Murim Login - Chapter 744

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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 744
A thought suddenly crossed my mind.
I wished that all these circumstances tormenting me right now were merely a scene from some film or novel—something like that.
‘Then evidence would pop up from somewhere, at least.’
Of course, contrary to the hope I harbored in my heart, nothing of the sort occurred.
All of us, myself included, combed through Siegfried Bassman’s hideout with meticulous care, but what emerged wasn’t evidence of his death—it was people.
More precisely, roughly a hundred Hunters belonging to the Swiss Federal Police who arrived belatedly in our wake.
“Everyone, please stop.”
“From this point forward, we will be taking control of the scene in accordance with legal procedures. Please put down whatever you’re holding immediately…”
What could I do?
Had they drawn their swords without warning, I would have answered with my spear, but they were executing their duties and wielded the invincible cheat code of legal procedure instead of steel.
Even the Sa-pa swordsmen, who would draw their weapons at the slightest provocation, hesitate before official authorities.
Much less would I, a logical-minded person of the twenty-first century, have any other answer predetermined from the start.
“Do you happen to use handcuffs as well?”
“…Yes?”
“Well, that might be a bit much. So what do we do now?”
Causing trouble again while countless media outlets were wishing me eternal health and hurling curses would be madness.
My companions and I cooperated with the Swiss Hunters so readily that they seemed taken aback, and after a thorough body search and brief questioning, we were released.
Along with a single remark from a high-ranking Gate Administrator who introduced himself as the investigation supervisor.
“Further investigation regarding this case will proceed, so we ask for your cooperation in the future.”
That was all.
We hadn’t done anything particularly incriminating, but even so, their nonchalant response was quite unexpected to me.
According to Choi Team Leader’s investigation, Michael Silbert’s influence reached the highest echelons of governments worldwide, and Switzerland in particular served as a tax haven for the astronomical assets he possessed.
‘I was certain that bastard would use Switzerland to apply pressure somehow.’
And Choi Team Leader neatly resolved this doubt I had expressed.
“They deliberately let us go. Since it’s clear that both the evidence and circumstances have no connection whatsoever to us, they judged it impossible to proceed further.”
“Michael? Wouldn’t just being entangled in this incident be a loss for us?”
“The masses are fickle creatures. Currently, there are no shortage of people governed by media and public sentiment who curse us, but that’s only because the Prophet and terrorism provide seemingly plausible justification.”
“If the justification is lacking, the masses won’t be deceived either?”
“Humanity has been driven by justification for thousands of years. But if that justification wavers, a considerable number of those who were blaming us will switch their stance.”
“I see.”
When I think about it, this is a pattern I see often—quite frequently, actually.
Just looking at entertainment news on portal sites reveals this pattern abundantly.
When a celebrity becomes embroiled in scandal, countless netizens swarm like bees, clinging to the honey spilled by the media.
From genius prophets who claim they knew it from debut, to twenty-first-century physiognomists insisting that face-reading is science.
And when new facts emerge and the situation reverses just as the swarm is deciding the winner of the greatest insult competition by recommendation count, the bees instantly change their tune.
Why do they do this?
Simple.
‘Because they have no more justification to curse.’
This incident entangled with Siegfried Bassman’s suspicious death was precisely such a case.
Michael Silbert saw through people’s psychology and knew precisely when to advance and when to hold back.
“Michael is, in a word, insane.”
Magic Johnson, who suddenly broke the silence, continued in a subdued voice.
“But the greatest reason we must be wary of him is that this madman is more meticulous and powerful than anyone else.”
Skeleton King also opened his mouth with a grave expression rarely seen from him.
“I concur. When I first saw him in Paris, I felt an uncanniness so profound it was hard to believe he was human.”
Most madmen end up locked away in prisons or psychiatric hospitals.
But a madman like Michael who possesses everything—the world calls him by a different name.
A strong one.
Among those I met in the Modern World, Lee Jung-yong was one, and Seok Go-jun, though inferior to my master in many ways, still fell squarely within that category.
But he… had already transcended that boundary.
A madman who could only emerge from combining and multiplying those two.
Michael Silbert was a monster who had abandoned any pretense of remaining human.
‘Why, exactly? For what purpose has he gone this far?’
I lifted my head alongside the question. The sky was damnably clear, and the surrounding landscape, which preserved Northern Europe’s natural beauty intact, was beautiful in stark contrast to our current situation.
Damn it.
I muttered a soft curse under my breath and pulled a small pouch from my pocket, handing it to Magic Johnson.
“Here.”
“This is… a subspace pocket.”
“Don’t open it now. Take it and examine it carefully. After all, Choi Team Leader and I are hopeless with magic, so we wouldn’t understand it anyway.”
“Magic? Jin. What are you suddenly talking about?”
Magic Johnson, who had worn a bewildered expression, suddenly realized something and widened his eyes.
“You don’t mean…?”
“Yes. I snatched it earlier. Well, the deceased would understand too.”
“…!”
“…!”
“…!”
Three people—no, two people and one monster—stood with their mouths agape. I let out a deliberate sigh at their reaction.
“Your reaction is underwhelming. Should I just return it now?”
Snap.
Magic Johnson, clutching the subspace pocket, stammered as he opened his mouth.
“Ah, no, that’s not it. But how did you even…?”
“The Hunters assigned to search me were rather careless about it.”
Choi Team Leader, who had only been blinking, also asked.
“Careless, you say?”
“Yes.”
A blatant lie, of course.
The Grand Mage’s magical research materials were themselves an enormous treasure.
The Swiss Hunters thoroughly searched the subspace pocket we carried, fearing even one piece might leak out.
With the exception of my inventory.
‘To be precise, it was impossible from the very beginning.’
After I gave up searching the corpse for evidence, I gathered every scrap of material I could find.
Anything that seemed remotely useful. I simply took whatever came to hand.
And the result of that theft was now held in Magic Johnson’s hands—that subspace pocket.
“Wait, we didn’t even notice. When on earth did you manage this?”
“I told you. Security was lax, so I slipped it out quietly.”
“Slipped it out?”
Magic Johnson muttered as he opened the pocket to examine its contents.
“…Jin, you didn’t steal the entire laboratory, did you?”
“….”
“…Jin?”
Well.
I ended up bringing quite a lot when I was gathering this and that.
Of course, everyone was far too frantic, and there were mountains of documents besides these, so it probably didn’t stand out much.
Probably.
“In any case, the materials are sufficient, yes?”
“Sufficient? Is that what you call it? It’s overflowing.”
“Then please conduct your investigation based on those materials for the time being.”
“But focusing solely on investigation when the current situation is… No. We’ll do our best. If we can find even the smallest clue from these materials, Michael won’t be able to rampage like this.”
I nodded.
“I’m counting on you.”
The amplified mana distribution is causing even greater damage as it spreads.
If Magic Johnson actively engaged in damage control, it would certainly be helpful, but we needed to solve the fundamental problem first.
“We’ll gather information from other angles. If we can just identify one person’s whereabouts, we might be able to prevent the worst-case scenario.”
At Choi Team Leader’s words that followed, Magic Johnson answered with something like a sigh.
“The Prophet.”
“Yes. If either of these two heads disappears, the situation would improve considerably.”
“If we could eliminate The Prophet, there’d be nothing better. We have Jin on our side, so once his whereabouts are revealed, he’s as good as dead. The problem is….”
“I understand. Even the Pentagon hasn’t been able to locate him yet. But we have to try somehow, don’t we?”
Michael Silbert and The Prophet.
The Prophet and Michael Silbert.
Two madmen moving as if they were one body, but to me, The Prophet was by far the easier target to eliminate.
Killing the master of the World’s Greatest Guild outright would make me a bastard on par with Demon King Asmodeus, but bringing the head of a deranged fanatic terrorist would earn me the applause of the entire world.
“We have to find him.”
I added calmly, yet with fury burning beneath my words.
“Even if we have to turn the entire desert upside down.”
* * *
The civilization humanity had achieved was magnificent.
In the distant past, that moment when they first discovered fire and cheered—it could no longer be found anywhere.
Those who once wandered in groups had somehow built an agricultural society, and before long they had erected factories where fields once flourished, completing the present world through countless steel and blood.
Once the weakest of creatures, humanity had become the master of this blue world.
They soared through the heavens at speeds faster than light, ventured into the cosmos, and in the process, created weapons to destroy one another.
Humanity was the ruler of this land, its subjects, and simultaneously endless explorers pushing ever forward.
Yet even they could not accomplish everything.
There existed realms untouched even after hundreds of millions of years had passed—territories that magic itself could not conquer.
One was the infinite expanse of the cosmos, and the other was the abyssal depths where even light could not reach.
The Deep Sea.
Even adventurers who had discovered five oceans and six continents, who had glimpsed the reaches of the cosmos itself, had never set foot in that place—a realm still brimming with countless mysteries and secrets.
Or perhaps it was a secret that should never have been disturbed.
Crack.
Something colossal stirred. Hundreds of deep-sea creatures, mistaking it for terrain as they wandered nearby, could not withstand the force it emanated and were torn asunder.
Splash.
In that moment, the darkness of the Deep Sea—where light itself could not penetrate—swallowed the crimson blood.
Whoosh.
A faint luminescence spread beyond the darkness.
Each time the scales covering the colossal entity shifted, spanning several meters in radius, the surrounding space alternated between brightness and shadow.
And finally, the center of that light shone with unmistakable clarity.
But it was no bioluminescent organ possessed by mere deep-sea creatures—it held power beyond all comparison.
It was an eye.
The eye of a creature so impossibly vast that comprehension faltered.
A monster long believed extinct by all had awakened, transcending the ages.

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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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