Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System!

This time she moved like liquid shadow, teleporting in rapid bursts—appearing behind Jaehee's bed, above it, to the left, to the right, each position lasting only milliseconds as she sought an opening.

Each time, invisible hands caught her mid-strike.

The first grab spun her like a discus and launched her through the apartment door into the hallway. The second caught her ankle and used her like a wrecking ball against the kitchen counter, shattering marble and steel. The third simply compressed around her entire body and squeezed until her ribs creaked.

"You're embarrassing yourself," the voice said, carrying cold amusement.

Through Yuna's mouth came Daegon's snarl: "Show yourself, coward! Face me properly!"

"Oh, you want a proper fight?"

The temperature in the room dropped twenty degrees in an instant. Every piece of glass in the apartment—windows, mirrors, picture frames—began to vibrate with a low, ominous hum.

Yuna raised her shadow dagger, and the invisible force grabbed her wrist. Not gently this time. The sound of bones grinding together echoed through the room as the grip tightened like a vise. The shadow weapon dissolved as her concentration shattered.

"Let me show you what protection really looks like."

The air around Yuna began to spiral, forming a miniature tornado that lifted her off the ground. She spun helplessly, faster and faster, until she was just a blur of motion. Then the vortex slammed her into every surface in the room—wall, ceiling, floor, wall again—each impact leaving spider-web cracks in the concrete.

Finally, the tornado deposited her in the center of the room, broken and barely conscious.

But even then, her corrupted body began to heal, bones knitting back together, cuts sealing themselves. Daegon's power wouldn't let his puppet break so easily.

"Impressive regeneration," the voice acknowledged. "But ultimately pointless."

This time, instead of physical force, something invaded Yuna's mind directly. Her body convulsed as an overwhelming presence pressed against her consciousness—not Daegon's corruption, but something else, something that felt like standing at the edge of an infinite abyss.

Through their connection, Daegon felt it too. For the first time in months, the master manipulator felt genuine fear.

"What... what are you?" he whispered through Yuna's lips.

"Someone who's been protecting her long before you decided to kill her."

The mental pressure intensified, and Yuna's body went rigid, her corrupted eyes rolling back until only the whites showed. The connection between her and Daegon didn't sever—it got crushed, compressed into something so small and contained that even though it remained, Daegon could no longer use it.

She collapsed like a marionette with cut strings, unconscious but still breathing, still corrupted, but now completely isolated from her master's control.

But the presence in Jaehee's apartment was already fading, leaving only displaced air and the sound of settling debris.

Jaehee continued to sleep peacefully through it all, her dreams undisturbed, completely unaware that her bedroom had become a battlefield.

*

The rooftop was silent except for the whisper of unnatural snow falling upward. Daegon stood among the corpses of the Dark Pantheon agents, their stolen memories still fresh in his mind—laboratory locations, security codes, the Dark Pantheon's deepest secrets all laid bare.

He'd been savoring the moment, watching through Yuna's eyes as she approached Jaehee's sleeping form. Not because killing her served any grand purpose in his schemes. No, this was purely personal.

A petty cruelty designed to watch Hwanung's world crumble, to see that ancient composure finally crack.

Then something had spoken through his puppet. Something that refused to be seen, even by him.

The words had carried weight—not just power, but authority that made even Daegon pause. And then came the crushing.

His connection to Yuna didn't sever. It compressed, squeezed by an invisible force until he could no longer reach through it. The psychic backlash hit him like a physical blow.

Blood erupted from his mouth in a violent spray—dark crimson flecked with corruption, tasting of shadow and twisted magic. He doubled over, one knee hitting the concrete as another coughing fit seized him.

More blood painted his lips, dripping onto the rooftop between the agents' empty shells.

"Someone dares..."

Rage flared in his chest, ancient and volcanic. The audacity of it—to interfere with his plans, to dismiss him so casually, to treat his power like it was inconsequential. His first instinct was to tear through the city until he found this entity, to unleash everything he was upon them.

But Daegon hadn't survived millennia by acting rashly.

He straightened slowly, wiping blood from his mouth with calculated deliberation. His eyes narrowed as he stared out over Seoul's glittering lights, mind already working through the implications.

This entity—whatever it was—possessed power that could match his own. Possibly exceed it. They'd demonstrated restraint too, choosing to isolate Yuna rather than destroy her entirely. That spoke of someone who understood consequences, who planned ahead.

Someone like him.

The stolen memories from the agents whispered in his thoughts—Dr. Voss's laboratory, the Heaven Eater Bird, the Dark Pantheon's timeline for their final assault. He had six months to position himself perfectly, to claim everything he'd worked toward.

Was petty revenge against Hwanung worth risking all of that?

Daegon's jaw clenched as he forced the rage down, channeling it into cold calculation instead. Much as he wanted to watch Hwanung suffer, much as the failed assassination stung his pride, he had bigger prizes to claim.

The entity had made their point. They could protect what they chose to protect. Fine. Let them have this small victory.

For now.

"Enjoy your guardian angel, Hwanung," he murmured, voice rough from blood and barely contained fury. "But angels fall eventually. And when yours does..."

He turned away from the city lights, dark snow swirling around him like a living thing. The Dark Pantheon's secrets burned bright in his stolen memories, pointing the way toward power beyond anything these small players could imagine.

Let the entity think they'd won. Let them grow complacent.

Daegon had learned patience from mountains and oceans. He could wait.