Ranker Who Shatters Myths - Chapter 162

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Broken Ranker

Devours Myths

 

 

Chapter 162

 

Guam (7)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

An island somewhere in Southern Europe bordering the Mediterranean.

 

 

 

In a marble temple built well over a thousand years ago, now crumbling away,

 

candles suddenly blazed brightly, dispelling the darkness. A pure white world appeared.

 

Pure white is originally the color symbolizing the god of gods, Zeus.

 

The sky he governs, the thunder, the lightning, the laws, the justice—all gain legitimacy when they are pure white.

 

The masks on the table illuminated by candlelight were the same.

 

They were all white.

 

However, various patterns crossing the eyes, cheeks, or forehead spoke of different identities.

 

 

 

—The Sons of Zeus.

 

 

 

A secret society said to be spread across the world, operating in shadows.

 

They could convey their will to each other through their organization’s unique ritual called [Prosopon].

 

 

 

[Prosopon]

 

Masks that actors in ancient Greek theater would put on and take off.

 

Even if it’s the same actor, they play different characters depending on the type of mask worn. While wearing this mask, the mask’s personality and legacy are bestowed upon the actor.

 

-Type: Ritual.

 

-Origin: Ritual ‘Dionysus Ceremony’

 

 

 

“Rhadamanthys… I think we’ve all heard Magnus’s report by now, so shall we begin the meeting?”

 

Ancient Greek theater originally began as a religious ritual honoring Dionysus, the god of wine and drama.

 

Therefore, the role of chairman presiding over this meeting also belonged to Dionysus.

 

A mask with a mad expression that seemed both crying and laughing, decorated with grape patterns.

 

As he, seated at the head of the round table, spoke, the other masks answered in turn.

 

“Is it even worth considering? Of course we should draw him into negotiations! He claims to be ‘Father’s’ apostle! This is our chance to obtain Astrape!”

 

“I agree.”

 

“Me too…”

 

“I have no particular objections either. I think we must definitely draw him to our side. Isn’t it time to stop this tiresome treasure hunting?”

 

Most opinions leaned toward offering Zeus’s Apostle, Gwiroae, conditions he would want and obtaining clues related to Astrape.

 

This was evidence that they had grown quite weary.

 

While some like Magnus openly revealed their faces, most members of the Sons of Zeus lived with hidden identities.

 

They each had their main occupations in reality.

 

But occasionally setting aside their main work to carry out the organization’s tasks was no easy matter.

 

And now their destination had appeared right before their eyes.

 

So everyone couldn’t help but feel impatient.

 

“Everyone calm down. This isn’t something we can discuss so easily.”

 

Then, a mask wearing a golden crown spoke up.

 

Minos.

 

The founding monarch who established the laws and institutions of Cretan civilization, and a sage known as an excellent strategist who became a judge of the Underworld after death.

 

Rhadamanthys’s older brother, currently serving as the organization’s military officer.

 

“I don’t know if you all realize this, but Gwiroae has never once acknowledged that he is Zeus’s apostle. He hasn’t even shown ‘Father’s’ Sacred Relic.”

 

“Hmm…!”

 

“Was that so?”

 

“That’s a fact I wasn’t aware of.”

 

At Minos’s words, the heated atmosphere cooled like a lie. He knew how to soothe the mood of a meeting mostly composed of brave warriors.

 

“Then may I ask what the military officer would like to do?”

 

Dionysus asked in a languid voice while resting his chin on his hand.

 

A tone befitting a god who governs decadence and ecstasy.

 

“I think we need to test him.”

 

Instantly, the two eyes within Minos’s mask blazed with fire.

 

“A test…”

 

“We need to confirm it. Whether he’s really ‘Father’s’ son.”

 

“But wasn’t that confirmed by your brother? He was definitely using Kéraunos. And the lightning’s color was pure white like marble, wasn’t it?”

 

Dionysus asked mischievously, as if questioning how he could doubt his brother,

 

“Techniques can be stolen easily enough. The lightning being pure white is the biggest factor, but he might have used some method to make it appear white.”

 

Minos remained resolute.

 

“If he’s really ‘Father’s’ apostle, there’s no reason to avoid it. Moreover, I think it wouldn’t be bad for him either.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because he could ally with us.”

 

There was strong conviction in Minos’s voice.

 

“We Sons of Zeus are already a massive force with tremendous influence over world affairs. ‘Father’s’ apostle wouldn’t pass up the chance to have us backing him.”

 

Zeus had the strongest lust for power among the gods of . And this was no exception for the countless children he sired.

 

‘So that’s why they continue this ridiculous mask play so seriously.’

 

Pfft.

 

Someone’s scornful chuckle flowed through the conference room and disappeared.

 

He found it laughable how these people acted as if they were ‘real’ sons of a god, despite being merely apostles carrying on a legacy.

 

“Good. Then what’s the method of confirmation?”

 

“Capture him and make him swear by the River Styx. That he is indeed Zeus’s apostle.”

 

“Oh. That’s certainly a good method. Having Minos around is really convenient at times like this, isn’t it?”

 

Dionysus grinned broadly.

 

An oath by the River Styx is an absolutely unavoidable curse for those who possess legacies.

 

Even without having an legacy, when swearing about -related matters, one becomes bound by the River Styx’s power.

 

“So… who will take on this task? If Gwiroae honestly swears to answer questions, there’s no problem, but if he doesn’t, we need someone capable of forcing him. And if he really is ‘Father’s’ apostle, we need negotiation cards to offer.”

 

“I’m out. What ‘Father’ passed down to me was wisdom, not courage.”

 

Minos stepped back.

 

Dionysus drew arcs with his eyes as he looked around the assembly in turn.

 

“I won’t step forward either.”

 

“Guam, you said? Too far. I’m out too.”

 

“Sorry, but I can’t carry it out right now either. I have circumstances.”

 

But every mask that met his gaze turned away obliquely.

 

They feared incurring ‘Father’ Zeus’s hatred while dealing with him.

 

“If this continues…”

 

“I’ll go.”

 

Then, a mask adorned with a lion’s mane answered.

 

“Oh, Heracles. You will?”

 

The one who boasted the greatest courage among Zeus’s children.

 

“I’ll participate too.”

 

“I too… want to see Kéraunos with my own eyes.”

 

Perseus and Aiakos.

 

Those who slayed Medusa and built the walls of Troy, respectively.

 

Dionysus grinned wickedly.

 

“Haha. Good. I can trust you three completely. ‘Father’ would be deeply impressed as well. Well then, as chairman, I can’t just sit still either.”

 

Dionysus flashed a sly smile and extended something with his long fingers.

 

“A sacred wine cup. Whatever liquor you pour into it becomes wine, and it captivates the drinker, making them see visions of ‘Father’.”

 

At his fingertips hung a wine cup with elongated handles that curved upward on both sides.

 

 

 

[Kantharos]

 

A Sacred Relic used when Dionysus performs resurrection rituals.

 

It carries the magnificent legend of relieving the burden of self-consciousness in moments of ecstasy and elevating humans to divine status.

 

When consumed, it has a chance to grant glimpses of ‘fragments of the future’ like oracles during battle. Or enables resurrection while forgetting pain.

 

-Type: Sacred Relic. Blessing Item.

 

-Origin: Ritual ‘Dionysiac Mysteries’

 

 

 

“…You’re willing to give this up?”

 

Heracles looked back and forth between the wine cup and Dionysus with an expression of disbelief.

 

The other masks also widened their eyes.

 

Among the sons, there was a nickname they had given the Kantharos.

 

 

 

―The Cup of Resurrection.

 

 

 

It was because it was a Sacred Relic containing the myth of Dionysus, who had died once and been resurrected.

 

Where in this world could you find someone who didn’t desire eternal life and immortality?

 

Dionysus grinned wickedly.

 

“Why? If you think it’s not worth much, should I just take it back?”

 

“…No. If you trust us this much, we must complete the mission no matter what happens.”

 

Heracles spoke in a heavy voice as he reached through the darkness and took the Cup of Resurrection.

 

Several masks clicked their tongues in disappointment. But their opponent was Heracles. Their vain fantasies ended there.

 

“Well then, since Guam is quite far, let me get up first.”

 

Thus Heracles, Perseus, and Aiakos disappeared into the darkness one by one,

 

“I should also…”

 

“We’ll be hearing good news soon.”

 

“There aren’t many thrones left.”

 

The other masks also disappeared one by one, laughing with anticipation. Minos also vanished after giving Dionysus only a light nod.

 

And…

 

The candlelight illuminated only two masks until the very end.

 

Namely, Dionysus the chairman, and

 

“Do you have something to say, Apollo?”

 

Apollo, god of the sun and arts, sitting in the opposite seat.

 

The blazing sun emblem near his right eye was striking.

 

“…No. Nothing.”

 

Apollo stared intently at Dionysus as if trying to extract something from him, then shook his head and stood up.

 

Swoosh-

 

“How boring.”

 

Dionysus let out a dry laugh while watching the direction Apollo disappeared.

 

An enigmatic smile.

 

A cup that had somehow emptied while he kept drinking.

 

When he tapped it with his index finger, wine filled it again.

 

“Wine is the blood shed by gods and the greatest gift given to humans.”

 

A variation of Plato’s words.

 

Dionysus raised his wine cup high and lightly clinked it toward the lighting that shone down like the sun or sky.

 

“To our departed ‘Father’, cheers (raising the cup to heaven).”

 

Dionysus heartily drained the wine in one gulp, threw the cup to the floor, and disappeared.

 

Crash!

 

With a clear yet ominous sound,

 

Trickle-

 

The remaining wine flowed like blood between the shattered cup fragments.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Normal human society’s time is limited to ‘day’.

 

Stock and bond markets only open while the sun is up, and office workers only focus on work during the day. The world revolves around daytime.

 

But Guam’s day begins at ‘night’.

 

The rumors about Gwiroae spread widely during the early morning hours.

 

 

 

―Zeus’s Apostle, ‘Gwiroae’ has declared war on the City Cartel.

 

―He destroyed all of the cartel’s establishments on Tumon Strip and seized all their assets.

 

―There are no survivors among the cartel members.

 

 

 

War breaking out in Guam every other day wasn’t surprising.

 

But the problem was that the opponent was the City Cartel.

 

A massive organization with top ranker ‘Drug King’ as its leader.

 

A single individual declared he would attack that place?

 

Some scoffed, calling it insane. Others burst into hearty laughter, saying it felt refreshing.

 

Since there wasn’t a single Guam resident who hadn’t been entangled with the cartel, various reactions emerged.

 

Because of this,

 

The name Gwiroae instantly became the hottest topic among Guam residents.

 

“Gwiroae? Zeus’s Apostle? Huh…! It’s surprising that Zeus, who never showed his face, had an apostle. But how long could that last?”

 

“You don’t know anything, do you?”

 

“Huh? What?”

 

“The cartel remnants from other districts and even the subordinate gang organizations all rushed to Tumon Strip, you know?”

 

“No way…?”

 

“They’re all dead.”

 

“…!!”

 

“Because of that, Gwiroae said he’d sweep up the remnants and just went to Dededo slums a while ago, cleaned everything up, and came back. Tonight he’s supposedly heading to Apra Harbor?”

 

“Crazy…! But what if the Drug King himself comes over…!”

 

“He must be out of his mind to be pulling such reckless stunts. Because of that, all the cartel organizations in the harbor district are on high alert.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“And he even got sponsors?”

 

“Spon… sors?”

 

“Yeah. The matador from the underground fighting arena became the main sponsor. And it seems he’s recruiting other sponsors too?”

 

“…!?”

 

 

 

―Gwiroae got sponsors.

 

―It’s the underground fighting arena ‘Slaughterhouse’.

 

 

 

A freelancer without fixed affiliation getting sponsors meant he had gained tremendous fame.

 

Because each move he made would determine the corporate prestige.

 

Moreover, in Guam, a world of survival of the fittest and contempt for the weak, a freelancer’s rank is determined by how many sponsors they’ve gathered,

 

or how large and powerful the major sponsors backing them are.

 

If the Slaughterhouse, which handles daily cash flow rivaling the Cielo Casino, became a sponsor?

 

It would mean they were already a freelancer who had surpassed the highest A-rank.

 

“So they’re planning to bulk up as much as possible to face the Cartel. I thought he was just a simple destruction maniac, but he knows how to use his head cleverly too. I heard he’s openly going around saying he’ll even take the ribbon?”

 

“Huh…”

 

“That’s why La Sangbra and Black Maria are also considering sponsorship contracts.”

 

“…!!”

 

La Sangbra was an old established power in Guam, and Black Maria was a massive force belonging to the ‘Axis of Evil.’

 

If they got involved too, Gwiroae’s reputation would truly skyrocket.

 

“Then, surely you’re not also…?”

 

“If we’re going to jump on board, we need to get there as fast as possible and secure our spot first. Your business should also raise its profile while we’re at it, right? Let’s go together.”

 

“Of course. Let’s hurry before all the spots are taken!”

 

Two businessmen who ran fairly large-scale weapons smuggling and mercenary operations in the Apra Harbor district hurriedly left the coffee house.

 

A young man who had been watching them sent a text message somewhere with a satisfied smile.

 

 

 

—B37 sector complete. Moving to next location.

 

 

 

The Slaughterhouse’s little cuckoos.

 

The rumor spreaders who usually only promoted the Slaughterhouse’s name were now going around every corner of Guam, focusing all their efforts on spreading Gwiroae’s name.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Team. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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