18 — Chapter 18

I carried the unconscious No Yeon-hwa out of Ground Zero.

By the time we passed through the outermost wall, the sounds of monsters were gone.

…Hopefully I hadn’t been found out.

I’d pinned the blame on the black mage summoning tentacles, but who knew how much Yeon-hwa actually believed.

With that unease gnawing at me, several days slipped by.

On TV, the incident was still being reported nonstop.

“This is reporter Jung Hye-won of News48, reporting from the scene. It looks like a wasteland straight out of war.”

“Part of the barrier around Sector 4 collapsed, with the ground caving in across multiple areas. Emergency evacuations were issued for Sectors 3, 7, and 12 as swarms of monsters appeared.”

“Curiously, too few monsters were left behind on-site. Some speculate the creatures fought each other.”

“What has everyone in a frenzy, however, are eyewitness claims of giant tentacles appearing on the surface—something no one’s ever seen before.”

“And to make matters worse, the fact that only two rookie agents had been dispatched is fueling criticism of the Bureau’s poor early response.”

“Ha, what bullshit. Two Middle-Level Awakened were sent in, and they call that inadequate? This is why I don’t trust the media.”

“I’m not Middle-Level, though.”

“Shut it. If I say you are, you are. What, hiding your rank now? Typical shady mage nonsense.”

“……”

From her hospital bed, Yeon-hwa ground her teeth as she watched the broadcast.

…That should be fine, right?

She wasn’t mentioning the tentacles at all.

Just in case, I’d rushed over the moment she woke, disguising it as a visit, to check her condition. When nothing suspicious came up, I finally let out a breath of relief.

I was just about to leave when she suddenly turned her head at me.

“Hey.”

“Wh-what? It wasn’t me—I didn’t summon those tentacles!”

“What are you rambling about? I’m talking about the fruit. Weren’t you going to peel some for me?”

“Oh.”

She jerked her chin at the fruit basket.

…Honestly, I only brought them. I hadn’t planned on peeling them for her.

Resigned, I picked up an apple and began peeling. On the screen, an interview segment came on.

“We’ll now speak with survivors of the tragedy. Hello, this is Jung Hye-won from News48. May I ask you a few questions?”

“Of course.”

“You were with the Revelation Prayer House, correct? Could you describe what happened when the monsters appeared?”

“No, we’re no longer followers of Revelation.”

“…Excuse me?”

“We found a new faith. When death was at our doorstep, what came to us wasn’t a star showing despair and the future of ruin—it was a moist, slippery hand of salvation.”

Just like the earlier anomalous Gate incident, the government launched a massive investigation to calm public fear.

They were considering the possibility that monsters could now emerge outside of Gates, through what they called “dimensional fissures” or “singularities.”

But this time, even the guilds and the Magic Tower were struggling to get answers.

After all, Ground Zero was one of Korea’s Three Great Calamity Zones, a place overrun by anomalies. Investigating was already a nightmare. And the Prayer House survivors, though they’d barely escaped alive, only repeated bizarre testimonies.

“So… you’re saying a giant octopus appeared and devoured all the monsters?”

“Octopus? No, no, you can’t describe Him that way.”

“Ah, Sebas-nim!”

“You’re the head of the Prayer House, aren’t you? Could you elaborate? Do you no longer worship Revelation?”

“That’s correct. This humble house now belongs to the master beyond the darkness, where even the stars cannot shine. The one who will bring chaos upon the world with hundreds, thousands of arms. This is His sanctuary.”

A breaking-news banner scrolled across the bottom: Cliff of Pilgrims denounces Sebas and his believers, expelling them from their ranks after the Prayer House incident.

…So it seemed a new religion had sprouted in Sector 4 of Ground Zero.

I perked my ears, wondering if they’d mention me. But before long, Yeon-hwa changed the channel.

She fiddled with her smartwatch, muttering to herself.

“Boring. Might as well check the mission results.”

“I already submitted the report. I even had a meeting with Division 2’s Deputy Commander. He said since the fissure disappeared and the cultists were saved, it would be properly logged as a successful operation.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“…?”

She answered halfheartedly, like her mind was somewhere else.

From the side, I saw her scribbling on her smartwatch—write, erase, write again.

She looked annoyed, and even the sound of me peeling the apple seemed to grate on her nerves.

Then, out of nowhere, came the eviction order.

“Hey, get out.”

“…Huh?”

“I want to rest. Leave. And don’t bother visiting me again next time.”

“‘Next time’? So that means you want to team up again on the next mission?”

“Get. Out!”

With her Word-Spirit, the TV’s glow snapped off, and my legs moved on their own, carrying me toward the door.

In the end, I was thrown out of the room before I could even ask if she remembered the tentacles.

I thought saving her at the last moment had made us closer. Maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Sighing, I stepped out into the corridor—when my smartwatch buzzed.

A mountain of complaints, piled high like rice in a bowl.

Reading it felt like taking a Word-Spirit incantation straight to the chest.

So harsh. At this point, it wasn’t a review—it was a hit-and-run.

Grinding my teeth, I updated my profile description to add: “If there’s a problem, message me directly before leaving a review.”

That’s when my eyes caught the fine print at the bottom.

The rating was five stars.

“What… what is all this?”

“My mission reports.”

The executive training ground of the Bureau.

Yoo Se-byeol choked on her sports drink when she saw the mountain of reports I dropped on the desk.

After the first mission with No Yeon-hwa ended successfully, I practically lived on the Mission Board. Before long, I’d become one of the rookies making a name for myself in the Special Unit.

“Now the only missions left are either classified as ‘too dangerous for zero-years’ or tagged as special-grade. Stuff like attacking Sector 0 in Ground Zero… or tracking down someone’s runaway pet monster cat.”

“O-oh…”

“At least you won’t be scrambling to meet your quota for a while.”

“I heard too. Next to No Yeon-hwa, you’ve cleared the most missions out of all the rookies. You’ve become the pride of Division 3, Hayan.”

Pride, huh.

It wasn’t like I did all this to look good to others.

After that first mission, there’d been no real leads about the Archdukes.

But I kept working anyway, not to raise my Awakening level like everyone else, but because I had a far more important goal.

“I-I mean it. I didn’t do this much when I was zero-years.”

“I only did what was required of me.”

“Right? That’s how a Special Unit member should think…”

“……”

“……”

I didn’t lift my head at her awkward praise.

Like a knight kneeling before his lord, I bent one knee and stayed silent.

Other officers training nearby saw me and nodded in admiration. To them, it must have looked like loyalty between a commander and her trusted aide.

But Se-byeol herself only grew redder by the second.

“Okay, fine! Enough, just stand up already!”

“I don’t understand. I’m only giving my report to Deputy Commander Yoo.”

“I’m talking about the promise…! I’ll keep it, so don’t do this here. Please!”

The instant she said promise, I rose to my feet.

My legs tingled from staying bent for so long, but I could have knelt like that all day.

The promise was none other than the Oath she made with me.

Specifically: If I obeyed, someday I’d be allowed to lick her foot.

Even though plenty of time had passed since I joined, we hadn’t met privately since that sparring match.

But I couldn’t just keep waiting. Not after making such a humiliating Oath for the sake of a Star Scar.

The thought of finally licking her foot made my eyes sting with tears—though honestly, it felt more like drool than anything else. That was why I’d rushed here the moment I heard she was training.

“I-I’ll wash up first, so wait.”

“It’s fine as is. I wouldn’t dare steal your precious time.”

“Then can’t we do it next time? At least give me a chance to… prepare mentally.”

“Ugh! I was wounded by that black mage at the Prayer House. I’ve been working nonstop since then, and my injuries have gone untreated…!”

An Oath made under the authority of an Outer God wasn’t something you could delay for “mental preparation.”

As she said, I’d fulfilled my duties in Division 3. The reward was rightfully mine.

Even Se-byeol knew it. That was why she’d brought me into her office, away from prying eyes.

The same woman who had swung her sword as if to tear space itself now covered her face with both hands, muttering.

“I don’t even know what this situation is anymore. If Grandpa finds out, he’ll kill me…”

“Embarrassment is only hard the first time.”

“You… you really don’t mean anything else by this, right?”

“Anything else?”

…She didn’t somehow notice I was planning to absorb her Star Scar through the sole of her foot, did she?

From what I confirmed in our spar, she wasn’t even aware of the Incarnation.

Only someone fully in the Upper Level could sense that kind of anomaly.

But with her sharp instincts, I couldn’t be careless.

Even a normal human could feel fatigue or dizziness if their mana got drained. Just like those cultists who’d nearly been offered as sacrifices.

“There’s nothing else. Probably.”

“‘Probably’? What do you mean probably? Just hurry up before someone walks in.”

Through the gap between her middle and ring fingers, I caught a glimpse of obsidian-black eyes.

The moment they met mine, they darted back behind her palms.

Still, I could tell she was peeking out from between her lashes.

A mage from the Black Tower would obviously keep watch, making sure I wasn’t trying anything shady.

Feeling her nervous breathing, I slowly removed her shoes.