I Pulled Out the Excalibur

This loud proclamation echoed through the air. Najin pushed through the crowd of organization members gathered in front of the tavern.

“Move aside.”

“Ouch! Who’s… Najin?”

Najin grabbed one of the members charging at Arnold by the back of the neck and pulled him back. As Najin stepped forward, the remaining members hesitated and backed away, creating a brief silence.

Arnold, catching his breath, looked at Najin.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Najin, Ivan’s deputy.”

Najin casually touched the hilt of his sword at his waist. It was a symbol of Ivan.

“If you have something to say, say it.”

“I need to see Ivan…”

“Be realistic. Do you think we’d just let a hostile organization’s executive meet our boss?”

Najin’s expression hardened.

“I’m already giving you a lot of leeway considering your situation. So, if you have something to say, say it before I cut off an arm, as per the rules. You have ten seconds.”

With a ‘clang,’ the sword slid out of its sheath. Najin, gripping his sword, pointed it at Arnold.

“If you don’t speak within that time, I’ll do it.”

“How insolent, you little…”

“Who’s being insolent here? You’re causing a scene because you’re desperate, aren’t you?”

Najin exhaled sharply.

“Either speak or offer an arm.”

Arnold gritted his teeth. Ten, nine, eight… As Najin counted down, Arnold finally spoke when the count reached three.

“…It wasn’t Horace.”

“What do you mean?”

“The conflict with your group wasn’t started by Horace. We were just being used by that madman.”

As Najin listened to Arnold’s story, the surrounding members shivered. Najin, too, caught his breath in surprise. His eyes widened as he looked at Arnold.

Drip, drip. Something fell.

It was blood, of a dark crimson color.

Blood was dripping from Arnold’s bloodshot eyes, from his mouth, ears, and nose. Trying to continue, Arnold glanced down mindlessly. Seeing the pool of blood forming at his feet and his vision turning red, he laughed, a mix of self-mockery and amusement.

“Hey, kid.”

Looking at Najin, Arnold said,

“Tell Ivan right away.”

He coughed up a mouthful of blood as he uttered his last words.

“Hakan, the drug maker, is on the move.”

Najin’s eyes widened in shock.

***

The tunnels connected to Horace’s hideout…

Ten years ago, during the civil war, these were the tunnels where Horace made his last stand.

Ivan and Offen, having infiltrated the place, were moving deeper into the tunnel in silence.

“I think that guy’s not a spider but a mole or an ant. Why else would he dig such deep tunnels?”

“Keep your voice down. We’ve infiltrated successfully, why get caught now?”

“I don’t feel any presence anyway.”

Ivan shrugged. Offen couldn’t disagree. While there were many guards near the entrance, there was no sign of anyone deeper inside.

A deadly silent tunnel.

Ivan felt uneasy about the quiet. The tunnel was eerily silent. Not just quiet, but the path was too open. There were no traps, something very unusual.

‘It’s too easy. Suspiciously so.’

It wasn’t like this before.

During the civil war, Ivan had failed to breach these tunnels. Traps were set everywhere, and Horace’s arrows flew from the darkness.

Horace was a ranger, and a cornered ranger could be exceedingly troublesome.

That’s why Ivan had to give up on finishing Horace off and end the war. Of course, now with Offen, he was confident they could make it through, but…

‘Something’s off.’

Ivan frowned.

Just as he began to suspect the tunnel itself might be a trap, he sensed a presence. Deep within the tunnel. Ivan gripped his sword tightly.

A brief exchange of glances.

Then, Ivan and Offen sprinted towards the source of the presence, the deepest part of the tunnel. At the end of the tunnel, a wooden door stood. Reaching it before Offen, Ivan didn’t slow down.

Crash!

He added more force to his step, swinging his sword charged with energy. The blade’s energy smashed the door entirely. Bursting in, Ivan widened his eyes to adjust to the new setting.

A vast open space.

A huge dome-shaped cavity.
It was a crossroads where the winding tunnels intersected. Railroads for transporting ores were entangled like spider webs. Seeing holes leading to different paths, Ivan’s frown deepened.

‘Was there such a space before?’

He didn’t recall seeing this during the civil war. How could they know which way to go now? There were dozens of passages; they couldn’t search each one.

Then, at that moment.

Click.

A small stone fragment fell. Ivan’s head quickly turned towards the sound. Up above, a path unreachable due to a broken rail. Someone was there.

“Huh.”

Ivan chuckled.

“Saved me the trouble of searching. What is it, spider? Came to greet me?”

Land Spider Horace.

The figure that appeared, hooded and holding a crossbow, was Horace.

“It’s been a while, Ivan.”

“Indeed. I wanted to catch and kill you as soon as I saw you, but you evaded well.”

Ivan smirked.

He adjusted his grip on the sword and signaled to Offen. Be ready to move if Horace tries anything.

“So, what’s your bold move?”

Fwssh.

Energy surged on Ivan’s sword.

“You dare enter my range. Are you sure about this?”

Ivan was a Sword Expert, a knight who had reached extraordinary levels. For him, the distance between him and Horace was practically nonexistent. A leap or two was all it would take to close it.

Why then had Horace revealed himself?

Horace was a ranger. He couldn’t possibly have the upper hand in close combat with a knight, especially not in a situation like this with two Sword Experts.

‘Is there a hidden trick?’

But at this distance, it would be meaningless.

He could sever Horace’s neck before any tricks could be played. Just as Ivan was about to spring into action,

“I’m not confident.”

Horace spoke.

“To be honest, Ivan, I don’t want to fight you. I still feel the scars you left. Why do you think I’ve been hiding for the last ten years?”

He stepped forward, emerging from the shadows where the light of the ore lamps didn’t reach.

“But what can I do about it?”

In the area illuminated by the light of the luminous stones.

The dim light of the luminous stones revealed Horace’s face, previously hidden in the darkness. He took off the deeply-pulled hood, as if inviting a closer look.

“I had to lure you out to survive.”

His face was grotesquely distorted on one side. One of his eyes, clouded and out of focus, as if blinded. Every time he spoke, his mouth twitched, a symptom seen in addicts intoxicated by drugs.

“You…”

Before Ivan could speak.

“To survive that madman, I had no other choice.”

Horace pulled the trigger of his crossbow.

But his target wasn’t Ivan. The arrow was aimed at something hanging from the ceiling of the dome-shaped cavity. Horace hit it with an arrow.

Zzzzz…

A strange noise echoed through the cavity.

Though its nature was unknown, it was clear Horace was up to something. Ivan dashed toward Horace.

No, he intended to.

Ivan stopped in his tracks, letting out a hollow laugh as he sensed presences from all directions. From the myriad passageways branching out of the cavity, footsteps echoed.

It wasn’t just one or two.

It wasn’t even dozens.

From the passageways, countless people emerged. Their eyes were unfocused, saliva dribbling from their open mouths, as if intoxicated by drugs.

“What is this now…”

Ivan frowned.

Though they held weapons, they weren’t very threatening, merely numerous, slow, and sluggish due to the drugs.

‘What’s the intention?’

As Ivan was counting their number, he turned his gaze back to Horace. Horace was smirking bitterly.

“Both you and I have been played, Ivan.”

Given the situation and information,

Ivan made his assessment. Understanding dawned upon him that this place was a trap. That the civil war Horace seemed to be instigating and even Horace himself were merely bait thrown by someone.

‘For what purpose is this bait?’

The answer came quickly.

Bait to lure him and Offen here. Then, who orchestrated this? The smell of chemicals vibrating in the air provided the answer.

One of the three rulers of the underground city.

A figure who remained uninvolved in the civil war, in frequent power struggles, in any situation — the ruler of the landfill.

“…Drugmaker Hakan.”

The alchemist of the landfill had intervened.

But Ivan didn’t understand why Hakan would lure him here. Information about the drug maker was insufficient, and he didn’t know much about the alchemist’s folk.

“Ivan.”

The same was true for Offen.

He also didn’t know much about the drugger. But he was well aware of what kind of folk alchemists were. As the former head of a mercenary group, he had undertaken requests from those damned alchemists several times.

In other words.

“Step aside.”

Offen knew how alchemists ‘utilized’ humans. Pushing aside Ivan, who was about to swing his sword, Offen stepped forward. He kicked the approaching person at the front.

After a brief convulsion from the kick, the person’s body swelled massively and exploded with a bang. As blood and flesh rained down, Offen let out a long sigh.

“Be careful of those trembling with blood on them.”

Offen said with disgust.

“They’re living bombs.”
***

Najin’s eyes widened.

“Drug maker Hakan is on the move.”

It wasn’t because he understood the meaning of Arnold’s words. What Najin’s eyes saw was the expanding flow centered around Arnold.

The expanding flow. Arnold, vomiting blood.

The faintly trembling ground centered around Arnold.

And Arnold’s face, sensing imminent death.

Four pieces of information had been obtained through his eyes.

At that moment, a single sentence flashed in Najin’s mind:

‘I need to create distance.’

This was a thought that suddenly came to him during battle, something he had relied on since he was very young.

Intuition, in that sense.

But this was far from a vague thing like intuition. It was a part of Najin’s talent. This was an extension of that talent. Based on the information he saw, he made an immediate judgment.

An innate talent. And combat sense honed in real battles. Those two intertwined to create a momentary foresight.

Bang!

Without doubting this, Najin immediately acted on his judgment. Dashing forward, he kicked Arnold, who was vomiting blood.

Crack, the sound of a kick embedding in the abdomen.

The moment Najin’s foot touched Arnold’s abdomen, he extended his bent knee. A kick meant to push away. Arnold, thrust by the impact, crashed into the alleyway between buildings.

“Now!”

Immediately after,

Najin turned and ran, shouting.

“Everyone, retreat!”

As he scowled at the hesitating organization members retreating, Najin grabbed the nape of a member close to the alleyway and hurled himself forward.

Then…

Kaboom!

With a loud explosion, Arnold’s body in the alleyway exploded. The aftermath of the explosion sent the organization members tumbling, and the sight of a person exploding before their eyes caused screams of horror to erupt, plunging the surroundings into chaos in an instant.

Organization members fleeing, civilians screaming.

In the midst of the chaos they created, Najin clenched his teeth. “The drugger has moved,” said the high-ranking officer of Horace’s organization. And then Najin realized the identity of the stench he had sensed earlier.

A stench he had encountered when he once captured a junkie trying to spread drugs in Ivan’s territory.

A nose-stinging stench created by a mix of hallucinogens and various chemical drugs. That stench was vibrating in the alleyway where Arnold exploded. And, Najin had smelled the same stench earlier on his way here.

Thud.

Najin dashed off.

Running back the way he had come, the stench grazed his nose. Whipping his head around, Najin’s gaze landed on a locked alleyway.

‘That place.’

A conduit for sewage, refuse, and garbage to be sent to the underground city’s landfill. At that moment, Najin saw it.

Thump.

A hand clutching the bars from inside the cage. He saw the hand gripping the bars convulsing.

The swollen hand reached its limit and exploded.

Boom!

With a loud explosion, the cage crumpled.

From the dark beyond the cage, filled with the stench, someone walked out. A woman, covered in the blood of the person who just exploded.

Najin and the woman locked eyes.

The moment their eyes met, Najin felt a sharp sensation all over his body. The same feeling he had during his spar with Ivan, a sense of intimidation felt from a strong opponent who had reached a certain level.

That sensation.

It told Najin who the woman standing before him was. Najin immediately drew his sword. With a sound, he drew his sword with such force it nearly shattered the sheath, keeping a distance with the sword in hand.

The woman, watching him, curled her lips.

“You have a good sense.”

She snapped her fingers.

At that moment, a sound like insects buzzing echoed. Najin didn’t know what the sound was.

But he did know.

Immediately after the sound echoed, the presence of dozens of people beyond the woman and the explosions heard throughout the underground city indicated some connection to that sound.

And…

“Do you know who I am?”

The woman’s identity as well.

“Drug maker.”

In response to the woman’s question, Najin answered.

“Drug maker Hakan.”