Liberation (1)

“Puhaha!”

Jeon Se-hyuk burst into hearty laughter.

As expected, Kang-hoo was wreaking havoc inside the detention center—and he was doing it all by himself.

— Quite a number of enemy forces are stuck, unable to do anything. Even one of the southern sector officers has been tied down.

“They can’t ignore him because Shin Kang-hoo won’t let up. But charging in would mean dealing with someone too powerful.”

— Exactly. They’re all paralyzed by extreme distancing tactics.

“I think that’s enough to grasp the internal situation. Daeyong, I’ll see you soon. Stay hidden until then.”

— Got it, hyung. I’ve been holding on for this day. I’m so sick of disguising myself as one of those pathetic Eclipse bastards.

“See you soon.”

— Copy that.

After ending the call with Kim Dae-yong, Jeon Se-hyuk laughed while watching a virtual battle simulation on his tablet PC.

Originally, more than 30% of their forces should have been focused on the detention center entrance.

In other words, the coalition forces had anticipated a direct confrontation at the front gate. That was their constant.

But Kang-hoo had disrupted the internal forces so effectively that the entire situation had changed.

It was a huge advantage for the coalition forces—and a major setback for Eclipse.

“From Cheongju to here… even if they left the moment they got the news, it’s too late. Not that it was ever really possible.”

“Just got a report. Still intense fighting going on. Seems like Black’s remaining forces are resisting to the end.”

“No surprise there. Surrendering to Eclipse only leads to organ harvesting or a lifetime in a detention center. Might as well die instead.”

The satisfaction on Jeon Se-hyuk’s face was unmistakable.

It was obvious, but thanks to Kang-hoo’s presence, they had gained a huge strategic advantage.

More importantly, they could preserve the lives of the coalition’s valuable fighters.

Though it couldn’t be quantified, Jeon Se-hyuk believed that Kang-hoo alone had saved dozens, maybe even hundreds of lives.

It wasn’t an exaggeration—it was a logical assessment based on the circumstances.

If the battle had taken place at the front gate…

Pre-battle simulations had predicted a minimum of a hundred casualties for the coalition side.

That was the lowest estimate. The highest was more than triple.

And currently, only about 20 casualties had been reported.

“Oppa, let’s speed up too.”

“Of course. That bastard Kang Dong-hyun! I want to see the look on his face myself. Such a shame.”

“Kukuk. Totally.”

“Cheongju Liberation Area? Sure, let them take it. If they lose the mana stone mine, it’ll go down as the dumbest move in history. Kekeke!”

Jeon Se-hyuk laughed, his shoulders shaking. His grudge against Kang Dong-hyun went way back.

Kang-hoo had laid the table perfectly—it was time to feast on the battlefield.

“Maintain current speed and push straight through to the detention block! No retreat, no detours! Don’t even think about looking back—charge!”

“Yes, sir!”

At Jeon Se-hyuk’s command, the organized unit began to advance into Cheongmyeong Detention Center.

The real battle for the detention center had begun.

Meanwhile—

Kang-hoo looked down at the corpses of wardens scattered all around him.

Since they were second- and third-tier wardens without constellations, they were no challenge at all for Kang-hoo.

To them, it was like being swatted like flies—but for the attacker, that was none of his concern.

The first constellation to speak up about Kang-hoo’s performance was the Strategist of the Wasteland.

She always trusted in Kang-hoo’s abilities and never questioned his choices.

Among the cold and stoic constellations, Kang-hoo appreciated the warmth and encouragement of the Strategist of the Wasteland.

Without someone like her, hearing the constellations’ voices would’ve felt like enduring a dry critique panel.

Overwhelming.

A word used when one subdues an opponent with superior strength or ability. It was the perfect description for Kang-hoo right now.

‘Oh?’

Kang-hoo twitched his eyes at the uncharacteristic sentiment from the Dimension Plunderer.

Just like her, Kang-hoo was overwhelmed with emotion.

Back when he first escaped Cheongmyeong Detention Center, even taking down a single guy had felt impossible.

Now, thinking back to those trivial and laughable skirmishes…

He still vividly remembered coughing up blood, unable to endure his congenital mana hypersensitivity.

Back then, the wardens of the detention center had seemed like immovable mountains—but now, they were pitifully weak.

At that moment—

Clank clank. Thud thud thud.

A heavily armed special response unit from Cheongmyeong Detention Center came rushing to the scene.

Given how long the battle had been going, their late arrival made it clear—they’d probably been partying too.

When even the warden was drunk all the time, it was only natural that discipline among the subordinates had collapsed.

“Hmph.”

Kang-hoo snorted and stepped back.

He had no intention of facing the squad head-on.

The longer things dragged out, the worse it would be—for them.

There was no reason to help speed things up. Attacking first would just be playing into their hands.

“That bastard’s tough…”

The wardens watching Kang-hoo seethed with frustration.

They were suffocating from this situation where they could neither advance nor retreat—yet had no solution either.

The only way out was to eliminate Kang-hoo swiftly—but there wasn’t a single hunter capable of doing that.

The only one they had, Jo Hwan-seong, had already been decapitated and was now a ghost wandering the skies.

“Dammit, f*ck!”

One of the senior officers, no longer able to hold back, charged at Kang-hoo.

He figured that instead of letting time drag on, he might as well try to clean up the situation himself… a somewhat noble intention.

“I can do this!”

“Let’s kill that damn assassin bastard first! We’ll help you too!”

The wardens cheered him on.

Some of that support was hollow, but the sentiment behind wishing for the officer’s victory was still shared.

In fact, the wardens could have used that distraction to push forward. Reinforcements were desperately needed.

But knowing how bad things had already gotten over there, they hesitated to move aggressively.

They chose instead to stay back and pray that Kang-hoo would be eliminated, so they could survive a little longer.

And if Kang-hoo were taken out?

Then the commanding officer could assess the situation and make a calculated retreat. A truly cowardly mindset.

The night sky.

The falling rain.

And the detention center’s floodlights shining directly on the spot where Kang-hoo and the officer would meet.

It was bleak and yet, in a way, beautiful—like a scene from a movie…

Psshhhhh!

Their silhouettes clashed—and blood sprayed from only one of them.

That scene became pure tragedy and despair for the watching wardens. The officer had been killed in an instant by Kang-hoo.

“What the… what is this…?”

“He died just like that?”

“What the hell is that guy? Shin Kang-hoo?! You’re saying that bastard was a level 10 hunter who escaped a few months ago?! Are you kidding me?!”

The wardens froze.

So did the mobile unit sent in to assist—they couldn’t take a single step forward.

That officer wasn’t quite on Jo Hwan-seong’s level, but he was still a seasoned powerhouse well over level 200.

But against Kang-hoo, he didn’t even last one exchange. He was cleanly struck down.

The wardens and mobile unit who witnessed the officer’s death fell into an eerie silence.

Despite the number of people present, not a single sound could be heard on the battlefield.

Only the steady, endless sound of rain striking the muddy ground filled the air. A deep quiet settled in.

And then—

Fear and dread began to creep through the crowd like a plague.

The image of that officer, killed so easily in full view of everyone, was burned into their memories.

There was no reason it couldn’t be them next. In fact, there were already plenty of dead wardens scattered around—proof of that fate.

This wasn’t the kind of situation where some half-baked sense of duty or loyalty to the organization could hold anyone together.

Death here was equal and meaningless for everyone.

Then—

“Aaaaah! F*ck it, I’m out! Aaaaah!”

One warden ripped off his uniform and cap, then started sprinting toward the mana stone mine.

There was a hidden path there—one not publicly known—that led outside the detention center.

“Yeah! Better than dying here!”

“Run, man! If you stay, Shin Kang-hoo will kill you! What are you waiting for?! Move your ass!”

Panic set in, and the wardens began fleeing in all directions.

“……”

Kang-hoo felt a strange disconnect.

He was still just one person. With a few more added, the other side could’ve easily reached a hundred men.

But they were utterly selfish.

Instead of banding together—losing a few to potentially overcome him—they just couldn’t think that way.

No one wanted to be the ‘few’ sacrificed for the many. That was their honest truth.

Watching these worthless enemies scatter, Kang-hoo had no desire to pursue.

But whenever one of them looked back—

He took a single step forward, just for show.

“Aaaaah! He’s coming! He’s coming!!”

“Just keep running! Don’t look back!”

Spooked out of their minds, they let their fear run wild in creative ways.

In their heads, Kang-hoo had become a relentless pursuer, hot on their heels.

Shhhk! Clack!

Kang-hoo sheathed his dagger and scanned the surroundings.

He’d examine the stolen constellation from the dead officer later—for now, he wanted to assess the battlefield.

“Hm. No need to go toward the main gate.”

He could already see the flags of the Cheong-an Mercenary Corps and Heuksaja fluttering—it seemed the front had already been breached.

If that was the case, there was no point playing house in a cleaned-up battlefield.

“Let’s head to the detention block.”

It made more sense to go where the prisoners were likely still trapped and unable to escape.

He didn’t owe them a future, but he at least wanted to give them the choice of freedom.

That alone felt like offering a complete liberation to his past self. It carried symbolic weight.

Not long after—

Kang-hoo arrived at the nearest block and killed a warden who had been trying to flee, stealing his key.

It was the 21st century, but the detention center still managed its security with old-school methods.

That was thanks to Kang Dong-hyun’s idiotic philosophy—that even automated systems were a luxury unworthy of prisoners.

Despite the fact that it was the wardens who reaped the benefits of those systems.

At any rate, with the key now in hand, Kang-hoo stood before the detention block that held deep meaning for him.

Block 18.

The place where his life-or-death escape had begun, and the hell where the original Shin Kang-hoo had suffered for years.

A past so painful he’d rather have died—versus the joy of simply being alive now.

Thump.

Kang-hoo stood at that threshold.

“Is… is someone out there?”

“Please! Please save us!”

From behind the tightly locked steel door, countless voices—countless ‘past versions’ of himself—called out for help.

The hopeless lives of the detainees hadn’t changed at all.