Chapter Text
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
For eons long since forgotten, entities have roamed this world. With bright, glowing, starlight-like halos that embodied their blessing and massive wings as pure as their solemn vows.
These entities nurture, protect, and above all, love those who come under their care. Regardless of their circumstances, past and future untold, it was innate, instinctive even, for them to put their ward above all else.
But, for all their duties, there are certain rules that they cannot disobey—even if it meant the loss of a life.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gunshots echoed in the dimly-lit abandoned factory as men at the forefront fired shot after shot at the thick, galvanized steel doors. There was a moment of silence before the door opened with a soft creak. Sensing no danger, the rest of the armed men stormed the building.
A cold, eerie silence greeted them. Only the sound of their ragged breathing and the unsteady shift of their footsteps could be heard. All of his men wore similar grim expressions as the sharp tang of ozone filled the air, the lingering scent of gunpowder quickly dissipating under the charge of electricity.
The static in the air was palpable. The mana surrounding them—unmistakable. Leaving no room for hope that it was someone else it might belong to. It left a prickling sensation on the back of their necks as fine hairs stood on end. The grave reality slowly setting in.
On the far side of the door, one man could be heard muttering his prayers. The rest of them, silently prayed along with him.
How could they not, when this night could very well be their last?
After all, what they’re up against—although human in appearance—could hardly be called such.
The echo of poised, unhurried footsteps could be heard above them before the flutter of a familiar red coat could be seen.
“How disappointing,” a deep, commanding voice reverberated menacingly across the room. Although the man’s tone was calm, hearing it this close was no less chilling than being stuck in an endless abyss.
“I had thought that your people would have gained some modicum of manners in my absence. Perhaps, I placed my expectations too high?” Just then, he slowly emerged from the shadows completely. Eyes of refined, untainted gold alight with barely restrained, primal urge to hunt.
Seong Hyeonje, the Guildmaster of Seseong. The Esper the world knows to have no bounds, no restrictions, and holds no absolution. He holds power the greed would covet. His riches drive one mad with envy. The calamity that’d kill the desperate. The bastard who’d blind the deaf. The absolute horror that is he.
The man whose blessings ran abundant.
Seong Hyeonje asked coolly as he stared down at the man below. “What do you think, Director Song?”
Seong Hyeonje crossed his arms as he leaned casually on the railing. Golden hair dancing in the light breeze under the moonlight.
Song Taewon stepped forward to get a better assessment of the Esper. Despite having just returned from clearing a dungeon, he hardly looks any different from when he left two weeks ago. There was not a trace of fight on him, not even a hair out of place. Although, if he did get injured, he would have likely drank a healing potion as soon as he killed the dungeon boss and fix himself up. After all, the Guildmaster was not the type to stroll the city marred with filth.
“Guildmaster Seong Hyeonje,” Song Taewon said evenly, knuckles tense as he tried to gauge his mood based on his mana.
It’s a bit hard to tell based on looking alone especially since Seong Hyeonje was still up at the railing but he doesn’t seem to have lost his mind yet. There was, however, a subtle difference.
It was the way his mana pulsed just a little out of sorts. It’s not worrying enough for an Esper of Seong Hyeonje’s calibre to lose his senses over, but—it’d be better to have an objective evaluation to base his condition on.
“Forgive me for the meager welcome,” Song Taewon calmly said as he gestured for the men behind him to lower their guns. “But please do understand that as per protocol, I cannot let an unguided Esper enter straight back into the city without proper measures,” Song Taewon tried to reason. Which is about as useless as trying to calm a raging bull, really.
Seong Hyeonje hummed as he stood straight, adjusting his coat. His gait was languid as he put his gloved hands in pant pockets and descended the stairs.
“Protocol, was it?” he remarked out loud when he reached the last step.
With the Guildmaster now comparatively closer to them, it put his men immediately on high alert.
He could hear the even breath of the man, in stark contrast to the erratic heartbeat of his men and sweat-drenched hands clamped the gun tighter. Their hands raised at the man before them, senses trained to catch even the slightest change of movement of his hair.
“Director Song, you wouldn’t mind answering a question of mine, would you?” Seong Hyeonje lightly asked, amusement in his eyes at the look of unadulterated terror of the men despite them holding the weapon.
“I often wonder on whose orders you act on,” Seong Hyeonje continued, unperturbed even without a reply.
“Whether it’s the Association Heads you follow or—” Seong Hyeonje walked deliberately towards him, tone still light yet on a verge of a sneer, “—this protocol you speak of so conveniently aligned well with that deceptively masochistic, self-punishing moral code of yours?”
Song Taewon’s jaw hardened at the remark. His fingernail pierced through his palms by how hard he was clenching them. As his hands bleed, so was his ears from hearing the man ramble. The air around them crackled with electricity as the tension rose.
“Constantly shackled in the neck and with you at their every beck and call. Don’t you find it exhausting?” Seong Hyeonje drawled, smiling at him cruelly.
That condescending gaze of his made something in Song Taewon tick. In the years he’d worked at the Association and dealing with unruly Espers, he had never been this close to discard the suffocating constraint of his position.
“I hope you possess enough self-awareness to realize that hardly makes you any different from a dog.” Seong Hyunjae exhaled, chuckling darkly.
The man was done with his rambles, it seemed. The static in the air eventually faded as Seong Hyeonje reeled his mana in. Song Taewon followed suit.
Song Taewon let out an exhale of his own. The sooner the assessment is conducted, the sooner he can file the report. And after that, his men could all go home, unharmed, hopefully.
“I appreciate the concern, Guildmaster Seong,” he said as he waved the Esper off. “But I am self-aware. Enough to understand how much of a threat you pose not only to the public, but also to your own guild members should you return unchecked.”
“Ah. Is that right,” Seong Hyeonje tilted his head in mock understanding. “Then, as per the assessment of our Director Song of my condition, am I in need of guiding?”
In truth, Seong Hyeonje looks fine. However, there was that unmistakable spark in his eye. A tell-tail sign of an Esper teetering on the brink of a rampage.
Song Taewon had long discerned that while Seong Hyeonje did indeed need guiding—he did spend the last two weeks clearing an S-class dungeon by himself—he was right to conclude it wasn’t to the point that he’d go berserk in merely a few hours since his return.
Which is a matter of suspicion itself. Especially considering the fact that Seong Hyeonje did not receive any guiding prior to entering the dungeon. More concerningly, he has never been known to be guided by any guide. Whether from the National Guide Association or even guides from his own guild, Seong Hyeonje has no record of being guided at all.
Hence, the cause of concern for the higher-ups. Because without a guide, an Esper, regardless of the rank of their mental fortitude, is bound to go on a rampage should they reach a point where their own bodies could no longer contain corrupted mana.
And with Seong Hyeonje’s class, there’s little they could do to counteract the sheer devastation of his rampage. But aside from the verbal jabs and minor taunts, he showed no indication of resorting to actual violence.
With one last look at Seong Hyeonje, Song Taewon announced at last. “No. The Guildmaster of Seseong, Seong Hyeonje, is in need of no guiding.”
Song Taewon hoped the man in charge of recording the assessment had enough wits left in him to hear his evaluation of the Esper.
“You’re free to leave the premises, Guildmaster Seong.”
The audible breath of relief could be heard all around, along with the soft clack of guns being lowered. But still, no one moved. Not one of them ushered towards the door despite it being wide open and the current threat appears to be pacified.
“Well, then. It’s always such a pleasure working with you, Director Song,” Seong Hyeonje said as he bid his farewell and walked leisurely towards the door sparing no mind as the men parted quietly lest they catch his attention.
Only when the Guildmaster’s back disappeared in the shadows did they move. One fell to the floor as his knees gave up on him, and another one's gun clattered on the ground as his shaking hands left him uncoordinated. Song Taewon could only inwardly sigh, opting to help his colleagues collapsed off the floor. Better to have them all home before he leaves for the Association Headquarters to deliver his assessment.
As he loaded the last of his men in the car, he thought of Seong Hyeonje again.
Even amongst other S-class Espers, Seong Hyeonje was a league of his own. No one comes close to his battle prowess and that endless pool of mana of his never seem to dwindle even if he fought against multiple S-class Espers at once for months on end.
Song Taewon had witnessed first-hand the aftermath of clearing an SS-class dungeon had on the Guildmaster. He was evidently more fickle than usual, sure. But he had retained consciousness necessary to make a sound decision unlike most Espers of his rank. A testament on how Seong Hyeonje’s tight dominion over himself never once faltered.
It should hardly be a surprise, Seong Hyeonje’s innate skills and aptitude for control, that is. After all, the man had been on the top of the food chain since he awakened as an Esper around the same time multiple high-level dungeons appeared. The time where countless civilians lost their lives and cities fell into ruins—otherwise known as The Great Fall.
What’s disturbing is that the average time it takes for an Esper, irrespective of rank, to accumulate enough corrupted mana to go berserk is when they go unguided for a maximum of three months. And Seong Hyeonje, hailed as the world’s strongest Esper, has never been guided in the years since his awakening.
But The Great Fall happened twenty-eight years ago.