Chapter 743

A space reserved for only one person.

Standing in the dim light that barely held back the darkness, a gruesome sound of flesh tearing echoed.

Crack. Crunch.

Bones and muscles twisted. A massive energy surged with the pulse of his heart, forcing a transformation.

The weak became strong.

The strong became even stronger.

The man’s entire body, veins bulging, was drenched in cold sweat, and the blood seeping from his tightly sealed lips ran down his chin.

Drip.

A drop of blood fell.

Yet despite the dreadful agony that seemed to crush his whole body, there was no trace of fear or pain in the man’s gray eyes.

For some, this pain was worse than death.

For him, it was already familiar.

And the reward for enduring it was always sweet.

Just like now.

Rip.

The sound of tearing flesh stopped.

At the same time, the internal energy that had been raging wildly quickly stabilized.

The veins that had stood out so grotesquely across his body gradually receded, and the muscles that had been convulsing from the stimulation stopped trembling.

And… the man received his “reward” once again.

Whoosh, boom!

In an instant.

A massive Energy Wave burst from the man and swept outward.

The dim light vanished, and everything within ten meters crumbled into dust.

It was power.

Overwhelming power.

Michael Silbert confirmed the change within himself and lifted the corners of his lips.

Woooong.

A subtle vibration came from somewhere.

Michael, already aware of what it meant, rose without hesitation.

He extended a hand in silence, and a hidden secret door opened, pouring out the light waiting beyond.

Thud. Thud.

Footsteps filled with strength, betraying nothing of the state he’d been in moments ago.

He crossed his office—vast as much as it was wide—and stopped before a large mirror.

A full-length mirror shimmering with a faint vibration.

Staring at his reflection in the spotless surface, Michael placed his hand against it.

Tap.

And the next moment—

Whoosh!

With a brief flash, everything in the mirror changed.

Michael and the office vanished without a trace, replaced by an endlessly stretching horizon, slowly moving buildings, and the figure of one person.

Black skin and golden eyes, a silk hat and a monocle that were hard to find in this day and age.

Michael greeted his loyal servant, who had been with him for a long time.

“You’ve been working hard, Huginn.”

Huginn, facing his superior, tipped his silk hat slightly.

— Not at all, Guild Master.

The greeting was enough.

As if prearranged, the two went straight to the point.

— An hour ago, the Swiss Federal Police recovered the body of Siegfried Bassman.

“Those bastards’?”

A short question, but there was no need to ask who he meant.

Huginn immediately stated what he knew.

— They were lightly questioned as witnesses and released. If we do our best, we can drag them to the International Court of Justice, but I don’t think we can go any further than that.

“I assume you didn’t come to that conclusion on your own. Where did you get the information?”

— First of all, within Switzerland, it’s Minister Berset.

“Berset?”

At the name of the Minister of Home Affairs—almost certain to be elected as Switzerland’s next President—Michael nodded calmly.

“I don’t need to hear any more. It’s best to wrap things up appropriately.”

— I agree, Guild Master, but I still think it’s a good idea to press it to the end, considering the nature of the case.

“To throw those bastards into a pit of filth?”

— Shouldn’t we grab them by the scruff of their necks and toss them in? As soon as this incident becomes known, the eyes of the world will be on it, and many people will question the death of Siegfried Bassman, whose cause of death is unknown. If that happens…

“All sorts of conspiracy theories will spread. And those bastards will become the number one target of them.”

— Yes. Wouldn’t it be quite effective in the current situation?

However, Michael shook his head without hesitation.

“The essence of conspiracy theories is ultimately nothing more than absurd nonsense. Only fools obsessed with gossip, their heads full of delusions, will suspect those bastards.”

Siegfried Bassman was a figure of immense prestige—not only in Switzerland, but worldwide.

It would have been easy for Michael to exploit his death to spread conspiracy theories about his enemies, but it would also clearly backfire.

If he dragged his enemies into filth by force, he would end up smeared with it himself.

“Most of the public won’t even bat an eye. Rather, there will be people who suspect that everything surrounding those bastards was staged. The ones cursing them today will turn around tomorrow.”

As far as Michael knew, humans were that kind of animal.

They were quick to condemn someone based on a small, distorted fragment, and when the truth surfaced, they were just as quick to change their tune and warmly embrace the person they’d cursed.

As if nothing had happened.

As if the whole world had condemned him, but they alone had not.

And that was not the outcome Michael wanted.

The structure of this scenario—its ending uncertain—was secondary to the fact that the most important character was missing.

‘Jin Taekyung.’

That single name lingered on his tongue.

The only person who could be pressured through Siegfried Bassman’s death was Magic Johnson.

Even that was unlikely, and it was a waste of effort unless Jin Taekyung—the center of everything—was brought down.

“Drop the Swiss case. There’s nothing to gain.”

Huginn responded to Michael’s calm but firm instruction.

— Understood. I will relay that to Minister Berset as well.

“That’s enough. How are things going with the media?”

— It’s going successfully. They’re burning brightly now that we’ve added fuel to the fire. However, there’s something I need to tell you regarding that…

“Money?”

— Yes. They’re demanding more than we expected.

“They’re greedy. What they’ve already received is more than enough.”

— That’s why I think it’s fortunate. We just need to fill them up as much as they want.

Michael chuckled at Huginn’s reply.

That was true.

If you filled the other party’s greed at the right time—no, if you gave them something that even exceeded that greed—they would never betray you.

“I’ll transfer funds from one of my secret accounts. Use as much as you need.”

— May I take that to mean you want me to give them a surprisingly large amount?

“Exactly. You’ve become a villain, too.”

— I learned a lot from someone.

“There’s a saying in the East. If three people gather, they can even create a tiger… You have to keep hold of the media until everything is finished. Just like now.”

— I will keep that in mind.

Michael knew the power of the media.

He also knew how shallow—and terrifying—people’s herd mentality could be.

At the same time, he couldn’t help finding it ridiculous that he had to go this far.

‘I was confident no one could stop me now except Cheon Tae-min.’

Not the Ares Guild, once called the best in the world.

Not Lee Jeong-ryong, who had taken its place.

Not even the heroes of the Great Cataclysm, including Magic Johnson.

None of them were a match for him.

Until Jin Taekyung appeared.

‘How can he possibly do that?’

Michael couldn’t accept it.

It had taken him an enormous amount of time and patience to rise from a poor neighborhood with nothing but poverty to his current position.

But Jin Taekyung was different.

He’d risen to prominence overnight, and in just over a year, he’d accumulated astonishing achievements and fame, earning the love of the entire world.

Just like someone from the past who was still vividly etched into Michael’s memory.

‘Sky.’

A week ago, in the ruins, Michael had felt traces of Cheon Tae-min in the Oriental youth he first encountered.

The face was different, the aura was different, but his instincts screamed the truth.

This man is dangerous.

He will be the greatest obstacle in my path.

And Michael’s instincts had been right.

Even now, while countless outlets spewed malicious headlines, the voices supporting Jin Taekyung had not stopped.

The people swept up by the terror, and the herd mentality stoked by the media, were simply louder—but Jin Taekyung was still standing.

‘But if my guess is correct… it’s only a matter of time before that bastard collapses.’

Michael murmured inwardly, recalling Jin Taekyung’s eyes—burning with anger.

And the person beside him.

Only one step remained to the high ground he had desperately desired, and in his hand was the flag that would declare he had claimed it.

“Huginn.”

Huginn, who had been silently waiting while his superior sank into thought, answered.

— Yes, Guild Master.

“This mission must have no mistakes. No variables.”

— Don’t worry. I handled it flawlessly, as you ordered.

Michael smiled at the unwavering reply of the loyal servant who had followed him for many years, sharing countless secrets.

“Good. That’s all I need.”

— I won’t let you down.

The one who gave the order, and the one who carried it out.

Both knew the consequences.

That countless people would die and be injured in the process.

But to Michael, that was nothing more than a trivial detail.

An inevitable sacrifice required to reach the destination he had yearned for.

If he could get what he wanted, the lives of those who would die somewhere in this vast world were far too cheap.

Shatter!

The magically treated glass shattered in an instant.

The countless shards—once called a communication crystal ball—were swept away by the ensuing wave and vanished into the distance.

Swoosh.

Wind swept over his entire body.

Huginn, standing tall at the ship’s stern, stared blankly at the surging seawater.

‘Three days at the latest. It’ll probably start within that time.’

What he had thrown into the deep sea was not merely the fragments of the communication crystal ball, and the result would soon be revealed to the entire world.

‘The calculations are perfect. The mission is a success.’

There was no guilt.

Only the satisfaction of having executed the order perfectly once again, and a few unresolved questions.

‘Can this really destroy him completely, Jin Taekyung?’

But soon, Huginn shook his head.

The superior he served was always thorough, and the path he chose was always the correct one.

“Returning. Get ready.”

At Huginn’s brief command, the ship changed course.

Behind the slowly departing vessel, the forest of buildings that was Tokyo stretched out across the horizon.