313. Retribution (2)
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“…Sigh.”
His shoulders ache.
The continuous battles had gradually accumulated fatigue in his body.
“…”
I look down at the doll that was just knocked down, made to resemble ‘Paynol’.
In truth, it is difficult to consider it as powerful compared to the power of the ‘original’.
As someone who has personally faced the red devil even in a dire situation at night, there is a difference like that between a massive forest fire and a matchstick flame.
However.
“-You brat.”
I glare at Mobius sitting at the control seat, feeling a dull ache in one corner of my head.
Unless this guy is an idiot, he must know that something like this cannot effectively stop me.
However.
I feel bad.
Not only does it needlessly resemble the appearance of Paynol, it even imitates the voice and behavior.
When it fell on me, it even made a face as if it was betrayed.
It’s as if it deliberately did all of this to give the impression that I am killing the “people around me” with my own hands.
“…”.
I momentarily push aside the growing emotions that are boiling up in one corner of my head.
[…It’s a little dangerous.]
“Huh?”
[Exhaustion and anger cloud your judgment. If there are tricks, you will easily fall for them.]
“I know.”
[I’m not saying it because you know. I’m saying it because you’re getting dangerously heated. There’s no reason to fall for such a cheap provocation.]
“…”
I take a deep breath and organize my scattered thoughts at Kallivan’s words.
What he said is right.
Knowing what the enemy’s tricks are and still falling for them is just what a fool would do. It’s imitating what fools do even when knowing it’s foolish.
[Be honest with me.]
“What?”
[…Do you have any unpleasant memories related to this kind of experience?]
“What do you mean by ‘this kind of experience’?”
[I’m asking if you have personally witnessed someone around you die.]
It’s not teasing or joking, but a stern voice that pierces through in a cold manner.
Considering this person’s way of speaking, it can be said that it is a very serious appearance.
This is evidence that my current condition is serious.
[Just seeing the ‘resemblances’ of people close to you dying shakes my sanity to this extent, there is no other reason.]
“…It doesn’t seem like the right time for me to have a psychological counseling session.”
[Even though you know, you’re just moving on. Like salt sprinkled on an unhealed wound.]
Gunshots.
Blood stains.
A white patient gown stained crimson.
Distorted, torn, faded images come to mind.
“…Later, Kalivan.”
But those are not the things that come to mind now.
Especially if there is an ‘enemy to be dealt with’ right in front of me.
[…Damn it.]
The sound of Kalivan biting his tongue echoes with my stubborn attitude.
Perhaps he indirectly sensed it from my attitude.
That it is something deeply embedded in my mind, to the point where it’s hesitant to be voiced.
“You’re walking into a trap. Just remember that.”
I know that.
That’s why I’ve prepared a solution.
Thinking that, I look towards Jaesangnim behind the stage.
He still has a worried expression. Gripping his hands tightly, he only moves his lips to ask me.
-Will you do it?
Instead of answering, I give him a faint smile.
Then.
I won’t fail.
From Noble mtl dot com
That’s enough with what I did in the past.
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I don’t remember when, how, or through what process this came to be.
Since all the memories of Elnore are derived from Daoud’s consciousness, it was clear that what he doesn’t remember is also not properly recognized by her.
The details of how the girl was kidnapped pass by vaguely. It probably isn’t important to this man.
However, the reason was easily guessed.
In the world where she existed, as well as in the world where Dawood resided, riches were a rarity. To accumulate wealth or honor, one must always contend with rivals, for competition inevitably drags people down to their lowest.
Perhaps the girl’s abduction was part of such a sordid tale.
It was a vile maneuver in the competition of business, as mentioned earlier.
Yet, for Dawood, such matters were of no importance.
Even amidst the remnants of memories that had undoubtedly spanned several decades, certain details remained vivid. When infiltrating the building where the girl was held captive, everything about the “intelligence” regarding the situation at the time, from the pre-briefed knowledge of the building’s layout to the count of enemies inside, down to the appearance of a single pebble, brick, or speck of dust, all lingered vividly in Dawood’s recollection. It was as if the importance of that specific situation, and more importantly, the significance of the girl’s presence to this man, were laid bare for all to see.
One could tell just by watching the fervent utilization of skills honed over several years of education.
“They say he’s quite experienced in combat.”
Eleanor followed closely behind Dawood and chuckled.
Since she had fallen deeply for this man, her background check had been completed long ago.
In that regard, the Marquess of Campbell, Dawood’s birth name, was certainly not a place where this man had cultivated the judgment demonstrated in urgent situations thus far. Naturally, someone unaccustomed to combat could never perform such feats. However, if the human known as Dawood Campbell had accumulated the necessary skills to achieve this even before “coming into existence” as he was now, it wouldn’t be so strange.
Yet, the one thing that differs greatly from the current situation is this:
“Aren’t you hesitating a bit?”
If one were to choose a word to represent the actions of the man named Dawood Campbell, it would undoubtedly be “meticulous planning.” Starting from a position of informational advantage, he calculated every move meticulously and stepped forward, carefully accounting for future variables.
However,
“Stop him!”
“What the hell is this guy?”
He charged into the building, knocking down, shooting, and killing as he went, much like a charging rhinoceros.
It was a reckless charge, to the point that one might even call it foolhardy. Indiscriminate, with no concern for rear-guard support, he cared not for anything except achieving the immediate target in front of him.
“…In that aspect, he is quite similar.”
In terms of having no qualms about taking risks to achieve the objective, Eleanor saw the man Dawood knew quite well.
Now, this feeling.
“Urgent.”
It’s a desperate feeling to not lose what’s in your hand.
The color of this entire memory, so to speak, is ‘urgency.’
A person born in poverty, who never had anything, struggling desperately to protect the first precious thing in their hands.
So, they become impatient.
Their own safety is of no concern at all, judgment is entirely postponed, and they rush ahead, sacrificing everything for the end result, like that.
“…Isn’t it dangerous?”
She had seen this kind of behavior many times.
A personality that would rush in without hesitation to help when the people around were threatened seemed to have been there from then.
Even if they continued their reckless and tenacious charge without worrying about their own safety, they would somehow succeed and reach their goal in the end.
Memories fade quickly.
Dozens of people were standing guard around the building, but somehow, David managed to break through.
And in that critical moment.
A girl with a gun pointed at her temple is visible. And there’s David, standing in front of her, battered and bruised.
The man holding the girl as a hostage seems to be the one more nervous. It’s a natural reaction to have someone with such monstrous combat strength right in front of you.
“D-Don’t come any closer!”
David calmly surveys the situation, alternately focusing on the girl and the man, who is trembling with his hand holding the girl hostage.
“Stay right there.”
David says with a calm voice.
While loading the magazine of the small firearm in his hand, he continues to speak in a composed tone.
“…You-“
Whether he administered some kind of drug or if the girl just regained her senses, she looks at David as if noticing him for the first time. Her pupils dilate.
Then, she moistens her lips.
“…What’s the matter with you, you idiot.”
David’s body twitches at the sight. As if he’s feeling intense pain.
Then, a mocking voice follows.
“Huh, huh! You can’t even stand properly, and you’re showing off!”
You might think that way.
Rather, thinking like that is a rational reaction.
But, no.
That’s not it.
“-Ah, I see.”
Elnoir knows exactly what that reaction means.
She can understand Dowd’s heart right now, just as it is.
She can endure physical pain. She can endure the agony that burns her entire body as her limits are pushed.
But she cannot stand when someone she has given her entire heart to is even slightly sad.
That’s the emotion she always feels when she looks at Dowd.
To Dowd, that girl was such an existence.
Someone who had entered a territory that Elnoir or any other women had never reached even once.
“…”
If that’s the case.
There must be a reason here.
The reason why they can never reach the deepest part of Dowd’s heart.
The image that is coloring the tip of her memories that she is currently stepping on is…
It was terrifyingly black.
If we were to express it in words.
“Loss.”
The origin of the “fear” he holds was at the end of this memory.
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