Chapter 97: Bad Fate (4)

Wolf Fang stammered.

“No, how… How’d you find this place… I mean, you’re alive? Where’ve you been, what’ve you been doing… I didn't look for you…”

A jumble of words spilled out endlessly.

Not questions, not excuses—just his brain buying time to process this absurd situation.

His voice, his whole body trembled.

Like a human cellphone on vibrate.

But given my past actions and reputation, it was natural.

I waved it off casually.

“Why’re you kneeling? Sit easy.”

“No, no way, I wouldn’t dare…”

“Wow.”

So-hee, overhearing, let out a small gasp.

What did I do to make old subordinates this scared?

My villain days’ bad temper was real.

I swatted my hand sharply.

Fine if we were alone, but with So-hee watching, this reaction was a problem.

It’d ruin the upright image I’d built.

I scowled.

“Just get on the bed.”

Half-threatening, I urged him.

He clambered up, sitting stiffly, fists neatly on his thighs, not daring to lie down.

I relaxed my expression.

“Was gonna ask how you’ve been.”

I flipped through the papers I’d set down.

Flip-flip—

“Looks like you’ve done alright.”

“B-But why come for someone like me…”

“Not really for you. Came for something else, ran into you by chance.”

While he was out, I met the arena’s operator.

He resisted at first, but a quick choke changed his tune, meeting my demands.

All I got was Wolf Fang’s fight records and info—cheap deal.

Reading it, I learned something surprising.

“You’ve lived more upright than I expected.”

Twice-weekly arena gigs, light event matches, fan meet-and-greets, autographs.

Monthly title defenses.

Quarterly inter-arena ranking bouts.

Illegal arena, so all criminals, but not exactly “evil.”

He nodded vigorously, jaw aching but better than losing his life.

“Y-Yeah, I’m done with villainy.

This is all I know, but I’ve kept it clean, no blood on my hands.

“Is that so? Hmm.”

True, the arena’s real slaughters were for hardcore villains who’d already screwed up big.

No one died by his hands, it seemed.

I rubbed my chin and cheek with my thumb and finger, thinking.

He asked cautiously.

“So, how’d you end up here? What’ve you been doing?”

I stopped, countering.

“Why so curious?”

Realizing his mistake, he clapped hands over his mouth, shaking his head, sweating.

“Yeah, too many questions aren’t good for us. But your ‘upright’ life’s only arena stuff.”

I crossed my arms, leaning back in the chair.

“No guarantee you weren’t up to no good outside.”

“N-Not exactly saintly, but no big trouble! I’ve been good, really!”

I didn’t buy his desperate plea.

No need to dig for truth.

I turned to So-hee.

“True?”

Activating her Trait, she nodded slowly.

“Bit of a gray area, but closer to white. Criminal by society’s standards, but not villain-level.”

“Good. No need to drag you in, then. For now.”

He sighed inwardly, relieved. But a new worry hit.

Drag me in?

Me?

Why?

Where?

Cold sweat ran down his back.

Back in the Organization, I’d nabbed other villains.

Their fate was always the same.

The basement had drums and concrete mixers running 24/7.

He eyed an escape, but I’d parked myself between him and the door.

And more importantly—

“Your eyes are too loud. Don’t think about running. I’d have to grind up those intact limbs.”

My flat tone chilled him.

“N-No running!”

“Good. You know my temper. Anyway, nostalgic, huh? Never thought one of my guys would be living this clean.”

Now, the real point.

I didn’t waste time for nothing.

“Got some questions. Cool?”

“Y-Yes! Ask anything, I’ll answer fully!”

I pulled a piece of paper from my pocket.

“Know her?”

The boss’s sketch.

If she had ties to my Organization, maybe he’d remember.

That’s all I’d thought since spotting him.

He stared at it, then answered,.

“…Don’t know.”

I described her features, vibe, and traits in detail.

Still, he looked clueless.

“No memory of that face.”

But my description sparked something.

“That Trait… maybe from the Trait Liberation Lab? Their artificial Traits.”

“…What?”

I frowned, caught off guard.

Not her face, but her Trait?

Unexpectedly.

“Y’know, the All-Human Awakening Project. Forcing Traits on normals. We took them down.”

“My memory’s fuzzy.”

With all the groups I crushed and villains I buried, how could I recall each one?

He elaborated.

“Don’t remember the year, but heavy snow. Northern region, under a snowy mountain, behind a 5-meter steel door we smashed…”

“Oh.”

I snapped my fingers, recalling.

“Those plague-mask lunatics.”

“Right.”

The name was hazy—New World Trait Liberation Society, maybe?

They believed Traits were science, not divine, controllable by humans.

I didn’t buy into cultish “Traits are God’s gift” nonsense.

But slicing open living heads and stomachs for science?

I’d rather deal with churchgoers.

My face shifted to confusion.

Sure, we saved plenty of test subjects there.

But the reason I couldn’t recall kids was simple.

“They all died.”

No ethics, no safety—those subjects were butchered beyond repair.

We tried treating them, but most were too far gone.

None survived past a month.

“I thought so too. But that trait sounds too similar. Maybe one survived?”

“Hmm.”

All got three-month death sentences, sent to facilities.

No clue what happened after—I didn’t care.

If a survivor existed—

“That’s the best bet.”

Worth looking into.

“Why’s it matter?”

I gave him a pitying look.

Living as a pit king, he was clueless about the scene.

“Watch the news.”

“…Sorry.”

“Whatever. Next topic.”

This was the real goal.

I didn’t use So-hee’s Trait to check his crimes just for the boss.

If he’d been a scumbag, I wouldn’t consider this.

But he’d lived decently for a villain, so he got a second chance.

I leaned forward, elbows on thighs.

“Lately, I’m annoyed.”

Why was I, a powerhouse, swayed by a mere villain?

No faction.

Even the strongest individual has limits.

“No matter how strong, one person’s just a threat, not a crisis.”

Why did Eclipse or the boss build factions?

To face groups, you need a group.

I formed my Organization for the same reason.

Now?

Leashed by the Association, slaving alone.

No match for a mob. I needed numbers, strength.

“Gotta build something.”

“What?”

“A private force.”

I wagged my finger.

“Working solo’s rough. Your Trait’s useful.”

So-hee got it first, jumping up, horrified.

“C-Crazy!”

I’d torn her 700x betting ticket, hugged her for scent—still, she hadn’t called me crazy.

Now, she couldn’t hold back.

“A private force? That's a contract violation and illegal!”

Only heroes could use Traits for public safety.

Hunters were limited to gates; police and military couldn’t use Traits either.

I replied casually.

“Not crazy. Clearer than ever.”

“To say that—”

She stopped, staring at my watch, mouth agape.

Our power dynamic had blurred, but she still monitored me.

Say this where the Association or Legal Department couldn’t hear!

She couldn’t help it if I spoke like this.

“Thanks for the worry, but I’ve thought it through. Private forces are illegal without permits. Get a license, you’re a hero, right?”

“So, legal heroes work?”

She asked, hopeful.

That’d be better.

“Close. But I’m not hanging a hero sign. Too shameless.”

If heroes swept street trash, I’d break wrists the moment it’s tossed.

“Strike team? Vigilantes? Volunteers? Whatever.”

“But will the Association permit it?”

I smirked at her fretting.

“Against normal villains, they’d stonewall.”

Ten years ago, heroes were villains’ enemies.

Association, government, civilians—side issues.

Not now.

Eclipse and the Organization targeted the Association and government more than heroes or

civilians.

“They’re getting nervous. They know I’m their last shot to turn this around.”

They could back another hero, but Eclipse, the most righteous, turned villain.

Who else could they trust?

I wasn’t their best choice—only choice.

“So…”

Private force? Hero? Volunteer?

Wolf Fang couldn’t grasp our talk.

The man before him, the century’s worst villain, nearly toppled the nation.

Why this conversation?

I turned, tossing a pen and paper at his stunned face.

“Write down every living Organization remnant you can contact. Names, numbers, addresses, meeting methods, emergency plans—everything.”

Snapping out of it, he hesitated.

“Feels like betrayal?”

I nodded, understanding.

I’d drilled that betrayal meant death.

No choice, then.

I aimed my finger at his forehead.

“Here’s empathy.”

Down to his chest.

“Here’s talk.”

To his groin.

“Here’s persuasion.”

Folding my finger, I clenched my fist.

“Where do we start?”

He grabbed the pen, scribbling contacts frantically.

Couldn’t understand the situation, but survival first.

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