Chapter 46: Where Malice Gathers (3)
"I don't recognize your face. Are you new here? Why did you follow us all the way out?"
"Yes, sir! He joined just a few days ago, but his combat skills were so outstanding he was immediately promoted to squad leader! I wanted to personally introduce him to you."
The man narrowed his eyes.
Before Ray could react, the man closed the distance and gripped both his shoulders, yanking him forward until their faces nearly touched.
"I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere."
All traces of humor had vanished from the man’s face. Their eyes reflected each other’s gaze, faces so close they were barely a hand’s width apart.
"Your face is familiar... Hmm. I don’t waste brain space on trivial memories."
The man gritted his teeth, irritated by the elusive memory. Though his expression and tone were threatening, Ray showed no reaction, meeting the stare with his usual blank eyes.
It didn’t matter. No amount of staring would make the man recognize him.
When they’d met days earlier at the building’s entrance, there hadn’t been even a flicker of suspicion in the man’s emotions. His subconscious hadn’t connected the boy loitering outside to the one who’d fought in the basement. Without a decisive trigger, that connection would never form.
...Still, I didn’t expect him to forget even our encounter at the entrance.
"Have we met?"
"I don’t believe so."
The man released Ray’s shoulders and stepped back, his stern expression melting into a chilling smile.
"Pity about your frame, but you’ll do. Your muscles are surprisingly well-toned... Sacrifice—no, you’re physically suitable to become one of Mecrad’s members."
Cedric didn’t understand the word "sacrifice." He focused instead on "Mecrad member," his mind briefly clouding with confusion.
Ray said this man’s planning something bad. But what if he’s wrong? What if I’m throwing away a real chance to join a major organization?
"Then let’s hear the rest. Cedric—did you kids play with fire at the hideout?"
As Cedric hesitated, he saw Ray’s lips move behind the man’s back:
Trust me.
The confusion in Cedric’s mind shattered like glass.
"There was a fire, but it wasn’t our fault. A drum barrel tipped over at night..."
Cedric calmly guided the man through the scrapyard while Ray followed at a distance, observing.
He’s performing better than expected.
Cedric had always been competent—quick to grasp instructions, adaptable in crises. Even the emotional instability from red mana’s aftereffects rarely caused issues. A little calming intervention sufficed.
...This might even be useful.
Guiding others’ emotions was becoming a meaningful experience for Ray.
"You’re saying the hideout burned completely? Where’s the rest of your group? Don’t tell me they scattered?"
"Not at all! They’re staying elsewhere temporarily," Cedric added hastily as the man scowled. "We’ve already found a new base nearby. Once it’s furnished, we’ll move in. You could inspect it today—"
"Do that. Can’t have you nesting in strange places."
"And we’ll reach the target headcount soon."
The man’s frown vanished, replaced by exhilaration.
"Current numbers?"
"Exactly sixty-three."
"Three left. They meet the criteria?"
"Of course. All large-framed and strong, as you verified last visit."
Clap! Clap! Clap!
"Kheh... KHAHAHA—!"
The man erupted into crazed laughter, clapping wildly. When he finally calmed, he rasped:
"Good. Take me to this new base. Next time I visit, all sixty-six better be there."
"Yes, sir! This way!"
As the man turned deeper into the scrapyard with Cedric, Ray moved to follow—
"You. Squad leader. Your name?"
The man glanced back. After a beat, Ray answered:
"Niles."
"Niles. Uncommon. Walk up front."
"Yes."
Matching their pace, Ray listened as Cedric asked:
"Sir... does this mean we’re officially members now?"
"Once I report today, vehicles will arrive in weeks to take you to headquarters. You’ll train there."
Ray analyzed the conversation while questioning himself:
Why did I use "Niles"? I prepared a different alias.
The name had slipped out instinctively, as if it were the only answer. To Ray, who believed every action had logical cause, this lack of motive was perplexing.
"It’s unbelievable we’ll truly become part of the organization," Cedric said.
"You got lucky. Headquarters is establishing new units." The man preened under the flattery. "You’ll live in dorms during training."
Ray interjected:
"May I ask something, sir?"
"Speak, squad leader."
"Does Mecrad have multiple branches? Where is headquarters located?"
"Mecrad doesn’t have branches." The man’s emotions confirmed this truth. "Members roam independently. And headquarters is in Sector 43—where all operations are planned."
A faint tremor in his emotions betrayed mixed truths.
The headquarters lie is obvious.
This man had no intention of taking street kids to any real base. "Sector 43" was a throwaway lie—his true goal required sacrifices.
"What will our duties be after joining?"
"Curious, aren’t you? Fine. Ask anything."
Ray continued questioning, but gleaned little substance. The man seemed genuinely ignorant rather than secretive.
Their footsteps kicked up dust as they passed rusted metal piles glinting dully in the hazy sunlight. When the interrogation concluded, Ray posed his final question:
“I’d like to ask what kind of person the boss is.”
The man’s footsteps came to an abrupt halt.
Ray and Cedric’s footsteps also stopped in response.
“…….”
No answer came from the man’s tightly sealed lips, unlike before.
The smile that had been plastered across his face had completely evaporated.
In its place, two new emotions had bloomed, pushing aside the existing ones and taking their position.
Admiration. And fear.
They weren’t emotions that particularly resonated with Ray.
After all, he had observed them frequently in the hotel and street children lately.
But when these two emotions appeared simultaneously, the narrative shifted slightly.
‘They aren’t emotions that harmonize.’
In this world, every emotion inherently possessed an opposing counterpart.
Joy stood against sorrow.
Trust against distrust.
Hope against disappointment.
Ray’s mind housed a meticulously organized list of such opposing emotional pairs.
The reason he could compile this list?
It certainly wasn’t due to any profound understanding—that notion would be laughable.
The boy, semi-emotionally impaired, was only beginning to grasp fragments of the world’s emotional spectrum.
If anything, it stemmed from instinctive perception.
‘These two emotions repel each other.’
Once, while playing with the kaleidoscopic mana swirling in the air, the boy had realized mana possessed affinities akin to human relationships.
Some colors blended seamlessly as if born from the same source.
Others clashed like mortal enemies.
The latter typically manifested as stark contrasts—black and white, oil and water—utterly refusing to mix.
Through observing people’s mana, emotions, and behaviors, the boy uncovered another truth:
the harmonious or hostile relationships between colors directly mirrored those of their associated emotions.
For instance, white mana and black mana—polar opposites—governed contrasting emotional attributes.
White mana linked to concern, compassion, and selflessness.
Black mana tied to scorn, malice, and greed.
Thus, the boy’s comprehension of emotions relied more on chromatic associations than intrinsic qualities.
“The boss… yes. An extraordinary figure. So magnificent that someone like me dares not meet his gaze…”
The man muttered while nervously picking at his nails.
Admiration and fear—not diametric opposites, yet clearly belonging to rival factions.
The two emotional masses repelled each other like magnets, fear dominating in intensity and chromatic saturation.
“Boss, if you’d just wait a bit longer…”
The man’s pace abruptly doubled. He muttered incessant gibberish as the boys hurried to match his stride.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Only footfalls resonated through the air until they reached an abandoned factory.
“Here we are, sir.”
“Let’s inspect the interior.”
Screee—
Rusted hinges groaned as the iron door revealed broken tiles, earthen floors, and sunlight filtering through high windows.
Philip’s scouted location surpassed Cedric’s previous haunt in both space and condition—an ownerless space ripe for appropriation.
“This… looks better than expected. Though merely a temporary base before headquarters.”
The man pivoted, scrutinizing every corner with measured steps that seemed to gauge spatial dimensions.
Ray observed his retreating figure.
‘Could I defeat him if I struck now?’
The man’s earlier answers suggested limited knowledge of his organization—but assumptions were dangerous.
Direct interrogation had its limits.
‘Subduing him through pain remains the surest method.’
Pile crushing agony upon immobilized prey.
Squeeze out every drop of intel like a hydraulic press.
Pain and fear bred compliance—a method Ray knew intimately, honed through experience.
Yet one problem persisted: no guarantee of victory.
The man bore two Rings.
Ray possessed one.
Recent days had clarified his limits—the mana capacity per Ring, the chasm between single and dual Rings.
‘Ring disparity is absolute.’
The power gradient between tiers wasn’t linear—it multiplied exponentially.
No viable interrogation.
No assured subjugation.
But Ray felt neither frustration nor impatience.
Time always revealed vulnerabilities, even in formidable foes.
Waiting in silence was an old acquaintance.
As Ray maintained his watch, the spinning man addressed Cedric:
“When’s the move-in date?”
“We’ll collect discarded furniture tomorrow via my contact! Other preparations should wrap up in two days!”
“No delays?”
“None, sir!”
“Then I’ll revisit in three days. Proper introductions to your crew await.”
“Understood! We’ll be fully settled!”
The man smiled approvingly before resuming his circuit.
His downward palms shed crimson mana like sand grains, tracing his path across the floor.
The particles ignited with vivid light.
‘That…’
Most mages would miss it without advanced mana perception.
But Ray’s unique vision couldn’t overlook the truth—the man was etching a mana pattern across the entire factory floor.
Though the design remained indiscernible from ground level, its complexity was undeniable.
The man ceased moving—the pattern complete.
From his coat emerged thumbnail-sized rubies, identical to those in the basement.
Huummm…
The levitating gems scattered to key nodes along the pattern’s edge, bobbing midair until—
Snap!
A finger click ignited baleful crimson light.
Within the boy’s pale irises, fierce curiosity rippled alongside the scarlet glow.
