Murim Login - Chapter 569

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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 569
Thud.
The sound of the door closing behind him echoed like thunder. Simultaneously, Song Cheon-woo’s body swayed—a frame so robust it belied his seventy years.
Scrape, clack.
Neither the formidable mana coursing through him nor the wisdom accumulated through decades of trials held any value in this moment.
Gripping the wall, his gaze fixed downward until a pair of black dress shoes suddenly intruded into his field of vision.
“Are you alright, sir?”
The businesslike voice pierced his ears. Song Cheon-woo lifted his head to identify the shoes’ owner, his teeth clenching.
“Does this look alright to you?”
Sparks danced in his blazing eyes as Go Se-won, the Security Team Leader, bowed his head.
“If my words sounded presumptuous, I apologize.”
“Spare me the hollow platitudes. Before I snap your neck!”
“That’s hardly a method I’d recommend. There would be nothing to gain, only losses.”
Go Se-won gestured gently with his hand as he spoke.
The Security Team members who had just begun moving down the distant corridor froze, sensing the unusual atmosphere.
“They’re my subordinates, and as you know, they’re quite capable. When circumstances demand it, they don’t hesitate to act.”
“You bastard….”
“Please don’t misunderstand. I’m merely hoping we don’t escalate this situation further.”
Crack.
As force gathered in the hand gripping the wall, the reinforced marble surface fractured like a spider’s web.
Song Cheon-woo, his eyes bloodshot with fury, spat out his words.
“So you kidnapped our children—who had nothing to do with any of this, who bore no guilt?”
“For something like that, the security was remarkably thorough. It suggests you at least entertained the possibility, Director.”
Despite the entire Security Team’s assault, two members had fallen.
Considering they were counted among the Ares Guild’s elite, the word “merely” should have preceded those two casualties.
“I do regret what happened to your family. But if you had suspected beforehand, you should have committed greater forces to protect them.”
“…!”
“I spoke out of turn. My apologies.”
Go Se-won’s words rang true. Song Cheon-woo was already like an aging lion awaiting his final day. There was no need for him to drive the blade deeper himself.
‘If I claim it was sympathy that slipped out, would he believe me?’
He too was a father. The son he’d first met after forty years, and the second child due in mere months—he would have gladly sacrificed his life for them.
Go Se-won could offer his life for his children’s safety and happiness. That was what it meant to be a father, to be a parent.
But Song Cheon-woo had placed his ambitions and his family’s welfare on opposite sides of the scale.
Had he truly considered the worst outcome, he wouldn’t have even attempted to turn Seok Go-jun into an enemy.
‘…It’s not my place to say such things.’
Go Se-won felt like a crippled villain.
For nearly two decades, he had lived a life better described as a fixer than as a Hunter.
Ever since Lee Jung-yong had taken notice of him and brought him into the Security Team, his primary targets had been people, not monsters.
It was he who had ordered his team members to kidnap Song Cheon-woo’s family and handled the cleanup cleanly.
‘And yet here I am, lecturing someone else.’
In the end, they were all merely excrement in the same cesspool.
Song Cheon-woo had courted danger through ambition as retirement loomed, Seok Go-jun wielded his blade without regard for method or morality, and Go Se-won had become the sword in his superior’s hand—kidnapping Song Cheon-woo’s family.
‘A war between villains. In the end, only victors and vanquished remain.’
And he himself was merely an accessory.
It was then that Go Se-won’s expression turned bitter.
Crack!
A grip that seemed impossible from a man in his seventies seized him by the collar with iron firmness.
“Team Leader!”
“Enough. Just hold your positions.”
Go Se-won, having restrained his team members, regarded the considerably taller Song Cheon-woo with perfect composure.
“I already told you. The losses would outweigh the gains.”
“You bastard, you dare lay hands on my children—!”
“The Sub-Guild Master is listening from inside. I don’t know what conversation you two had, but I would hope there are no further casualties.”
“…!”
A warning not to cross Seok Go-jun, who held the lifelines of his family in his grasp.
Song Cheon-woo’s eyelids trembled faintly as he grasped the meaning behind those words.
His grip on Go Se-won’s collar weakened, though his teeth remained clenched.
“You’ve made a wise choice.”
“…Shut your mouth. If I had my way, I’d crush your face right here and now.”
“I’m sure you would.”
A bitter smile crossed Go Se-won’s lips. Had their positions been reversed, he would have reacted identically.
And judged coldly, Song Cheon-woo remained a formidable master even now, twenty years after his retirement from active duty.
His abilities simply fell short of his ambitions. The mere fact that he had once been Lee Jung-yong’s political rival was sufficient explanation.
‘Which is precisely why he resorted to such sordid methods.’
The approach Seok Go-jun had chosen this time was distasteful, but its effectiveness was undeniable.
Song Cheon-woo would be eliminated soon. So naturally that no one would harbor the slightest suspicion.
“Please follow me. I’ll see you out.”
Go Se-won bowed slightly and moved forward, while Song Cheon-woo, casting one final glare at the firmly closed door, followed behind.
Thud. Thud.
With Go Se-won having left his team behind, only the footsteps of two men echoed through the corridor.
The brief silence that followed was broken by Song Cheon-woo’s words.
“What you said earlier. Was it true?”
“…?”
“When you said you didn’t know what Seok Go-jun and I discussed. Was that true?”
Go Se-won paused briefly to consider the meaning, then nodded silently.
“I see. From what I’ve investigated, you’re hardly a strategist either.”
“What do you mean?”
“It seems you’re not as trusted a subordinate as I thought. Or perhaps he simply didn’t want to confide in even his closest aide.”
At Go Se-won’s furrowed brow, Song Cheon-woo let out a hollow laugh.
“Listen, Go Se-won.”
In just a brief span, he had aged a decade—no, two decades. The old man continued speaking in a hollow voice.
“There exists a certain measure to all things, you know. Do you understand?”
“…If you’re criticizing the Sub-Guild Master, I’d like to ask you to stop there.”
“Criticism? That’s a far gentler word than I expected. It falls woefully short for that bastard Seok Go-jun.”
“I understand your feelings. But no one involved in this matter can condemn another. I’m aware that you yourself, Branch Master, haven’t lived entirely cleanly either.”
“Heh, that’s true. There was a time when I too disregarded means and methods for my goals. But never to this extent.”
At the sight of Song Cheon-woo releasing a hollow laugh as if he’d lost his mind, Go Se-won suddenly fell silent.
He realized that what the old man was trying to convey extended far beyond mere kidnapping.
‘What is this?’
Thump, thump. His heart raced as electricity crawled down his spine.
This was a warning—a danger signal telling him not to proceed. Yet his body moved contrary to his thoughts.
“What do you mean by that measure you speak of, Branch Master?”
“A monster that has forgotten even the bare minimum of its duty.”
“Pardon?”
Thud.
Song Cheon-woo’s footsteps came to an abrupt halt. The old man, who had been silently gazing at the teleportation magic circle leading outside, continued speaking.
“The boundary between human and monster. That bastard Seok Go-jun has already crossed into monstrosity.”
Suddenly, the old man’s vacant gaze swept across the empty air.
Song Cheon-woo, tracing the brilliant memories of his past, took a feeble step toward the magic circle.
Leaving behind words laden with desperation.
“I will apologize for what I did to you. So please, at the very least, prevent those children from dying in vain.”
That was the end.
Whoosh!
Before Go Se-won could even respond, the teleportation magic manifested, and a brilliant radiance consumed the figure of one man.
Left alone, Go Se-won stared at the spot where Song Cheon-woo had stood, his eyes clouded with confusion. Then he suddenly turned his head.
A corridor constructed entirely of pristine white marble.
And at the end of the endless corridor, a firmly closed door, behind which someone was contentedly sipping wine.
‘What exactly are you plotting?’
Go Se-won murmured toward some distant corner of his heart.
Area A, which had always been bright, now felt like an abyss brimming with darkness.
* * *
The Training Room—what the modern world calls a training ground—I had no idea how long I’d been shut away in this place.
One day. Two days. Perhaps four.
Enclosed on all sides with temperature control, I’d lost all sense of time while immersed in martial cultivation.
Even with my smartphone, I hadn’t bothered to check it, so I couldn’t tell. Somehow sensing my situation, no one from the Peace Guild had come looking for me or made contact.
“….”
Now that I think about it, I’m quite the loner. But that’s absolutely not the case.
…It probably isn’t.
‘Skeleton King. That bastard hasn’t come looking for me even once since then.’
It’s good news that he’s handling things better than expected, but it also means the Emergency Rescue Team has been overwhelmed and there have been more Gates exhibiting abnormal phenomena—so I can’t simply rejoice about it.
In that sense, the fact that what I was attempting was nearing completion was certainly good news.
‘Of course, it’s still incomplete.’
Since this was my first attempt at something like this, the process so far had been anything but easy.
Perhaps the burden of needing to create something truly exceptional, matched with the current precarious situation, had played its part as well.
‘Even so, it seems like it should be sufficient as things stand now….’
Should I just go ahead and pull the trigger?
I was repeating that same dilemma in my head—one I’d contemplated dozens, hundreds of times before—when it happened.
The Training Room’s entrance door, which had been firmly sealed, opened with a familiar mechanical hum.
“There you are. I happen to need your assistance.”
Thud. Thud.
Military boots polished to a lustrous shine. A blue bodysuit and a shield emblazoned with a skull insignia.
I regarded him with a gaze colder than the snow piled atop the Antarctic Sejong Station building.
“Look at this bastard.”
“You’ve heard the story from King Fury, haven’t you?”
“…Now you’re doing two jobs at once?”
“Hehe. Of course, a proper citizen of the United States would be none other than King Tin America.”
“This bastard keeps changing his name on a whim. I’m tempted to beat him so badly he’d want to go back to the glacier.”
“I could do it all day.”
Whoosh, crash!
The blade of the White Flame Spear, shot forth like a beam of light, grazed his neck and pierced through the Training Room’s wall.
Skeleton King, alternating his gaze between the spear embedded to its hilt and me, muttered.
“All day might be pushing it….”
“Cut the bullshit. What are you here for? Fair warning—if you came because you were bored, you’re dead. For real.”
Skeleton King answered hastily.
“N-no, that’s not it. It’s a mission. A mission!”
“A mission?”
“Indeed. Cunning human.”
The creature continued after nodding his head.
“It’s not an ordinary Gate. The mana reading is enormous.”
“…!”
Damn it.

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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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