Chapter 62 - Chaos
The great English literary figure T.S. Eliot once said:
"Only those who risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."
It was a sentiment that resonated with the saying: "Only those who challenge themselves can claim victory."
And Jin's response to that was—
Not taking that risk!
Boom—!!!
A deafening explosion tore through the air, and the world spun wildly.
When Jin regained his senses, the ground was right in front of him.
Dizzy, he lifted his head, only to see a torn piece of military uniform in his right hand.
And in the distance—pink underwear.
Bushy leg hair.
Ah, fuck.
Unintentionally, Jin had just committed an act of posthumous molestation.
He hastily flung the pants away.
Even if it was an enemy, he had no interest in knowing their underwear color…
No, but seriously, why pink?
And then—
Boom──!!
Another thunderous roar erupted.
If someone swung a wet towel hundreds of meters long through the air, would it sound like this?
At this level, it was no different from a sonic attack.
Jin grimaced, raising his hands to his ears, but the shockwave that followed hit him like a truck.
His body lifted off the ground.
Failing to land properly, he tumbled across the floor before crashing head-on into the wheel of a parked dump truck.
He slumped lifelessly, and only then did the status window fade away, leaving behind the message:
(On Hold)
"Son of a bi—…"
He didn't even have the strength to finish cursing.
All he could do was open his eyelids slightly.
Up ahead, a battle of apocalyptic proportions was unfolding.
A massive wedge-shaped tornado stretched between sky and earth, colliding with a sandstorm the color of ochre waves.
Corpses, caught in the reversed gravity, floated mid-air, spinning in precise intervals before disintegrating into mere droplets of blood—
Explosions erupted.
Shockwaves rippled.
The ground overturned.
Bullets cut through the darkness, but Jin had no idea where they were even aimed.
And he was supposed to join that chaos?
The absurdity of it all was so overwhelming that Jin actually chuckled.
You only take a shot when you see an opening.
Even at full strength, this was the kind of fight where he'd be gambling his life.
In his current state, it was simply impossible.
150,000 EXP?
It wasn't even a waste—it was just ridiculous.
Considering he had only received 9,000 EXP from fighting Taha, a rough calculation suggested this enemy was worth over sixteen times that.
Of course, he wasn't sure if the Face Collector was actually sixteen times stronger than Taha.
Nor was he certain that strength could even be measured in experience points.
The only thing clear was that the Face Collector was on an entirely different level.
An enemy so formidable that even the city's special forces had to mobilize in full force.
And so, Jin gave up.
He didn't have the strength to lift a finger—might as well just watch.
Where's some popcorn when you need it?
Unfortunately, instead of popcorn, all that flew toward his face were chunks of shattered concrete from the crumbling ground.
"Ptooey, ptooey!" Jin spat out dust and just sprawled on the floor.
Screw it.
Let them kill each other.
Meanwhile, the tide of battle shifted once again.
Beyond the now-vanished sandstorm, the Face Collector emerged—wearing a new skin.
As his form flickered and faded in midair, a voice rang out from somewhere—Q's.
"No. 08 Camouflage. Formation C. Prepare impact rounds."
Jin shook his head.
That headshake carried 5% admiration for the agents and 95% disbelief.
So, the Face Collector could use a different ability with each face he put on?
That was completely broken.
How was an ordinary guy like him supposed to survive in this world?
The nonsense only escalated as the battle intensified.
The Face Collector swapped skins like a master of disguise, and the agents countered each time with precise tactics.
At the heart of the relentless destruction, someone finally began to retreat.
Thud.
An arm fell to the ground, caught in a violent updraft, and was shredded to pieces.
The now one-armed Face Collector glanced down at his ragged shoulder and smirked faintly.
"Not bad, Colonel. Your skills are wasted on that rank."
Colonel John Harrison landed lightly on the ground and replied,
"The higher-ups don't like me smelling like booze. Apparently, they don't want to sit at the same table as a drunk."
"Tsk."
"So, have you shown me everything?"
"Of course not."
The Face Collector twisted his lips into a smile.
The expression was grotesque, especially because the face he wore belonged to a young boy.
"There are so many tempting faces today. If I could, I'd take them all…"
His words trailed off as he looked up at the sky.
His gleaming, maniacal gaze swept across the heavens.
And then, he murmured in a low voice—
"But I suppose… this is enough for today."
As he spoke, his features shifted again—
The new face was unfamiliar.
A gaunt woman, shadows of exhaustion hanging beneath her eyes.
The Colonel flinched.
For the first time, his always-composed expression hardened.
And he wasn't the only one—Q, who had been struggling to lift herself from the ground, also froze.
"…Thea Florence?"
A name, unnumbered and shocking, scattered into the air.
The woman smiled.
"Consider it an honor. You're the first to see this face."
A chilling grin.
And then—
"Come forth, Fire Purge."
The next moment—
A ripple formed in the space behind him.
A perfect circle, expanding infinitely from a single point.
It was a wave that created something from nothing—a portal bridging two different worlds.
And from its depths, a colossal, flame-clad arm swung down at the Colonel.
Its size and mass were overwhelming, yet its speed was absurdly fast.
At the same time, the Face Collector's lips moved—slowly.
"Āgni."
Gwooooo!!
Something let out a massive roar in response, raising its gigantic arm into the air.
Seeing the clenched fist radiating an immense heat, Q shouted urgently.
"Cold shot!"
But before the bullet could even reach, the mass of flames struck the ground first.
─────!!
The sheer force of the impact was enough to send Jin's body airborne despite being far away.
The overwhelming heatwave expanded outward in a dome, consuming everything within.
Pang!
With a sonic boom, the Colonel shot through the air and snatched Jin midair.
The speed was so intense that Jin's skin rippled like waves, and the scenery around him shifted in an instant.
"Ugh!"
By the time he came to his senses, his feet were on solid ground in an unfamiliar location.
Still dazed, Jin turned to look at the Colonel, who was lowering Q to the ground with his other arm.
"Damn it."
The Colonel scowled, looking at the massive pillar of fire shooting into the sky.
Sharing his gaze, Jin thought to himself—
...We lost it, didn't we?
I knew this would happen.
I had a bad feeling about this ever since my experience points were stuck at 150,000.
With the air of a sage who had seen through the world's truths, Jin solemnly nodded to himself before poking Q in the side.
"...Shall we catch it together next time?"
No answer came back.
***
The 40th district had always been a miserable place to live.
There was no need for competition over who had it worse—it was a cesspool where ranking filth was pointless.
But in recent years, that had changed.
Several districts had emerged that could rightfully claim to be in the worst possible state.
One of them was Mute Town.
It all started with a power struggle between a few gangs.
What seemed like a petty fight over pride escalated into a wildfire that consumed the entire city.
That's how it always goes.
The longer a fight drags on, the more its purpose twists.
What began as a trivial battle over protection fees turned into an all-out war for control of Mute Town.
Yes, a war.
Think about how many people must have died.
It wasn't just the gangsters killing each other over their turf.
Innocent people were caught by stray bullets, stabbed in the alleys, brutalized, and used as outlets for sick vengeance.
Mute Town had become the very definition of hell.
And around the same time, a vigilante group had formed in this godforsaken city.
"If no one's going to protect us, we'll protect ourselves!"
A gathering of those who had lost loved ones, their health, or their future to the gangs.
Perhaps they were the last hope to bloom in the gutters.
***
Five years passed.
At last, the long war came to an end.
Had this been a happy ending, it would have been overwhelming.
But what awaited Mute Town was an even greater despair.
Instead of peace, a new military faction, TB, took over.
From that day on, the vigilantes became the resistance.
Not that it made much of a difference.
No matter what they were called, their goal remained the same.
To protect themselves and their people from those bastards who treated human lives like garbage.
That was everything.
***
Another year passed.
Unfortunately, the situation grew more dire by the day.
Their strongholds fell.
Their most powerful ally had hia head crushed.
The resistance, which had held on through sheer grit, was now at its end.
Everyone, in places unseen, had begun quietly coming to terms with the inevitable.
And then—completely out of nowhere.
Somehow, by the hands of an unknown strike force—
The news of Taha's death spread like wildfire through Mute Town.
***
Ten days later.
"...Hey, Jin? Are you asleep?"
A voice whispered near his ear.
Perhaps feeling guilty about waking him, the voice was cautious.
So Jin ignored it.
If you feel bad, just leave.
"...He's not waking up."
"Move aside."
The next person was rougher.
They lightly tapped his shoulder, then gave him a shake.
Jin continued to ignore it.
Until a flashlight clicked on right in front of his face.
"....!!"
He could endure everything else, but not this.
Blinding light straight to the face in deep sleep?
That was a sure trigger for any military-trained man.
Mumble... Fire watch shift, already...?
"Which bastard—!"
Finally, Jin's eyes snapped open.
His fist clenched, ready to land a blow—
And the person holding the flashlight quickly switched it off.
"You're up."
"You son of a—what kind of manners—"
Still half-asleep, Jin barely registered the person in front of him.
But then, recognition dawned.
Albus.
And behind him—
Grace, Fenrir, and that other guy.
Who the hell was he again?
"Ajusshi?"
"...It's Felix."
"Ah. That was your name."
Jin scratched the back of his head awkwardly.
It felt strange to get angry at this point, so he let out a deep sigh and spoke.
"Why'd you wake me up?"
"Just follow me."
Albus motioned with his chin, and the group began moving.
Jin, still groggy, sluggishly got to his feet and trailed after them.
What the hell is this about in the middle of the night?
Muttering complaints under his breath, he followed for only a short while before his breath caught in his throat.
They had arrived at a familiar rest area, dimly lit by a small mood lamp.
But what stunned him was the massive pile of food stacked in the middle of it.
Most of it was canned goods or combat rations, but who cared?
Jin wasn't one to be picky about food.
"You're heading back to Downtown tomorrow, right? We should at least have a farewell party."
Albus clapped him on the shoulder and waved his hand around.
"Find a spot and sit down. And try not to be too loud."
With that, the group settled around the table.
Jin, somehow ending up in the middle, glanced over the feast before him and asked,
"The city government gave you all this?"
"As if. We swiped it."
Felix clicked his tongue at Albus's response.
"...Living off scraps, huh. Even food comes with strings attached."
"It's something we have to endure. Thanks to them, we received proper medical treatment, after all."
Grace cautiously added, and for the first time, Fenrir, who had been silent, spoke up.
"Just eat first."
"Yeah, let's do that."
Encouraged by those words, Jin immediately cracked open a can and stuffed the contents into his mouth.
As he chewed on the processed meat, his cheeks puffed out, and the drowsiness quickly faded.
A sense of calm settled over him.
Feeling much better, he looked around and asked,
"Where's Den?"
"He's still not well enough to eat."
Albus answered, popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth.
Jin nodded in understanding.
Den had taken a direct hit from a high-explosive grenade, suffering severe internal injuries.
If not for the fact that some of his organs were cybernetic, he would have died instantly.
Even then, he had been unconscious until just two days ago.
"Well, we can eat together next time."
Jin opened his second can.
Pineapple slices.
A luxury here—practically impossible to come by.
Back when they were bedridden, they had no choice but to eat the government rations provided.
Savoring the syrup-soaked fruit, Jin glanced around and noticed something.
Den wasn't the only one missing.
Ocia.
She had fallen from the third floor along with a Frog beastkin.
The beastkin was dead, but Ocia hadn't made it either.
She was likely caught by the reinforcements who rushed in after hearing the commotion.
It had happened before the battle even fully broke out, making her an easy target.
Only one casualty in a mission with near-zero odds of success—an incredible achievement.
But how could they call it "only one"?
Her absence felt heavier than ever.
Jin made a decision.
Instead of cola, he poured his cup full of liquor.
Everyone around him, who knew his eating habits, was visibly shocked.
Holding up his overflowing cup, he spoke.
"To Ocia."
The group exchanged solemn looks.
Then, one by one, they filled their cups and raised them.
"To Ocia."
The five glasses clinked together in midair, a clear, ringing sound.
For Jin, this was his first drink in over a year.
The last time, he had resorted to drinking discarded moonshine to quench his thirst, only to be tormented by unbearable hunger afterward.
He had sworn never to drink again.
But to hell with that.
He downed it in one gulp.
"Keuk—!"
A burning sensation seared his throat, making him grimace.
At least now he knew exactly what the inside of his stomach felt like.
As the brief moment of mourning passed, the group slowly eased into conversation.
Good news—the TB organization was starting to collapse.
City government agents, frustrated after losing the "Face Collector," had apparently looked miserable for ten straight days.
And then there were the stories of their battle at Flatiron.
The conversations flowed, never stopping at a period—only pausing with commas.
Of course, the moment Jin was the most animated was when talking about his own feats.
Who was he?
The man who personally tested Faust's capabilities in battle!
Sure, it wrecked his terminal again, but what could he do?
His exoskeleton was already destroyed anyway.
Oh, speaking of which, if he hadn't stopped those reinforcements, they'd all be dead.
For real.
An exaggeration, if not an outright lie.
Strictly speaking, the one who had taken care of the reinforcements was Taha, who had lost himself to madness.
But so what?
Jin was the one who had taken down Taha.
As he busied himself glorifying his own achievements, Albus suddenly shuddered.
He had just remembered—after firing Faust, Jin had appeared right in its path, glowing.
For a while, he had been consumed with guilt, thinking he had sacrificed a comrade.
The sheer disbelief of having survived just long enough to be miraculously rescued still baffled him.
...Wait a second.
Did it actually work out in the end?
His expression grew complicated.
Meanwhile, Fenrir joined in on the boasting.
"I was busy keeping anyone from getting up to the 13th floor..."
Apparently, he had quite a long-winded story to tell, but Jin let his words drift in one ear and out the other.
It wasn't because he didn't want to listen—rather, from Jin's perspective, Fenrir was simply someone who ought to do at least that much.
It's all because I trust him that much, yawn...
"This bastard, no matter how he acts, yawning is just..."
The veins on the beastkin's forehead bulged, while the others chuckled quietly.
"Come on, another round."
Before the atmosphere could turn sour, someone urged a toast.
Clink.
Once more, their glasses collided.
Borrowing the night, their conversations deepened.
Who knew how much time had passed?
The mountain of food had been reduced to scraps,
and soon, their stories began to repeat themselves.
Eventually, after tidying up here and there, the group naturally dispersed, waving their hands.
With a brief "Good night," they parted ways.
And so, Jin returned to his usual spot.
A secluded corner of the hallway, far from where people passed by.
Leaning against the wall, he folded his arms and muttered softly.
"...This is dangerous."
The loneliness that had clung to his skin for so long, something he had grown accustomed to, seemed to melt away, if only a little.
A faint warmth rising in his chest.
That was dangerous.
Especially for someone like him, who had always harbored the thought of escaping this world.
"...This is exactly when you should show up, you bastard system. So I can snap out of it just by looking at you."
Murmuring to himself, Jin closed his eyes.
And the next day—
As he was about to leave, the colonel handed him a hundred million.