Chapter 10: The Eyes of a Calamity(5)

[Both Missing.]

A careless text message arrived from Kyungjin, Night Owl's Slave No. 2, or more accurately, the team leader in charge of managing all of Night Owl's intelligence. It was the weekly report Sayoon had requested after failing to find the trait-bearers on his own for a month.

At first, the reports hadn't been this short, but with no progress for eight weeks, Kyungjin's responses had grown increasingly perfunctory. At this rate, next week's report would probably just be a single "X."

"Where the hell did this damn system bury the trait-bearers?"

Sayoon muttered under his breath after receiving yet another useless update. Three months had passed since he awakened the Genius's Eye, and all he had to show for it—after pushing himself to the brink of unconsciousness each time—was a slight increase in guild members.

Aside from recruiting a few decent talents by scouting them through his status window, there was absolutely no consolation.

Time wasted, pain endured, for nothing.

"I'm losing my mind."

Just thinking about it made his blood boil. Feeling the heat rise in his body, Sayoon pressed an ice pack against his swollen eyelids—a small mercy for eyes that had been overworked without rest.

"Slight discomfort," my ass.

The pain was anything but slight. It felt like his eyes were being stabbed, and after using the skill beyond a certain threshold, blood would inevitably trickle out. The relentless strain had even begun to degrade his vision.

Even as an S-rank, his eyes were still better than most, but the damage was undeniable.

"Are these bastards even in Korea?"

Just a few months ago, he'd been cheerfully singing about his "pretty little things," but now they'd been downgraded to these bastards.

After searching for so long with no results, he was starting to suspect they might not even be in the country. The thought unsettled him enough to make him stand abruptly.

But if the system had any conscience, it would've made them Korean. If not, then it wasn't a god just a sadistic, petty demon.

And honestly, that seemed more likely.

The more he cursed, the more plausible it felt. A sudden, ominous premonition made his pulse spike. He grabbed the sunglasses he'd tossed onto the couch and urgently called for Jongshik.

Now wasn't the time to sit around.

"Hyung-nim! Perfect timing. I was just about to head out for kindergarten volunteer work"

"Right now, brats like that aren't important, Jongshik."

While he was burning with urgency, Jongshik had the nerve to bring up volunteer work. This wasn't the time for charity events or playing with kids to clean up his reputation.

He needed to find The Supreme Ruler of Heaven and Earth or The One Who Defies Fate —*now*. Three months of dead ends had made him complacent, but the realization that they might not even be in Korea lit a fire under him.

Before that fire consumed him entirely, he swore he'd find at least one of those bastards. Pushing Jongshik toward the door, he urged him to drive.

Clueless but obedient, Jongshik stumbled into the car. Sayoon, sliding into the back seat, directed him to the Incheon Awakener Registration Center. They'd already combed through Gyeonggi and Seoul—now it was Incheon's turn.

Please don't make me go all the way to Jeju, he mentally threatened the system, knowing full well it wouldn't listen. Still, his mind raced—what if the trait-bearer had been in Incheon yesterday but moved to Seoul today?

Anxiety gnawed at him as the car rolled forward. The moment they arrived, Sayoon flung the door open before the car had even fully stopped, his feet hitting the pavement.

"Hyung-nim!" Jongshik wailed like he was witnessing a tragedy.

"Stop whining and go park the car," Sayoon snapped, flipping his hood up and shoving his hands into his pockets. He slumped onto a bench near the entrance, scanning the crowd.

Taking a deep breath, he activated Calamity's eye. Even now, the pain was sharp enough to make his vision blur.

"Do you have to find them? You're pushing yourself too hard. Maybe you should just—"

"Jongshik."

"...Sorry."

ans just live like I have been?

What a joke.

How could he call this living? It was barely surviving.

Jongshik, who had been by his side all this time, knew better than anyone how brutal Sayoon's life had been. He bowed his head in apology, and Sayoon let it slide.

He understood Jongshik's concern.

Seeing someone you serve cough up blood and collapse daily would unsettle anyone.

But some things couldn't be compromised. Some lines couldn't be crossed. So Sayoon stubbornly held his ground, enduring the splitting pain with every flick of his eyes.

After 30 minutes, dizziness set in.

After an hour, blood trickled from his eyes—but he'd come prepared with black sunglasses and a mask. Last time, he hadn't worn one, and the sight of his bleeding eyes had caused a scene.

By the two-hour mark, the mask was soaked. When he opened his mouth, he tasted iron.

"Hyung-nim..."

Jongshik's voice trembled as he noticed Sayoon's shaking hands. Sayoon took a slow breath, squeezing his eyes shut before reopening them.

Thirty more minutes, and his body swayed. Jongshik, who had been keeping his distance, rushed over to steady him.

His eyes burned like someone had lit a fire inside them. He'd once thought this pain was unbearable, but after hundreds of repetitions, he'd built a tolerance.

Just one more.

Just one more.

Sheer willpower pushed him past his limits.

A gut feeling—ridiculous as it was—told him this time would be different.

It was like gambling, clinging to the flimsiest hope, but Sayoon couldn't afford to let even that slip.

If he missed a trait-bearer here, and they left the country, tracking them down would become near impossible.

Chanting just one more like a mantra, he leaned heavily against Jongshik, struggling to stay conscious. His pupils flickered unnaturally before refocusing.

"Tch."

Even an S-rank couldn't bleed for over two hours without consequences. Disgusted by his own weakness, Sayoon clenched his fists. Jongshik offered his arm, telling him to dig his nails in if it helped, but Sayoon refused.

He needed the pain to stay sharp.

One last try.

He knew he was pushing it. He'd passed out enough times to recognize the warning signs. Gritting his teeth, he scanned the crowd through his darkened lenses.

The one who stands out.

Find that bastard.

Before, he'd used his skill on everyone in sight, but this was his last attempt. He had to choose carefully.

He dismissed a pot-bellied man, then a woman who kept glancing his way. The murmuring passersby gawking at him and Jongshik? Ignored.

Or at least, he meant to ignore them.

But just as he turned his head, one man moved in sync—as if deliberately avoiding his gaze.

Suspicious.

Sayoon activated his skill on him.

Ding.

The familiar blue window popped up. Sayoon's eyes widened as he scanned the status—starting with the Trait section.

"That bastard—!"

Cough!

The sudden surge of excitement made him lurch forward, blood gushing from his mouth. He barely caught himself, gripping Jongshik's arm for support.

"Hyung-nim!"

Jongshik panicked as Sayoon's condition visibly worsened.

Grunting, Sayoon bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, fighting to stay conscious.

His vision swam. His eyes rolled uncontrollably until he clenched his jaw, forcing them to focus. With a glare sharp enough to kill, he locked onto the man he'd found.

"J-Jongshik..."

"Hyung-nim! You need to stop—!"

"...That son of a... *cough!* That son of a bitch..."

"Huh?"

"...Get him."

If you let him escape, you're fired.

Trembling fingers pointed at his target before Sayoon's eyes rolled back. His body, shaking like a leaf, collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

The blood pooled under his mask spilled onto the ground with a sickening *splat*.

A passerby screamed.

"KYAAAAAH!"

The shrill shriek echoed through the registration center. Jongshik wailed like he was witnessing his master's final moments.

*So damn noisy.*

That was Sayoon's last thought before darkness swallowed him.