Chapter 349

At a window overlooking the vast, snow-swept square,in the snow-covered Kremlin Palace in Moscow. Yuri Orlov, who had been leaning back on a plush sofa, suddenly opened his eyes.

Had he dozed off from the alcohol? His forehead was drenched in cold sweat.

 "…What, was it a dream?"

As his head finally cleared, a sigh of relief escaped his lips. Simultaneously, his teeth clenched.

"It's been a while since I've had that dream."

Yes, it was just a dream. Just a terrible nightmare. 

His current self. The heart of Russia. Kremlin Palace. His form, surrounded by all manner of luxuries. This was the true reality. But despite having climbed to such heights, why did the memories of that time keep appearing even in his dreams, tormenting him?

"Damn it!"

Yuri Orlov irritably grabbed the crystal bottle on the table. A 30-year-old Scotch whisky. An expensive liquor, costing a staggering several thousand dollars a bottle. Something he wouldn't have dared even smell just a few years ago! He roughly brought the precious liquor to his lips and gulped it down.

Gulp, gulp, gulp!

Then, he suddenly hurled the bottle to the floor.

Crash!

A loud noise echoed through the Kremlin Palace. Thousands of dollars worth of liquor, barely touched, spilled onto the floor. But so what? It wasn't a waste at all. He was now Prime Minister Yuri Orlov of Russia, the dictator of Russia!

"Grrr! Yes! Of course, it's all a dream! This is the real me!"

He roared and burst into loud laughter. But the cold sweat on his forehead still hadn't disappeared.

However, just a few seconds later, his attendant, who was always waiting outside as usual, heard the noise, opened the door, and entered. Then, after quickly surveying the room, without the slightest sign of surprise, he immediately knelt and began to pick up the broken glass shards.

Such incidents were familiar to Yuri Orlov's attendants. The Prime Minister Yuri Orlov had always lived in a drunken stupor, always filled with irritation. When working under him, the most important thing was to clean up and disappear as quickly and as carefully as possible. To avoid upsetting him as much as possible. That crucial fact was already common knowledge among the attendants, who had been replaced several times. And above all… It was also well known that Prime Minister Yuri Orlov greatly enjoyed watching them from behind, observing their every action as they kowtowed and tiptoed around him.

Even now. The attendant, kneeling and cleaning the floor, had to quicken his hands due to the blatant gaze of Russia's great dictator felt from behind. The effect was immediate. The irritable expression Yuri Orlov wore after the nightmare vanished as if it had never been, replaced by a satisfied smile. Yuri Orlov, this time with a pleasant voice, unlike a moment ago, picked up an even more expensive bottle of whiskey and ordered his attendant.

"Bring the medicine."

The attendant answered without raising his head.

"Yes, Prime Minister. But… taking psychiatric medication with alcohol is…"

"Are you daring to give me advice?"

Orlov's voice sharpened. The attendant immediately bowed his head.

"My apologies, Prime Minister. I will bring it right away."

Only then, as the attendant hastily opened a drawer and took out the medicine, Orlov sneered at him openly and said.

"Don't drink alcohol with medicine? That only applies to non-Awakened like you. It's no problem for an S-rank Awakened like me. My body is different from ordinary humans."

"…"

Hearing those words, the attendant kept his mouth firmly shut and handed him the medicine. In times like these, it was more beneficial to silently do as ordered than to respond. Yuri Orlov quickly lost interest in the unamusing reaction. He took the prescribed psychiatric medication, and with his other hand, he clutched the most expensive bottle from his collection and walked to the window. With a leisurely gaze, he took in the view of snow-covered Moscow outside his window. Red Square, the Kremlin. The entire city stretching beyond lay beneath him. And the citizens, no, the gutter trash, were crawling beneath his feet.

"…Yes, this is the true reality."

He could finally smile brightly. Yes, indeed, a dream was just a dream. But… no matter how much he tried to escape, there was a past that always chased him. And not even that long ago, just three years prior. His life right before he 'luckily' Awakened as an S-rank. The life of the man named Yuri Orlov back then was nothing more than garbage. A beggar ignored, kicked, and ridiculed by everyone in Russia. From childhood, he roamed the back alleys, begging. Surviving day by day on that money. Afraid that if he saved even a little, other beggars would steal it, he was an alcoholic who invariably spent any leftover money on lottery tickets or alcohol. 

Thus, drunk every day, a piece of street refuse who only brawled with other beggars. That was the man named Yuri Orlov, who had lived half his life, no, his entire life like that. But after he had passed middle age, having achieved nothing, only growing older. One day, he suddenly Awakened, and instantly rose to his current position. All of this was not effort, but luck. So, just as he had suddenly Awakened one day, he feared when all of this might suddenly disappear in an instant. He was anxious. Naturally, he couldn't help but be anxious. Because in climbing this far, he had contributed nothing through his own efforts. Awakening… He knew better than anyone that this was merely a stroke of immense luck that had suddenly come to him one day, like winning the lottery. That's why he needed medicine. Not some narcotic, but a tranquilizer prescribed by the most skilled psychiatrist in Russia, his personal physician.

Gulp.

Was it just his imagination? As soon as he swallowed the medicine, the anxiety melted away like snow. Then, he could now confidently recall the nightmare he had just had. His beggar days, a lifetime spent roaming the back alleys.

'Malyenkiy Tsar' (Little Emperor)

It was when Yuri Orlov was merely 12 years old that he came to be called by that nickname among the back-alley beggars. The Russian cold was harsh. And in such a climate, the ecosystem of the slums was even more ruthless. At the tender age of nine, Yuri Orlov committed his first murder. The reason? Simply to snatch a piece of bread held in the hand of a friend he begged with. But even if it was a brick, the blow from a mere child wasn't enough to kill someone. However, even if it didn't kill immediately, the Siberian cold worsened the wound. And eventually, a few days later, that friend was found as a cold corpse. The moment he woke up in the morning and witnessed that corpse, Yuri Orlov couldn't suppress a laugh. He had realized something important.

'Ah, so it was this easy.'

The fact that humans, surprisingly, lose their lives very easily. Upon realizing that truth, Yuri Orlov began to see the world differently. Look at them. The citizens who threw him coins with pity. The rich who clutched far more money than that. No matter how smug those bastards acted while living…

'In the end, they're all just people who die from a single brick.'

Yes, just one brick was all it took. It started from then. Yuri Orlov, despite his young age, began to roam the back alleys, threatening beggars in the same situation as himself. With a single brick in hand. The harsh Russian cold was sufficiently threatening in itself. In such an environment, if a wound developed, it would worsen into a fatal injury for the beggars. Therefore, Yuri Orlov's young age was not a problem at all. He initially targeted beggars weaker and younger than himself. Then, gaining confidence, he extended his reach to beggars older and larger than himself. After all, it didn't matter who the opponent was; he just had to target them while they were asleep. Thus, just three years later, Yuri Orlov was reigning over all the beggars in the back alleys. Under the name 'Little Emperor.' He taught the other beggars fear. He instilled in them the terror that they could be beaten to death, bleeding, at any time if they defied him, not just die of starvation normally. But that, in fact, applied equally to Yuri Orlov himself. No matter if he was called Little Emperor or whatever, he was ultimately alone. If several beggars attacked him simultaneously at any time, Yuri Orlov himself could become a cold corpse overnight. So he assigned a 'hierarchy' to the beggars who had submitted to him. He structured a system where all were forced to make those weaker and younger than themselves beg, and then extorted their earnings. A small pyramid. Thus, a small ecosystem of the back alleys was created. A society where everyone watched each other. A system where the strong exploited the weak. Naturally, at the very top, the Little Emperor, Yuri Orlov, reigned.

But he never let his guard down. Because his position could be replaced at any time. Just as he had done, it would all be over if some bastard suddenly struck him on the back of the head with a brick on any given night. Anyone could sit in this position he had achieved. So the next idea Orlov came up with was acts of cruelty to test 'loyalty.'

'Mikhail, lock this bastard up. Don't feed him anything.'

Little Mikhail. Yuri Orlov made an example of one young beggar who defied his orders and locked him in 'prison.' He confined him in the basement of an abandoned building where no one lived and forcibly starved him for several days. And he periodically made all the other beggars watch Mikhail, trapped inside, crying his eyes out. However, there was one surprising fact here. The door to that basement was not locked. But Mikhail, that young beggar, couldn't take a single step out of that unlocked basement.

'If I come out, I die.'

Because he lacked courage. For little, young Mikhail, 'daring' to defy the Little Emperor's command was far more terrifying than starvation. The effect was tremendous. All the beggars feared the Little Emperor and couldn't defy his commands. And the Little Emperor, fearing that this fear among the beggars would fade, periodically repeated such examples. After it was repeated several times, eventually, there was no need to even close the basement door.

'If you cross this line, you die.'

The Little Emperor left the basement door wide open and, with the brick he always carried, scratched a single line on the floor. And he commanded, for all beggars to see.

'This is an invisible wall. If you cross this line, you die by my hand.'

And before long, no beggar in the back alleys dared to violate that absurd command. Because Yuri Orlov was no longer an ordinary beggar. His words, having committed murder with his own hands several times already, carried true killing intent. And among the beggars who lived day by day without ambition, that killing intent was engraved in their minds as true fear… Thus, merely by drawing a single line on the floor, a perfect prison from which no one could escape was born. An 'invisible wall,' visible only to the eyes of the beggars, was created. And looking back. That prison was the first 'barrier' Yuri Orlov had created on his own. This story, which happened in the back alleys of Russia, was an unknown tale among beggars that occurred long, long before the Cataclysm came to Earth. But… all of this was ultimately a matter of time.

'Little Emperor.'

That nickname was ephemeral anyway. Russians grow up quickly. Even if they are beggars, Russians are naturally well-built. Thus, only a few years had passed. 'Mikhail,' who had been a small, young beggar, had, before he knew it, grown much larger than Orlov. And one night.

– Hoo… shall we go.

Mikhail, having inhaled deeply the frigid Siberian air, lit a cigarette and picked up a brick from the ground. There was no need to sneak up from behind. It was clear who was stronger just by looking at their physical differences. However, because of the fear forcibly engraved in his mind since childhood, his hands were trembling. The more they trembled, the tighter he gripped the brick. Thus, that day. Yuri Orlov's nickname, 'Little Emperor,' came to an end. And from that day on, Yuri Orlov's true nightmare began.

"…Mikhail, I will find that bastard, no matter what!"

Crash!

Yuri Orlov, snapping out of his thoughts, ended up throwing the liquor bottle he was holding again. Then, an attendant who quickly opened the door and entered, prostrated himself on the floor as before and began to clean up the broken glass. But this time, a secretary who entered with him approached Yuri Orlov with a stiff expression.

"Prime Minister, there is something you need to see."

"I'm already seeing it!"

As he roared, the secretary flinched and hastily stepped back. There was no need for a report. Just then, breaking news from around the world was being broadcast on the large TV hanging on the wall.

– Breaking news!

– The unidentified creatures that attacked major cities around the world have all been exterminated!

– In the battle that took place in front of the Statue of Liberty in New York, American S-rank Hunter Thomas Andre…!

– Korean former national athlete and recently revealed S-rank Hunter Cha Haein has defeated all magical beasts…!

– The Chinese government has officially recognized Liu Zhigang as a 7-Star Hunter for his contributions in this incident! This is an unprecedented…!

"Tsk. Apostles, every single one of them is all talk."

Yuri Orlov clicked his tongue. At the news that the Apostle of Conquest, who had started off with such momentum, had been exterminated, his drunkenness completely vanished. Beyond the monitor, lay the corpses of countless Apostles of Conquest, eradicated like mere insects.

"…This is why the only one I can trust is myself."

Watching that scene, Orlov's eyes gleamed ominously.