Chapter 120: Past and Present Collide
Staring at the purple cube sitting over the docks, the pressure in his gut eased a fraction. As the boat crept closer, he picked out the crowd gathered outside, Min's aura, Gregor's too, both standing out like fire in fog.
"A warm body to eat. Maybe a bed. But noooo…"
He spun, hands thrown up, a vein beating at his temple hard enough to sting.
"Always some bullshit. Always!"
[Consider it balance. Your bullshit luck needed a counterweight.]
"Why?! And why the hell do you sound like you enjoy watching me suffer? My luck is your luck, asshole!"
At the bow, Pain and Panic went stiff at the sound of his voice. Heads down. Shoulders tight. They'd learned fast—when Broodfather argued with the empty air, silence kept you alive. Even Hex held his tongue.
Blindfolded, cross-legged atop the cabin, Hex drifted in the rhythm of the waves. Arms resting loose, head tilted, he listened. Birds. Water. Wood strain. Every word from his father. He hummed low, running notes under his breath like he was tuning the entire ocean.
Beside him sat one of the two newest broodlings, thin horns curling straight up from his skull. The creature twitched with every sound Hex made, leaning in closer each time, hungry to understand.
"What is that?"
Hex stopped humming, head angling toward him.
"What is what?"
"That sound you're making."
Hex smiled, puffing his chest a little.
"It's something I learned from Father."
At the word Father, the new broodling lit up, scooting closer, claws tapping the deck.
"Then you're important. Big brother Pain said Father only teaches the ones who prove themselves. What did you do?"
A beat of silence. Hex swallowed, lowering his voice.
"Father didn't really teach me. I only heard him once—glgh!"
Before he could finish, Panic's foot slammed into his face from above.
"PAIN! You hear that? Hex has SECRETS!"
Panic cackled, stomping gleefully.
"Says Father taught him something! Sweet idiot! Tender, blind brother! Ranked above us!"
Hex didn't fight back until he felt the edges of his cloth slip. Then his teeth snapped without thinking, sinking into Panic's foot.
Panic shrieked with a grin, springing up, quickly landing heel-first on Hex's stomach… then his face… then his face again.
Noise rumbled overhead like a fistfight rolling across the roof. Seo-jin looked up as he climbed the stairs out of the storage hold.
"Cut it out up there! You throw him, Panic, and you're swimming after him! Put him down!"
He slammed the hatch shut and wiped his face, the pulse in his temple pounding harder. Emptying the storage had been quick work, but his system inventory couldn't swallow all of it. He'd stuffed the excess into the Growths. With over a hundred lesser broodlings already sealed inside, he was starting to wonder where the hell it all went.
Stepping out onto the deck, he saw the Dead Hands clustered at the docks, already sensing his return.
"Alright boys. Get inside."
His shirt vanished as his fingers hit the rune under his pauldron. Armor plates shifted. Pain, Panic, and Hex lined up like eager dogs, the Twinback Growths snapping and grinding.
One glance told him everything, Hex's lip swollen, his gait off. The broodling was almost a week into fighting blindness. No new senses had surfaced yet, exactly as expected. Didn't stop Seo-jin from acting disappointed with the broodling every time he checked.
"Follow your brothers, Widow. And where's Bile? Is he still—?!"
He reached through the broodlink and found the last newcomer exactly where he figured: balled up inside a rope spool, trying to disappear.
A strangled yelp tore from the back of the boat as the broodlink hit him like a hammer. Bile scrambled forward, claws scraping, hurling himself across the cabin roof before collapsing at Seo-jin's feet in a twitching heap.
"Bile is sorry! Bile is worthle—!"
Pain cut him off by grabbing his skull. Bile shrieked as heat burned into him. Pain pushed him into the waiting Growths. The fiery broodling's lips curled into a snarl as the Twinbacks ate.
"Why keep this one? He is weak. Weakness should be culled."
A slow warmth towards his first born slid across Seo-jin's chest.
"Normally, you'd be right. But I'll allow him time to find his worth. If he fails, you can all kill him for me."
The boat started creaking as pressure poured off the broodlings. Even Hex grinned through his injuries. Only Widow stood apart, eyes wide as the truth settled in: this family had no room for anything but strength.
Moments later, the tearing and chewing stopped. Silence settled.
Seo-jin stood alone on the deck, wondering if he'd rolled the dice wrong. Widow had come from a strip of his own skin, chosen, deliberate, meant to inherit Lilid's bloodline once he hit level ten.
Bile, though… Bile had been born from a chunk of intestine. He was starting to suspect more than flesh got mixed into that summoning.
Hand resting on his chest for a second, he stared at the approaching shore.
"Hope Grimm's doing okay."
[He was pissed.]
"He's better off with Snare for now. I'll make it up to him."
[Softie.]
"Jealous?"
[You fuckin wish.]
Smirking, he moved toward the bow...and froze.
Sunlight vanished.
A shadow swallowed him whole. He looked up and his eyes damn near jumped out of his skull.
"You crazy b—!"
"DIE!"
KA—TOOOM!
The ship's nose plunged, spraying a wall of seawater high enough to drown the mast. The hull howled as defensive runes lit up and burned white. When the boat slammed back into place, Min's voice boomed through the crash like thunder.
"You corpse-fucking, lying piece of shit! Where have you been?!"
Seo-jin rolled to his feet, ready to swing.
"You trying to sink us?! The fuck is wrong with you?! I should kick your dumb, gorilla ass into the ocean!"
"Okay, enough. Min. Brain matters as much as fist."
Perched on the railing behind her, Gregor blocked the sun from his eyes, a faint smile aimed at Seo-jin.
"Though you did take your time. Welcome back, demon."
"Fuck his welcome! And my brain works fine! I just wanna bash his head in."
Seeing Min wasn't about to throw another punch, Seo-jin eased his stance but didn't take his eyes off her.
"I know I'm late. Once I explain why, both of you are gonna agree it was worth it. But first—tell me what's going on. Anyone of ours inside?"
Gregor's face hardened. He dropped from the railing. The man looked half-awake—black sweats, white shirt, sandals. A version of Gregor Seo-jin hadn't seen before. He slowly rubbed his bald head.
"We saw the drop long before it hit. Everyone cleared. Only Woon Corporation inside."
Seo-jin had expected that. B-rank cubes fell slow enough that only idiots got caught under one. And finding a high-rank dungeon without the Woons camping it was unheard of.
"Do we know the team?"
The question hit both of them like a hammer. Gregor and Min both turned toward the shimmering purple cube, jaws clenched, shoulders locked.
Min answered.
"It's the three cunts. Two guards… and Ivan Cho."
Gregor's fingers clenched into the railing, runes whining under the pressure.
Seo-jin didn't need an explanation. Woon Sisters. Spoiled trash, familiar to his body's memories, but not the problem. Not today. His eyes drifted to Gregor, and he saw the quiet, murderous pressure rolling off the man.
Ivan Cho. Head of Woon Security. The one name Gregor wanted to carve off the earth.
Keeping the grin off his face, Seo-jin lifted a hand toward the Dead Hands gathering at the dock.
"You know we're not ready."
Gregor didn't look away from the dungeon.
"I know."
"Then… are we going to have problems?"
Silence. Heavy enough to bow the planks. Min's muscles crackled as she tensed, ready to grab Gregor if he snapped. She knew his obsession. Knew how deep it ran. Knew how ugly it got.
At last Gregor exhaled.
"No problems."
Seo-jin clapped him once on the back, smiling as he barked a command in dwarvish for the boat to slow.
"We'll talk once they leave. For now, smile and bow, but be patient. Not long from now, everything's gonna to be ours."
Gregor and Min exchanged a quick look. They felt it...his stance, his voice, his aura. He wasn't just stronger. There was an edge to him that wasn't there before. Sharp, and focused.
Dead Hands on shore shouted as the boat cut against the dock. With a single word from Seo-jin, the runes locked the vessel in place, ropes unnecessary.
The greetings went as expected. Cheers, noise, questions, hands grabbing for attention. With Gregor and Min's help, the gang settled, forming a loose ring around their returning boss.
Seo-jin opened his mouth to speak, but then paranoia crawled up his spine like a cold hand.
'Better not let them see it.'
He turned back toward the boat. A leather bag materialized in his grip—the same one Thragdur had handed him in the training hall.
He opened the throat of the sack toward the deck. The carved wood shuddered, then shrank, folding in on itself before the entire craft slammed into the bag in one violent pull. He cinched the cord shut. The sack vanished into his inventory. Only then did he turn back to face his men.
"Alright, you ugly bastards! I've heard your questions, and I know you've now got more—but we've got guests who need our attention first!"
Booing rolled across the crowd. Groans followed. Most of the faces weren't even familiar anymore. Too many new bodies, too many gaps filled.
"Once they're gone, we feast tonight! Every question will be answered! And I want reports from every single one of you on what you've done while I've been gone."
More groans. Min crushed them with a single stomp that snapped boards.
Seo-jin opened his mouth to continue, but the dungeon pulsed, a deep, echoing chord ripped through the air that shut him up.
Min spoke instead.
"They cleared it already? Fast."
The giant purple cube rippled like water hit by a hammer. Seo-jin walked toward it, voice thrown back over his shoulder.
"Line up! Show some damn effort!"
"Yes, boss!"
Dead Hands snapped into motion, forming a rough line along the strip. None of them knew where the exit would open, but appearance mattered, they had to look ready to assist, even if they wanted nothing to do with the Woon rats inside.
[You really gonna bow?]
'No. But I'll get close to it, if I have to.'
A yellow flare of system light burst on his left, Min swapping into jeans, boots, and her leather chestpiece. On his right, Gregor shifted with a wash of grey, black slacks and a white button-up settling over him. His aura drifted like smoke leaking from a corpse.
Seo-jin weighed his own look, then dismissed the chestpiece. Red button-up. Black slacks. Bare feet on salt-warped wood. His toes twitched as he glanced at Gregor's polished leather shoes.
'Yeah…guess I do need some.'
Too late. The cube split with a series of cracks. It screamed. The surface convulsed, then burst outward. Millions of motes of light erupted like a star dying in reverse.
It was his first time seeing a dungeon clear from the outside. He couldn't help staring as the light tore itself apart.
"Shit."
Min's voice snapped him back. Seo-jin followed her glare, and saw why she'd soured. Fifty feet ahead, stepping out of the dissolving glow like they'd been exhaled by the cube, the dungeon party took form.
Bloodlust surged off Gregor like a signal flare. Seo-jin leaned in, voice quiet and sharp enough to cut through bone.
"I'll feed you to them if you fuck this up. Calm down."
A twitch went through Gregor's jaw. His aura snuffed out. His stance eased. But his eyes stayed locked on a single man.
"Good enough."
Seo-jin signaled the gang forward and walked to meet the party.
"Congratulations on the clear! And in a hell of a time. I shouldn't be shocked with the Woon Sisters involved. Any wounded? Need a hand?"
As he closed the distance, the group came into full view, then vanished under a blitz of multicolored system light as they stowed their gear.
Six total.
The three blonde sisters. Two guards in black suits. And the last man—the one who hit Seo-jin's senses like a blade of cold iron.
'Demonic energy? But human. Not a contract… deeper. A full demonic class. Has to be.'
Ivan Cho.
Black suit, better cut than the guards. Hair slicked back, pitch-dark and clean. Eyes the same—void-black. Not a mark on his skin. Too perfect. Too polished. Too pretty.
Seo-jin hated him on sight.
The guards stepped forward, bodies closing the gap between him and the sisters. Every face carried the same practiced contempt for the gang.
"We don't need aid. Stay back until—"
"Seo-jin? Wohan Seo-jin, is that you?"
Everyone stopped. Seo-jin included. A memory he'd never lived...hot, stupid, and painfully human, shot through his mind.
'Seo-jin, you horny idiot…'
One of the Woon sisters slid past the guards. Her smile was bright, familiar. Arms spread wide.
"I heard a rumor you died. Then another one saying you came back. Strange timing you little devil. Be honest—"
Her arms wrapped around him, her hand grabbing a full handful of ass.
"You were hiding from me, weren't you?"
He hugged her back because he had no choice, his jaw locked tight as the entire dock stared. Every Dead Hand. Every Woon guard. Gregor burning holes through Ivan. Min vibrating like a grenade.
And inside, Azakh-Tur cursed the original Wohan Seo-jin to a second death.