Chapter 77: Light and Shadow
Both Seo-jin and Big Min stood steady, as if the man's desperate report meant nothing. The men hauling Slims felt it though...the air was heavy. They thought they'd barged into some private quarrel. They had no idea.
Min's pulse slammed through her chest, adrenaline begging her to finish what she'd started.
'Gregor should've known better. Fuck...doesn't matter, there's no—'
"Take him to Lynn. The rest of you spread word—we'll see more bodies today. Last night already stirred the streets. Double every watchpoint."
Min's head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. He sounded calm, even casual, like she hadn't just been about to cave his skull in.
"What are you—"
"I'm going to save baldy."
"That's not what I—what the fuck's the point—"
"Move!"
Seo-jin's snarl cut across the dock, and the gang obeyed. They dragged Slims away. The man's head lolled, but even slipping under, his gaze clung to Seo-jin. The horrors still burned behind his eyes, bodies turned sculpture, blood dripping like paint.
After they left, silence reclaimed the dock.
Seo-jin spotted a flicker of blue drifting in over the tide. He smirked, voice low.
"If you want to throw it all away, that's fine. Won't matter in the long run if i start from scratch. But just wait a little. Gregor's your friend too...isn't he?"
Min trembled, every muscle twitching with rage. Her battle hunger had nowhere to go, leaving her hollow.
'He's baiting me. Why else would he act like he gives a fuck?'
[He's not wrong. Gregor is your friend. And he's in danger.]
She clenched her jaw, ready to spit fire—
—but the dock was empty. Seo-jin was already gone.
"You coming?!"
Her teeth ground so hard her jaw ached.
"Hold the fuck on! We're not done!"
She screamed after him, shields fading as she bolted. Not to kill. Not yet.
Her curses snapped behind him, but Seo-jin barely heard. He'd already cracked this human open in his mind. Min might've seen through his skin, but one truth defined her. Loyalty. The question was only to who. The Dead Hands, or a corpse already rotting.
[Recommendation: cease current path. Rescuing Gregor is illogical. Identity compromised. The Dead Hands cannot be secured. Abandon them.]
'I told you before—they belong to me. What I said to the Brood cannot fail already. I'll use them, bleed them, burn them if I want, but no one takes what's mine.'
Min's boots thundered as she caught up, grinding glass and concrete underfoot. She almost stopped when she saw his face.
His eyes glowed crimson, bloodlight bleeding from the sockets. His expression wasn't human, not even close. Demonic fury radiated from him like heat, and she knew at once it wasn't an act. He was pissed.
She didn't notice the flicker of blue that drifted into view. Not that she would.
Grimm floated up from the tide, bones rattling, intestines swaying, the little ghoul giddy with excitement as he kept pace with Seo-jin, hovering in his face.
'Did you find it?'
Grimm waved his guts toward the black water.
'Empty?'
The creature spun in circles, then burrowed into Seo-jin's chest. Only a sliver of his skull poked free, pointing again with dripping entrails.
'Good job, Grimm. We'll check it soon. For now, I need you to rest. Okay?'
The ghoul finally caught his master's mood, and his twitching bones dulled. He sank back into flesh, silent.
'Good boy. We'll play with the Brood later. Promise.'
Seo-jin's hand dropped from his chest, but the unexplainable ache in it didn't fade. It had started the moment he saw Slims broken and sobbing. The fear, the stench of his blood...it should've been sweet.
It wasn't.
Even now, with trouble unraveling itself, even with a chance to cut Gregor loose and gut Min without witness, the hunger wasn't there, just the ache. He didn't want Gregor dead. He wasn't looking to betray Min.
But he wasn't anyone's savior either.
He was a demon.
And someone was touching his things.
At full sprint, he could tear through the streets at two hundred miles an hour. Holding back for Min felt like dragging iron chains.
"How the fuck are you a C-rank?! You're slow as shit!"
She bared her teeth as she laughed.
"Suck my dick! And don't think this is over! We get Gregor back, then I'm killing you!"
The venom in her tone only loosened him. He smirked, picturing her skull under his boot.
"How about a bet instead—one that doesn't end with you scrapping the Dead Hands!"
She nearly tripped. The smile dropped off her face.
"Cut the shit. The Dead Hands died the second you killed Seo-jin."
His senses prickled, souls ahead, and close. Still, he slowed further, baiting her.
"So that's it. You don't care about the gang...this was always about him."
The words were thrown like muttering to himself, but they hit her square.
"It's not like that!"
She stopped dead.
"He had plans! More than you'll ever understand, you soulless cunt! What the fuck am I even doing? Fuck this. Fuck Gregor. We're doing this now!"
Seo-jin's patience cracked. With Corruption always a concern, even running smoothly, his time around her was limited. The target was already in sight. He didn't need this human's tantrum slowing him.
"You don't get it, I understand everything...Minji—"
"Don't you dare use that name!"
Her aura burst wide. The street cratered, dirt and stone vomiting skyward under the pressure of her rage.
"No more words! Fight—!"
"Then you really mean to break your promise?"
Her face cracked with shock.
"Disgusting. Those aren't your memories! Quit talking and fight me!"
Seo-jin twitched at her words.
'She's sharper than she looks. One line and she saw through it. Using Seo-jin's past on her just got harder.'
He measured the next words, tasting them before he let them go—bait that would stick.
"I told you—I'll fight you. I'll rip your lungs from your throat and eat your guts if you're so eager to die. But you swore, human. Don't make that vow worthless. At least protect what he built before you waste yourself."
Her rage rolled off her in waves, hot enough he could taste it. He pressed harder.
"Or were your bonds to him always that weak?"
The snap came the instant his words hit. Perfect.
"Weak?! What the fuck would a demon know about bonds?! Fine! But the second they're safe, we finish this. No more words."
"No more words."
He gave it back without a blink, then blurred. The ground split, rubble spraying as he vanished down the street.
Stone dust peppered her face, but she didn't flinch. Her pulse hammered wild, her body torn between instinct screaming to fight and her heart bleeding old promises she couldn't silence.
[Stay focused, Min. He's manipulating you. Demons twist memory, bend it until you can't tell what's real. He's only using it to put you off balance.]
'I know that. Doesn't mean he's wrong. I just... I don't see the point if he's gone. Why the fuck did I promise to do this without him?'
[You couldn't have known. Sometimes words are just words.]
'Yeah…'
The first screams bled through the streets ahead. Min's shields roared to life, aura hardening around her fists.
'Sometimes…'
----
The floor was slaughter. Firestorms cracked against walls, lightning tore the air raw, bullets and system-light streaked through the haze.
"YOU'RE ALL GONNA DIE! ACCEPT HIS GRACE AND YOU CAN LIVE FOREVER!"
The zealot's scream ended in a spray of cartilage as a round clipped his ear and punched through his skull.
The fourth floor burned as a warzone. If Panic had seen it, he'd have howled, every one of his grotesque sculptures was nothing but rubble and ash.
One side of the room belonged to Gregor, Split-jaw, and the twins, pressed hard against the stairs leading up. The other, swarming and unbroken, was the Children of Light—one of the largest cult gangs in Shatterbay.
Gregor crouched behind a heap of concrete, blood matting his shirt, sweat blinding his eyes. His magazine clicked dry. He swapped it out without thought, scanning his men.
Split-jaw braced in front, skin blackened and steaming where fireballs kept hammering his hardened arms. He had no reach, no ranged edge—just a wall of flesh and bone. The twins were twitch-nerved, trading sight and touch between each other, built for scouting, not for a meat grinder like this.
Seeing Gregor's jaw tighten, Split-jaw caught a fireblast on his forearm. Flesh hissed. He bared his teeth through the smoke.
"Slims'll make it! Slippery little shit's faster than bird grease!"
"He better."
Gregor spat, leaning out, sighting, and dropping two cultists clean through the face before they could crest the barricade.
[Reserves at 20 minutes. Mana nearly tapped. Conserve.]
'I know.'
[-4 Mana]
[Tracer Shot // Active]
He squeezed. The round went wide, whistling over a ducking head, carving into plaster. He sat back, eyes calm, then fired again into nothing.
The first cultist popped up, hands sparking for a skill—just in time for the second bullet to arc mid-flight, snapping onto the path of the first.
The man's skull burst open, brain sprayed across the floorboards.
[Kill Confirmed // Tracer Shot Cooldown Reset]
A raw throb of mana slammed from the enemy ranks and Gregor's instincts screamed for motion.
"Move!"
He shoved Split-jaw, hauled the twins clear, a practiced shove that threw men like rag dolls out of the blast zone.
"Death to the wicked! Cleansing Light!"
A white lance of radiance gouged the air, a freight of holy heat ramming through the floor and everything on its line.
Gregor's aura detonated as he activated a skill.
[-8 Mana]
[Chosen Field // Active]
[+20% Magic Defense / +20% Evasion to allies inside the Field]
[Demonic entities suffer -30% Accuracy]
Smoke roared up to meet the beam; the light sliced through the haze and struck Gregor mid-shift. For a heartbeat no one could tell what survived. Dust and light blinded them.
Gregor hit his knees. He was a wreck: half his face scorched like charcoal, his right arm hanging dead.
A soft, incompatible voice threaded through the chaos, clinical and oddly fond.
[This looks like the end, Gregor. I have to say—you've been my favorite User. Shame we can't keep going.]
"Giving up already?"
Warnings clawed at him; the words weren't his. He tried to roll and a cruel laugh met his raised hand. Through the smoke a figure appeared and his brain blinked with disbelief.
A demon stood beside him, horns curling low, a staff gripped like an accusation. Its eyes seared through dust, glowing coldly.
"I mean you no harm, human. Your boss is ours as well."
The demon tapped the staff once on the concrete. Snare's smile was tiny and cruel as it carried the order.
"Kill them all. None shall stand before the Broodfather."
Gregor didn't parse every implication, but the command's intent was clear. The air answered with fresh screams, a fresh fight erupting somewhere behind—proof Slims had lived.
Reinforcements had come.