“Then I’ll take it.” Ragnar Kagenou casually accepted the gold, weighing it once more before putting it away.
He had to admit—this man understood how to deal with people.
No wonder he dared to hire Curse Users so openly.
“Of course.
Please, make yourself comfortable.” After all, anyone who dealt with Curse Users knew the rules.
They weren’t good people.
If one of them got into a bad mood, they might come back later to settle things—and when that happened, no one would even know how you died.
Ragnar didn’t lack money or resources.
But if he was going to play the role, then he would play it properly.
After all, Curse Users stood on the complete opposite side of jujutsu sorcerers.
And as an underground, loosely organized group, making money was never easy.
The middle-aged man glanced around.
“Is everyone here?” “There are still three Grade 1—” Before he could finish speaking, three figures who had been quietly sitting in the waiting area stood up at the same time.
A plain-looking salaryman.
An unremarkable office lady.
And an ordinary college student.
They walked forward together, their presence subtle—but unmistakably different.
“No need to wait,” the salaryman said calmly.
“We’ve been here for a while.” “I see… then we’ll proceed with identity verification.” The salaryman gave him a brief look but said nothing.
Seeing that he didn’t step forward, the other two approached one after another to complete the verification process.
“Since everything is confirmed, please accept these small gifts.” The three accepted them without a word.
None of them showed any interest in speaking with the middle-aged man.
Of course, the man didn’t press the issue either.
Not every Curse User was like Ragnar—who actually bothered to talk.
“…This way?” Ragnar glanced ahead.
“You’re not seriously planning to take a private jet, are you?” The middle-aged man smiled stiffly.
“Of course, Mr.
Streetlight King.” Ragnar clicked his tongue inwardly.
Curse Users really weren’t normal people.
Even their names were ridiculous.
On the way to the hangar, Ragnar caught sight of the remaining five Grade 2 curse users assigned to the mission.
He didn’t even bother taking a closer look.
To him, they were nothing more than future Cursed Energy.
Once they boarded the private jet, a wave of luxury hit them immediately.
The interior was extravagant to the point of excess.
Surprisingly, the flight itself was uneventful.
Ragnar leaned back lazily.
“So… we’re sightseeing in Kyiv?” The middle-aged man forced a laugh.
“That… doesn’t seem likely, does it?” “Thought so.” Ragnar didn’t press further.
If the man didn’t want to talk, that was his choice.
He could explain everything to someone else later—preferably when it mattered.
As the plane began its descent, the middle-aged man spoke again.
“Once we land, we’ll rest for a day.
After that, we’ll head to Independence Square.” Ragnar’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Independence Square?” “You’re bringing this many Curse Users into a public square?” He glanced at the man.
This was definitely not a simple escort mission.
If it were, there would be no reason to involve three Grade 1s and six Grade 2s.
Just as the plane was about to land— Ragnar let out a quiet chuckle.
“Not bad.” “Nothing happened during the flight for once.” The middle-aged man wiped sweat from his forehead.
“See?
Everything’s—” “Careful,” Ragnar cut in lazily.
“Saying things like that is how you get unlucky.” “That’s impossible.
We’re already at the airport.
No matter what, we should at least—” Before he could finish— A streak of white smoke cut through the sky.
A Stinger anti-aircraft missile.
In a secluded corner of the airport, a blonde woman lowered her launcher and removed her sunglasses.
“…What a shame.” “I only brought one.” She clicked her tongue lightly before turning and walking away.
Every staff member along her path was already unconscious.
A violent explosion tore through Kyiv Boryspil International Airport.
Inside the plane— Ragnar coughed lightly.
“Ahem.” “I told you not to jinx it.” The explosion had destroyed the tail section.
Fortunately, there had only been one missile.
The aircraft managed a rough emergency landing amid violent turbulence.
Flames spread rapidly from the rear of the plane.
Under the protection of the three Grade 1 curse users, the middle-aged man was escorted off first.
The remaining Grade 2 curse users followed one after another.
Only Ragnar remained— Along with one unfortunate man, pinned to his seat.
A jagged piece of metal had pierced straight through his shoulder.
“Help… help me…” His face was deathly pale, his hands trembling uncontrollably from blood loss.
Ragnar walked over and looked down at him.
His expression was calm.
“Sure.” “I’ll help you.” The man’s eyes lit up for a moment— Then froze.
Golden ripples unfolded behind Ragnar.
He reached in and drew out a crimson spear.
Gáe Bolg.
A Noble Phantasm that reversed causality.
Once thrown, the result—piercing the heart—was already decided.
“You—” Squelch.
The spear pierced straight through his heart.
Clean.
Instant.
[Grade 2 curse user eliminated.
Cursed Energy +10] Flames quickly swallowed the corpse.
Ragnar stepped off the plane just before it fully erupted.
Outside, the others had already regrouped.
“Everyone’s here?” “If you’re alive, don’t keep us waiting.” The office lady glanced at him coldly.
“…Where’s the other one?” Ragnar didn’t even look at her.
“Why don’t you go check yourself?” He walked straight past her and approached the middle-aged man.
“So?” “What’s next?” “How are we getting to the destination?” The man hesitated slightly, his gaze flickering toward the female Grade 1 curse user.
“…Are you really okay speaking to them like that?” Ragnar tilted his head slightly.
“What?” “Scared?” The man forced a laugh.
“Of course I’m scared.
I’m just a normal person, after all.” Ragnar snorted.
“Then act like you have some backbone.” “You’ve got this much money and still look like you’ll fold at any second.” “Careful.
Someone’s going to take advantage of that.” “Y-Yes, yes… let’s leave that aside.” The man quickly changed the subject.
“That other curse user… is he dead?” Ragnar answered without hesitation.
“Yeah.” “Got pierced by debris.
Didn’t make it.” The salaryman curse user narrowed his eyes slightly.
Then he leaned closer to the other two and spoke in a low voice.
“…There was a trace of Cursed Energy fluctuation inside the plane just now.” Ragnar caught that glance—and smiled.
“Let’s move.” “Or are you all planning to stand here and wait for compensation from the airport?” “That’s not it.” The middle-aged man quickly waved his hand.
“I’m not short on money for a plane.” “…But you’re right.
Let’s go.” As they exited the airport, the office lady’s iris flickered.
A string of information appeared within it.
She frowned, then stepped closer to the salaryman.
“In addition to the metal wounds… there are clear puncture marks from a spear.” The salaryman gave a subtle nod.
Not yet.
Don’t alert him.
Outside, five modified jeeps were already waiting.
Bulletproof.
Explosion-resistant.
Ragnar glanced at them.
“Looks like you came prepared.” The middle-aged man forced a smile.
“This trip… is dangerous.” Dangerous?
Ragnar’s thoughts shifted briefly.
So that missile earlier wasn’t random.
Somewhere in the distance, the blonde woman stood hidden behind glass, watching them board the vehicles.
“The target has left the airport.” A voice came through her earpiece.
“Received.” She tilted her head slightly, narrowing her eyes.
“…That yellow-haired one…” “Feels familiar.” “…Must be my imagination.” She mounted her motorcycle without hesitation.
Then, with a twist of the throttle— She followed after Ragnar and the others.
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