Chapter 74
If you go deep into the streets of Sinchon, a building resembling the Colosseum appears.
It was far smaller than the real Colosseum, but at least in appearance, it was almost identical. So people simply called it the Colosseum.
Inside, there was even an arena, just like the real thing.
“Waaaaah!”
“Kill him!”
Shouts erupted from within the arena.
Hundreds of people had gathered to watch the fight.
“Fuck!”
“Aaagh!”
In front of everyone, two men were fighting.
Neither of them were awakened—just ordinary people.
Even so, they swung their weapons at each other with vicious determination. Both were already badly wounded. Yet neither backed down, each trying to kill the other.
The spectators grew excited watching the brutal fight.
At the very top of the stands, in a separate seat, sat a man.
A Black man wearing a worn-out baseball cap and sunglasses.
He had arms as thick as a woman’s torso and a massive, log-like build.
With his feet propped up on the seat in front of him, he chewed gum lazily.
He was Goran, the ruler of Sinchon.
Goran’s father had come to Seoul as an international student a hundred years ago.
He had planned to return to his homeland, Kenya, after finishing his studies, but the world changed at just the wrong time.
All means of transportation back to Kenya disappeared.
In the end, he had no choice but to settle in Seoul, where he later had Goran as a late-born child.
Nowadays, many races were naturally mixed, but back then, Koreans and other Asians made up the overwhelming majority.
Discrimination was inevitable.
Naturally, Goran’s father endured that discrimination while raising his son.
Growing up watching his father, Goran developed a fierce temperament.
That vicious boy eventually grew up to become the ruler of Sinchon.
Goran shouted loudly.
“Hey, keep it up. Your family’s on the line, isn’t it? The loser’s whole family dies. Heh!”
The two fighters flinched at his voice.
Both had been dragged here after failing to repay debts to Goran.
The loser’s entire family would be killed.
That was why they fought as if their lives depended on it.
Goran grinned as he watched them struggle desperately.
“Heh! Watching weaklings fight is always the most entertaining.”
Fights between awakened ones or skilled fighters ended too quickly to be enjoyable.
That was why Goran threw debtors into the arena.
With their families’ lives at stake, they fought to the death regardless of their own condition. That was what excited the crowd.
“Guhk!”
With the loser’s dying scream, the fight finally ended.
A knife was lodged in the loser’s chest, while the victor collapsed, gasping for breath.
“Huff! Huff!”
The winner’s face was covered in tears and blood.
There was no joy of victory on his face.
Instead, relief at surviving and guilt over killing his opponent twisted his expression into something miserable.
Goran stood up and asked one of his subordinates.
“How many in the dead bastard’s family?”
“Two men and three women.”
“Kill the men, send the women to the brothel.”
“Yes, sir!”
The subordinate replied and stepped back.
Just then—
A man in a neat suit with a ponytail approached Goran.
It was Eaton, one of Goran’s trusted aides.
He bowed his head and spoke.
“Boss!”
“What is it?”
“We have a guest.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
At that moment, a massive figure, no less imposing than Goran, stepped out from behind Eaton.
The moment Goran saw his face, his expression crumpled like paper.
Rough, crocodile-like skin, tattoos covering his face, and yellow eyes.
Features impossible to forget.
There was only one man in the slums with such characteristics.
“Croker? Didn’t we agree never to see each other again?”
“We did.”
“Then why the hell did you crawl out here?”
“Because the situation changed.”
“If you can’t convince me, you won’t be going back underground again.”
Goran rose and approached Croker.
His massive frame and overwhelming presence naturally radiated outward.
The two men stood close enough to feel each other’s breath, glaring at one another.
Croker spoke, staring straight at Goran.
“I need a mana generator.”
“Didn’t I give you information about one a few days ago?”
“You did.”
“And?”
“I failed to secure it.”
“Failed? Fuck! I even told you the transport route, and you still failed to steal it? And you think that’s something to say out loud?”
“….”
Instead of making excuses, Croker bit down on his lip.
There was no excuse.
Goran and Croker had a kind of symbiotic relationship.
Croker supplied drugs to Goran, and Goran paid him in money or information.
The drugs Croker dealt were of very high quality, which meant high demand—and big money.
That was why Goran worked with him.
Goran asked,
“What happened?”
“The owner of the mana generator tracked us down personally.”
“The owner?”
“It seems the theft location was near his house.”
“So you just got it taken back from him without putting up a fight?”
“He’s at least C-rank or higher.”
“Ha! You call that an excuse? Even if he was B-rank, you should’ve handled it. What if this exposes our relationship?”
“That won’t happen.”
“Fuck! You idiot!”
“Watch your mouth.”
“Careful? Is that something a failure like you should be saying? I risked my life to get information from the Goblin Market.”
“Give me the information again, and I’ll double the drug supply.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll go to Dongdaemun.”
“Ha! So now you’re weighing Johann against me?”
Goran glared at Croker with bloodshot eyes. But there wasn’t the slightest flicker in Croker’s yellow pupils.
There was no loyalty or bond between them.
Their relationship existed purely as a transaction.
If there was nothing to gain, they would simply switch partners.
“Haah! Spit! This is why you can’t trust those underground bastards. Hah! No loyalty at all!”
“Get me the mana generator, and our partnership will remain strong.”
“You better keep your word, you crocodile bastard!”
“Don’t worry.”
At Croker’s firm reply, Goran turned to Eaton.
“Do we have any spare mana generators?”
“As far as I know, even the Goblin Market doesn’t have any.”
“Fuck! So that bastard’s the only one with one? Is he really that strong?”
From what Goran knew, Croker was a C-rank martial-type awakened.
Low rank, but not someone to be underestimated.
Especially in underground combat, where not even a ray of sunlight reached—Croker was in his element.
Even Goran would give him some leeway in such an environment.
Yet even Croker had been beaten by someone who tracked him underground.
That alone proved how strong the pursuer was.
“He’s definitely at least C-rank.”
“So someone like that set up in my territory without permission?”
Behind his sunglasses, Goran’s eyes gleamed sharply.
Awakened individuals above C-rank were rare.
People like that usually chose to live in the glamorous Neo Seoul, not in a filthy slum like this.
If they could live in a clean city, there was little reason to choose the slums.
Those who did usually had no choice—people who couldn’t enter Neo Seoul for one reason or another.
Goran was one of them, as were his subordinates.
They had committed too many crimes from a young age.
So they gave up on entering Neo Seoul early on and instead set their sights on conquering the slums.
To do that, they needed a lot of capital.
A significant portion of that came from Croker and his crocodile gang.
The drugs they supplied were rare—impossible to obtain anywhere else.
He couldn’t afford to lose that.
Goran spoke to Eaton.
“You’ll go meet him.”
“Negotiation? Or force?”
“Meet him and decide.”
“Understood.”
“And if possible, recruit him to our side. A C-rank would be a valuable asset.”
“Yes, sir.”
Eaton bowed his head.
He wasn’t just a secretary.
He was a powerful fighter, comparable to Dolkan, the leader of the combat unit. On top of that, he was intelligent.
If it was Eaton, he would handle this matter well.
＊＊＊
“Slurp!”
Zeon noisily ate his gukbap.
The soup, made from the meat of some unknown beast, was incredibly delicious.
Today, he wasn’t eating at old man Clexi’s stall.
At first, he mostly went there, but now he visited other places more often.
After finishing his bowl, Zeon placed money on the table and stood up.
“Thanks for the meal.”
“Come again.”
“Yes.”
Despite the owner’s blunt reply, Zeon kept smiling.
If he had any joy in life, it was coming out to the night market and enjoying good food like this.
Other than that, he mostly lazed around at home doing nothing.
Still, he never felt bored.
There had never been a more enjoyable period in his life.
Having lived fiercely for so long, he now appreciated the calm.
He hoped this peace would last as long as possible.
“Hey, kid!”
At that moment, old man Clexi’s voice rang out.
He had spotted Zeon passing by his stall.
Zeon stopped and looked at him.
“Yes?”
“Seems like you’ve been going to other places more than my stall lately?”
“If I eat at one place all the time, I get sick of it.”
“You’re not saying my food tastes bad, right?”
“It’s… decent enough.”
“At this level, it’s excellent. Even those guys in Neo Seoul probably couldn’t match this taste.”
“Maybe.”
“Hey, was that sarcasm? I’m serious.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Seeing Zeon’s half-hearted response, old man Clexi glared at him. But Zeon still wore a bored expression.
“You brat… I’m trying to talk here and you’re killing the mood…”
“Can I go now?”
“Sit down for a moment. I’ve got something to discuss.”
“What is it?”
“Just sit.”
Reluctantly, Zeon sat down in front of the stall.
“So what is it?”
“You’re going to keep lazing around like that?”
“Why?”
“Why? Because there’s work.”
“What kind of work?”
“Interested?”
“If I’m not, will you let me go?”
“You brat… killing the mood again…”
Old man Clexi shot him a look.
“So what is it?”
“Want to take on a part-time job?”
“What kind?”
“Delivery work.”
“Delivery of what?”
“If you hear it, you have to do it.”
“Then I won’t.”
Without hearing another word, Zeon stood up.
He didn’t know everything about Clexi, but he knew the man had many subordinates.
The fact that he was asking Zeon instead of them meant one thing—either the job required extreme secrecy, or it couldn’t be traced back to Clexi.
If something went wrong, there was a high chance he’d be discarded.
There was nothing to gain from getting involved.
Zeon spoke.
“Ask someone else.”
“Hey!”
“I’m leaving.”
Without looking back, Zeon walked away.
Old man Clexi clicked his tongue as he watched him go.
“Damn, he’s sharp.”
It was a job that couldn’t reveal his involvement—that was why he chose Zeon.
He was perceptive and capable.
Even better, he was expendable if needed.
That was why he had cautiously brought it up—but Zeon saw right through it and refused immediately.