Spartan teleported them one more time in a place which he thought was safe enough.
They reappeared in a flash of light, tumbling onto cracked, weed-choked asphalt. The smell of sulfur was gone, replaced by the scent of damp, decaying concrete and old rain.
They were in a ruined suburb, a ghost town of crumbling, single-story homes under the alien, star-filled sky.
"Ugh," Kim Dokja groaned, pushing himself up. "Well, at least it's not a forest..."
Kim Hajin was already on his feet, his Desert Eagle materialized in his hand, scanning the empty windows and dark alleyways.
"This is worse. No cover. Perfect for snipers."
He scolded Spartan.
"A 'sniper'?" Klein muttered, "That is a very specific... ah." His [Spirit Vision] flared, and he nodded, suddenly understanding. "Yes. Too... open."
It was in this tense, quiet moment that a new figure landed.
It was a soft landing, barely a sound, on the roof of a nearby, collapsed garage. The figure stood, his form silhouetted against the cosmic light. He wore a long, white coat that whipped in the wind, and a [Black Heavenly Demon Sword] was strapped to his back. His face was impossibly handsome, stoic, and carved from cold fury.
Kim Dokja remembered a specific line from Ways of Survival:
"There were few existences that could slap Yoo Joonghyuk's cheeks in terms of facial features."
Kim Dokja's head snapped up. His eyes, usually so analytical and cynical, went wide with a sudden, overwhelming, and desperate relief. The stress of this new world... it all seemed to melt away at the sight of that familiar, hateful, wonderful face.
"Yoo Joonghyuk!" he shouted, a genuine, idiotic grin spreading across his face. He took a step forward. "You're here! How—"
[Story 'Life and Death Companions' is nodding disapprovingly!]
"Stop," Kim Hajin said, his voice flat. He didn't lower his gun. He held it up, aimed directly at the newcomer.
Dokja's grin faltered. "What are you doing? He's—"
"Why," Hajin asked, his [Observation and Reading] window a block of confusing text, "Are you calling him Yoo Joonghyuk? My skill says that's..."
===
[Target: Secretive Plotter (Incarnation)]
[Status: ???, ???, ???]
[Note: Anomaly. Unreadable. Error.]
===
[The Constellation 'Secretive Plotter' has entered the scenario!]
The name hit Dokja like a bucket of ice water. 'Secretive Plotter?'
As if summoned by the name, a blue window, one Dokja knew all too well, flashed in his vision.
Dokja's shoulders slumped. His bright, relieved smile collapsed into his usual, tired smirk.
'Ah. Of course. Not my Yoo Joonghyuk. The other one.' He let out a sigh. "Well," he muttered, "it's still better than nothing. Hajin, lower the gun, he's one of my... Companions?"
The 'Secretive Plotter' looked down at them, his expression one of pure, cold arrogance. He was about to speak—to utter some grand, cryptic, protagonist-level line—when the 'Star Stream' finally noticed him.
BOOM.
A [Probability Storm] of immense scale, far larger than the one that had targeted Klein's projection and a little bigger than the one that appeared when Star Stream notices Termiboros, descended from the sky.
The 'Secretive Plotter' was the King of Outer Gods, the greatest enemy of Fables. His very 'Incarnation' was anathema to the system.
The Plotter's eyes widened almost comically for a split second. He tried to draw his sword, to cut it... but the storm was too fast, too absolute.
It slammed into him. There was no grand explosion. Just a quiet... plop.
Where the magnificent, white-coated regressor had stood, there was now... a dumpling. A small, white, perfectly round Murim dumpling, sitting innocently on the garage roof.
An absolute, stunned silence fell over the ruined suburb.
Kim Hajin lowered his gun, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated confusion. "...Did... did that guy just turn into a bun?"
Klein, for his part, was utterly fascinated. 'A conceptual suppression,' he analyzed, his Spirit Vision seeing the dumpling's aura, which was still immensely powerful but "packaged" into a harmless form. 'A way to enforce 'Probability' without killing the target. How... efficient. And... absurd.'
A cold, ancient, and deeply furious voice echoed in their minds, emanating from the dumpling. [This... humiliation...]
The dumpling hopped off the roof and landed on the street. It "looked" at Kim Dokja. [Demon King of Salvation. Finally I found you. 'She' was correct.]
It then "turned" to Klein. [And you must be Klein..? You are far from home, aren't you?]
Finally, it "turned" to Kim Hajin. The dumpling paused. [...I cannot see through your hood. Your 'Story' is... loud. But I recognize that armor. 'Black Lotus'.]
Hajin's face instantly went red with embarrassment. "It's... just a name."
"Black Lotus?" Dokja asked, his 'scammer' smile returning. "My, my, Author-nim, what other 'settings' are you hiding?"
Klein chuckled, a dry, quiet sound. "It seems I am not the only one with many 'hats'," he lampooned. "Or, in your case, 'coats'."
"It's just armor!" Hajin snapped, deeply flustered.
The dumpling-Plotter's voice cut through . [They have been 'talking' about you, 'Black Lotus' in the Tower.]
Before Hajin could process that terrifying new piece of information...
WHIIISH–
It was a sound so fast, it barely registered.
"Danger!" Klein yelled, his spirituality screaming.
But Kim Hajin's body was already moving. His Aether had detected the killing intent, a 'red line' in his perception. His [Bullet Time] activated by itself.
The world slowed to a crawl.
He saw it. A black, fletched arrow, humming with demonic magic, centimeters from Kim Dokja's left temple. Dokja was still turning, his expression of "Black Lotus?" just beginning to fade.
Hajin didn't think. He moved.
He lunged, his boots giving him an explosive burst of speed. He slammed his shoulder into Kim Dokja, tackling him off his feet.
"Get down!"
THWACK-HISSS!
The arrow missed Dokja's head, grazed Hajin's shoulder armor, and embedded itself in the concrete wall behind them. The concrete dissolved, hissing into black sludge.
[Bullet Time] was still active. Hajin, still on the ground next to a sprawling Dokja, looked up. He activated [Thousand-Mile Eyes].
His vision rocketed across the ruined city. Four kilometers. On the roof of a ruined skyscraper.
He saw her.
A woman with skin as white as moonlight. She was inhumanly beautiful, with long black hair, and was holding a massive, black longbow. She was looking at them, not through a scope, but with her naked eyes. She looked... bored.
And then, she saw him.
She saw him seeing her. From 4km away.
Her bored expression shattered, replaced by one of pure, abject intrest.
Hajin, his heart hammering, let his breath out. The name from his 'settings', a familiar name he'd written, escaped from his lips.
"...Leraje."
He saw her flinch. He saw her recognize that he knew her name.
She lowered her bow, her form melting into the shadows, and vanished.
[Bullet Time] ended. The world rushed back in.
[Narrow Escape from Death (7/9)]
[A special stat, Accumulation of Luck, becomes partly unlocked!]
[The giant story of 'Kim Hajin' is germinating!]
[For your unbelievable achievements and gaining of the story you receive 600 SP]
"What..." Dokja panted from the asphalt, his cheek bleeding where the arrow had grazed his Fable's aura. "What was that?"
"A devil," Hajin said, pushing himself up, his shoulder stinging. "A 'Hunter'."
Dokja's eyes hardened as he stood, wiping the blood from his face.
"We have a 'Survival' scenario. That means they have a 'Hunter' scenario."
"Indeed."
The voice was new. It was female, cold as a tomb, and spoke in perfect, crisp Loenese.
Only Hajin didn't understand a word.
A new figure was standing with them, as if she had been there all along. She was silent as the night, robed in the dark, severe vestments of the Evernight Church.
Klein's eyes widened. He knew her. He had summoned her Historical Projection a while ago.
It was Arianna. The real Arianna.
The Murim dumpling "hopped" forward. [Took you long enough.]
Arianna ignored the dumpling completely, her gaze, hidden in shadow, falling on Klein.
She then looked at the spot where Leraje had been.
"You are exposed," she said, her voice a flat, urgent command. "I'll conceal you. Now."