Clear the Building, Sungmin is Here

The tattooed thug did scream more.

But not because Sungmin told him—no. But because of what he was doing now.

They were now inside the dilapidated building, and Sungmin was stepping on someone’s head repeatedly to the point he could swear he heard something crack.

The thug wanted to leave, but every time he even attempted to take a step back, it was as if Sungmin was able to feel him.

If there was any consolation for him, then it was the fact that it wasn’t his head that was getting bashed in.

“Y-you’re going to kill him!” the tattooed man hollered.

Sungmin finally stopped when he heard that. His head very slowly turned to the large tattooed man, causing him to freeze when he saw his blood-covered face.

“Why not?” Sungmin smiled at him. “Where are they gonna go? The police?”

Sungmin stomped the poor gangster’s head one last time before finally moving on through the hallway.

The only thing the tattooed man could really do was once again limp, following behind him like a dog.

Soon enough, however, their walk was interrupted by four men coming down the stairs.

And these ones look different now—they no longer look like thugs at all. They were broader, and none of them was brandishing their weapons like amateurs... because none of their weapons looked amateur at all.

They were no longer weapons made from scrapped tools, but rather actual daggers, a brass knuckle, a baton, and a machete.

"Dongsuk..." The man with the machete glared at the tattooed man. "Who did you bring this time?"

"I don't—" Once again, the tattooed man, Dongsuk, couldn't finish his words before Sungmin's bat came flying again. This time, however, it was swatted away by the gangster's machete.

Sungmin tilted his head back at this, a small, amused grin escaping him.

The man only laughed at this, scoffing as he and the others rushed Sungmin without any more words.

The man swung his machete, and Sungmin let it graze his shoulder before his shin cracked against the man's knee. The sound of his joints pulling apart caused Dongsuk to almost gag as he remembered Sungmin doing the same to his underlings.

The second man with the dagger thrust. Sungmin caught his wrist, pulled him forward, and drove his forehead into the man's nose. Not once, not twice, but three times until the man finally let go of his blade.

"Tch..." Sungmin growled at this—if it was the him before, then this loser's head would have already been blown away, along with the entire building, with a single headbutt. But while he was pissed off about his weakness, the brass knuckle suddenly whacked onto his cheek.

And while he was slightly dazed at this, the one with the baton hit him right across the temple.

And just for that single second, he didn't hear anything—all he could hear were groans and cries of men much bigger and tougher than these thugs. He glanced behind him, and more than a thousand of them rallied behind him. Yet as he blinked, an unseen enemy ravaged them.

Yet he, nor the army, stopped. It only made their charge faster and more brutal. And—

"Gkh..." Sungmin fell to his knees. He looked forward, and the vast horizon covered with demons was gone, replaced by the gray hallway.

"Ha..." He wiped the blood running down the side of his face, and while he was dazed, the man with the brass knuckles smiled and raised his fist again to strike. But this time, Sungmin suddenly threw himself forward. He grabbed the man by his face and slammed him into the wall, and he kept slamming him until the man stopped moving, then turned and pulled him away to use him as a shield from the baton heading his way.

A crack whispered as the baton hit the back of the man's head, causing his friend to gasp for a moment—a moment he had no luxury to take at all.

Sungmin threw the unconscious man forward, then kicked him toward his friend. And he didn't stop there, he grabbed his mother's bat back on the floor... and started hammering it at the baton-wielder's head several times until he was satisfied.

"You..." Behind him, Dongsuk trembled. He looked at the man's head, only to not even recognize if there was ever a face there. "You killed him! You're fucking batshit crazy!"

Sungmin slowly looked at him, blood still oozing from his head. He didn't say anything; he didn't need to—the curl of his lips was enough for Dongsuk to confirm what he'd already known. He watched as Sungmin turned, tapping the bat a few times on the floor before finally heading up the stairs.

And there, six more men were waiting for him.

And one hiding right behind the corner.

"Die!" He slashed at Sungmin's stomach, but Sungmin was able to push him away... but not enough. An inch of the blade went through his shoulder, and the push also caused him to tumble back and violently roll down the stairs several times.

His arm, hitting one of the steps hard.

"Kh!" Pain flashed through him, and with it, another flash of memory. The Demon God, standing over him before ripping his arm apart.

"Fuck..." Sungmin shook his head, only to see a foot already heading his way. He caught it and then twisted and snapped it with ease before throwing the opponent away.

"Come on..." he looked up the stairs, picking up his bat from the floor again. "I'm going to make this universe regret ever throwing me back in. Let's go... Let's go!"

He growled, baring his teeth as he almost leaped up the stairs. And there, Dongsuk watched the most impossible thing that he'd ever seen, and probably would ever see.

He watched him climb. One floor, then another... then another.

It was only until they reached the last floor that Dongsuk realized those in the lower floors were luckier.

Because he was sure of it...

...most of these people were dead.

And then, finally, he was in front of a large, red door.

Sungmin just stared at the door, and then at the weird poster attached to it that said 'Hephaestus'.

He stared at this for a moment, shaking his head and letting all the blood dripping from his hair go everywhere. And with a small breath, calmly opened the door.

The cold, scented air immediately greeted him. If it wasn't for the blood blocking most of his vision, the light would have hit him first. The room completely different from the rest of the building—a hotel lobby, almost.

Parts of the floor were carpet, and there were several sofas and even a large TV plastered on the wall—but on the far end was a desk polished enough Sungmin could almost see his face on it.

And then, seated on top of the desk, was a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes.

A foreigner.

Sungmin stepped forward and was quickly surrounded by men in black suits. And unlike all the professionals outside, these men didn't have to brandish their weapon.

They pointed them. Every single one of them held a gun.

Real guns... in Korea.

Yet, Sungmin didn't even offer them a glance. His focus was completely on the woman, who crossed her legs, revealing more of her thighs than she should've.

"I'd tell them to lower the guns if I were you," Sungmin said while blood dripped from his fingers.

The woman tilted her head, her lips curling.

"You are not in position to make demands," she said, her accent a little clumsy. But her cold and confident smile faded away as soon as he heard Sungmin's next words.

"But I am in a position to offer opportunity."

"Oh... you speak English?"