Chapter 11
After eating, Rohan returned to his office and brewed a cup of coffee. He sat down, savoring the strong aroma of coffee in his cup.
Piles of papers on his desk.
"Hmmm...."
Rohan sips his coffee and sighs. Just looking at it makes him dizzy.
He doesn't even have to look at it anymore to know what it is.
Most of the time, the departments say they want to add more people for this or that reason. The question is whether they actually need that many people.
It was more a matter of not being able to fill those positions with the new hires they were getting every quarter.
In fact, there are many applicants.
Those who failed their knightly exams, war orphans, those whose families were swept up in crime, and mercenaries.
They get over a thousand applicants every year.
It's just that it's hard to find good people to work within it.
Character, skills, and values.
After passing through several filters, there were only a few people left.
Lately, even that net has become wider.
Still, it was a struggle to find good talent.
"Hrumph."
After taking a sip of coffee, Rohan put aside the paperwork for staffing. He checked the rest of the documents.
[Death of Earl Perkinson of the Kingdom of Rhino].
[Death of a Saint Candidate of the Holy Empire].
.
.
.
[New markings found in the Black Sea are identical to those left at a series of crime scenes].
[Alert status has been raised to maximum, and the Knights of each Kingdom are currently tracking down the culprits].
[Determined that crime rates will rise in the future; need to increase recruitment and train Burning Hell officers accordingly].
"It's a new group…"
This was not something to be taken lightly.
Their arrival will have a profound impact on established criminal organizations.
If the chief stands idly by.
The reputation of the new organization will be weighed down, and subordinates may move to the new organization accordingly.
A divide in the forces.
To stop it, the powers that be will stage events to demonstrate their strength.
The last time they had.
Like Magnes' ship terrorism.
"What a headache."
*knock, knock*
"What's bothering you?"
A familiar voice made Rohan look up. The man leaning against the door had the corner of his mouth raised.
Daylon Artier
"Are the departments clamoring to send in new people again?"
He walked in and sat down on the couch.
Unkempt hair, as opposed to a neat uniform.
Deep dark circles and a patchy beard from not shaving.
Even if he looks like a beggar.
He was Rohan's subordinate when he was in the Burning Hell Task Force, and is now the leader of one of the Task Force's units.
"What are you doing here?" Rohan asked with a raised eyebrow
"I just wanted to take a moment to see you.", Daylon replied back jovially.
"Fuck."
Even as he said that, a slight smile tugged at the corners of Rohan's mouth.
A long lost comrade-in-arms.
Daylon was the only person Rohan felt comfortable talking to in the coldness of Burning Hell.
"Would you like some coffee?"
"Isn't that a given?"
As Rohan brewed him a coffee, Daylon looked at the pile of papers on the desk and asked.
"Do you have any good ones?"
There were a few things that flashed through Rohan's mind.
Rebecca, Khan, and Seria.
The three of them were of such a high caliber that they would have no problem joining the squadron immediately.
But Rohan's hunch reminded him of another trainee.
Redin.
Compared to the first three, he's nowhere near as strong, powerful, or comprehensive.
However,
He was better than the other three at watching and judging situations with venom, grit, and a level head.
If you're going to be on a mission.
It will probably be Reddin who survives the longest.
"There's no one to give you."
Rohan set the cup of coffee in front of Daylon and sat down across from him. He took the coffee, took a sip, and opened his mouth.
"Two people died this time." Daylon said to Rohan with steely gaze
"What do you expect me to do?", Rohan questioned while staring back at Daylon
"Captain!"
"I'm not your boss anymore, so why do you keep calling me boss?"
"Well, then, Brother, spare me for once. We haven't been able to replenish our ranks for years now."
Rohan shrugged his shoulders.
"Think about your usual behavior."
"Damn it! I'm definitely taking two people with me this time."
"If you're going, I'm not going to stop you."
Despite Rohan's unspoken permission, Daylon knew better than anyone that it's hard to pull people out of a freshman class.
Lack of skill, judgment, cool-headedness, etc.
Special Forces is not a training center. We need people who can go out and fight criminals right now.
Most of the newcomers are just newbies.
"By the way. Why are you really here?"
At Rohan's question, Daylon craned his neck over the back of the couch.
"I'm here to catch the rats."
"When?"
"Soon."
-Aaaaaaaaagh!
Then a scream.
Daylon walked to the window with an intrigued smile. Beyond the window, he could see the ground floor activity.
Prisoners were fighting.
The guards were trying to break up the fight by subduing the prisoners, which didn't seem to be easy. Among the guards was a man who stood out.
Black hair.
A cold-faced man with a baton struck the prisoners in the face. A hand without mercy. The movements were neat and unified.
"Oh. That's a hit. Who's that?"
"This is the new guy who just came in."
"Pretty good for a new guy, huh? Nice body, nice eyes, what's his name?"
Rohan sighed at Daylon's question.
"That trainee is...."
But Rohan's voice fell on deaf ears.
A cool movement in front of Daylon.
The corner of his mouth quivered in a smirk as he spotted his favorite trainee.
"Nice."
"… …"
"I liked him."
* * *
"Huuu…"
Redin exhaled lightly.
He turned and looked at his surroundings.
The activity center is in chaos.
Half of the prisoners who had been fighting were sprawled on the floor in a huddled mass of limbs.
" Argh!"
"That hurt like a bitch!"
"That crazy bastard just… sudden… … ."
When Redin glanced at him, he lowered his head.
He turned his attention back to the prisoner he was supposed to catch, but no matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find him.
He must have slipped away while he was subduing the prisoners.
Redin clicked his tongue and turned his attention away. He'd memorized the face. With Vergo there, it would only be a matter of time before he found him.
Instead, he lifted the baton in his hand.
It was the first time he'd ever swung it properly in real life. It was definitely different from training. Or more precisely, it was too different from what it was before he acquired Harungel's Insights.
Before, it was just a tool.
It felt like a part of my body now. There was nothing awkward about wielding it.
Everything felt natural.
What a strangely wonderful experience.
Most importantly.
It was a time to objectively judge his skills. The prisoners he dealt with today were notorious in their own right.
Redin wondered if they'd recognize him in a lesser capacity.
By swordsmanship standards, Redin's body is first-class. His skill level is Sword Expert or lower, and he's a fourth circle mage.
As far as he's concerned.
Redin's as good as a second-year knight or a fourth-year prison guard sent by the kingdom.
He didn't lose to that.
In terms of pure physical ability, it's a no contest. On the contrary, he can outwit them.
That doesn't mean he can't beat a knight or a prison guard.
Mana.
Although prisoners cannot use it.
The power at the disposal of knights and wardens.
Mana is the single most important factor in the battle of the titans.
The dozens of skills available through mana can turn the tide of battle at any moment.
That means.
With a boost in skill and access to mana, he'll be able to fight people with his level of skill and still win.
"Maybe I can move up a bit." Redin mumbled softly to himself.
Redin's getting stronger faster than he originally planned. Originally, he thought he'd spend half a year in security and collect all the little hidden pieces in the basement.
But they are no longer needed.
It seems like he could just get the Swordsmanship Heart and get the Hidden Pieces that are right outside.
Once he's that strong again.
He can get an access pass to the 2nd floor of the basement and grow stronger by devouring the hidden pieces inside.
"Oh no. What a mess.", someone exclaimed.
Redin turned his head at the unfamiliar voice behind him.
A man emerged from the medical bay.
Next to her was the burly medical chief in his lab coat, and the trainee he'd been assigned.
With red hair.
Rebecca is the center of attention.
Normally, she'd be in the arrest division, building a track record and getting promoted quickly.
The butterfly effect changed the future.
'and…'
"She's so pretty."
"Is she human? She's a goddess…."
There were admiring glances from the prisoners everywhere. It might have made her blush, but Rebecca didn't pay them any mind.
She just kept her head down.
Just standing next to the medical director.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk. He's all passed out."
The Chief of the Medical Department with his tongue out.
He doesn't look like the one Redin recognizes, so the medical director he saw in the game is still new.
He has some things to gain from her.
It will come naturally over time, so there's no rush.
"What's this prisoner's name?"
The medical officer asked, looking at the guards around him. The guard swallowed hard and answered.
"It's 2301."
"Not the number. Don't you know his name?"
"Marek, Marek Casino."
What?
For a moment, Redin doubted his ears.
"I only asked for your first name, who wants to know your last name?" The Medical chief replied back with a scrunched up face.
"Sorry… I'm sorry.", the guard stammered out.
"Forget it. Marek. Marek. Can you hear me?"
The medical chief slapped the prisoner on the cheek.
Redin slowly stepped behind him.
A gaunt face.
Redin can't tell from the face if he's genuine or not, but from the prisoner number and name, he knows it's him.
Black Hand of Midas.
A man who amassed a fortune through his business savvy, then gave his entire fortune to the Darkness Seven for revenge.
He is the person at the top of the recruiting list.
Redin didn't know exactly where it was at this time, so he tried to postpone the plan.
He never thought he'd see him here.
'How lucky am I?'