The Crazy Villain Regains His Sanity - Chapter 40

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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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Episode 40

Word that Berserker had eliminated the Executioner reached the Awakened Security Office and made its way to Cheong Wa Dae.
I’d expected blowback for bringing in a madman, but the reaction was overwhelmingly positive.

“Berserker is an Awakened who will become a tremendous asset to our nation. I want to express my gratitude for bringing him into the fold.”

I’d never seen Cheon Myeong-guk wear such a bright expression. It spoke volumes about just how formidable Berserker’s power truly was. Enough that the government was willing to borrow the strength of a lunatic.
Then again, in my previous life he’d shown the tenacity of a cockroach, clinging to survival for fifteen years straight, so he must have been quite the headache for the authorities.

“Simply having a Villain of Berserker’s caliber not act as a variable provides tremendous reassurance. Madmen are unpredictable—you never know when they’ll lash out. The unfortunate part is that this arrangement cannot be publicly disclosed.”

Berserker’s current position amounted to being a Villain hired under the government’s name. Compensation was discussed—money, equipment, and the like—but I’d need to ask what he actually needed.
The government revealed they had long kept a watchful eye on Villains who committed relatively fewer atrocities and struggled to adapt to society.
They’d been pushing forward a plan to weaponize them, but the problem was lack of anyone capable of controlling Villains’ ferocity, so it had been indefinitely postponed.
Now, with my connection to Berserker, they’d finally taken a step forward.
I’d spent my entire previous life on the run.
This bastard should be grateful to me. I showed him how to get the Omnipoisonous Needle. That Needle—I covet it, but I should research whether there’s a way to obtain it without killing Berserker.

“Simply reducing the burden of organizing pursuit teams against Villains is encouraging.”

And here this man was, back then he’d struck some grand compromise to kill me in my previous life?
Thinking about what I suffered through then, I still feel rage crawling up my spine.
Which made me want to be a bit petulant with him?

“Superhuman, have I done something wrong?”
“Nothing at all.”
“Thank goodness. If I ever offend you, please let me know at once. I’ll correct it immediately.”
“Only—Berserker is a willful creature, so it’s best not to expect cooperative behavior.”
“Yes, I’m aware. Even so, that alone is more than satisfactory.”

His calculation was simple: Among the four greatest threats to the Republic of Korea—Berserker, Puppeteer, Executioner, and Black Reaper—two were dead and one had become an ally, which meant the Villain faction had contracted significantly.
The League had withdrawn, and Monster hunting was proceeding smoothly.
More than half the nation’s territory remained Monster Domains, but compared to other countries that had lost seventy to eighty percent, or even over ninety percent of their land, the situation was manageable.

“Black Reaper is a Villain whose true nature is difficult to grasp, so with this dangerous singular Villain eliminated, circumstances have shifted considerably.”

The Black Reaper, the last remaining assassin, was a Villain whose identity had never been revealed.
I’d never seen them even in my previous life, yet their reputation was formidable.
Rumors suggested they were from an assassin organization operating within the city, though some claimed they weren’t a single individual but an entire organization.

“And.”

Cheon Myeong-guk shifted his gaze to me and changed the subject.

“Shouldn’t we begin forming your Hunting Team soon?”
“A Hunting Team? What would be the purpose?”
“Superhumans form Hunting Teams to maximize their power potential.”
“Ah, I see.”
“…You weren’t aware of this?”

I’d let it slide past my ears since I had little interest in hunting. It was only recently I’d learned how crucial this was for evaluation as a Superhuman.
But did I really need a Hunting Team?
I spent my entire previous life hunting Monsters alone.
I’d never felt the need for one.
Higher-tier creatures charged in without proper judgment, and I didn’t even need to draw aggro.
Is it because I dismantle the monsters after each hunt? Though even then, no one dismantles them as perfectly as I do—not with a Slash Gift like mine.

“I haven’t really thought about it, to be honest.”
“Hmph.”

Cheon Myeong-guk’s expression shifted into one I’d seen from him countless times before.
Does he really think I’m only half a person?
I should add Cheon Myeong-guk to my mental backup list. Of course, he can be removed anytime if he proves innocent.
Really.

“Strange rumors are spreading precisely because you haven’t formed a Hunting Team.”
“So you’re saying I need to form a Hunting Team to quash those rumors.”

I’d thought the rumors stemmed from my not participating in hunts, but it seemed he’d pieced together that I hadn’t formed a team either.
My lips may be hard to loosen, but the lips of a Hunting Team member would be far easier to move.
Besides, I felt no particular need to quash the rumors. Anyone who wanted to curse my name was doing so anyway—so wouldn’t it be a win for both sides to draw them all out this time?
They get to vent their stress cursing me, and I get to know who’s talking behind my back.
Is this what they call win-win? How beautiful.

“Superhuman, this isn’t someone else’s problem. There are many eyes watching to see when you’ll form a Hunting Team.”
“I’ll give it some thought. But I don’t think a Hunting Team is really necessary for me.”
“Superhumans need a Hunting Team—very much so.”
“I don’t.”
“Superhuman, please…….”

Just as Cheon Myeong-guk was practically beseeching me, a loud alert came through with an incoming call.

“Superhuman, it’s a Superhuman Call.”

A Superhuman Call is a request made when external parties need a Superhuman’s power. Whether to respond is decided by the Awakened Security Office and the Superhuman in question.
Most matters are filtered out at the Awakened Security Office level, but the fact that they were bringing this to me meant it required consultation.

“A Class-7 Hazard Black Wyvern has strayed beyond its Monster Domain, and a Hunting Team is in danger.”
“They’re all done for then.”
“If you don’t respond, the Hunting Team will be annihilated.”

The problem was that the Hunting Team wasn’t far from the city—close enough that the creature could potentially threaten the urban areas as well.
Cheon Myeong-guk’s eyes turned toward me, mixed with both difficulty and desperation, though even he seemed uncertain.

“I’ll go.”
“I’ll have a helicopter standing by.”

Cheon Myeong-guk and I headed for the Cheong Wa Dae helipad. Along the way, he briefed me with basic information about the Black Wyvern and how to counter it.
It could identify prey from ten kilometers away, and it killed every creature it saw—whether or not they were food.
The information seemed thinner than what I already knew.
On top of that, the Black Wyvern had another problem: it had poor judgment of its own limits.
In other words, it barges into places it shouldn’t survive, gets beaten down, and learns nothing.

“What matters most is the Hunting Team’s survival. They’ll provide support for you.”

Since I hadn’t formed my own Hunting Team, he was telling me to use the team on-site as my backup.
I could sense the wish that I perform well in the hunt, that the government-affiliated Hunting Team would survive.
The Black Wyvern’s current location was near the border between Anseong City and Jincheon County.
Before boarding the helicopter, I asked Cheon Myeong-guk a question.

“My orders are absolute at the scene, correct?”
“Yes, that’s correct, but…….”
“Understood. I’ll head out.”

Watching Cheon Myeong-guk’s expression turn somewhat uncertain, I silently told him: that was the right answer.

* * *

Support’s en route. They’ll be here within forty minutes.
“Forty minutes.”

Lee Chang-su, leader of the government-affiliated Hellhound Hunting Team, kept repeating the words like an incantation. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have thought forty minutes was particularly long, but now—in this moment—it felt like an eternity with his blood draining away.

“The Superhuman Call was answered. Full retreat starting now. Forty minutes. That’s how long it’ll take for a Superhuman to reach the Black Wyvern and engage.”
“If a Superhuman arrives, we can survive this, sir?”

Lee Chang-su turned at the skeptical tone. There stood Han Jung-seok, a third-year member of Hellhound, his expression clouded with doubt.

“We’ll survive.”
“I’m not convinced, sir.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“Choi Jun-ho has never been tested in an actual hunt.”

At twenty-eight, Han Jung-seok was young, but he was a talent Lee Chang-su had cultivated carefully. His tactical judgment was sharp, his courage fearless, and his devotion to protecting his teammates was beyond question. He was invaluable to the unit.
Through tireless effort across every front, he’d helped elevate Hellhound’s hunting capability. His goal had always been to see his team rise above the major guilds and become the best.
Yet he harbored deep reservations about Choi Jun-ho.

“Choi Jun-ho’s arrival could actually strip away your command authority and create chaos. Our survival odds might be better if he didn’t show up at all.”
“So you’re saying we should ignore the Superhuman who’s coming to save us right now?”
“That’s not what I mean, but—”
“Other teams are being targeted as we speak. Not just us.”

The closest team had already fallen to the Black Wyvern. Even now, multiple hunting teams were under attack, going dark one by one. Communications ceasing. Teams vanishing.
Hunted in darkness, unable to know where or when the next strike would come—they were withdrawing in fear.
Han Jung-seok exhaled slowly and laid bare his concern.

“Honestly, sir, I can’t trust a Superhuman with no hunting experience.”

This Superhuman had appeared half a year ago, taking down only Villains. His most impressive credential was capturing the Puppeteer.
Hundreds of Villains subdued—that was impressive. But there wasn’t a single Monster hunt on his record. His raw strength couldn’t be denied, but it was perfectly reasonable to worry about the various side effects inexperienced Awakened often suffered when they first hunted Monsters. The trauma could haunt them for life, leaving them unable to hunt ever again. Or they could freeze under a Monster’s murderous intent and die without meaning to. It happened all the time.
There was a reason most casualties occurred on first Monster hunts, and why major guilds always paired rookie Hunters with veterans. Training wheels existed for a reason.
Choi Jun-ho remained too much of an unknown.

That distinction belonged to Choi Jun-ho, a name that had come from nowhere.
Lee Chang-su didn’t know him personally. But he believed in the genius Choi Jun-ho possessed.

“Understood, sir.”

Communications crackled constantly during the flight—casualty counts, the Black Wyvern’s position, all of it reported in real-time.
With a helicopter like this, you didn’t miss Space-type Gifts.

“Should we land nearby?”
“Keep going as we are.”
“Pardon? But if we continue, there’s a Black Wyvern ahead.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“.…!”

The pilot turned his head with startled eyes, staring at me.
Why was he so shocked about heading toward a monster?

“We have to get close to the Black Wyvern if we’re going to catch it.”
“.….”

The Black Wyvern could identify prey up to ten kilometers away.
That was assuming the prey was on the ground. In the open sky with no obstacles, its field of vision would surely be wider. Once it spotted us, it would come regardless.

“Let’s go.”
“…Understood.”

My authority as an Awakened didn’t require me to invoke field command to be heard. The hesitant pilot nodded and steered toward the Black Wyvern.

“Black Wyvern spotted. Ten kilometers or less.”

We’d already entered its field of vision. The pilot began to tremble violently. The helicopter wasn’t shaking—the pilot was.
I spoke to the quaking pilot.

“Keep going.”
“Y-yes! Yes!”

The helicopter surged forward, closing the distance to the Black Wyvern. With each meter, the pilot’s trembling intensified.

“Five kilometers from Black Wyvern!”

The Black Wyvern came into view. Its body resembled a lizard’s, stretching nearly twenty meters in length, with bat-like wings. I’d always found it curious how something with such modest wings managed to fly at all.
As a side note, Black Wyvern meat doesn’t taste particularly good.

“Three kilometers from Black Wyvern!”
“Keep going.”
“Two kilometers from Black Wyvern! It’s spotted us! It’s beginning its approach!”

The report trembled with panic. I could see it too.
The Black Wyvern’s flight speed was formidable. The closing gap between us shrank in an instant.

“One kilometer from Black Wyvern! Sir, what should we do?”
“I’ll catch it.”
“Sir?”
“When I jump out, perform evasive maneuvers.”

I opened the helicopter door.
A ferociously powerful wind tore in. I watched the Black Wyvern diving toward me—unaware it was the prey and mistaking me for food. Pure lizard-level intelligence.
Come to think of it, the higher the threat level of a monster, the less it grasped its own position and the more mindlessly it raged. Lower-tier monsters, conversely, had sharp survival instincts and naturally dodged well.
This was why Hunting Teams shouldn’t be necessary at all. All you had to do was catch them as they threw themselves toward their own demise—yet here we were, assembling teams. The more people involved, the more tedious it became.
I kicked off the floor and threw myself into the open air.

Boom!

Force drained from me as a Force Platform materialized beneath my feet. I charged toward the Black Wyvern, pushing off from the platform.
Without a flight Gift, I hurled an enormous quantity of Force to sustain myself in the air. It was like bailing from the ocean with a bucket.
As the Black Wyvern drew near, it opened its maw wide. It was attempting to unleash its Breath.
It was treating me the same as the prey it had caught before. That’s how I knew it was a true bird-brain.

Shriek!

A torrent of flame erupted from its maw. I pushed off hard with a Force Platform, launching myself high to evade the Breath. The air around me superheated, and a wave of scorching warmth washed across my skin. If this thing started a forest fire, that would be a hassle.
As I dodged upward, the Black Wyvern’s eyes tracked my movement, following my trajectory.
Flying monsters are troublesome for two reasons: they command the skies freely, forcing you to surrender the initiative, and when they attack from above like this Breath, you have few options for a counterattack.
But now that I could move freely through the air as well, all of its advantages evaporated. In fact, when it breathed fire, its body went rigid—making it nothing more than a massive target.

“A mistake these bird-brains make most often.”

Crack!

The Black Wyvern’s skull caved inward. Though my Force couldn’t pierce the tough hide, the brain inside was shredded by the impact, reduced to pulp.
No matter how tenacious a creature’s life force, a destroyed brain offers no chance at survival.

Shriek!

The Black Wyvern’s death cry tore from its throat as its eyes rolled back, and it went limp.
Back when I was a Bloodline, I hunted countless bird-brains this same way. They believe themselves apex predators, so when you get close and plant a Force detonation in their skull, it’s a guaranteed one-hit kill.
I wonder if it’ll work on Nuri, that Rank 8 Calamity-class flying monster. I’ll find out soon enough.

“Noisy thing.”

I hung motionless in the air, watching the corpse plummet below, then drifted toward the returning helicopter.
The helicopter ride itself had been the worst part of this hunt.

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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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