The tracking mark has no physical form.
Think of it as countless tiny fragments of mana clumped together so they won't come undone.
Of course, there's a risk of detection.
By a knight or mage stronger than oneself.
But could the humans of Earth really notice it?
When he first met them, he had only placed the marks.
He wondered if he was borrowing trouble for no reason.
However, the next day.
Kosak sensed the mark.
Three fragments of mana loitering near the officetel.
It was clear.
They were surveilling this officetel.
A place that seemed ordinary but housed many Players.
The residence of Summoner Bong.
And yet they dared to pull such a scheme?
A painful memory from the past surfaced.
The memory of failing to protect his own Summoner.
For Players, the outside of the tower was more dangerous than the inside.
Any small budding threat must be eradicated for certain.
Among the other Summonees, there had even been a terrifying man who, claiming to protect his Summoner, wiped out an entire nation.
Because that was better than the world ending.
If a situation and opportunity arose, he would gladly do the same.
That was why he had asked for the re-summoning under the pretense of watching soccer.
Right.
He lied.
An act he absolutely should not, and could not, commit.
But the Third Principle, Clause Three of the Summonee's Code had already been activated.
Thus, justification was granted to the lie.
What did this mean?
That the marked ones were connected to Summoner Bong.
While Summoner Bong slept, he had used a concealment skill to slip quietly out of the officetel. Since he had placed the marks, finding them was not difficult.
Thus, the place where John Kosak arrived was an out-of-business massage shop not far from the officetel.
The door was locked, but wasn't lockpicking a fundamental virtue of an assassin?
Making as little sound as possible, click, he slipped into the place where the mark was, in stealth.
There were eight in total.
They were talking, but he couldn't understand what they were saying.
He shared a language with Summoner Bong, so Korean he could understand, but language was no issue anyway.
What mattered was that among the photos spread across the table was one of Summoner Bong. 'Time to get to work.'
Sliiide, he revealed himself.
And then, one word.
They noticed him.
He infused his daggers with blade qi and, first, one of them—
Tseet!
Shrrk!
"Ugh!"
"I-ick!"
"Grab the arm!"
"Just shoot him!"
"You son of a—"
Thud! Thud-thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud... Did such scum really require assassination techniques?
One shot, one kill.
With twin daggers in both hands, he stabbed through their chests and shredded their hearts.
The room fell silent before he knew it.
Seven corpses in all.
One survivor.
Deng Guanlin truly felt as if he were dreaming.
Where was this? Who was that man?
A Korean intelligence agent? A special forces soldier from the UDT or something similar?
Impossible. Neither.
The inhuman strength that man had shown.
Was that even human? '...A ghost.'
But where had he felt a similar feeling before?
A memory flashed back.
The video of the Black Tower conquest. 'A Player.'
If that man was a Player, did that mean he could wield his abilities from inside the tower in reality?
In that instant!
That terrifying ghost turned his head this way.
Deng Guanlin stumbled backward.
His legs were trembling so badly he could barely move.
Counting the number of people he had personally killed, his ten fingers and ten toes weren't enough.
He had also been through countless trainings and real combat.
What was it to him if a few people died before his eyes?
But now, at this very moment, he was so very afraid.
The surging fear wiped his mind completely blank.
"So, you're the one left?"
Drip, drip. Blood flowing down the ghost's blade.
"I did wrong, spare me. You know Korean, right?"
Deng Guanlin had no choice but to answer.
It seemed like the only thing he could do.
"I did wro—"
Thud!
Crunch!
The dagger that had pierced his lower jaw went through his head and out the top of his skull.
Kosak double-checked whether anyone still had breath in them.
One decapitated, six with shattered hearts, one with a pierced head. 'Now, for the finishing touch...'
Unconsciously, Kosak pulled a ribbon from his coat.
But then, "Hukk! He almost t-tied me up. Haah, haah..."
Hold it, hold it.
He had to.
His signature mark.
His hands trembled with the desire to tie, but he had to suppress his nature.
Call it superhuman endurance.
Fellow assassins who knew him well would be shocked.
You're not leaving a mark?
Are you really Kosak?
It was because he had decided to hide it from the start.
If he had told them in advance, knowing Summoner Bong's personality, he would surely have been dissuaded—told never to do it.
Meanwhile, this was something he absolutely had to do.
He might also scold him, like before.
Not that he would cast him aside, of course... 'Whew.'
Honestly, even that was uncertain.
The future felt anxious.
He might be discarded.
The Alo Go-bang who had been R had risen to SSR and firmly established his position as a tank.
Meanwhile, his own once-solid position was likely to be shaken.
And the random summoning day was approaching.
Fortunately, if trait enhancement occurred, one more slot would open, but if not?
The role Kosak the assassin could play in the tower was very limited.
If anyone absolutely had to be cut, that person was him.
"That, that can't happen. It can't happen."
He had to remain at his side for a long, long time.
It was time to go now.
But he couldn't return to the officetel.
How could he enter that sacred place covered in the smell of blood? 'He must still be asleep, right?'
He hoped Summoner Bong slept deeply.
Sound sleep was closely tied to health.
And himself?
He'd just wander around outside until he was unsummoned.
※ ※ ※
Juhyeok woke up after sleeping soundly.
When he went out to the living room, the TV was off and Kosak was gone.
He wondered if he'd enjoyed the soccer.
First, preparations to go out.
He planned to visit his parents' home.
And in the afternoon, he had to climb the 35th floor of the tower.
He called a car and arrived at his family home.
The bodyguards waited downstairs.
"Your son has arrived."
At that, his father Bong Soocheol furrowed his brow.
"Your way of talking has been weird lately?"
"Pardon? Does it so appear?"
"Something good happened?"
"This humble son is always full of good fortune. So I've come to share some of it."
His mother Hong Geumja gave a little snort and said.
"You haven't eaten, have you?"
"Nope!"
"Right, once you eat, at least you'll stop talking like that."
After finishing the meal his mother had prepared.
"Mom, don't you need allowance?"
"Oh, I'm fine. I'm getting a job soon."
"Where?"
"I'm thinking of trying out at a restaurant."
Ah, dear.
The top Player in Korea, a man with over four billion won in assets, still couldn't comfortably support his parents.
"I'll deposit some money into your account. Take your time finding a job..."
"Not necessary. How could I spend money my son earned with his life on the line? Just save it. Who knows what might happen later."
Then his father Bong Soocheol, who had been listening, curled his finger and poked at his own chest.
Silently, just moving his lips.
Send it to me, send it to me. '...'
Goodness, the power of genetics.
"Ah! Right. Here's Player Nam Ga-eun's autograph, and... take one of these each. Keep it in your pocket or wallet at all times."
"Huh? ...A talisman?"
"Yep! This one's for health, this one's for luck. I've prepared three each—for Father, Mother, and even Minhyeok."
"You believed in this stuff?"
"I completely believe in it now. The effects are incredible. A very powerful shaman wrote them for me."
It was no lie.
A truly powerful shaman.
Because he had experienced it firsthand.
"Hmm, alright. You have one too, right?"
"Of course."
They would be healthy from now on.
And fortune would settle into the house, however small it might be.
※ ※ ※
Juhyeok, having returned from his parents' home, gathered the Summonees.
Now that Alo Go-bang had been reborn as an SSR Go-bang, they absolutely had to do the 35th floor.
"With three SSRs, we should have no problem reaching the 40th floor with an S++, right? Or is that underestimating it?"
"An underestimation, my lord. Even up to the 50th floor shall be easy."
Oh!
It seemed Go-bang becoming an SSR really was something tremendous.
"But from the 51st floor, an S++ clear..."
He knew.
Giant flying monsters.
Gryphons and wyverns that used attacks like feather barrages and breath.
They were strong enough to make mincemeat of minotaurs and ogres, they were flying monsters which made them tricky, and beyond physical power they used magical attacks, all of which required caution.
They planned to draw one more Summonee around the 40th floor anyway.
The key was whether trait enhancement would come through.
That's why he had attached the talisman inside his underwear.
If more was better, he'd have plastered himself with them, but one or a hundred was supposedly the same.
"Let's go. Time to hunt the big-headed King."
"Yes, my lord!"
[Entering the 35th Floor of the Black Tower (South Korea).]
The mission was—
[35th Floor Mission: Defeat 80 Minotaurs of any type and 1 Minotaur King.]
[Time Limit: Within 13 hours.]
[Clear Conditions: Minotaurs of all types 0/80, Minotaur King 0/1]
Good grief.
What a lot of them.
Whitie, Blackie, Speckles, Little Guy, Big Guy.
Glancing to the side, he saw Kosak, dead serious, staring straight ahead.
He seemed incredibly resolute.
Skipping even his usual flattery, he drew his two daggers, infused them to the brim with blade qi, and muttered to himself, "I must not be abandoned. I absolutely must not be abandoned. I'll remain until the end. Until the end."
What was he on about?
Who was abandoning whom?
Had he suddenly lost his mind?
Surely he hadn't bet on sports toto while watching the soccer match.
Ting-a-ling-a-ling!
Starting with the sound of Gyeondalrae's bell, the 35th floor conquest mission began.
And right at that moment!
Spiiiit!
Kosak shot out like a bullet.
In an instant he leapt and slit the throat of a Stage 3 Minotaur, then was already throwing himself at another target. '...Hmm.'
Why was Mr. Kosak acting like that again?
He should hunt safely.
All he had to do was stick behind Go-bang and pick up the scraps.
Had he been playing too long and gotten restless? 'Meanwhile, what should I do?'
I'll just hunt some Stage 1 or Stage 2 Minotaurs.
Zzzt!
Energy shield activated, hand shield and mace drawn out.
The Summonees shooting worried glances at him bothered him, but—
"Who am I? The born genius who pulled off Shadow Steps mid-air!"
Before they could stop me, let me catch a few quick.
Ta-at!
Swash! Swash!
But then?
"GRAAAARGH!"
The Minotaur King appeared on the battlefield hoisting a massive axe.
Already?
"No, you bastards! I've barely started."
The moment the King appeared, SSR Go-bang—
Screeeech!
A body slam at terrifying speed.
WHAM!
"Ummooor..."
It went flying, a bloody pulp.
It even dropped its axe and soared far, far away, whoosh. '...'
SSR Go-bang was indeed game-breakingly broken.
At least on the 30-something floors.
[Notice: The Black Tower (South Korea)
has achieved an S++ clear grade on the 35th Floor.]
[S++ Clear Reward: A Platinum Badge will be granted.]
All that remained was confirming the bonus.
Please!
※ ※ ※
A yellow police line was strung around a building in Seoul's entertainment district.
A mass murder had occurred at the shuttered shop, "Royal Traditional Massage."
A mail carrier on his morning route had smelled a strange fishy stench through the gap of an open door.
Suspecting it might be the smell of blood, he had reported it to the police.
The violent crimes detectives gazed at the crime scene with expressions of disbelief.
Another mass murder.
It hadn't even been that long since that incident. "Could this be connected to the Smile Cash case? That was a mass murder too."
"Well, there's only one cleanly severed head. Most had their hearts pierced, one head pierced too, and most importantly—no ribbons."
But the fact that someone's neck had been sliced this smoothly was a point of similarity.
"Did you secure the CCTV?"
"Nothing installed inside the shop. The convenience store across the street only caught footage of these victims coming and going."
"Ugh, we're in for a long haul."
Another unprecedented mass murder.
The media would swarm like flies.
The police would be buried in criticism.
"Sergeant."
"Yes?"
"Take a look at this."
"Huh?"
One of the detectives pulled an item from a victim's body.
"A pistol. Looks like a Tokarev."
"What?"
A Tokarev, huh.
The most widely cloned pistol in the world.
And therefore, utterly common.
"There's one here. And here... these guys all had one each?"
The pistols weren't the only suspicious things.
Military knives, syringes filled with a clear liquid, rope and duct tape, restraint cuffs...
Was that all?
Photographs scattered across the floor.
A particular person's face had been enlarged; there seemed to be around ten of them.
Who were these people?
"The murder suspect is a suspect, sure, but somehow the victims seem even more suspicious."
The detective sergeant nodded.
"ID cards?"
"They all had them on them."
"Run them quickly."
A little later—
The detective who had been contacting headquarters spoke up.
"Sergeant, this is really strange."
"What is?"
"The ID cards are all fake. The real names exist in the database, but none of the faces match."
"...Figured as much."
Who on earth were these guys?
His gut said they weren't Korean.
Illegal migrant workers?
Heavens, no.
Since when did laborers carry pistols?
Then, organized crime?
That possibility was out too.
They had all the local gangs identified.
Domestic or foreign—
The violent crimes sergeant had a nagging suspicion.
The syringes found among the men's belongings.
Most likely drugs, or an anesthetic. 'They were attempting to abduct someone.'
Who?
Probably the subject of these photos.
They had to find out.
"Contact upstairs and have them reach out to the NIS. Ask them to send an agent here right away."
Time passed—
An NIS agent arrived at the crime scene.
"Well, hello. Must be tough work. The victims?"
"This way, please."
"Understood."
The smell of blood hit him the moment he stepped into the room.
The NIS agent held a handkerchief over his nose and was examining the corpses meticulously when—
"...Huh?"
His gaze, which had been surveying the bodies, turned to the photographs scattered on the floor.
Dazed, he walked closer, picked up one photo, then another, then another...
"Son of a—!"
A sudden curse burst out.
The NIS agent's eyes sharpened.
His face hardened stiffly.
"Sergeant."
"Yes."
"This case hasn't been released to the media, has it?"
"They probably don't know yet."
"Then we'll take over this case. It falls under NIS jurisdiction."
And that day.
The National Intelligence Service and the Awakening Management Agency were thrown into an uproar.