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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Beware of the Raging Bull
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At that sudden question, Yuna Kyung's face twisted in shock.
"Did I die or something?"
"Not that I know of, probably?"
"Then why are you asking something like that?!"
"...Beats me?"
Rimon tilted his head.
Yuna Kyung was a full-fledged human, not some zombie, and he'd never once heard a rumor that she'd died.
In other words, her being alive like this was only natural.
And yet, Rimon felt an intense sense of wrongness about that perfectly normal fact right now.
As if he'd personally witnessed her dying or something.
'Why did I even ask that?'
He puzzled over his own inexplicable behavior.
Watching her boss like that, Yuna Kyung openly wore a suspicious look.
"Team Leader, have you lost your marbles or what?"
Thwack!
"Kyaa! Stop flicking my forehead already! This is straight-up workplace violence!"
"Want me to show you what real violence looks like?"
"...No, thanks."
Rimon clenched his fist.
Yuna Kyung shook her head vigorously in front of it.
She knew from experience that if this loose cannon of a boss actually unleashed violence, a forehead flick wouldn't even come close to cutting it.
With that, Rimon silenced Yuna Kyung and set his worries aside.
Instead, he asked bluntly,
"So, which bastard is it this time?"
"Huh? How'd you know a report came in?"
"If it's not an emergency and you're waking me up, my forehead-flick combo's gonna leave a mark on yours."
"Isn't that too much for your one and only team member?!"
Yuna Kyung grumbled but still pulled out the report.
She quickly read off the key details.
"At 9:12 p.m., violation of the Player Special Management Act confirmed at coordinates BVI-52.15. At 9:15 p.m., suspect shakes off responding police and flees. At 9:17 p.m., suspect's identity confirmed..."
"Short version."
"Some drunk lunatic's on a rampage after chugging booze. Someone catch him, please."
"...Goddamn it, do I really have to roll out now just to nab one sloppy drunk?"
Rimon furrowed his brow.
Back in the day, he'd been hailed as a hero and guardian deity, stepping in only for national crises.
Now, demoted to a lowly team leader with just one subordinate, he was stuck handling crap like this too.
Even if the times had changed, this was too much.
It was a situation that couldn't help but evoke a sense of the generation gap.
"No one's gonna complain if you don't go, Team Leader. You're off duty today anyway."
Rimon radiated irritation.
But Yuna Kyung didn't cower.
She just nodded innocently and tossed out a casual question.
"So, you gonna sit this one out?"
"..."
Rimon scowled at his shameless subordinate's face.
She was right.
He was off duty today anyway.
There was no obligation to respond to a report.
Even if he wasn't off, it didn't matter.
Sure, he was just a team leader now, but no one would dare chew him out for slacking a bit.
"Cut the crap and fetch my coat."
"Yes, sir! Coat reporting for duty!"
And yet, with a sigh, Rimon held out a hand.
Yuna Kyung beamed as if she'd expected it, handing over the coat she'd prepared in advance.
Rimon shot her that infuriating grin a glare as he took the white coat and slung it on.
He grabbed his sword and asked,
"So, which asshole am I dragging by the hair and dunking in a booze barrel?"
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Weeeeooooweeeooooweeeooow!
[Mr. Seo Yongchan, stop right now! This is a violation of traffic laws!]
"Screw off! Who the hell are you tax-fed pigs to tell me to stop?!"
[What'd you say, you little shit? I tried asking nicely! Hey, stop now! If you don't, I'm ramming you!]
"Puhahaha! Ram me if you can!"
Times change.
The Golden Age, when life first blossomed.
Primitive humanity, no different from beasts, communed with spirits to build civilization, and spirit mages and shamans nurtured the world with their power and wisdom.
The Silver Age, when avatars descended.
Nations blessed with divine teachings formed agrarian societies and prospered, while priests and witches ruled the world with magic bestowed by the gods.
The Bronze Age, when the seven dragons awoke.
The seven dragons, who slumbered for eons to escape ancient calamities, devoured the avatars upon awakening, and their followers conquered the world with psionics passed down by the dragons.
The Heroes Age, when humans slew the dragons.
After the Sword Emperor, the first Sword Master, cut down the seven dragons.
Sword Masters reigned as the ultimate symbol of power, and none dared challenge their supremacy.
But times change.
The Iron Age, when constellations appeared.
After dungeons and constellations emerged.
The myth of the Sword Master faded.
In their place rose the players.
Through contracts with constellations, they gained 'Skills' and swiftly dominated society.
Building skyscrapers with a gesture.
Crafting machines beyond the era.
Casually curing incurable diseases.
The world advanced rapidly thanks to players' skills, which turned the impossible possible.
Thus, players became objects of admiration.
A Sword Master required innate talent and a lifetime of effort, with no guarantee of success.
But players gained assured power without training—a temptation too alluring to resist.
High-level players with unique skills especially amassed vast wealth and fame.
However, Sergeant Hwang thought differently.
The rise of players hadn't brought only positive change to society.
Why?
Because without players, he wouldn't be chasing a madman through the city streets right now.
Vroooom! Vroooom!
"Yaaaahhh!!"
"That bastard!"
A young man racing down the road like a wild colt.
Sergeant Hwang gritted his teeth, gripping the wheel as he pursued Seo Yongchan.
In police work, you see more fugitives who run harder the more you tell them to stop.
Still, what enraged Sergeant Hwang was that Seo Yongchan wasn't some ordinary hothead.
"If you're drunk, just pass out already! Who the hell joyrides a summon like a psycho?!"
Bigger than a truck.
A body entirely of bronze.
Two sharp horns like spears.
Sulfur smoke billowing from its nostrils.
Sergeant Hwang cursed at the sight of Seo Yongchan rampaging atop the Bronze Bull, a monster in its own right.
'Damn players!'
If it had been a sports car, he might've considered ramming it.
But not the Bronze Bull.
Even summons from level-20 players could smash trucks with a body slam.
And Seo Yongchan, riding it, was a level-80 high-rank player.
No way a police car could stop a beast that might shrug off a missile.
That's why Sergeant Hwang hated players.
Once their levels rose even a bit, they treated police like props, and cops had no way to fight back.
"Hey, where's PAB?"
"They're on their way!"
"Goddamn it, how long ago did I radio? Still 'on their way'?"
Sergeant Hwang felt anxious.
If PAB agents arrived, they could handle Seo Yongchan.
That was PAB's purpose, after all.
The problem was the damage until then.
Boom! Boom! Kwang!
"Wahahaha! I'm freeee!"
"Th-that...!"
Growing bored of just running, perhaps.
The Bronze Bull, no car, pulled off a drift, crushing parked vehicles with its rear.
Sergeant Hwang freaked out at Seo Yongchan, arms spread wide, whooping in delight.
A few wrecked cars?
Who cared.
The issue was Seo Yongchan veering off course.
"Stop, you punk! That area's not secured yet!"
No casualties so far because major roads wide enough for the bull were evacuated in advance amid the chaos.
But that meant side roads weren't cleared.
If that thing barreled in there?
The body count would be unimaginable.
"Eek?!"
"Wh-what the hell is that?!"
"Shit!"
His ominous feeling came true.
The madly charging Bronze Bull plunged into a road still full of cars and people.
Thankfully, its deafening roar let pedestrians on the crosswalk scatter in panic left and right.
But not everyone got that lucky.
"Kyaa!"
"Waaah!"
"N-no!"
A woman who'd twisted her ankle after being shoved by fleeing people.
She lay sprawled in the crosswalk, unable to rise, clutching a little girl who'd fallen with her and was bawling.
Sergeant Hwang's eyes bulged.
He seized the megaphone mic and bellowed,
[Seo Yongchan, you bastard! Can't you see people ahead?! Stop—stop right now!]
"Huh?"
Drunk and eyes glazed, perhaps.
Seo Yongchan belatedly spotted the mother and daughter on the crosswalk, face paling in panic.
But that was it.
He couldn't stop the Bronze Bull or unsummon it.
It was too fast for any action, and his booze-addled brain couldn't even process the need to stop.
'It's over!'
The Bronze Bull charged madly.
Like shielding her daughter with her body, the woman hugged the girl tight.
Futile.
A mere brush from that massive frame would pulp a human body instantly.
As Sergeant Hwang grimaced, envisioning the gruesome scene—
Pajing!
They appeared.
'...What?'
Sergeant Hwang doubted his eyes.
The crosswalk, moments ago empty save for the pair,
Now held a man and woman.
His shock was brief.
Seeing their white coats emblazoned with ornate patterns, his face lit up despite himself.
In this era, only one group dressed so anachronistically.
'PAB! Finally!'
If they were PAB agents, popping up out of nowhere made sense.
Player Administration Bureau, or PAB.
A special org to regulate high-level players.
Their agents were high-level players themselves.
Especially space-type ones with Space Movement—they couldn't stop the bull, but evacuating the pair was easy.
Disaster averted.
Relieved, Sergeant Hwang soon panicked again.
The agents he'd expected to whisk the pair away stood firm, holding position.
'What? Why aren't they running?'
Shing.
His confusion lasted a moment.
The man in the white coat drew his sword and stepped forward.
Only then did Sergeant Hwang grasp the intent and freak out.
"Crazy! He's gonna block it head-on?!"
A suicidal maniac.
That's what he thought of the man.
Level 80? Seo Yongchan ranked in the global top 0.01% of players.
And the Bronze Bull was a combat summon.
To block its charge solo, with just that flimsy sword?
Insane.
Only the Ten Great Lords or comparable archdukes could manage that.
But the instant the man moved,
Sergeant Hwang's cursing mouth gaped wide.
Slash! Kwang!
"...!!!"
One step, severing the thick neck.
One step, slicing the legs still twitching in death.
One spin, kicking the torso aside onto the road.
In just three steps, he'd butchered the Bronze Bull and discarded the remains.
Sheathing his sword, he grumbled at the woman behind him.
"Hey, wasn't it just one drunk? What's with the bull head?"
"Guess he keeps it around as a drinking buddy."
"Who drinks with bronze as a side dish?"
"Players with skills that let them eat metal for utility are registered, right?"
"...Fuck, players are all messed up anyway."
"I'm a player too, you know?"
"That's why I said there are no normal humans among them."
"What the hell do you even think of me, Team Leader?!"
He'd demolished a house-sized bull.
Yet he chatted casually, as if swatting a fly.
Sergeant Hwang stared dumbfounded for a while.
Then Officer Kim Sunggyeong's dazed voice from the passenger seat snapped him out of it.
"Sergeant Hwang, what the hell did we just see?"
"A level-80 summon getting smashed by one guy in under a second."
"That possible?"
"Maybe a Lord-rank player?"
"But I never heard of a Lord like that."
"Yeah."
Sergeant Hwang agreed absently.
Among countless players, only ten qualified as Lords.
Those contracted to Lord-rank constellations, reaching the pinnacle at level 100.
But among Hwang's knowledge—even top 100 archdukes—no white-haired man like that.
'Wait. White hair?'
Sergeant Hwang's eyes widened.
He scrutinized the man.
That pristine white hair jogged a memory.
Moments later, spotting a small scar by the man's eye, he muttered a name unbidden.
"No way... Asfelder?"
"Pardon? Asfelder? You mean that Rimon Asfelder?"
"Yeah, definitely."
Sergeant Hwang said with conviction.
Rarely mentioned now, but once the world's most famous man.
Before the Iron Age and players, he'd been hailed as Humanity's Guardian Deity.
"Humanity's Last Sword Master."