I Conquered the Tower with the EX-Class Character That I Raised - Chapter 88

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 88
“Apostle, there’s a problem.”
Kang Hyo-jun raised his hand and spoke carefully.
“We have no way of determining where Pandemonium’s mobile fortress is located.”
Kang Hyo-jun continued his explanation.
Pandemonium—those creatures dwelled within a “mobile fortress,” the pinnacle of modern magical engineering.
It traversed both sky and sea with impunity, and the entire fortress was shrouded in optical camouflage that rendered visual observation and radar equally useless.
Consequently, not a single nation or organization across the globe, no matter how renowned, had ever succeeded in locating this fortress.
“Therefore, a direct strike is currently impossible.”
Kang Hyo-jun’s assessment was sound.
However, I had already formed a suspicion about their whereabouts.
‘Above the West Sea.’
Where my Aggro Radar pointed.
Though my naked eye perceived nothing, my Aggro Radar detected someone there—someone radiating hostility toward me.
Doubting the Aggro Radar’s performance would be foolish.
Especially considering the fortress was shrouded in optical camouflage.
‘It’s certain.’
Just as I was about to speak.
“I know.”
Min Ji-hee suddenly beat me to it.
“You know where Pandemonium’s mobile fortress is? How did you discover that?”
Kang Hyo-jun turned to Min Ji-hee with evident curiosity.
I feigned composure, but internally I was quite astonished.
‘I have the Aggro Radar—an ability beyond common sense—so I can make an educated guess.’
But how had Min Ji-hee found out?
“Kim Min-seok… I had planted him as bait, and in the end, he fulfilled his purpose through death. I obtained this information in that process.”
‘Kim Min-seok?’
The name of the traitor who had betrayed his nation and attached himself to Pandemonium.
I had wondered what became of him afterward.
It seemed he had been drained of information and disposed of.
“That seems rather odd.”
Kang Hyo-jun furrowed his brow.
“Pandemonium has maintained impeccable security regarding the mobile fortress for a decade. You’re saying they were exposed by a single ‘sloppy’ bait?”
Min Ji-hee answered immediately.
“I suspected there was intent behind it.”
“Then…”
“But even if there was intent, how would that become an obstacle for us?”
“What do you mean?”
Min Ji-hee’s eyes fixed directly upon me.
“We have the Apostle with us.”
Min Ji-hee’s eyes brimmed with absolute trust in me.
This person would never make a wrong decision.
Or perhaps, this person could solve any problem that arose…
Unconditional faith.
‘Ugh.’
I’d spent all this time packaging myself as an Apostle, carefully crafting an image to match that identity.
Even the sharp-minded Min Ji-hee had fallen for it completely—my performance was flawless.
It was a success worth celebrating.
…But I couldn’t simply rejoice.
The weight of that trust was undeniable.
I had no idea what kind of being the Apostle had become in Min Ji-hee’s mind.
But I was certainly not a perfect, flawless superhuman.
And…
Whatever others might think, Min Ji-hee could not become dependent on me.
‘When I make a wrong decision, you must be the restraint that stops me.’
“Min Ji-hee.”
It was time to deploy the advanced technique of strategic retreat.
“Think carefully before you answer.”
* * *
The Apostle’s eyes grew heavy and distant.
“Think carefully before you answer.”
‘…!’
Min Ji-hee found herself speechless.
“Why did you choose to rely on me first instead of making your own judgment?”
“….”
The Apostle slowly rested his chin on his hand, studying her intently.
“That’s not like you.”
“That’s…”
Min Ji-hee reflexively swallowed hard.
The Apostle’s observation.
…He was right.
This was a decision that would determine the fate of South Korea.
And ahead lay countless branching paths, each shrouded in impenetrable darkness.
—Choose wrong, and South Korea falls.
Faced with such staggering responsibility…
The Min Ji-hee of before had always made judgments without hesitation, chosen her path without wavering.
In that process, she had learned to view people as numbers.
Save a thousand, sacrifice ten—that was the right decision.
She had saved countless lives that way.
In truth, it was largely Min Ji-hee’s contribution that had repeatedly pulled South Korea back from the brink of destruction.
But.
…In the end, the 10, 100, 1,000 people I had no choice but to sacrifice—those memories lingered long in my mind.
Remembering every victim’s name without exception was my own form of atonement.
Even now, when I fall asleep, I dream nightmares of them crawling out from hell.
But I believed that as one of those responsible for South Korea, bearing this burden was only natural.
I thought I shouldn’t let the strain show.
Han Seol-ah, my adopted daughter, carrying the burden of “defeat means annihilation” under the guise of being the Guardian.
Before that fragile, childlike girl, I had to always embody “Commander Min Ji-hee”—brimming with conviction.
—That was true until the Apostle appeared.
“That, is…”
But after the Apostle emerged.
I came to understand.
Just how harsh and unbearable the burden I carried on my shoulders truly was.
…And the relief that came from realizing I didn’t have to bear it anymore.
‘…I was running away.’
I lowered my gaze.
I had deferred the decisions I should have made as a commander to the Apostle, trying to escape the weight of them.
Struck by the painful truth, I bit my lip and averted my eyes.
“I’m sorry…”
The moment my head began to bow helplessly.
“Raise it.”
The Apostle’s firm voice anchored my body.
“Don’t bow your head.”
“….”
I lifted my head.
I looked up at the Apostle.
The Apostle’s face remained expressionless.
What dwelled in those eyes was still… empty.
Yet strangely, I read warmth in the Apostle’s indifferent voice and gaze, in all those unspoken gestures.
“…From now on, bow your head to no one, Min Ji-hee. Not even to me. To no one.”
“…Yes!”
I straightened my posture.
I smoothed my disheveled clothes, steadied my breathing, squared my shoulders, and straightened my spine.
I looked directly at the Apostle.
“So then.”
The Apostle smiled faintly.
“What’s the plan?”
* * *
…It seemed Min Ji-hee had regained her confidence.
‘Thank goodness.’
This operation.
For convenience, I’d taken to calling this operation the “Pandemonium Subjugation Campaign,” and its crux hinged on a single question: could we determine the location of the mobile Fortress before the terror attack occurred, or not?
Since I’d already pinpointed the Fortress’s location thanks to the aggro alarm, there were virtually no crises or variables to speak of in this operation.
The only problem, if I had to name one…
…would be the combat prowess of the Pandemonium Guild Master.
However, considering my own strength now that I’d obtained Blade God synchronization, this operation hardly qualified as a life-or-death ordeal.
Which meant now was the perfect time to break Min Ji-hee of her habit of relying on me.
If she remained like this—someone who’d need to apply the brakes when my judgment proved wrong or problems erupted later—I’d truly be in for a world of trouble.
“The terror threat must be communicated immediately to the entire world.”
“You mean the terror caused by the Outer God’s egg.”
“Precisely. What makes this catastrophic is that the Outer God’s egg is indistinguishable in appearance from a mana stone. Mana stone power plants—the essential infrastructure of the Hunter era—operate entirely on mana stones.”
Min Ji-hee’s voice had returned to its usual cadence.
Composed. Crisp briefing.
“If terror strikes here, certainly the loss of life cannot be dismissed, but an entire nation’s infrastructure could collapse in the worst case, or at minimum, suffer complete paralysis.”
“Hold on a moment.”
Lee Hyung-je raised an objection.
“Go ahead.”
“Is that truly necessary?”
“…Could you elaborate?”
“It could be viewed as an opportunity to restructure the global order.”
….
Everyone held their breath.
To translate Lee Hyung-je’s words plainly: this was it.
Keep it hidden.
Only selectively inform certain nations.
Then wait for the terror to strike and watch the infrastructure of the “uninformed nations” crumble.
On the surface, it was rational.
When ranked by national strength, South Korea sat dead last.
The mountain was too high to climb honestly…
So why not topple everyone else instead?
Never mind how many lives would be lost in the process.
Sensing the darkened atmosphere, Lee Hyung-je shrugged.
“Well, it’s worth considering, at least.”
I’d felt it during the last business deal too, but this man Lee Hyung-je…
…became colder than anyone when profit and loss were on the line.
‘Scary old man.’
Breaking through the frigid silence, a hand suddenly rose.
“What about this?”
Following Lee Hyung-je’s lead, Kang Hyo-jun entered the fray.
“Only we know about it.”
“….”
In that moment, a heavy silence descended upon the Conference Room.
Three pairs of eyes—tangled in humanitarianism, opportunism, and extreme selfishness—clashed tensely in the void.
Lee Hyung-je, proposing to selectively release information and reshape the global order.
Min Ji-hee, insisting the world must know immediately.
…And the extremist Kang Hyo-jun, demanding silence from everyone.
Watching the three of them exchange such spirited opinions… my feelings were complex.
This sensitive information that would determine Earth’s fate.
Not held by anyone else, but by South Korea—a synonym for ruin, treated as a fool.
Talk of repaying favors, earning money.
Releasing information, withholding it… if released, how far should it go?
Here we were, discussing the fate of the entire planet.
“There are things more important than money!”
“That’s exactly why you’re naive, Ji-hee!”
“Naive? Na-ive? Did you really just say all that, sir?”
“Ugh, why don’t we just pretend we don’t know and avoid the stress? I’ve got work to do, so let’s just decide something and move on.”
…The conversation was spiraling toward increasingly extreme positions.
“Enough.”
I raised my hand to stop them, and all three fell silent.
Three perspectives.
Each had merit.
‘Except for Kang Hyo-jun’s opinion.’
This bastard Kang Hyo-jun.
How could he dismiss such a critical matter as merely ‘wrapping it up and letting everyone leave early’?
As I regarded him with that reproach, his eyes met mine with absolute clarity.
There was no sign of the usual exhaustion weighing him down, no distraction from work.
And he even gave me a subtle nod.
‘Ah.’
He’d made that absurd proposal intentionally?
‘Classic Kang Hyo-jun.’
He’d deliberately thrown fuel on the fire of their heated debate with that nonsense.
I reached my conclusion swiftly.
“Min Ji-hee’s approach is correct.”
This time, Min Ji-hee was right.
Those connected to the Outer God are cockroaches.
Leaving them unchecked becomes an irreversible catastrophe.
Therefore, we must all unite our strength in their eradication.
Otherwise, a disaster we cannot prevent will return upon us.
“I’ll explain the operation.”
Of course, I hadn’t merely been observing the entire time.
I was already formulating a strategy for the Pandemonium subjugation campaign in my mind.
“First, Min Ji-hee, divide the information into three categories. The Outer God’s egg. The Corrupted Entity. The strategy to defeat it. These three. I’ll organize the strategy section immediately after this meeting concludes.”
“Understood.”
“These three pieces of information… Lee Hyung-je. You sell them to each nation.”
“Oho. That approach? Interesting.”
“Don’t get greedy. It’s enough if you can establish with certainty that there’s a hierarchy in the information’s value.”
“Hmm.”
Lee Hyung-je stroked his smooth chin and nodded.
“Proceeding in a way that grants favor seems reasonable.”
“Minimize damage to innocent civilians through the Black Market, Kang Hyo-jun. That’s your responsibility.”
“Understood.”
Good—they all understand instructions clearly.
“However.”
But one thing needs to be absolutely certain.
“We don’t share this with the United States. We don’t sell to them either.”
“…Because they’re the origin point of the terrorism?”
“Exactly. Unless the United States issues a ‘sufficient apology,’ any future issues will be handled identically. But.”
I fixed my gaze on Kang Hyo-jun.
Kang Hyo-jun flinched at the weight of my stare.
He seemed to sense that fresh, demanding work was about to be added to his plate.
‘You’re right on the mark, Kang Hyo-jun.’
“Humanitarian assistance through the Black Market is permitted.”
I’ll give him a reward in the form of extra work.
Kang Hyo-jun’s shoulders sagged, and he lowered his head in resignation with a heavy sigh.
“…Understood.”
‘This should suffice.’
As I rose from my seat, the three people sitting at the table turned their gazes toward me in unison.
“And you, Apostle…?”
“I.”
The answer was already decided.
“I’m going to crush Pandemonium.”
“…Now, you mean?”
“Yes.”
Blade Saint, Ha Sung-woon.
Sortie.

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