crimson aura, like a veil of blood, surged from her body.

    Oh Haeyoung, her eyes rolled back in frenzy, swung her axe wildly, while the Jangsanbeom, now visibly flustered, reeled back.

    [Kkrrrrr! Why won’t this crazy woman fall?! Stop being a nuisance and just die! Just die already!]

    The scale, which had been overwhelmingly tipped in one direction, was now gradually leveling out.

    A replica of the ‘Red Cloak’ from the original entity, coupled with the berserker’s trait of growing stronger over time.

    The guidance of a legendary hero, the defense provided by the two knights filling the gaps.

    And the relentless support of Gi-jun and Yeonghui, who were pushing their powers to the limit.

    All these elements had come together to create the balance they now held.

    ‘…Finally, finally, we’ve evened the playing field. No matter what, we have to finish this now!’

    Lee Eunha knew.

    This balance was only temporary.

    There would be no second chance.

    Oh Haeyoung was not invincible. The time limit on the replicas and the iron knights was less than five minutes. When they disappeared, Haeyoung would fall. And when Haeyoung fell, everyone would fall.

    Which meant they had to end it now.

    “Gi-jun, Yeonghui. Use everything you’ve got. This is… our last shot.”

    Gi-jun and Yeonghui nodded solemnly. They both understood what her words meant.

    “Damn it. I’m not dying here. I won’t die before I see my wife again!”

    “…M-Me too. There’s still so much I want to do.”

    Eunha leaned against the wall and pulled out her sketchbook once more. This was in case the worst happened.

    They would do their part, and she would do hers.

    She wasn’t someone like Lee Taeseong or Taesan, capable of protecting her team with overwhelming strength…

    But she was still their leader.

    The Jangsanbeom’s blue eyes glowed eerily as it spoke again, this time in the voice of a young boy.

    [Alright. Playtime is over. I need to feast on your flesh to soothe my weary body. Mom! I’m hungry. Mom, feed me!]

    It, too, had made its decision.

    A surge of malevolent energy unlike anything before erupted.

    The Jangsanbeom’s form vanished.

    Swish!

    With lightning-fast movements, Jangsanbeom revealed itself, and with a single swipe of its forepaw, crushed the two knights’ bodies like tofu. Its joyful voice echoed throughout the cave.

    [Uhihihihihihi! Uhihihihihihi! Uhihihihihihi! Uhihihihihihi! Uhihihihihihi! Uhihihihihihi! Uhihihihihihi! Uhihihihihihi!]

    “You creepy bastard!”

    Oh Haeyoung, gripping her axe with her dangling arm, kicked off the ground and leaped toward Jangsanbeom’s head.

    A massive axe came crashing down vertically.

    It seemed like it would cleave its head in two, but—

    Crunch!

    Astonishingly, Jangsanbeom had caught the axe’s blade in its jaws. Losing control of her weapon in an instant, Haeyoung struggled with all her might, but it didn’t budge.

    “Urgh!”

    [Puhihihit! Puhihihit!]

    Mocking her, Jangsanbeom twisted its head and flung the axe away, sending Haeyoung flying into the wall.

    ‘Ugh… My ribs…!’

    The impact shattered three or four of her ribs, but Haeyoung immediately got back on her feet and charged at Jangsanbeom once again.

    “Arghhh! Die, you bastard!”

    She staggered as she swung her axe wildly. With a sneering grin, Jangsanbeom lashed out with its forepaw, tearing off her left arm entirely.

    With one arm gone, she couldn’t properly wield the axe, and it clattered to the ground.

    [Puhit! Beg for your life! Huh? Try begging for your life.]

    “Go to hell.”

    Growling, Haeyoung fell to her knees but then opened her mouth. She gripped down on the axe handle with her teeth and grasped it with her remaining hand.

    […Is this woman actually insane?]

    Hearing such an “admiration-filled” remark, Oh Haeyoung grinned. Just then, the voices of Gi-jun and Yeonghui rang out.

    “Thank you, Haeyoung.”

    “…Thank you, Haeyoung.”

    They were grateful she had bought them time. Even though they had watched her desperate struggle, they had been unable to help.

    But if Haeyoung saw the state they were in, she’d probably stay silent.

    Gi-jun had pushed his power to the limit, and blood streamed from his eye sockets, ears, and nostrils.

    Meanwhile, Go Yeonghui’s hands no longer moved as she gripped the trigger of her massive sniper rifle.

    They were little more than walking corpses.

    They, too, had put everything on the line.

    “Now, just die already, you bastard.”

    “……”

    Gi-jun’s gaze locked onto Jangsanbeom’s back legs.

    Clapping his hands together, he released his power at its very limit. The energy compressed to the brink exploded, momentarily distorting the space around them.

    Boom!

    Jangsanbeom’s lower body erupted, sending flesh and blood flying in all directions.

    [J-My legs…?]

    “Serves you right, you son of a bitch.”

    With a twisted grin, Gi-jun leaned against the wall. The ringing in his ears was so intense that he could barely keep himself upright.

    Bang!

    A gunshot rang out, so loud it sounded like a thunderclap.

    The extreme conditions.

    The emotions extracted and condensed to their limit to manifest a massive sniper rifle and its bullet.

    Go Yeonghui infused it with the last remaining sliver of hope she had left.

    Because she believed that only by abandoning hope could true hope be found.

    The bullet, ripping through the air, pierced Jangsanbeom’s heart. The spiraling energy compressed within it detonated from the inside, engulfing everything around it.

    The finishing blow belonged to Oh Haeyoung.

    Like a zombie, she crawled toward Jangsanbeom and, at last, swung her axe.

    Slash!

    The razor-sharp blade cleaved through its neck, sending a fountain of blood spraying into the air.

    Thud.

    Jangsanbeom’s severed head hit the ground.

    Watching the scene, Haeyoung finally let go of the axe handle clenched in her teeth and flashed a carefree smile.

    “…Hehe. We won.”

    Lee Eunha, who had just completed her last drawing, stood up and surveyed the surroundings.

    ‘Is it finally over? Thank goodness… I won’t have to use this drawing, after all.’

    Though her comrades weren’t in great shape, the fact that not a single one of them had died meant they had done their best.

    ‘I should start by reattaching that arm.’

    Just as she was about to step forward to retrieve Haeyoung’s severed limb, her body froze in place like a statue.

    “……”

    Something was watching them from the thick darkness deeper in the cave.

    “D-D-Deputy Leader….”

    “Fuck. What the hell is that now…?”

    Emerging from the shadows was yet another Jangsanbeom.

    The difference this time?

    It had not one but two heads.

    [What, is it really dead?]

    [Pfft. Told you it would die. I won the bet, so I get to eat all of them, right?]

    Even Haeyoung, who never backed down no matter the situation, accepted her nearing death.

    Gi-jun and Yeonghui were no different.

    ‘That thing’ was fundamentally different from the creature they had just fought.

    No matter how they struggled, there was no way they could win.

    Facing it meant only one thing—death.

    Only Lee Eunha muttered with a composed face.

    “Fuck… I knew it. I just knew I wouldn’t live a normal life.”

    With a sigh, she ripped apart a drawing.

    “Team Leader.”

    At the same time, a massive man materialized.

    Swinging his fist, as large as an iron cauldron, he sent both of Jangsanbeom’s heads bursting apart with a single punch.

    Wiping the blood from his face, the man—Taesan—grinned brightly.

    “Haha! You guys! How have you been?”

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 57

    The moment they heard that voice, everyone in the cave fell silent.

    And simultaneously, they looked at one another.

    A deeply unsettling sensation, as if every hair on their bodies was standing on end.

    “……”

    “……”

    That voice was undoubtedly Lee Eunha’s.

    And yet… it wasn’t.

    They were more certain than ever before.

    That was not the voice of a human.

    [Why aren’t you saying anything? Why aren’t you saying anything? Why aren’t you saying anything? Why aren’t you saying anything? Why aren’t you saying anything? Why aren’t you saying anything? Why aren’t you saying anything? Why aren’t you saying anything?]

    The echoing, repetitive voice filled their ears, threatening to drive them insane.

    They had barely escaped the swarming yokai and caught their breath, only to be met with this eerie voice from within the cave.

    ‘And for fuck’s sake, it’s using my voice.’

    The one most disturbed by this was, of course, Lee Eunha.

    Some unknown entity was mimicking her voice perfectly—how could she possibly stay calm?

    [Is this not right? Is this not right? Is this not right? Is this not right? Is this not right? Is this not right? Is this not right? Is this not right?]

    This time, the voice was male.

    By now, most of them had realized what was happening.

    The voices “it” was using belonged to the managers who had arrived here before Lee Eunha’s group.

    ‘A yokai that mimics human voices…’

    One specific creature came to mind.

    ‘Jangsanbeom.’

    At the same time, information from the Jangsanbeom containment report surfaced in her memory—her exceptional recall proving invaluable in this moment.


    【G-Rank Entity Containment Report】
    No. 1230
    Entity Name: Jangsanbeom
    Rank: Gamma (G)
    Threat Level: 4

    Information:
    A mysterious entity that takes the form of a tiger. Its entire body is covered in fine, silk-like white fur. Due to the properties of this fur—or perhaps due to the entity’s innate ability—most individuals who first encounter it see it as human.

    Its cries are particularly unique, capable of perfectly imitating natural sounds such as rain, wind, and thunder.

    More disturbingly, it can flawlessly mimic the voices of humans it has devoured.

    It is believed to use this ability to lure or deceive humans, suggesting a high level of intelligence.

    ※ Precautions:

    1. Personnel assigned to this entity are advised to wear earplugs during operations. Do not be swayed by familiar voices, and maintain composure at all times.
    2. Under no circumstances should anyone approach it. While it is restrained, this does not guarantee safety.
    3. The entity’s physical strength is immense, capable of crushing the reinforced walls of its containment chamber as if they were tofu.

    [Observation Log #124]

    Does it have the ability to read memories? At first, it undoubtedly appeared in the form of a tiger. But as I continued speaking with it… I saw my deceased mother.

    “Mom?”

    No.

    That’s not my mother.

    She passed away ten years ago. Then why…?


    [Observation Log #224]

    Even though I know it’s an entity, I still hear my dead senior’s voice coming from its mouth.

    “Senior…? Is that really you…?”

    As we continue talking, I become convinced—this isn’t just an entity.

    This is my senior. There’s no doubt. He didn’t die.

    He was falsely labeled as an entity and locked away in containment.

    I have to help him.

    “Wait for me, senior. I’ll get you out.”


    [Observation Log #225]

    A few days ago, the junior manager assigned to Jangsanbeom was killed.

    He was a Delta-rank.

    Even now, the creature speaks to me in his voice.

    “……”

    It doesn’t just mimic voices.

    It seems to emit a specific frequency that stimulates the human brain.

    Additionally, this entity doesn’t just imitate the voices of those it has consumed—it appears to retain their memories as well.

    Hallucinations. Visions. Auditory delusions.

    This thing is dangerous.

    .
    .
    .

    Lee Eunha’s face grew increasingly pale.

    The characteristics described in the entity containment report matched too well.

    If that thing truly was a Jangsanbeom, then its estimated rank was Gamma.

    ‘Can we subdue it with just the people here?’

    She calmly assessed their current fighting strength.

    Aside from Oh Haeyoung, everyone here was Delta-ranked.

    To make matters worse, they were all physically and mentally exhausted from the continuous battles over the past few days.

    And to top it off, the outside was crawling with yokai.

    Going out now would be nothing short of suicide.

    The only reason they had managed to hold out this long was thanks to Go Yeonghui joining them and the recent power-ups of Yu Gi-jun and Oh Haeyoung.

    Thanks to Xiao Yun’s acupuncture, the two had become significantly stronger.

    ‘There was only ever one option from the start.’

    Eunha took out a pea from her pouch and popped it into her mouth before distributing the rest to her comrades.

    Entity Name: Jack’s Pea
    Rank: Delta

    A consumable entity extracted from Jack’s Beanstalk, which was hidden somewhere in Tree’s Korean branch.

    At first, its effects were unknown, and it was nearly discarded.

    However, after extensive testing by Tree’s researchers, it was discovered that it significantly aided recovery, making it a valuable resource for administrators.

    Of course, as a consumable entity, its supply was limited.

    ‘It’s a good thing I borrowed some tool-type entities. If we didn’t have these, we’d all be dead already.’

    Although Eunha was only a Delta-rank herself, she at least held the authority of a temporary team leader.

    Anticipating potential emergencies, she had used her authority to request the transport of tool-type entities from headquarters.

    Fortunately, she had been able to receive them while they were staying at the inn.

    “……”

    “……”

    The group, having eaten the peas, exchanged glances.

    They remained silent, still uncertain about how to respond to the situation.

    Regardless, Eunha was the leader here.

    Everyone was waiting for her decision.

    Though her combat abilities might be lacking compared to the others, her judgment as a commander had proven reliable enough to trust.

    ‘I wish Taeseong was here… But there’s no point thinking about that now. I can’t rely on him forever.’

    ‘If only the captain were here…’

    ‘I need to get stronger. If I had been as strong as Taeseong from the beginning, none of this would have happened.’

    ‘I’m scared. I’m terrified. How are the others not afraid? What is that voice? It’s horrifying.’

    Everyone, except for Go Yeonghui, felt the weight of Taeseong’s absence.

    To them, he wasn’t just another Delta-ranked administrator.

    If he were here, there would be no need for hesitation.

    He wouldn’t waste time debating—he would already be moving forward.

    [Are you the administrators sent from the Korean branch? I’m Mikami, an administrator from Tree’s Japan branch. I was injured during an operation and had to take shelter in this cave. I can’t move right now—could you please come and help me? I swear I won’t forget this debt. Please, I’m begging you.]

    A desperate voice rang out.

    It didn’t just mimic the voice—it was as if it had studied acting.

    Even without seeing a face, the image of a wounded administrator naturally formed in their minds.

    “……”

    Oh Haeyoung, looking unsettled, glanced at Eunha.

    Her expression clearly asked: What if it really is an injured administrator asking for help?

    Eunha shook her head and mouthed her response without sound.

    Don’t do anything. That’s an order.

    What could they do?

    It was unfortunate, but she had her own problems to deal with.

    As temporary team leader, her only goal was to ensure that all the Korean administrators returned home alive.

    [Ah, f***. That’s not working either? Why are these bastards so damn sharp? Sharp? Sharp? Sharp? Sharp? Sharp? Sharp? Sharp? Sharp?]

    Step. Step.

    Footsteps grew closer.

    The group swallowed nervously, exchanging glances.

    Eunha quickly scribbled on her sketchbook and held it up for everyone to see.

    Unidentified entity inside the cave is suspected to be Jangsanbeom.

    A Gamma-ranked entity capable of inducing hallucinations, visual illusions, and auditory distortions at will.

    Additionally, its physical abilities are considerable. Keep your distance as much as possible during combat.

    Oh Haeyoung, if you have no choice but to engage in close combat, focus on defense rather than offense.

    Everyone nodded.

    They tightened their grips on their weapons, bracing for the impending battle.

    ‘Haeyoung can’t hold the front line alone… Damn it. There’s no point saving my strength if we all end up dead.’

    Having made up her mind, Eunha tore two sheets from the back of her sketchbook.

    In an instant, two knights clad in steel armor materialized before them.

    Their full plate armor, covering even their faces, made them resemble towering statues.

    Instead of swords, they each wielded massive shields.

    “Khak!”

    Eunha suddenly coughed up dark red blood.

    The summoning had drained two months’ worth of her lifespan, causing severe strain on her body.

    But she didn’t stop.

    She kept drawing.

    ‘It won’t be as powerful as the original, but it’s better than nothing!’

    Imitation.

    The object she was recreating was a Gamma-ranked tool-type entity: Red Hood.

    A cloak steeped in legend, said to belong to a girl who lost her family to wild beasts and became a vengeful hunter, slaying ten thousand creatures in her pursuit of revenge.

    The blood of the beasts she hunted had seeped into the cloak, granting it immense power when facing beast-type entities.

    Of course, since it was only a replica created through Eunha’s ability, it wouldn’t be as effective as the original.

    But it was still better than nothing.

    ‘It’ll probably last about twenty minutes at most.’

    With her pale face, Eunha draped the cloak over Oh Haeyoung’s shoulders.

    Once the summoned knights disappeared, She would have to withstand Jangsanbeom’s attacks alone—this was at least a minimal safeguard.

    [So, you’re those so-called Tree administrators too? Since when did there start being so many of you? All I wanted was to sleep in peace, but you pests keep bothering me.]

    The voice, steadily approaching, was now right in front of them.

    A beast with gleaming white fur emerged from the darkness.

    A tiger.

    With a human face.

    Drooling as it stared at them, it let out a chilling laugh.

    [Kikiki. Not human, but close enough.]

    Malicious energy surged as it lunged forward.

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 56

    Various yokai(spirits) surrounded Taeseong, watching him intently.

    A two-headed snake, a skull as large as a house, a woman in a kimono, a creature with an elongated neck and a single, glaring eye in its center, a fox with two tails, and a massive spider—each of them conversed as if appraising their prey.

    [Sniff, sniff. It smells strange.]

    [An unfamiliar scent… What is this? Food?]

    [I like males. I’ll eat him. I want to mate.]

    [Yokai?]

    Taeseong drew Hoirang from his subspace and swung his sword forward.

    Swoosh!

    A straight blade aura extended outward, splitting open the chests of the surrounding yokai with a sharp crack. Green liquid gushed in all directions.

    [Hiiik!]

    At the same time, Wairang leaped out from Taeseong’s shadow, expanding its body as it rampaged. With each swipe of its massive front paws, the smaller yokai were torn apart like paper.

    “Devour them all.”

    Crunch!

    Crack.

    Like a fish in water, the otherworldly wolf enjoyed in the carnage. Some yokai, oblivious to the situation until now, finally cowered in fear. However, among them, a few emanating powerful yokai energy flashed their eyes and lunged forward.

    [You fools! Consuming him is the only way to become stronger!]

    [I-I will prove myself too!]

    They believed that by devouring him, they could take one step closer to the great yokai dwelling deeper within the Sea of Trees.

    Jukai Forest.

    For yokai, this place was their home. Since a human had willingly walked in, it was practically the same as prey rolling straight into their mouths.

    “So noisy.”

    Taeseong shattered the skulls of two reckless yokai that had charged at him. Then, as he fully unleashed the aura of Dueokshin, the lower-ranked yokai instinctively shrank back in fear.

    [R-Run!]

    […Strange scent. Kill him. We must not let him enter deeper.]

    [S-Strong yokai energy! He’s not human! He’s a yokai!]

    [Move! I will eat him! I must grow stronger!]

    Above the heads of the weaker yokai, skull-shaped figures manifested.

    Crunch.

    As the authority of Dueokshin activated, the heads of the terrified yokai were instantly crushed.

    By now, even the stronger yokai recognized that something was amiss. What they thought was easy prey had turned out to be the real predator.

    The quick-witted ones bolted without a second thought.

    But Taeseong did not hesitate. Every time Hoirang unleashed its blade aura, dozens of yokai were reduced to chunks of flesh, while the terrified ones had their heads burst open.

    Behind him, Wairang growled and gave chase. The long-awaited feast had left it in a state of excitement.

    It was a massacre.

    Among the slain yokai, some were classified as Gamma-grade entities, yet in front of Taeseong, they were all just equal slabs of meat.

    [A monster! He’s a monster!]

    [A great yokai! A great yokai has appeared!]

    [We must inform the elders!]

    Even the stronger yokai, who had once boasted their might in this region, were now utterly helpless.

    As the yokai, once gathered like an army of ants, scattered in all directions, Taeseong turned his gaze. He knew they would take care of themselves without his interference.

    “……”

    Taeseong looked at the eerie, menacing energy radiating from the blade and smirked in satisfaction.

    ‘Its power is truly fearsome.’

    The sword possessed exceptional cutting power. Even without channeling energy into it, it was as sharp as if he had. Naturally, when he did infuse it with energy, its effects were multiplied several times over.

    Even a mere novice could cut through stone with it, and in the hands of a skilled warrior, it could slice through mountains with ease.

    ‘To think that just a single fang could create such a weapon.’

    Once again, Taeseong was reminded of the sheer presence that Primordial Wolf  had possessed.

    After clearing his surroundings, Taeseong plucked a core from one of the yokai corpses and swallowed it.

    “It tastes like rotten wood.”

    Even now, Taeseong continued to grow stronger. However, since most of these yokai were nothing but small fry, he couldn’t feel any dramatic change.

    “Who are they calling a monster?”

    From a distance, Wairang approached, a half-crushed yokai head dangling from its maw. It wagged its tail in satisfaction, clearly pleased with its meal. Taeseong reached out and petted its head.

    The creature rolled onto its back, still chewing on the remains, and let out a satisfied crunch.

    To Taeseong, it was cute. But if another human were here, they would have been horrified by the scene.

    “You’ve gotten stronger than before.”

    Perhaps it was because Wairang had devoured some yokai during the battle. The energy it emitted was noticeably more potent. Now that he thought about it, the creature seemed to share his ability to grow stronger through consumption.

    After letting out a loud burp, Wairang slipped back into Taeseong’s shadow.

    To an outsider, it might have seemed even more terrifying than the yokai in this place, but to Taeseong, it was just a slightly oversized dog.

    “If the entrance was already like this… the deeper areas must be complete chaos.”

    Jukai Forest felt like a realm entirely separate from the outside world. Even from above, the immense spiritual energy had been overwhelming. But now that he was inside, he could feel a constant, watching presence from deep within.

    Even in the midst of battle, Taeseong found himself distracted by it.

    It didn’t feel hostile.

    ‘That thing’ had simply been there from the beginning. Its mere existence radiated an overwhelming presence that stung his heightened senses.

    The only reason its presence stood out was that it was far more dominant. Throughout this massive forest, there were many others emitting slightly weaker, yet still formidable, energy signatures.

    A forest of suicides.

    This place was…

    A land of ghosts.

    This vast forest was their domain, their homeland.

    “I need to hurry.”

    The constant crying of spirits, the thick spiritual energy seeping from all directions, the occasional appearance of grotesque specters—

    And the ominous scent of fear growing stronger in the deepest part of the forest gnawed at his mind.

    Who knew how long that thing had been nesting here?

    For ordinary people, merely stepping foot into this place would drive them insane.

    Even Taeseong, with his supernatural mental fortitude, felt as if his senses were being distorted just by existing here. If he was feeling this, how much worse must it be for the other administrators?

    The longer they remained, the more disadvantaged humans would become.

    Because this forest… belonged to them.

    With these thoughts in mind, Taeseong walked for another twenty minutes.

    The deeper he went, the thicker the darkness became. He used Pure Flame to illuminate his surroundings.

    A mystical sight, reminiscent of will-o’-the-wisps.

    A lone flame glowing amidst a sea of spiritual energy—it was beautiful in its solitude.

    Then—

    Taeseong suddenly stopped.

    His keen eyesight had spotted someone in the distance.

    A woman with snow-white hair, reminiscent of the legendary Snow Woman.

    As he identified her, his expression gradually twisted in confusion.

    “Yukina…?”

    Sooah’s mentor. The head of the Japanese branch’s administration.

    A Beta-grade administrator who had been reported dead.

    Yet here she was, staring back at him with an eerily calm expression.


    Screams echoed from all directions.

    Cries filled with agony and murmurs steeped in despair, as if resigned to everything, rang out without pause.

    “Uwaaaaaah! My eyes… I can’t see! Someone, help me! F***! I can’t see anything! What the hell, my eyeballs… Where are my eyeballs?!”

    A manager with empty eye sockets swung his hands in the air, trembling.

    “Kkyeeeek! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts! It hurts so much! Please, save me. Please, I was wrong. I won’t do it again. Aaaagh! Ah, just kill me. My arms… please….”

    A manager with a hole in his chest pleaded in pain before taking his own life.

    “Hiiiiiik! Damn it. We should never have come here! We should never have signed up for this mission! You worthless bastards. No matter how much we struggle, we’re all going to die anyway!”

    A manager with both arms severed screamed in resignation as he watched the yokai gather to feast on his flesh.

    “Mom! Mom! I’m scared! I don’t want to die like this… Please… Ah… Save me, Mom….”

    A yokai that had just finished devouring a corpse mimicked the manager’s voice, calling out for his mother.

    It was a scene straight out of hell.

    More than half of the 300 managers deployed for this mission had already died. The yokai residing in Jukai Forest were far stronger than initially expected.

    Even the lowest-ranked yokai could easily overpower high-ranking Epsilon managers, while the lower-tier ones required at least two Delta-ranked managers to handle.

    To make matters worse, as time passed, the forest’s demonic energy only grew stronger, causing the managers to fall into mental instability, while the yokai themselves became even more powerful.

    ‘Bringing this level of force into Jukai Forest was a miscalculation from the start. And the moment we lost a Beta-ranked manager during the mission, our defeat was sealed.’

    Only 150 members remained alive.

    Even then, more than a third of them had just been wiped out in this area.

    Now, there were only two Beta-ranked managers left.

    ‘If we want to increase our chances of survival, we must regroup with the main force where the Beta-ranked managers are.’

    Due to consecutive ambushes, Team 7, which included Lee Eunha’s group, had become isolated from the main unit.

    Teams 6 and 9, who had been traveling alongside them just moments ago, had long since been reduced to nothing more than a meal for the swarming yokai.

    “D-Director! Those people…!”

    “Oh Haeyoung! Don’t look back! Just run!”

    It was a cruel thing to say, but if they wanted to increase their chances of survival, they had no choice but to keep running.

    At least some of them had to make it out alive.

    Lee Eunha gripped Oh Haeyoung’s blood-soaked hand tightly and ran with all her strength. Leading the way, Yu Gi-jun used telekinesis to assist them.

    “Hurry up! If we stop, we’re all dead.”

    Their bodies moved faster.

    But they couldn’t afford to relax. Yokai were closing in from every direction, even now.

    “Deputy Leader!”

    Go Yeonghui, who was grinning despite the situation, pulled the triggers of the twin pistols she held in both hands.

    Bang! Bang! Bang!

    The head of the yokai lunging at Lee Eunha burst apart.

    The power of her unique ability, which allowed her to manifest weapons based on her emotions, was immense. The stronger her emotions, the more powerful her weapons became.

    And right now, the emotion fueling her was pure terror.

    “Just a little more!”

    About 200 meters ahead, a large cave came into view.

    ‘At this rate, there’s no end to them.’

    Lee Eunha quickly decided that their best option was to enter the cave and seal off the entrance.

    Regrouping with the main force was important, but their priority was survival.

    “Everyone, get inside that cave!”

    Yu Gi-jun, who had reached the cave first, provided cover for the approaching team members.

    Crunch!

    With each clench of his fist, the heads of the yokai chasing them shattered like tofu.

    Overexerting himself, Gi-jun was now bleeding from his nose, panting heavily.

    “Haa… Haa… Hurry.”

    As the last to enter, Lee Eunha tore a page from her sketchbook and flung it into the air.

    At that moment, a massive Japanese gate manifested at the cave entrance.

    The gate was covered in countless talismans, filling the entrance completely.

    Perhaps because of that, the yokai that had been relentlessly pursuing them suddenly lost interest and began to retreat.

    Sighing in relief, Lee Eunha checked on the others.

    “Phew… Is everyone okay?”

    Fortunately, no one had sustained serious injuries.

    Everyone leaned against the cave walls, catching their breath.

    .
    .
    .

    Then, a voice echoed from deep within the cave.

    [Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay? Is everyone okay?]

    It was Lee Eunha’s voice.

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 55

    Aokigahara Forest.

    Located at the base of Mount Fuji, the highest mountain in Japan, in Minamitsuru District, Yamanashi Prefecture, it is known as a sanctuary for those seeking to end their lives.

    Commonly referred to as the “Suicide Forest” or “Jukai Forest,” this place earned its reputation due to an incident from the past—depicted in an old novel where the protagonist chooses this location as a place to end their life. In reality, a woman was found having passed away with that book used as a pillow. Since then, countless people wishing to end their lives have gathered here, turning it into a notorious suicide site.

    Since the 1970s, the number of people who have taken their lives here has reached as many as 30,000. It is a place where countless souls have chosen to end their journey.

    Unusually, most suicide spots are cliffs, tall buildings, or bridges—places suitable for jumping. In contrast, Aokigahara Forest has none of these geographical features. Because of this, most who come here choose hanging as their method, and the first things visitors often encounter are bodies dangling from tree branches.


    ※ Aokigahara Forest Safety Guidelines:

    1. Under no circumstances should you enter this place. Never enter.
      If you do enter, immediately hang yourself—or, more sensibly, stay put and quickly call for help.
    2. If you see a living person here, do not greet them.
      They are not truly alive.
    3. No communication devices will work here.
      If your phone or radio rings, leave the area immediately. Do not engage in conversation with the voice.

      • “Hey, can you hear my voice? If you can, please help me. I can’t move my legs. My body is growing colder and stiffer. If you help me out of this forest, I swear I’ll repay this favor. Please, save me. I’m begging you.”
    4. If you see an unidentifiable jar, immediately lie down and chant three times, “Save me.”
    5. If you make eye contact with non-human entities, do not acknowledge them.
      They cannot see you, but the moment you “recognize” them, they will also see you.
    6. This rule does not exist.
    7. If you see Rule 6, immediately run to the shrine located deeper within Aokigahara Forest.
      Only by reaching that place will you be able to be saved. Do not trust anything else.

    Taeseong closed the file and asked, “So, you’re telling me to go to this place now?”

    The enforcer responded, “The death of a Beta-class administrator is a significant loss of power for us as well.”

    Taeseong naturally thought of Yukina.

    The cold impression of her snow-white hair.

    Her arrogant gaze, as if looking down on the entire world, was still vivid in his memory.

    Although he never actually fought her, he already knew how powerful she was as an administrator. Even “Xiao Yun,” presumed to be one of the top-ranked among the Beta class, couldn’t be certain of victory against her.

    And now, she was dead.

    It was an unspoken rule in “Tree” to treat the death of a single administrator as insignificant. But what Taeseong was focusing on was something else.

    The level of danger.

    In other words, it meant that the place was dangerous enough to claim the life of a Beta-class administrator. And right now, his comrades were at that very place.

    Taeseong was relieved that Sooah hadn’t gone and quickly continued his train of thought.

    “It’s been about a week since they set out, right?”

    If that much time had passed…In the worst case, they all could have been killed.

    “I have one question.”

    “Go ahead.”

    “You said communication with the administrators inside has been lost. So how did you find out that Yukina was dead?”

    “For Beta-class administrators and above, we assign ‘entities’ to verify their life and death status.”

    Considering how valuable they were, it made sense that they were treated differently. With this, Yukina’s death was confirmed without a doubt. There was no reason for the enforcer to come to him with a lie.

    “There’s no time. Make your choice.”

    The options he presented were simple enough for an elementary schooler to understand.

    The first option was to waive the remaining two months of isolation in exchange for heading to Jukai Forest immediately to carry out the mission. If he succeeded, he would also receive a corresponding reward.

    The second option was to stay in the isolation room and complete his two-month probation period.
    Of course, by then, his comrades would likely all be cold corpses.

    The answer was already decided.

    “I’ll go.”

    “A wise choice. You depart immediately.”

    “One more question, if I may?”

    “You certainly are curious. Speak.”

    “Are there no other administrators available for support? For example, an ‘Alpha’ class administrator?”

    The enforcer responded with a scoff, “Do you think Alpha-class administrators are mere security guards? They’re all occupied with far more important tasks. Don’t waste your time on pointless thoughts.”

    For a moment, Taeseong wondered if reaching Alpha-class would finally free him from this grueling workload, but clearly, even they were worked to the bone, just as the rumors about this hellish organization suggested.

    “So, they’re busy.”

    Taeseong stood up abruptly, instantly melting the handcuffs binding his wrists. The enforcer flinched at the sight and looked at Taeseong, who stared back in silence.

    “……”

    “……”

    After a brief silence, Taeseong spoke first.

    “What are you waiting for? Let’s go.”

    “……”

    The enforcer hadn’t witnessed Taeseong’s power firsthand, so he assumed the rumors were exaggerated.

    That’s why he had been reluctant when ordered to deploy him under the condition of lifting his probation.

    “Now I see why.”

    “……?”

    Taeseong and the enforcer left the isolation chamber and headed straight for the adjacent building.

    As they ascended toward the rooftop, Taeseong asked, “You’re not seriously telling me we’re traveling by helicopter, are you?”

    “We are.”

    “There’s no entity or administrator capable of transporting us there in an instant?”

    “…You really have a habit of speaking lightly about things.”

    Mulling over the enforcer’s words, Taeseong realized again just how useful and exceptional Lee Eunha’s abilities were.

    When they pushed open the steel door and stepped onto the rooftop, the helicopter, already prepped and running, came into view. Taeseong boarded without hesitation, while the enforcer remained standing, watching.

    And just as the helicopter took off into the air, the enforcer murmured, “…If you can, try to help as many administrators as possible.”

    “I’ll see what I can do.”


    About twenty minutes remained until their destination.

    ‘The stench is getting thicker.’

    The eerie energy he had sensed an hour ago grew more and more intense as they approached. Taeseong’s ki perception was sharp, but in truth, the sinister aura emanating from Jukai Forest was so potent that even the Epsilon-grade pilot could feel it.

    ‘It’s a complete nest of spirits. The most foul stench I’ve ever encountered in any place I’ve been before.’

    Now that he was feeling it firsthand, it was clear why such a large force had been deployed for this mission. Over 30,000 people had taken their own lives in that forest—this was an inevitable result.

    And beyond the suicides, there were likely even more casualties. That meant an unfathomable number of people had perished in Jukai Forest.

    Recently, the source of the growing number of anomalies in Japan had been traced back to this very place.

    “What the hell is that?”

    “What do you see, sir?”

    Something off white appeared in Taeseong’s vision as he looked outside. It stood in the middle of a field, wavering like a heat mirage. At a glance, its shape resembled a scarecrow.

    Focusing his enhanced vision, Taeseong analyzed the figure. It wasn’t quite a scarecrow, yet it didn’t move naturally enough to be human.

    Wriggle, wriggle, wriggle, wriggle, wriggle.

    “A whitish figure is dancing in a weird way.”

    “Ah… That can’t be…”

    The pilot’s face turned deathly pale mid-sentence. It was as if something had just clicked in his mind—something he was never meant to remember. His expression twisted in terror, and he shut his eyes tight.

    “Hey. What’s wrong with you? You can’t just close your eyes while flying a helicopter!”

    “D-Do you know what that… thing is?”

    “No idea. Just shut up and focus on flying!”

    “No! No! Please, don’t say another word! You must not look at it!”

    The pilot screamed, shaking as if he were having a seizure.

    Shocked by the sudden outburst, Taeseong demanded, “Fine! Just calm down and keep your hands on the controls!”

    “Arghhhhhh!”

    Watching the pilot lose his mind like a lunatic for no apparent reason was infuriating.

    Had he completely snapped? There was no reasoning with him in this state. If the worst came to worst, Taeseong might have to abandon the pilot and escape from the helicopter.

    Making a split-second decision, he snapped his fingers toward the whitish figure in the distance.

    Snap!

    A brilliant blue flame ignited from the figure’s feet, swiftly consuming it from head to toe.

    Fwooooosh!

    The azure fire devoured the thing’s entire body before dissipating into the air.

    The moment it vanished, the pilot, who had been shaking wildly, gradually regained his composure.

    “You okay now?”

    “…Ah. Yes, I’m fine.”

    Fortunately, the helicopter hadn’t crashed. The pilot, though not an administrator, was a seasoned Tree employee and recovered quickly.

    Taeseong asked, “What the hell was that episode all about?”

    “If my guess is correct, that entity was a Kunekune.”

    “Kunekune?”

    “Yes. It’s a Delta-grade entity. The moment someone notices what it is, it shatters their mind without any conditions or limitations. This may be unfamiliar to you, Administrator Lee Taeseong, but for us Japanese…”

    It was a well-known urban legend in Japan.

    The instant the pilot heard Taeseong’s description, he had immediately recognized it, and that recognition had nearly destroyed his sanity.

    “There’s no end to these fucked-up entities, huh.”

    “My grandfather’s generation had quite a few people who went insane and became catatonic because of Kunekune.”

    In the past, Taeseong would have dismissed it as just another trivial ghost story.

    But now, he knew better.

    He knew that every word was true.

    Before long, they arrived near Jukai Forest.

    “I don’t think we can go any further,” the pilot said.

    Taeseong nodded, understanding the situation. He prepared to drop.

    “Yeah. Don’t loiter around here and risk going crazy. Head straight back.”

    “I wish you luck, Administrator.”

    Giving a slight nod, Taeseong gazed at the vast, ancient forest below. Without hesitation, he jumped.

    Fwaaaaa!

    As gravity took hold, his body plummeted at full speed. The force of the wind roared in his ears.

    Thud!

    Deploying his parachute with practiced precision, he landed.

    He unfolded a map to estimate his position. No communication devices or compasses worked here. He would have to rely entirely on his own senses.

    “The outskirts, huh.”

    A thick, eerie aura welcomed him, seeping from every direction. Towering trees, easily over ten meters tall, formed an impenetrable wall around him.

    This was why they called it the Sea of Trees (Jukai).

    Just moments ago, the sun had been shining brightly in the sky, yet here, the world was plunged into darkness, as if he had entered an entirely different realm.

    Whooooosh…

    A sinister wind rustled through the trees. Their grotesque forms swayed in unison, as if mocking the unwelcome guest in their domain.

    “……”

    Summoning blue flames around himself to secure visibility, Taeseong quickly realized—He was surrounded.

    Glowing eyes pierced through the darkness from every direction.

    “This is one hell of a welcome party.”

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 54

    “Are you saying that my parents were the prosecutors in charge of that case?”

    “Yeah, that’s what the records show.”

    It felt like finding a missing puzzle piece.

    At last, a connection had been made. The more information he gathered, the stronger his suspicions became.

    Even within his faint childhood memories, Taeseong clearly remembered that his parents had been people of great integrity.

    They couldn’t stand injustice and always stood on the side of the weak—a textbook example of strong against the strong, kind to the weak.

    Knowing their nature, it was certain that they wouldn’t have hesitated to go after a corporate heir, no matter how powerful.

    As if confirming his reasoning, Choi Harin spoke.

    “And I hate to say this, but it seems like your parents were pretty relentless in their investigation. Even after the not-guilty verdict, the prosecution filed an appeal. Of course, the court dismissed it.”

    Considering the opponent was the heir to a trillion-dollar conglomerate, the chances of the court accepting the appeal were nonexistent, even if the sky fell.

    The outline of the situation was starting to take shape.

    “…….”

    “I think I know what you’re thinking, but like I said earlier, Ilseong isn’t just a major corporation—it’s a megacorporation. Their influence extends far beyond South Korea; they have a global reach. Do you get what I mean? Taking on a company of that scale as an individual is…”

    Harin trailed off. She didn’t need to finish the sentence—Taeseong already understood what she was trying to say.

    “I’ll handle it myself.”

    After another moment of hesitation, Harin let out a small sigh and spoke in a low voice.

    If she was going to offer goodwill, she might as well do it properly.

    “There’s likely a connection with Tree as well.”

    “…Ilseong, you mean?”

    “As far as I know, yes. Most likely, other companies in M10 are involved too. Running an organization of that scale requires enormous funding. In fact, Ilseong Group has even sent administrators to our branch as part of their security force before. In return, they probably received massive financial support. If a company like Ilseong is involved, they almost certainly know exactly what kind of organization ‘Tree’ is.”

    So it was a kind of partnership.

    Ilseong provided funding, and Namu provided… assistance.

    A certain joke suddenly came to mind. People often joke about highly advanced technology, saying things like, “Did they abduct and torture aliens to develop this? Let them go already.”

    But maybe it wasn’t just a joke.

    Countless entities locked away in containment facilities. Tree’s researchers studying their power, origins, properties, and principles. If they made any breakthroughs, wouldn’t it be possible to incorporate them into some form of technology?

    ‘It looks like he’s made up his mind after hearing what I said. It must not have been easy for Choi Harin to hand over this kind of information so readily.’

    “If you want, I can look into this side of things too. What do you think?”

    “I’d be grateful if you did. And I won’t forget this favour, Team Leader.”

    At that, Choi Harin finally smiled in satisfaction.

    She was a sharp, quick-thinking person who understood the balance of gains and losses. It made conversations with her easy.

    “By the way, Team Leader Taesan asked me to say hello. He said that once you’re back, you should have a sparring match—said it’s been a while. Apparently, he’s preparing for the Beta-rank promotion exam soon.”

    “Beta-rank… He really is exceptional, as expected.”

    “Well… yeah, he is. To be honest, he should’ve been promoted to Beta-rank a long time ago. But he kept refusing the promotion exams, so he’s stayed at Gamma-rank until now. The higher-ups finally started pressuring him, so now he doesn’t have much of a choice. That guy’s a real oddball.”

    “Why did Team Leader Taesan refuse the promotion exams? Wouldn’t a higher rank ultimately be beneficial for him?”

    “Exactly. Gamma-rank is already a high managerial level, but Beta-rank is on an entirely different level. The salary increase goes without saying, and within the government, Beta-ranks are treated like high-ranking officials. But he still refused. When I asked him why… it was because of his team members. If he got promoted to Beta-rank, he’d most likely be reassigned to a different position.”

    “He refused the exam just because he didn’t want to be separated from his team?”

    Taeseong found it hard to understand.

    “Yeah. He may not look like it, but he’s incredibly loyal. He probably wanted to protect his subordinates himself, no matter what. Back when he first became a team leader, there was a new recruit. That rookie died during entity management duty.

    To be blunt, deaths among Tree’s administrators weren’t uncommon. But Taesan wasn’t like the others.

    I remember the first thing he said.”

    —”I am Taesan, the leader of Management Team 4. My rank is Gamma, and as you saw earlier, I am a Murim returnee. If you ever have any concerns, don’t hesitate to talk to me. As long as I have the power, I’ll do everything I can to help.”

    Thinking back, it was Taesan who had pulled the strings to get Taeseong dispatched to Japan. A man who had shown him kindness without hesitation from the very first meeting.

    “The next day, he went after that entity and tore it apart with his bare hands. Then, he personally paid for the deceased administrator’s funeral. On top of that, he took care of the remaining family members. I heard he drank every day for a week after that. He’s really something else.”

    In Tree, administrators eventually became insensitive to the deaths of their colleagues. Even after just a year or two, most people did.

    But Taesan, despite being a veteran administrator for much longer, had genuinely grieved.

    ‘A rare kind of person. Someone like him should be the one leading others.’

    At that moment, a voice interrupted.

    “You have one minute left.”

    The enforcer’s voice was dry and mechanical.

    In the hologram, Choi Harin muttered, “Time’s up already,” before moving to wrap things up.

    Then, as if she had suddenly remembered something, she spoke again.

    “Oh, and just so you don’t get the wrong idea—the disciplinary ruling changed, but the punishment itself wasn’t canceled.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Salary reduction for six months. Three months of probation. There’s nothing we can do about this. The disciplinary committee on their side refused to budge on this part. So, just hang in there for now, Taeseong. See you next time.”

    Click.

    With those final words, the holographic projection ended, and the enforcer left the isolation room without a word.

    “Damn it. Nothing ever comes easy, does it?”

    Cursing under his breath, Taeseong lay down on the floor. He had heard too much, and he didn’t want to think anymore.

    For now…

    Yeah.

    He just wanted to rest.


    Two weeks passed.

    During that time, Taeseong was moved from the special containment room to a general isolation room. Though it was called an isolation room, it was practically a dormitory for administrators, equipped with everything he needed.

    Thanks to the reduced severity of his punishment, “Tree” was now treating him as an administrator rather than a “subject.” They even allowed visitors, which was a considerable accommodation.

    If he wanted, he could escape from this so-called isolation room at any time. But there was no need to stir up trouble. He had barely managed to get his disciplinary measures reduced—causing another incident now could mean turning all of “Tree” against him.

    Taeseong spent his time training his body and assessing the new abilities he had gained. He was gradually adjusting to life in the isolation room.

    Occasionally, Sooah visited to talk about things they hadn’t had the chance to discuss, untangling the web of emotions between them. The Yato-Ito siblings also dropped by with ramen or soba, filling the room with idle chatter.

    — Hehe, Captain! I only got a two-month salary reduction. They said they’d be lenient because of my past efforts.

    — …Idiot. If you pull that stunt again, I swear I’ll kill you.

    Most of their conversations were pointless banter, but one piece of information stuck with him: soon, a large-scale operation involving managers from multiple countries would take place.

    Fortunately, Sooah wasn’t included in the mission. Given her recent rampage, the risks were deemed too high for her participation.

    Xiao Yun visited only once.

    — Just thinking about that day still makes my whole body ache, you crazy bastard.

    With a grin, he tossed Taeseong a bottle of his favourite liquor before leaving without another word.

    The last visitors were the Korean administrators.

    Lee Eunha nagged endlessly with a distressed expression before finally saying, “I’m sorry we couldn’t help you.”

    Taeseong hadn’t expected their help in the first place, nor did he blame them, knowing they had been locked in a sealed lounge.

    But it seemed they felt differently.

    — Captain, I have no excuse. I should have stayed by your side no matter what… But we were trapped in a damn lounge, utterly useless.

    — I’m sorry, Taeseong. We weren’t there when you needed us the most. And honestly, I keep thinking… even if I had been there, wouldn’t I have just been a burden?

    Yu Gi-jun and Oh Haeyoung were practically drowning in self-reproach. They must have known logically that it was beyond their control, but there seemed to be a deeper reason behind their guilt.

    Powerlessness.

    Their remorse likely stemmed from the helplessness they had felt. If they had been stronger, they might have broken out of the lounge themselves and found a way to help.

    Taeseong understood.

    But there was no need for them to dwell on guilt. Instead, they should take this as a lesson and use it to grow stronger.

    While they talked, Go Yeonghui kept grinning to herself. At first, Taeseong’s face hardened at the sight, but then he recalled that she was under a curse and forced himself to stay calm.

    After all, if she was smiling like that, it meant she was grieving in her own way.

    .

    .

    .

    A month had passed since he began living in the isolation room.

    For the past two weeks, aside from Sooah, no one had visited. Most personnel had been deployed for the large-scale operation.

    In the first place, the reason administrators from other countries had been summoned was for this mission. Taeseong, of course, had been excluded due to his probation.

    “Mental sparring is starting to get boring.”

    To fight off boredom, he had spent most of his time meditating. He engaged in endless imaginary duels in his mind and revisited past memories to strengthen his sense of self.

    Just then—

    The door to the isolation room opened, and the now-familiar enforcer entered.

    By now, neither of them needed words to greet each other; a simple exchange of glances was enough.

    “Are you aware that most of the branch’s administrators are currently deployed on a mission?”

    The enforcer, unusually, spoke first.

    Taeseong nodded.

    “A Beta-class administrator died during the mission.”

    The words that followed were enough to shake even Taeseong, who had maintained an impassive expression until now.

    Yukina.

    Sooah’s mentor and the head of Japan’s administrative division.

    She was dead.

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 53

    Harin looked at Taeseong with an doubtful expression, then let out a small chuckle.

    “Haha…”

    Then, as if she found it truly hilarious, she burst into laughter. She laughed so hard that her stomach hurt, and tears welled up in her eyes, but she showed no sign of stopping.

    “Puhaha! Hahahaha! You’re seriously insane. I can’t tell if you’re reckless or just plain stupid. But one thing’s for sure—you’re really entertaining. You’re so unpredictable that I can’t even guess what you’ll do next.”

    “I’m not joking.”

    “I know. I can tell you’re dead serious. That’s exactly why I laughed. Because you really believe what you’re saying. From my perspective, it’s just absurd. You do know I’m in the intelligence department, right? The information you have doesn’t even compare in quantity or quality to what I have. Tree’s roots extend across the entire world.”

    “……”

    Taeseong had long understood the extent of Tree’s influence. As long as he had working eyes and ears, he could deduce plenty from what he saw and heard while working as a manager.

    The very fact that Tree sought to control all entities in existence was proof of its overwhelming power. And yet, Harin kept emphasizing it, making Taeseong suspect she was just trying to intimidate him at this point.

    “So, please, stop doing reckless things. Do you have any idea how hard it is to train a competent manager? Tree doesn’t just hand out nests for no reason.”

    “You said I was going to die no matter what, didn’t you?”

    “……”

    “Do you know the results of my disciplinary hearing?”

    After a brief moment of hesitation, Harin spoke with a troubled expression.

    “Yes. I was going to tell you anyway.”

    “I see.”

    “We tried everything to plead for leniency, exhausting every possible avenue, but unfortunately, the disciplinary committee seems to have already made up its mind.”

    “I see.”

    With a calm expression, Harin stated,

    “The higher-ups have decided to eliminate you.”

    “I see.”

    “……”

    “……”

    Unlike what she had expected, Taeseong’s reaction was utterly dry and emotionless, prompting Harin to break the silence first.

    “You’re not bothered at all? Taeseong, you’re about to die, you know? Tree has officially ordered your elimination.”

    “Well, I expected as much. I caused too much trouble for the higher-ups to simply let it slide.”

    “Hah… I can’t tell if you’re just completely detached from life or if you’ve gone subtly insane. So what, you’re just going to die as they say?”

    “……”

    Taeseong remained silent.

    As if that would happen. He had just reunited with his family. While recalling his past memories one by one, he realized just how desperately his past self had wanted to return to Earth.

    Even in a life filled with filth, he had fought tooth and nail to survive—so that he could reunite with his loved ones.

    “No matter how fearless you are, isn’t it normal to show at least a little fear? I seriously want to crack open your skull and take a look inside. I have no idea what you’re thinking.”

    You don’t know what I’m thinking?

    It’s simple.

    I’m debating whether I should kill the Enforcer in front of me and escape this place right now.

    As he instinctively summoned the flames of Ignost, he gained certainty.

    Even if the flames were slightly weaker than usual, if he set his mind to it, he could easily melt away these restraints.

    “I have a lot to think about.”

    Harin sighed, as if admitting defeat.

    “Seeing you react like this makes it no fun to tease you… Anyway, everything I said was true. The disciplinary committee was truly set on eliminating you. But that decision has been overturned.”

    “Overturned…? Why?”

    Harin shrugged and pointed upward with her finger.

    “Someone above.”

    “Above?”

    “Someone in a very high place seems to have taken an interest in you. With just one word from them, everything was flipped on its head. No matter how much authority the head of the disciplinary committee holds, they can’t ignore that person’s words.”

    Just who could this person be, that a single word from them could overturn an entire disciplinary verdict?

    As he pondered this, a certain individual came to mind—someone who had stopped all the managers in their tracks with a single word.

    Even a Beta-ranked manager, that old man, hadn’t dared to act without this person’s permission.

    “Are they an Alpha-ranked manager?”

    Harin nodded.

    But for some reason, her expression seemed a bit off. It didn’t feel like a complete answer.

    “Their rank is technically Alpha. Alpha is the highest rank in Tree’s hierarchy, so that part is correct. But… hmm… how should I explain this? They’re essentially beyond that. Even among the Alphas, they exist on a completely different ‘dimension.’ In fact, they aren’t even managers in the first place.”

    Taeseong stared at her holographic image.

    For some reason, it seemed like Harin was debating whether or not she should even be telling him this.

    “Well, considering how things are unfolding, you’ll find out soon enough anyway…”

    ‘What’s she hesitating about?’

    “The Twelfth Apostle, Lee Han.”

    …Apostle?

    That was a term he had never heard before.

    “He’s the one who overruled the disciplinary committee’s decision. You could say he’s your savior. As you can tell from his name, he’s an Apostle from South Korea. Probably the first and last one.”

    “What exactly is an Apostle, that they hold such authority?”

    “They’re the representatives of Root, Tree’s highest decision-making body, and the twelve candidates designated as future Elders. That’s what an Apostle is. To put it in simpler terms… They’re like supreme judges who aren’t bound by any rules or regulations and can wield absolute power at their own discretion.”

    “Supreme judges…”

    “I don’t know the details either. Even with my clearance as the next Director of Intelligence, I can’t access any information on them. But… there’s one thing I do know for certain.”

    “……”

    “If they want, they can wipe out not just a city but an entire country or even a whole branch of Tree. Apostles are basically ■■.”

    “What did you just say at the end?”

    Harin’s face scrunched up in frustration as she muttered,

    “I said they’re like ■■. What the hell, seriously? There’s a filter for this word? Is it because it’s related to the Apostles? What kind of dumb restriction is this? I could say everything else just fine, but now this gets censored? ■■! ■■! I swear, these guys make no sense with how they handle things…”

    For a moment, Taeseong wondered if it was okay for her to be speaking like this in front of an Enforcer, but since it was Harin, he figured she could handle herself.

    “What else was there… Oh, right, I almost forgot the most important part. Apostle Lee Han has a message for you.”

    “Go ahead.”

    “Manager Lee Taeseong. I’ll be coming to see you soon.”

    “…Why is he suddenly coming to see me?”

    “I wouldn’t know. How could a mere employee like me understand the minds of the Apostles? There are plenty of people who’ve worked here their whole lives without ever seeing their faces even once… Honestly, the best-case scenario is to avoid getting involved with them, but since they’ve made up their minds, it’s already over.”

    She was right. Even knowing this, there wasn’t anything I could do at the moment. Right now, I should just be glad that the disciplinary ruling had been overturned.

    ‘Though, to be honest, I’m curious too.’

    If someone as mischievous as Choi Harin was speaking this seriously, then whatever I imagined was bound to be far beyond that.

    It seemed like I had heard everything I needed to, so now it was my turn to ask questions.

    “Team Leader Choi Harin, may I ask you something now?”

    Realizing that Taeseong’s demeanor had shifted, Choi Harin gave him a slightly wary look.

    “What… is it?”

    “Why did you hide from me the fact that my younger sister, Sooah, has been designated as a red-level threat?”

    A brief silence followed. Then, as if embarrassed, Choi Harin scratched her head and spoke in a playful tone.

    “…Haha. So, you found out. Sorry. It wasn’t because I had some ulterior motive—I was just being a little overprotective, thinking you’d worry as an older brother…”

    “I understand that you want to have control over me, Team Leader. You probably want to put a leash on me and train me into a useful hunting dog. But let me tell you something. If you try to cage me in, I bite. And I will use everything at my disposal to do so.”

    His crimson eyes gleamed with an eerie intensity, like a predator locking onto its prey. Seeing that gaze, Choi Harin unconsciously swallowed.

    “On the other hand, if someone does me a favor, I never forget it. Do you understand?”

    Without a word, Choi Harin nodded.

    “Good. I also want to maintain a good relationship with you, Team Leader. So I hope for your cooperation as well.”

    “…I understand what you’re saying.”

    From Taeseong’s perspective, Choi Harin was an incredibly valuable person to make use of. He could tolerate a relationship where they used each other, but if she crossed the line, he would have to reconsider her position.

    Either she would become an enemy or an ally.

    If she refused both, they would remain in a strictly businesslike relationship.

    “Do you know Park Ilhwan, the CEO of Ilseong Hotel?”

    A sudden question.

    Choi Harin saw this moment as a turning point—a chance to reset their relationship.

    ‘…Yeah. I need to admit it now. Lee Taeseong isn’t someone I can control at will. In the long run, it’ll be more beneficial to extend goodwill instead.’

    Since her previous actions had already been exposed, she judged that maintaining a high-handed attitude would only be a disadvantage now.

    “Of course, I know him. He’s the second son of ‘Ilseong’ Group, the number one conglomerate in South Korea.”

    “The number one in the business world…?”

    “Why?”

    “I have something I want to look into.”

    “Have you ever heard of ‘M10’?”

    Taeseong shook his head. Seeing that, Choi Harin nodded knowingly, as if she had expected that answer.

    “It stands for ‘Magnificent Ten.’ It’s the term used for the ten biggest corporations in the world. ‘Ilseong’ Group ranks seventh among them, with a market capitalization of 1,300 trillion won. In dollars, that’s over a trillion. It’s a colossal company.”

    “And the second son of such a major corporation is Park Ilhwan?”

    “Yep. Park Ilhwan, the second-generation chaebol. One of the potential successors to Ilseong.”

    The more he heard, the more his curiosity grew.

    Why would the heir to such an enormous company have visited a funeral home? If he simply wanted to express his condolences, he could have just sent a wreath.

    “Taeseong, if you don’t mind, could you tell me why you’re asking? I might be able to help.”

    After a brief deliberation, Taeseong spoke.

    “I heard that Park Ilhwan, the CEO of Ilseong Hotel, attended my parents’ funeral in the past.”

    “Hmm… This is a bit of a tricky subject…”

    “Whatever it is, please tell me.”

    “Do you remember when I mentioned that I found some inconsistencies regarding your parents’ deaths?”

    —…Never mind. Sorry, Taeseong. Once I have something more concrete, I promise I’ll tell you then.

    “Yes, I remember.”

    “While investigating further after that, I found out something. Park Ilhwan, the second son of Ilseong Group, was once investigated for murder.”

    “A murder case…?”

    “Yeah. If I remember correctly, the accusation was that he killed a woman in her twenties inside a VIP room at a club. Of course, he was released due to a lack of evidence. But the prosecutors handling that case were your parents.”

  • A doomsday-level returnee devours calamities Chapter 52

    Taeseong’s expression hardened.

    Clench.

    The veins in his arms tensed.

    …Murder?

    Did Sooah just say murder?

    So… she was saying that their parents’ deaths weren’t an accident but an intentional killing?

    Taeseong was not one to be easily shaken, but anything involving his family was an exception. He had slaughtered the administrators of Tree just to save the rampaging Sooah.

    A dark, twisted rage distorted his face like that of a vengeful spirit. The murderous aura that emanated from him made Sooah instinctively flinch before she cautiously called out to him.

    “…Oppa?”

    Only then did Taeseong realize his state and took a deep breath to calm himself.

    “…What do you mean? Murder?”

    “Just what I said. Back then, I was too young to understand anything, and everything was so chaotic that I let it go… but the more I think about it, the stranger it seems. There are too many things that don’t make sense.”

    “Tell me everything.”

    With a serious expression, Sooah began to lay out her thoughts.

    “This is what I think.”

    After securing a stable position as an administrator of Tree, Sooah decided to reinvestigate her parents’ deaths.

    At the time, she had been too young to grasp the situation properly. The only thing she had truly understood was one single fact—she was now alone.

    Her only memory from that time was staring blankly at her parents’ funeral portraits.

    The disappearance of her older brother, followed by the deaths of both parents—it had been far too heavy a burden for a young girl to bear.

    But that was no longer the case. Time had passed, and the child had grown into a young woman. It was time for her to face the truth herself.

    Having made her decision, Sooah took immediate action.

    Being an administrator of Tree made the investigation much easier. However, the deeper she dug, the more suspicious details emerged.

    First of all, there was far less information than she had expected. As if someone had deliberately altered the records.

    “…He confessed to everything?”

    “Yeah. As soon as the investigation started, the truck driver admitted to all of his crimes without hesitation.”

    And with that, the case was closed.

    Since the perpetrator had confessed, the police saw no need to investigate further.

    Typically, in cases like this, the guilty party tries to downplay their negligence with excuses and lies. But this man had confessed immediately.

    Why?

    Was it because he couldn’t bear the guilt? Because he was genuinely remorseful? Or perhaps his last shred of humanity compelled him to tell the truth?

    No. That wasn’t it.

    If the truck driver had even a sliver of conscience, he would have sought out Sooah to apologize at least once. But he never did. Not even once.

    That was why Sooah decided to meet him in person.

    She found him not in prison, but running a fried chicken restaurant of his own.

    Why wasn’t he in prison?

    Because he had never gone in the first place.

    The perpetrator’s name was Yeo Gilsoo.

    His charge: Violation of the Special Traffic Accident Act (Resulting in Death).

    The court’s ruling: 1 year in prison, 2 years probation.

    It was his first offense, his written apology had appeared sincere, and a settlement had been reached with the victims’ family. Additionally, his lawyer belonged to Myungju, the second most prestigious law firm in South Korea.

    But Sooah had no recollection of any settlement.

    So who had agreed on her behalf?

    Through her investigation, she discovered that a distant relative—someone claiming to be her eighth cousin—had received a massive payout. She had never even met this person before.

    —Was it really an accident?

    —…Ugh, for fuck’s sake. Why do you keep nagging about something that’s already over? How many times do I have to say it? It was an accident. I’ve got nothing more to say, so get lost. Don’t disrupt my business.

    And this was the man who supposedly felt guilt? Who was supposedly burdened by his conscience?

    From what Sooah could see, Yeo Gilsoo felt no remorse at all.

    Had their conversation continued just a little longer, he might have been reduced to nothing but ashes, with not even a corpse left to find.

    A fried chicken restaurant. A massive settlement. A top-tier law firm.

    Could all of that really be just a coincidence?

    As she pondered these suspicions, a memory surfaced—something from her parents’ funeral.

    A conversation she had overheard with a man.

    A strong, overbearing cologne.

    —What a tragedy. They were such good people.

    It had been a short exchange, yet for some reason, this memory remained vivid to this day.

    Why?

    Ah, now she remembered.

    That man had been staring at one of the many funeral flowers lined up in the hall—one that bore the name: “Ilseong Hotel President, Park Ilhwan.”

    “He was smiling.”

    “…He was smiling?”

    “Yes. I’m sure of it. I don’t remember much else, but I remember this clearly. Out of everyone at the funeral, he was the only one smiling.”

    It wasn’t the funeral of someone who had passed peacefully from old age.

    It was the funeral of two people who had died in an accident.

    And yet, someone had stood there, grinning at a funeral wreath.

    A madman.

    And Ilseong Hotel.

    “So, Sooah… You believe that scumbag Yeo Gilsoo intentionally murdered our parents?”

    “Yes. But I don’t think it was out of personal hatred. To be honest…”

    “……”

    “I think someone ordered him to do it.”

    “What makes you think that?”

    “Well… both of them had a lot of enemies, after all…”

    Sooah spoke in this way because of their parents’ profession.

    Both of Sooah and Lee Taeseong’s parents were prosecutors. Due to the nature of their job, they inevitably came into contact with various types of criminals, so it was entirely plausible that some lowlifes harboured grudges against them.

    “There certainly are some suspicious aspects.”

    They had suspicions but no definitive evidence.

    “Get up, Lee Sooah . Time’s up.”

    “Oh… It’s already that time? Understood.”

    With a look of reluctance, Sooah rose from her seat and spoke to Taeseong.

    “Oppa, I think I have to go now. Let’s continue this conversation next time.”

    “Alright. Once I get out of here, we’ll talk again then.”

    Sooah left the isolation room first, followed by Yukina. But just before stepping out, Yukina suddenly stopped and turned back.

    “Lee Taeseong.”

    “You still have something to say?”

    “There won’t be a next time. You won’t be leaving this place.”

    “What are you talk—”

    Bang!

    Before Taeseong could finish his sentence, the door to the isolation room slammed shut. Left alone, he stared at the closed door and let out a curse.

    “…They weren’t wrong when they called her a crazy bitch.”

    He was grateful that she had looked after Sooah in his absence, but Taeseong was not a man known for his patience. If she crossed the line any further, he would deal with it in his own way.

    ‘I won’t be leaving this place? Has the disciplinary committee already reached a decision?’

    Judging by Yukina’s past actions, she seemed to wield considerable influence within the Japan branch. It was highly possible that she already knew the outcome of his disciplinary review.

    If what she said was true…

    Then the most likely results would be either his execution or permanent confinement. Either way, it meant stripping him of his status as a manager and treating him as just another entity.

    At least he was relieved that Sooah was safe, but beyond that, his list of concerns kept growing.

    How much time had passed?

    About ten minutes later, the isolation room door opened again. A figure entered, clad in a black suit and wearing a white mask.

    An enforcer.

    The man stepped inside with measured steps and took a seat.

    “……”

    Taeseong tensed as he looked at him. If an enforcer was here at this timing, it meant the disciplinary results had been decided.

    “Delta-ranked manager, Lee Taeseong.”

    “Yes.”

    “A visitation request has been made from the Korean branch of ‘Tree.’”

    Taeseong frowned at the unexpected words. A visitation request? Here, in Japan?

    “A visitation?”

    The enforcer simply nodded in response. Then, pressing a button on the watch strapped to his wrist, he activated a holographic display.

    A familiar face appeared.

    Choi Harin, team leader of Information Team 2.

    Perhaps due to an increased workload, dark circles loomed under her eyes. She attempted to put on a bright front, but the exhaustion on her face was undeniable.

    “It’s been a while, Taeseong.”

    “…Team Leader Choi Harin?”

    “How have you been? Judging by how you look, I’d say not too well. Well, after causing that much trouble, I suppose you shouldn’t be doing well. You look like you can’t quite believe I managed to get this access, huh?”

    “To be honest, yes.”

    With the ease of a seasoned smoker, she held a cigarette between her lips and exhaled a stream of smoke like a sigh. Watching her, Taeseong felt a strong urge to smoke as well.

    “I’ve been in this line of work long enough to have some strings to pull. You were a manager I was keeping an eye on, so I figured I should at least have a final conversation before you die.”

    “……”

    Her tone suddenly became sharper.

    “Delta-ranked manager Lee Taeseong.”

    “Yes.”

    “Do you really understand what you’ve done?”

    “I do.”

    Hearing that, Choi Harin ran a frustrated hand through her hair before lighting up another cigarette.

    “Whew… We sent you there for work, and you ended up causing a massive incident instead. I knew you had a fiery temper, but I still thought you had some sense. Did you completely lose your mind?”

    “……”

    “Twenty-seven Epsilon-ranked managers, severely injured. Twenty-five Delta-ranked managers, severely injured. Seven Gamma-ranked managers, severely injured. You really went on a rampage, huh? This is insubordination, Taeseong. You were a soldier once, so you must know how severe this crime is. Sure, there were no fatalities, but still…”

    “……”

    “You’re as good as dead.”

    Taeseong stared at the holographic image of Choi Harin.

    “As good as dead?”

    “Yeah. No way around it. Just because you’ve gained some strength, do you think ‘Tree’ is something you can take lightly? Listen, Taeseong. I know you’re capable. Anyone who can single-handedly take down that many managers must have serious skills. Your confidence? Fine. Your abilities? Sure, I acknowledge them. But.”

    Her gaze turned sharp, her tone chilling.

    “Don’t get cocky. No matter how strong you think you are, ‘Tree’ is full of monsters that make the managers you’ve faced look like nothing. We’re talking about people who could destroy an entire city or country alone. The ones you’ve encountered so far? They were just playing house. Do you really think you can handle it?”

    …The tip of the iceberg, then?

    It made sense. The Beta-ranked managers had already displayed overwhelming skill, and he knew that they were hiding most of their true power.

    Xiao Yun, Yukina, that old bastard—every one of them was holding back.

    But Taeseong was a man who understood his own limits better than anyone.

    “Team Leader Choi Harin.”

    And that’s exactly why—

    “Do you really think I can’t?”

    He asked with unwavering certainty.

    Do you truly think I can’t handle it?