Chapter 244: Victor Poison, President of the Association (1)

The class routine of the Heavenly Class was simple you died, died again, and kept dying in subspace.

“Ugh, seriously…”

Speedweapon rubbed his stomach to soothe the burning.

“…Even though a month has passed, at least in the ‘Living’ classes I don’t gag as much anymore.”

‘Living Classes’ was the nickname for the “Getting Used to Dying” sessions.

Speedweapon gave a bitter smile remembering what had just happened.

…

As soon as the bell rang, everyone rushed at Professor Meain.

The cadets attacked with everything they had.

Some lunged straight on, others tried to slip in from the flanks, and some even threw weapons from blind spots.

They used any means available. Everything was fair game.

And the result was…

Thud!

The crack of breaking bones was their lullaby to close their eyes.

“Guhk.”

His vision blurred. The warm sunlight streaming through the window dimmed. A black curtain fell over his eyes. The last spark of light vanished.

And in the next instant, he opened his eyes wide. Total darkness. He couldn’t even tell if his eyes were open or closed. Black ink devoured his skin and mind.

Grrrkkk.

Everything around him was a sea of shadows. Black bubbles oozed from his nose and eyes. The crushing pressure from all sides suffocated him. Struggling was useless.

The process of dying was silent. The end, an abyss.

And now, time to open his eyes in the middle of death.

With effort, he moved only his eyes. The classmate next to him, sprawled like a corpse, squirmed like a zombie. A faint light lit up his cloudy gaze. He tried to breathe deeply. Fresh oxygen flooded his brain, confirming he was still alive. Finally, a relieved breath.

‘I—I’m alive…!’

The joy of being alive lasted only a moment. There was no time to reflect on the value of life because Meain was already slamming down a punch.

Her strikes sliced through the air. The knobby joints of her fists etched themselves into his retina.

Thud!

His jaw dislocated, nose and cheekbones collapsed. The smaller the impact point, the greater the pressure. Internal pressure forced nerves and eyeballs outward like snails.

“Help—”

Correction.

Thud!

The process of dying was horrific.

“Guhk.”

And its end, miserable.

…

It was like a moth flying into a flame. You knew you’d die, but still charged forward without stopping.

Twenty times a day. Five days a week. Not counting weekends.

Speedweapon curled up. His fingers, hugging his knees, trembled uncontrollably.

“Uuugh…”

That’s when someone sat next to him.

“Is this seat taken?”

Abel asked after sitting down. Then why ask? Speedweapon was about to respond, but Abel covered his mouth with one hand.

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

“……”

Speedweapon pressed his lips shut. Nausea was contagious. If someone nearby vomited, you inevitably followed.

‘Not today, please.’

He slid slightly away. Abel glared at him. Just days ago, he’d been a living “pizza factory,” and now he acted like this? Shameless.

Still, Abel had his reasons for approaching.

“Hey, so…”

He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Do you know why Kang Geom-Ma isn’t here today?”

“The president’s absence?”

Speedweapon tilted his head.

“Yeah, I kinda do. I called him this morning for something and he said he was off on an urgent mission with the director. But I don’t know the details. I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t ask on purpose? Why?”

“The president doesn’t mingle much with us. It might’ve been confidential, so I figured I shouldn’t pry.”

“Ah, makes sense…”

Abel hesitated before continuing. He’d opened the conversation with a light topic, now it was time for the real question. He spoke in a low voice, like a spy in a dark alley.

“Hey… do you know what Kang Geom-Ma is doing on December 18?”

Speedweapon shrugged.

“He didn’t say anything. Honestly, he’s indifferent to that kind of event. Even the fan site thing—he only found out because I told him. He probably forgot that the 18th is the ‘Day of the Seven Disciples’.”

The Day of the Seven Disciples. Celebrated in honor of Balor Joaquin’s disciples and their noble deeds.

At first, it was a solemn day. People gathered in chapels, fasted, and prayed through tears.

‘And to think that was just a century ago.’

But no one can stop time.

The sanctity of the date turned into a product. Some adults still protested, but the public had already fallen in love with the marketing. After all, it was better than fasting.

Thus, the Day of the Seven Disciples became the year-end event. Unused candles turned into shiny decorations, and prayers into gift exchanges.

At Joaquin Academy, it was also celebrated. And since it was based on the original heroes, the scale was massive.

“I see. I guess that makes sense…”

Abel fiddled with her fingers. Suddenly, Speedweapon felt irritated. Did she think he hadn’t noticed?

“In the end, you just want to know who the president’s going to dance with at the Seven Disciples Ball, right?”

Abel’s face twisted into a strange expression and turned completely red.

***

Meanwhile.

The Antarctic base, Angel Factoria, was in chaos. Only Victor Poison remained calm, seated with his legs crossed.

‘My God.’

The assistant’s eyes widened in horror. His jaw hung slack, unable to close.

During his career as an assistant, he had seen it all. That’s why, even when reunited with the president of the Association after decades, he had managed to stay composed.

But now, he couldn’t hide what he was feeling. His face betrayed him completely. The images appearing on thousands of monitors were simply too shocking.

In a gray vault, humanoid figures stood in rows. Their bodies were covered in metal plating, but their ivory-colored wings made it clear.

They were divine beings. They were angels.

“A-are those really angels…?”

At the assistant’s question, the president of the Association gave a smile.

“Of course. I have a reputation to uphold. Do you think I’d pass off a fake as the real thing? I may not have a certificate of authenticity, but they’re genuine angels. And on top of that…”

Victor tapped his feet on the floor from his chair.

“They’re underground. Right here, in Antarctica.”

The assistant said no more. He simply kept shifting his gaze between the floor and the screens in silence.

Victor let out a hoarse chuckle.

“Seems you’re all pretty shaken. Well, even I wouldn’t believe it if I saw something so perfectly preserved, like they weren’t even fossils.”

Then, the secretary, who had been silent, spoke up.

“B-but, President… if those really are angels…”

“What? Are you going to say this is blasphemy? Well, it is. But you two, as my daughter’s secretary and assistant, should know this.”

Victor’s gaze turned icy. The secretary and assistant held their breath.

“The hidden history of the Poison family.”

According to the recorded tradition, it was the angels who cursed and slaughtered the Ancients. Supposedly because they had committed unforgivable sins.

That story, though distorted, was what the secretary and assistant knew. Media, even though she was an Ancient, had never told them the truth. She herself didn’t know it. So little was known about the Ancients that their history was lost even before the word “century” existed for mankind.

Today, most people don’t even know how the Day of the Seven Disciples started 700 years ago. How would they know what happened millennia ago?

But it wasn’t just human ignorance. False gods had meddled in humanity’s history, distorting it with lies.

“Don’t get me wrong. I found those angels purely by chance. And living in Antarctica has nothing to do with the ancient tragedies of the Poison family.”

The secretary furrowed her brow and replied.

“…Still, the world won’t accept it. If people find out, not just you, President, but the entire Poison family will be attacked. If the one who turned angels into cyborgs turns out to be an Ancient…”

“I know what you’re getting at. They’ll say the victims became executioners. Or that Ancients and demons were always allied.”

Victor stood up and walked toward the screens. He extended a hand toward one of them.

Tack.

A spark of static leapt between his fingers and the monitor. It looked like a link between man and machine.

“When I was born, these electronic devices didn’t even exist. All we had were steam-powered machines. Compared to this age of smartphones, it was prehistoric.”

Victor looked at the screen as if watching an old TV set.

“You know what’s funniest? Since the day I was born, the world hasn’t stopped changing. One day the sound of horse hooves disappeared, and things with wheels started to roll around. Not long after, those metal chunks started flying through the sky.”

He pulled his hand back and gestured broadly at the hundreds of monitors around him.

“And while everything was changing so fast… I stayed the same.”

There was once a friend Victor held dear. They had grown up together.

That friend knew Victor was an Ancient. Even so, they got along well.

One day, the friend told him.

—Victor, I don’t care that you’re an Ancient. Any hero who fights for humanity deserves respect!

But the years went by.

For his friend, it was a long time. For Victor, just a fleeting moment.

Ten years. His friend became an adult, while Victor still looked like a child.

And then, the friend realized.

The distance between humans and Ancients. That even time didn’t belong equally to them. And that green-haired youth wasn’t happy about it in the least.

Suddenly.

His friend threw a stone at him.

—Damn Ancient! You must live so long because you’re stealing years from people like me!

Ten seconds. That’s how long it took to go from friend to enemy.

“When humanity launched satellites into space, that’s when the Hero Association was also founded. And I wondered what had become of that friend of mine. It was simple curiosity. I just wanted to know what happened to him. And I found him. He was in New Zealand.”

“……”

“I went to see him right away. And what happened? The guy welcomed me with a smile, like he knew me! I got so excited I called out his name—and you know what he said?”

Victor suddenly turned and shouted at us.

“‘How do you know my grandfather’s name?’ That’s what he said! It felt like I’d been hit in the head with a hammer.”

“…Dad.”

Media had reached out instinctively, then pulled her hand back. Victor continued speaking.

“That’s when I decided to isolate myself. I searched for a place far from human contact, a place untouched by time. And I found it, here in Antarctica.”

Victor’s dream was simple. He wanted to clink beer mugs with his old friend and talk about the good old days.

He just wanted to live among others.

“And then, purely by chance, I found, sleeping beneath the ice, the ancestral enemy of us Ancients. Imagine the scare!”

But the world didn’t allow it. So he chose to become a madman. Because this world is too cruel to stay sane.

“That day, I made my decision. I’d turn those damned angels into an army for humanity. I took it as my final mission and devoted decades to it. And now, today, that cycle is complete.”

Victor walked with firm steps and stopped right in front of me.

“When you face Corps Commander Fermush, that angel army will be a great help to you. Even though millennia have passed and their strength has waned, if you use them, humanity’s bloodshed will be less. If you have specific configurations in mind, I can prepare them. I won’t hold back on technical support. But in exchange…”

I stepped back instinctively. Victor’s gaze was too intense.

Suddenly, he grabbed one of my hands with both of his.

“Will you, when all of this ends, be able to kill me with this hand?”

In that grip, I could feel the regret of a madman.