Chapter 438

Chapter 438
## Chapter 438

Assembly (2)

Black Dragon Society.

Now completely eclipsed by the Reverse Heaven Society, it was a moniker that possessed almost no relevance anymore—one that wouldn’t shock a soul if it dissolved completely by tomorrow.

The solitary explanation for why it had not yet been extinguished was its profound ancestry, having inhabited China’s criminal underworld for at least several decades before the arrival of the Great Cataclysm.

But even that was ancient history now.

‘Black Dragon Society… The title sounds unfamiliar, but there is an abundance of data concerning them in the database?’

They must have possessed immense power back in that era.

In the initial days, when Returners were just beginning to manifest one after another.

They struck gold when one of their primary leaders returned as a Transcendent master, enabling them to effectively upgrade their physical constitutions and ride a wave of immense growth.

Granted, that development was accompanied by torrents of blood internally and externally, but shifts in control always brought that type of chaos—nothing particularly remarkable there.

Ironically, that very Transcendent who transformed the organization completely lost his life to an individual of even greater strength before a few years could pass.

‘The crucial element is what they acquired during that transition.’

Most notably, they started showing a preference for Returners originating from the Murim world—those who commanded martial arts among the esoteric arts.

There were logical explanations for that choice, of course.

For some reason, a massively uneven percentage of Chinese Returners arrived from Murim dimensions.

Considering that the majority of Murim transplants were East Asian from the start, perhaps the subconscious minds of Awakeners played a part in determining their arrivals.

‘Just like how vampires hold dominion over Europe.’

With their advancement grinding to a halt after returning to Earth, the sole method for them to grow more powerful was to perfect their abilities through interactions with their own peers. So it was not unusual that the Black Dragon Society ultimately came to revolve around Murim individuals.

Naturally, pursuing that radical path so relentlessly was precisely what caused their pathetic ruin.

“…Which is why we believe shifting operations to Korea is the Black Dragon Society’s solitary prospect for resurrection. The Korean Peninsula has consistently been a region the Reverse Heaven Society strangely overlooks.”

The forces the Reverse Heaven Society had deployed to Korea were trivial crumbs compared to their mainland China capabilities—like a single drop in the ocean, or less.

That is why they had not paid much attention even when those units entirely pulled out, relinquishing the territory completely—Black Eagle remarked softly, dipping his head.

‘To put it bluntly, they simply dismissed the Blood Alliance that currently commands Korea’s underworld.’

Chinese individuals looking down on Korea as a minor territory was nothing novel.

Regardless of how intimidating the Transcendent Pante might be, they likely assumed he could not manage complex plots like this one by himself.

“Very well, I comprehend your motivations.”

Heinz 2nd signaled his understanding with a slow nod.

Black Eagle was the scout dispatched ahead for preparatory work.

If the strategy bore fruit and the Blood Alliance collapsed entirely, outstanding. Even if it failed, it would at least keep them sufficiently preoccupied with other concerns.

“So what you are implying is…”

Merely deploying an individual of Black Eagle’s status—a combatant hovering right on the precipice of Transcendence—revealed a great deal about how seriously they regarded this endeavor.

“The Black Dragon Society’s instigator for this chaos is located right there?”

“…Yes, my Lord.”

Though they had severely miscalculated the adversary’s strength in the process.

Heinz 2nd stretched out one arm, pointing toward the distant metropolis, then focused his gaze in that direction.

Heilongjiang Province at China’s eastern frontier, and one of its greatest urban centers—Harbin City.

‘Excellent. Let us obtain a glimpse of the mastermind’s identity.’

The city’s evening vista unfolded magnificently before his vision, as he advanced personally to bring this affair to a definitive conclusion.

—

The quantity of entities designated as Transcendents on Earth was estimated to be around a hundred.

It was impossible to determine the precise figure, naturally.

Not everyone broadcasted their presence or functioned in plain sight, and numerous zones had become isolated from the external world due to a variety of causes.

Africa, a lawless territory dominated by regional warlords; South America, where superhuman cartels held more sway than official governments; the Middle East swarming with radical factions—these were black holes for data without specialized assets.

Everyone could merely form estimates based on Transcendent proportions relative to the populace.

But there was one reality the general population never realized.

Every single one of those isolated territories shared the identical covert sponsor.

It was logical—they were the entities who had triggered the turmoil in the first place.

Whether Africa, South America, the Middle East… or anywhere else, it was all identical.

In that regard, today was a remarkably unique occasion.

The clandestine syndicate that had consistently manipulated events from the background was conducting an assembly.

A secluded realm of spotless white marble flooring carved with sophisticated patterns, radiating the dignified ambiance of a grand temple.

Screeech—

With a subtle groan, the portal connecting to the outside world turned wide open. A Hispanic middle-aged gentleman with a manicured Kaiser mustache and a scar marking across his vision walked in with assurance.

He scanned the surroundings briefly before marching directly for the middle circular table.

Clank! Clunk—clang!

Every stride resonated with heavy metallic impacts.

Dense plate armor covering him from skull to toe excluding a helmet, a warhammer the dimensions of an adult’s upper body in his grip, and a colossal firearm slung across his back, shifting with his stride.

As the fully outfitted man, configured for conflict, neared the table, a Black man already positioned there—who had gathered early and secured his place—twisted his mouth into a mocking smile.

“Quite a flamboyant arrival, yes? Your Excellency Dictator. Hardly appropriate for the final person to appear.”

Differing from his peer, he carried no actual weaponry or armor.

Merely bone-and-feather ornaments draped across his frame.

But for this mystic who had attained Transcendence, those ceremonial implements functioned as his true armaments.

“Keh heh heh! My apologies for that! Experienced a minor disturbance in my domain, you see. Enterprise necessitates focusing on a great deal of specifics—unlike you combat-addicted fanatics merely consuming the funds we distribute.”

The Hispanic extracted a dense cigar from his coat pocket.

He severed the tip with his teeth, spat it upon the floor, ignited it, inhaled deeply, and slowly drifted the smoke toward the Black man.

The atmosphere around them turned thick with friction.

“…Hmph! As though trafficking contraband is something to boast about so flagrantly.”

“Superior to futile conflicts while you swine merely indulge yourselves, is it not? Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Self-Proclaimed Liberator?”

“Futile? We have delivered multiple realms from oppression and settlements from bondage through our battles. You wretched dictator… did you just label our sacred crusade pointless?”

“………”

“………”

An icy quietness gripped the space between them.

It did not endure.

Whoooosh—!

A violent gale of erupting energy surged forward.

The firearm’s massive barrel, loaded with power, rotated toward the Liberator, while something forming in the air bared its teeth at the Dictator.

A tinderbox on the brink of detonation.

“If the two of you do not wish to be pulverized halfway to death, cease this.”

However, they were not unaccompanied.

Both individuals flinched at the relaxed feminine voice.

A disheveled blonde with her face resting on the table, undisturbed by the chaos.

No person in this space could dismiss her warning.

Even as fellow Transcendents managing the South America and Africa divisions, they were forced to defer before her absolute dominance.

“Tch, consider yourselves fortunate.”

“Ha! Look who is speaking.”

Ultimately, they withdrew their pressure and moved to distant sides of the table.

Though their hostile stares never ceased.

With beliefs and characters completely opposed, conflict was certain whenever they occupied the same room.

Fortunately, their respective domains had kept confrontations sparse until this moment…

‘Ugh, incredibly draining already.’

The Judge, blonde head remaining on the surface, let loose a heavy breath.

This was not the initial skirmish she had settled, truth be told.

They had already clashed multiple instances since arriving.

‘All so stubborn and arrogant. And with absolutely zero fellowship to begin with… ‘

Each individual had aligned with the Reverse Heaven Society for distinct motives.

Some owed obligations of survival or developmental assistance too massive to square; others viewed it as the corridor to their objectives; still more dreaded or worshipped the Society Lord.

She desired to permit them to battle it out, but with the Lord’s mandates governing them, she could not simply allow leaders to initiate fatal duels.

Particularly with her peer—an equal in authority—absent on the Lord’s affairs.

And furthermore…

Her vision wandered to the unoccupied positions, currently missing their occupants.

‘I recognized it from the intelligence, but witnessing it directly truly drives the point home.’

This convocation, personally summoned by the Society Lord and mandatory for all senior executives above division chief tier, still featured multiple gaps.

‘From the Ruler on downward: the Strategist, Scribe, even Nagaraja… ‘

Not solely them, either.

The Executioner—second only to the Lord in pure power—and the Doctor, the Lord’s chief assistant alongside the Oracle, had perished as well.

She carried at least fractional accountability for the Executioner’s end, having managed the auxiliary bombardment; she could not dismiss this lightly.

‘I verified he departed and stopped the barrages. How on earth did an individual with such absurd capabilities fail to escape?’

Was the Executioner lacking skill, or Masquerade excessively skilled?

She complained internally a few moments, then regulated her breathing.

Personal animosities aside, she needed to detach obligations from preferences.

If Masquerade’s units were that formidable, her faction required tactical solutions immediately.

Screeech—

As complicated reflections swirled in her intellect, absorbed in thought.

The entry door groaned open once more.

A dozen-odd senior executives, all radiating intimidating presence regardless of age, gender, or heritage, shifted as a single unit.

With all potential participants already present, they could deduce who this entity was.

“Kept you waiting.”

And precisely as anticipated.

A deep tone emerged from the threshold—the entity they had all been anticipating.

“Ah!”

“The Lord has arrived.”

“Lord!”

An uncertain quality: an ordinary youth, or a remarkable veteran? Even her perception could not fully capture it.

The Judge swallowed heavily, rubbing sweating palms against her attire.

“Hm, looks like everyone conducted themselves properly. Commendable work?”

The Oracle trailed behind, her words carrying a hint of amusement.

Peering her way occasionally, she appeared to have foreseen every single development here.

‘Understood it and dumped the entire burden on me. Quite a sadist.’

The unpredicted shift occurred precisely then.

“Wahaha! Extensive time no see, everyone! All healthy, I trust? Ah… I discovered the news as well. The Executioner… that Executioner…! Sob!”

A high-pitched, energetic expression transformed into sincere sorrow, teardrops falling as a brown-haired middle-aged… cyborg wept openly.

The Doctor, who had departed to reconfigure his revived physical form.

“Waaah—! Hic! Sniff!”

As all present stared blankly at his chaotic behavior—far more unstable than previously—his emotional fluctuation did not halt.

“Aaaah! Incredible! Forfeiting the Great Demon, the Great Demon’s corpse, to them! Such an array of trials left unattempted, and now that ultimate prototype is gone!! So enviousenviousenvious! Unreasonable!”

Sorrow distorted into jealousy.

His focuses had consistently leaned that way.

“…Phew, but gratitude for good fortune. I secretly constructed a homunculus of the Executioner just in case. Without it, I would have lost my sanity. Heh heh heh heh!”

His declaration peaked in absurdity, leaving everyone speechless.

The Executioner had repeatedly defied the Society Lord, consistently concluding events barely clinging to survival.

The Doctor had facilitated his recoveries each time—and evidently executed every conceivable trial in the duration.

Even extracting components without authorization for a homunculus.

Becoming discovered would have been catastrophic.

An artificial creation replicating a divine entity challenged their very divinity.

Water under the bridge at this point, though.

“Hm? Why the glances?”

The Doctor tilted his skull inquisitively.

“We assembled here for a purpose! Come on, let us begin!”

He struck his hands together joyfully, grinning.

“A tactical conference to seize every remaining Masquerade operative as research subjects!”