Murim Login - Chapter 611

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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 611
“Allah! Great Allah!”
“Take care of him, Satan.”
“Farewell, wicked human.”
I turned away after handing Al Diab, who was shrieking in agony, over to Skeleton King. After all, what came next wasn’t my concern.
If he were merely the leader of some ordinary terrorist organization, he’d warrant nothing more than summary execution. But as the head of Al-Qaeda, the situation was different. Magic Johnson or Skeleton King would surely find ways to make good use of him—whether through sorcery or divine power.
‘I should have learned soul-seizing technique.’
A faint sense of regret washed over me.
Soul-seizing technique, which could bewitch people, was classified as a martial art branch of the Demonic Heretical Way, though not all Orthodox Sects practitioners were ignorant of it. And transformation technique was another matter entirely.
Of course, I had learned neither. Not because they were unnecessary, but because I’d ended up this way while desperately clinging to survival through sheer desperation.
‘Come to think of it, there is the Demonic Heretical Way nearby….’
I wasn’t sure if that person had mastered soul-seizing technique. If the opportunity arose, could I learn a few useful techniques from them in the future?
As I briefly reminisced about matters in the Martial World, the massive underground hideout resembling an ant colony came to an end, and an expansive desert stretched before my eyes, filling my vision. Beneath the glittering stars, a figure exhaling cigarette smoke in rough plumes opened his mouth in a coarse voice.
「Already here? That was faster than expected. You got Al Diab?」
I surveyed the corpses of terrorists scattered around him before answering.
“Yes. I’ve left him with Skeleton King.”
「Allah’s servant has fallen into a monster’s grasp. Good. Damn old bastard. Would’ve been worth seeing his face.」
“He certainly didn’t seem pleased. He’s probably still screaming about Satan right now.”
Chuck Haigl laughed with satisfaction at my response. Having learned Skeleton King’s true nature just four days ago, his brief conversation had already proven that his way of thinking diverged from that of ordinary people.
‘Undead?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is his surname Undead by any chance? Unless my ears deceived me, I could’ve sworn I heard “Stone King” earlier.’
‘No. His gender is undead. Well, not gender—his race.’
‘But you said he was from Georgia?’
‘Surprise. He’s actually Skeleton King from the Demon Realm.’
‘So he’s a monster.’
‘Yes.’
‘Hey, mother fucker. Are you messing with me? Why is a monster even here….’
‘To be precise, he’s an undead monster. More accurately, a Named undead monster.’
‘…Is everyone out of their minds? What the hell kind of crazy shit are you all doing?’
‘He is a monster, but he saved my life from Arch Lich during the Sogyeok Incident.’
‘What?’
‘And he also suppressed over ten mutant Gates and three Gate Waves in Korea.’
‘Holy shit. Then he’s a war veteran. Welcome, undead warrior.’
Black cat, white cat.
As long as they caught mice, it mattered not whether the cat was white or black—but Chuck Haigl’s way of thinking transcended even that pragmatism.
‘My grandfather was a damn Indian-slaughtering decorated war hero. But I don’t give a shit about that. As long as someone deals with fucking terrorists and Gates, and has the heart to dedicate themselves to people, what does skin color matter?’
‘Chuck. That guy doesn’t have skin.’
‘Bone color doesn’t matter either.’
At Chuck Haigl’s words transcending not just racial but species discrimination, my heart swelled with grandeur. He even demonstrated aspirations that seemed unbelievable for a United States Defense Secretary.
‘Keep it from the President.’
‘Of course, Chuck wanted that… but is it really okay?’
‘He didn’t ask.’
‘Ah.’
‘And besides, the military has always been about not getting caught. You could say the military is just another word for “run if you can.”‘
Of course, it was absurd logic. How could the Defense Minister of an entire nation know such facts and keep silent simply because the President hadn’t asked?
But it was the kind of insane thing only Chuck Haigl could pull off. Uncle Chuck, along with Magic Johnson, was a symbol of the United States. The legendary war heroes born from the Great Upheaval were granted immense love, affection, and invisible absolution.
‘Even accounting for that, it’s still insane. Hmm.’
What was fortunate, however, was that Chuck Haigl was precisely the kind of madman who had been pulling off such insane stunts without hesitation.
With that thought, I gazed at Chuck Haigl with genuine warmth.
「What’s with that look?」
“Nothing. I just really like Chuck.”
「Could that be why you’re close with Johnson?」
“…You’re taking this quite well. By the way, where are the other two?”
Since earlier, I hadn’t seen Choi Team Leader or Magic Johnson anywhere nearby. In response to my question, Chuck Haigl chewed on his cigar and answered.
「They’re investigating the Gate. These bastards even have a secret laboratory for magical stone research.」
A secret laboratory, no less.
I’d anticipated as much. For a run-of-the-mill terrorist organization, perhaps not, but Al-Qaeda was a massive terror group operating globally, possessing vast human and material resources. It wasn’t particularly surprising that they’d maintain a magical stone laboratory consuming astronomical sums of money.
“What’s the scale?”
「Larger than expected. According to Choi and Johnson, it looks like it’s been around for at least ten years.」
“Ten years?”
「Yes. Whether they conducted other experiments here previously, or whether they were planning terrorism using magical stones as we feared… one thing’s certain—they’ve been scheming something for quite a long time.」
“I see.”
It seemed Seok Go-jun wasn’t the first to use magical stones for mass casualties. Given that they were fundamentally a terrorist organization, it was only natural.
“What about results? Have they already discovered something?”
「Hard to say. We’ll need to interrogate those terrorist researchers, but if they’d made real progress, a much larger incident would’ve already occurred.」
“That’s true.”
「At minimum, the terrorism in Texas and elsewhere has nothing to do with Al-Qaeda. If it were them, they’d have already gathered data through human experimentation—there’d be no reason for such foolish stunts.」
He was right. Even if the terrorism had succeeded, Al-Qaeda had no reason to waste valuable Hunters and magical stones on a pathetic suicide show. It wasn’t some banzai charge or kamikaze mission.
‘They’ll just draw aggro and get beaten down.’
Just as I was muttering that to myself, Chuck Haigl suddenly spoke up.
「Lately, I’ve been thinking… perhaps eradicating these bastards is eternally impossible.」
He looked unusually weary today, and he offered me the cigar he’d been holding.
“I don’t smoke.”
「I know that. The point is, this damned American military cigar was in their possession.」
I muttered quietly.
“There’s an insider?”
「If it were just cigars, I wouldn’t have mentioned it. But… there was a mountain of it. Rations, experimental and medical equipment, advanced missiles, even Artifacts. Most of it couldn’t have left the country without Defense Ministry authorization.」
I firmly patted his slumped shoulders.
“Hang in there, Chuck. It’s not like this is the first time, is it? And it’s not like we didn’t know.”
“Well, that’s somewhat comforting.”
But it was an undeniable truth. Over the past weeks, having decimated dozens of terrorist organizations, what we witnessed extended far beyond corpses and bloodstains. Most starkly, we glimpsed the world’s shameful, naked reality.
‘How on earth did they acquire so much? From whom?’
Military officials? High-ranking politicians? Or perhaps smugglers willing to profit from anything? Maybe all of them?
I couldn’t say for certain. But one thing was clear: someone was watering the weeds that desperately needed to be uprooted.
“Damn bastards.”
Chuck Haigl, muttering bitterly, hurled his cigar into the distance. The faint, smoldering flame gradually extinguished completely in the dark desert, now blanketed by biting cold. Watching it disappear entirely, he exhaled and spoke.
“Crazy Korean. What are you planning to do now?”
At his sudden question, I, who had been lost in thought, answered calmly. I had already made my decision days ago.
“I’m thinking of returning.”
“To South Korea? Well, it certainly wouldn’t be North Korea, so that makes sense.”
“Perhaps.”
Half right, half wrong.
But I neither confirmed nor denied, simply shrugging. At my response, Chuck Haigl offered a bitter smile.
“Right. You can’t keep wearing this ridiculous mask and playing vigilante forever.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s particularly ridiculous.”
“Seriously? South Korean fashion sense, is that what you’re saying?”
I chuckled softly in response.
“Not to us.”
“Huh?”
“To the rebel forces and terrorists. How would they see it?”
“…!”
Chuck Haigl fell silent, his lips pressed firmly together. I gazed up at the night sky, scattered with countless unnamed constellations, and continued.
“The Mujahideen. Al-Qaeda. The ISIS Syria Branch….”
Over the past week, I recited the names of the massive terrorist organizations whose leaders and headquarters we had obliterated, as well as the smaller groups we had completely eradicated.
“Though we couldn’t resolve everything, it certainly served as a clear warning to them.”
They knew neither our names nor our ages, not even our nationalities or faces.
Concealed behind masks, we evaded surveillance through Magic Johnson’s magic, constantly changing our weapons and combat methods. And….
“There’s no enemy more terrifying than one whose identity remains unknown.”
In merely a week, we had become the object of terror for these organizations. No amount of bounty could capture us, and their signature tactic—retaliatory terrorism—proved useless against an enemy they couldn’t identify.
Moreover, several leaders of the world’s most notorious international terrorist organizations were already dead by our hands or under our control, sowing discord within their ranks.
“If they wish to avoid the same fate, they’ll keep their heads down and cower.”
Weak suppression invites resistance, but overwhelming force breeds fear and dread.
The prisoners we liberated had already spoken before microphones and cameras about what they witnessed and endured, and the international community was once again ablaze like a furnace.
About the atrocities unfolding across the globe. And about us.
“Gradually, things will improve.”
Malice, like a weed, sprouts first in the human heart, and those harboring malice commit evil deeds.
But what can we do?
While we cannot completely eradicate the weeds growing in the heart, we can at least pull out the weeds we can see.
“It’s not about how many weeds we pull, but how many people pull weeds together. You and I. Just as we have.”
One person focuses on one thing. Another on two. Or perhaps three.
If everyone directs their attention this way, wouldn’t the weeds eventually disappear? I had only recently arrived at that small yet profound realization.
“Well, that’s what I think, anyway.”
Had I been rambling to myself too much?
As I quietly closed my mouth, Chuck Haigl, who had been watching me with an odd expression, suddenly spoke up.
“Hey. Can I ask you one thing?”
“Anything.”
“I didn’t get an answer earlier… where exactly are you heading back to? From what you just said, it sounds like you’d need to go to the Vatican at minimum.”
I chuckled softly before responding.
“It’s hard to explain, but it’s a place similar to here.”
“Where. Afghanistan?”
“Much farther than that. Far, far farther.”
“…Much farther?”
At Chuck Haigl’s bewildered expression, my laughter deepened despite myself.
That’s right. It was time to return now. After handling the final task I had postponed until the end.

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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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