Chapter 140: A Day Of New Beginning
Earlier that day, only hours after Yu-na left the docks, Seo-jin pulled the Dead Hands together inside the main warehouse. Noise filled the space. Men laughed, shouted, traded crude jokes about the night before and the stink still soaked into the concrete.
Only Lynn stayed still. Her face carried everything she wasn't saying. It didn't take long for the men near her to learn she wasn't in the mood. A few sharp slaps put a hard stop to the jokes in her radius.
When Seo-jin climbed onto the stacked crates that passed for a stage, he lifted one hand. The crowd answered with cheers and whistles before he even spoke.
"Woman slayer!"
"Smells like victory in here, boss!"
"Alright, you animals—shut it. Shut it!"
Min's shouting cut through the noise, and the room settled. Slowly. Reluctantly.
Seo-jin scanned them, doing his best to hide his dissapointment. The sting hit anyway. No real growth. No meaningful change. He kept his face steady, but the lack of progress curdled in his gut.
"Listen up! I know I haven't been around much since I got back. And I know what you're thinking. But I'm leaving again."
The reaction came fast. Groans. Angry muttering. A low growl ran through the crowd. He expected it. They'd been boxed in too long. Locked down by the Woons. Starved of dungeons. Starved of levels.
They could wait for a dungeon to drop in Dead Hand territory, sure, but that was like praying for rain in a dead season. Normally they would have pushed outward. Fought for drops. Bled for progress.
Now the Woon Corporation had tightened the leash, and every man in the room expected their boss to break it. Him leaving again tasted like abandonment. He could feel it.
His voice cut harder. Bloodlight bled off him in thin threads.
"After my return, when I left, did I come back empty-handed? Did I not bring you weapons? Did I not grow this crew? Where do you think the steel in your hands came from?!"
A few faces shifted. Anger cracked into shame. Still, the weight in the room lingered.
"What I'm doing now is no different. What I do next decides whether we rot here or rise. So tell me—who here enjoys the Woon boots grinding their necks? Who wants to keep killing and dying for scraps?!"
The pressure shifted. Frustration found a new target.
Even Gregor, bald head visible near the front, felt his pulse spike.
"The Dead Hands don't get stepped on. We don't turn cheeks. We don't stand aside while others feed. So I'll ask again—any of you enjoy their boots on your fucking necks?!"
Auras flared across the warehouse. Min's surged. Gregor's followed.
"No!"
"Fuck no!"
"Dead Hands don't bow!"
Seo-jin's bloodlight detonated outward, a crimson wave that crushed every aura in the room and left no doubt who stood above them all.
"I'm heading into the Freelands! That's where I'm going to level!"
The warehouse dropped into silence. Every face locked onto him like he'd just volunteered to slit his own throat.
"Aww, what's this—concern? Relax. I'm not going out alone. Min's coming, and a few of you are coming with me. Lynn. John. Split-Jaw. Slims. Congratulations."
Lynn and John didn't react; they'd known. The rest did. Groans, mutters, a few sharp laughs. Hands clapped shoulders, rough and approving, cutting off most of the bitching. Slims didn't hide it. His grin burned like someone had poured fuel straight into his chest.
"Gregor stays. He'll run things while I'm gone."
No argument followed. Gregor had that weight. Even the thickest skulls in the room understood he was the real brains behind the gang.
"One more thing before I go I'm adding someone new to the Dead Hands."
He gestured aside. Heads turned. Necks stretched. A small figure stepped up beside him. Most of them had seen the kid around. None of them knew why he mattered.
"A kid?"
"Since when do we run a daycare?"
"Look at him—he's about to piss himself!"
Laughter tore through the room. Seo-jin let it roll. Ash didn't get protection here. Respect in the Dead Hands wasn't handed over. It was survived.
"This is Ash. I brought him in myself. While I'm gone, make sure he gets a proper Dead Hands welcome."
He hadn't watched it happen yet, but Seo-jin's memories showed him exactly what that meant. The hazing. The tests. The kind you didn't dodge. For a second, he almost felt bad for the kid. Almost.
Ash dipped his head, fingers raking through his tangled brown hair.
"Please take care of me."
Seo-jin set a hand on the kid's shoulder, pressure firm enough to steady him. Charity wasn't his habit, but he decided to toss the boy a scrap.
"Hector. Get over here."
The call pulled one of the newer faces from the crowd. The kid stood out for one reason only: a sharp orange mohawk cutting through the warehouse gloom. Late teens. Still soft around the edges. One of the youngest breathing Dead Hands air.
He pushed through the noise, brushing off jeers and catcalls with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. When he stopped, a green glow flickered behind his pupils.
"Yeah, boss?"
Seo-jin looked between the two of them. He let the tone slide, but only on the surface.
"You're about to tip into D-rank. That right?"
Hector puffed his chest, pride flashing fast and bright.
"Yeah."
"Good. Hit him."
The warehouse locked up again. Every sound died except breath and shifting boots. Everyone froze except the two on stage. One blinking in confusion. The other suddenly about to piss themselves.
Hector hesitated, the grin cracking.
"You serious? I don't really—y'know—beat on kids."
Ash tried to move.
"Nope. Fuck that. I knew you were insane."
Laughter tore through the room as Seo-jin caught the boy by the collar and hauled him back.
"Either I hit you, or he does. Pick."
Whistles and shouts exploded, most of them calling for the boss to take the swing. The noise crushed in on Ash, almost drowning out his heartbeat. He scanned the room, panic spiking, his system feeding him the same answer his gut already knew.
There wasn't a way out.
He shrugged Seo-jin off, wiped his nose hard, and stepped down to face Hector.
The crowd roared louder. Something ugly sparked behind Hector's eyes as the kid squared up, irritation burning into intent.
"Fuck it. Punk ass needs to be educated."
Hector dropped into a fighting stance. Muscle swelled under his skin, veins lighting green as power bled through them.
Across from him, Ash raised his hands too high, elbows wrong, breath sawing in and out of his chest as he tried to remember how fists were supposed to work.
"Lesson one!"
Hector lunged. One step. Shoulder turned. Arm snapped forward in a clean, practiced line aimed straight at Ash's jaw.
Ash locked up and squeezed his eyes shut.
...But what everyone leaned in for never came.
No crack of bone. No body hitting concrete. No roar of approval.
Instead, Hector's voice tore through the warehouse.
"Let go! Put me down, rat fucker!"
He hung in the air, limbs yanked long by something no one could see. His boots kicked uselessly. The green glow in his veins sputtered out, muscle deflating as his skill burned dry.
Then the laughter hit. Min's first, sharp and bright.
Seo-jin followed, voice carrying over the noise.
"See? The kid's got potential."
He stepped down and smacked Ash on the back of the head, light but deliberate.
"He just needs to grow a pair. Drop him."
Ash's focus tightened for a heartbeat, then cracked. Color drained from his face, hands trembling as whatever grip he had slipped. Seo-jin followed the strain upward and fixed his gaze on Triss, eyes burning red.
"Put him down. Now."
Most couldn't see her. Triss stood in her tiger shape, half in this world, half not. The ghost still remembered how to transform. She eased Hector toward the floor, stripes peeling away from his wrists and ankles before setting him down intact.
The room filled with murmurs. Heads turned toward the empty space Seo-jin had addressed. Speculation spread fast. A few stepped forward, already offering names and grins. Anyone with sense could tell the boss had marked the kid, and favors earned early paid better later.
Seo-jin glanced to Min. She'd edged back, eyes tracking the space where Triss lingered. Gregor hadn't moved at all. He studied the tiger with open focus, already slotting the thing into formations and contingencies.
The meeting was settling clean. He was about to end it when the rest of the world suddenly vanished. Everything in his life stopped existing.
A pane of text slammed into his vision.
[Network // Notification]
[Auction Sale Complete // Payment Received // Funds Distributing…]
Everything froze. The warehouse faded. Only the drum of his pulse filled his skull as the meaning caught up.
"Hell yeah!"
The shout snapped every head toward him.
"Everyone out! Meeting's done. Min, Gregor, prep for departure. Move, you fucks!"
His aura detonated outward. Confused but obedient, bodies scattered. He shoved Min through the doorway with both hands, slammed it shut behind her.
Silence.
Time to shop.
He spun and pressed his shoulders into the steel wall, breath sharp, and yanked his system open.
The number hit him so hard his vision swam.
[DP // 2,500,000,456]
His mouth fell open. Sweat broke across his brow in an instant.
"No fucking way. That much? Who the hell paid that much?"
[They were S+. Expect a bidding war. Two and a half billion is reasonable when you factor in global access. Every user can see the auction. There will always be whales.]
He stared at the total, counting the digits again and again, making sure his eyes weren't lying. His ribs still screamed from selling the pistols, but the return made the pain feel small. Worth it didn't begin to cover it.
"What do I even buy first? There were mech suits. Maybe a plane!"
He was already linking into the Network when the system cut in, flat and unwelcome.
[You planned to buy a firearm. You now command a growing force that requires funding. The dwarves are still under-equipped. Burning through capital without structure would be irresponsible leadership. Even if they are expendable, they are not free.]
It landed like cold sludge down his spine, killing the rush.
"I'm at least buying the materials for my suit. Don't even think about stopping me."
Min's image flashed uninvited. Her standing against that machine in the time capsule. Lasers breaking against her, weapons ruined. She'd need replacements before the Freelands.
The thought twisted deeper than he liked. The system hadn't been wrong. It wasn't just him anymore. Even just considering the brood, his forces were under-armed. Shame crept in, thin and sharp, before he shoved it aside.
"Doesn't feel like enough anymore."
[Did it ever?]
He shrugged.
"Maybe someday."
With a flick of his fingers, he navigated to weapons, then ranged. That was the starting line.
"Practical. No bullshit. Something solid for—"
His gaze slid past missile racks, laser arrays, mobile artillery. Prices made his mouth water and his head shake. He scrolled past them, down into lower tiers.
"One day."
----
Salt air rolled off the water, cool and heavy, brushing Min and Gregor as they stood at the end of the pier. The sun hung high, the day clean and bright, their preparations already finished. All that remained was waiting for Seo-jin to finish whatever madness he'd locked himself into.
"You sure you don't want to come? Not like they can fuck things up too badly while we're gone."
Gregor's mouth twitched as he shook his head.
"Idiots should not be left alone to be idiots. I'll stay. Just make sure you gain enough strength for both of us."
She laughed, but the sound faded as her thoughts slipped back to her ruined gauntlets. She had replacements, lower rank, serviceable, but the loss still scraped. They'd carried her through too much to be written off clean.
"Keep these assholes sharp. When we get back, the Dead Hands need to be ready. Everything's tightening."
Gregor rubbed his jaw, eyes drifting toward the city's spine.
"They will be. Strange, though. How fast things shifted once that man arrived."
A pause.
"Tell me, Min. Were we really that blind?"
Her brow creased as she scratched at her neck.
"Blind to what?"
"To his lie. I think about it often. It is obvious now he stopped. He was never going to keep his word to us."
Understanding landed quick. The old Seo-jin. The one she hadn't spared much thought lately. That alone felt off. She drew breath, about to answer, when something hit the planks behind her with a solid thud, followed by a familiar voice.
"You're gonna want those."
She and Gregor turned together.
Seo-jin stood there in a new suit of black. The fabric drank the light, seams perfect, shoes polished darker still. Slacks, vest, jacket, trench coat. Beneath it, a slightly lighter black shirt, finished with a tie of blood-red at the throat. The wind tugged at his coat, framing him long enough that neither of them noticed the half-shield gauntlets resting at Min's feet.
She frowned.
"You're wearing that? We're not heading somewhere classy."
He waved it off and turned away.
"Grab them. Let's move. Keep things tight while we're gone, Gregor. I'll bring you something nice when we're back."
He lifted a hand without looking as he walked off, already calling out to gather the rest.
Min's pulse jumped as she looked down. She scooped up the gauntlets, turning them in her hands. Her grin split wide when she felt the weight, the balance.
"Well—"
She smiled wide, laughing.
"Wish us luck. And as for that other shit—who cares. That bastard's dead. We've got a new one worth following."
Yellow system light swallowed the weapons as she stowed them. She clapped Gregor on the back and followed after Seo-jin, thoughts anchored forward, eyes fixed on what waited beyond the docks.
Left alone, Gregor watched them go. His gaze drifted back to Woon Tower, cutting through the skyline.
"Just a little longer. You'll have your revenge...then I'll join you."
He turned from the tower and headed down the pier, steps steady, purpose set.
The Dead Hands were moving toward something violent and ugly, and he meant to his part through.