Clearing the Game at the End of the World

Chapter 115: O Bloody Boom Blada (2)

It is recommended to listen to the Beatles Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da as you read the chapter.

Long ago, very long ago. There was a young boy called Ian in a city with a stupidly long name called Braunau am Inn.

It was a small city with nothing special about it. It had a factory line and a small stream running through it, and the only specialty product in the city was a Jewish man with a weird mustache who liked making soap.

Yeah, our towns specialty was madmen. And the man who was my father adapted very well to the culture of this village.

Ian! IIIan! You little gremlin bastard! Come down here this instant!

Slaap!

What is this? What does this look like to you? Huh?

You never respond to your fathers question, do you? Then Ill say it for you. This!

Poww!

is!

Powww!

an empty fridge! I thought I told you over and over. If you dont want to get beat to death, always! Keep the fridge! Full of beer!

Powwwww!

Obviously, my father never gave me the money to buy beer. Whether I went out and begged or stole it, I had to provide the money myself. In the street full of tough factory workers.

Ian! My goodness gracious! Are you okay? That old senile dog of a person!

Imfine.

Goodness! Your finger is broken! Come here! Ill help you!

Emily My older sister who lives in the attic of that old house. I lived every day getting beaten and stealing, but I still believed that angels existed. And that my older sister was an angel that came down from heaven. Hm? You thought I was the eldest child? Well Youre not wrong. My two older brothers and Emily.

Come here, you bh!

Father, please dont do this! Please!

Heheheheh, I made you this pretty, so you should repay me for it, no? Now, come to Daddy

Aaaghh! I-Ian! Dont look here, dont look please!

They all died. My oldest brother was panhandling but got beat up by some other beggars that didnt like him, and my other brother got hit in the wrong spot by Fathers belt buckle. My older sister. That angelic Emily

Go away.

Emily.

Go away! I said go away! You just feel bad for me, dont you? Its only now that you look at me with those sympathetic eyes; youre a man in the end too. When you get older like that bastard, youll stare at me with perverted eyes like all of the other men!

Emily

I dont want it! Just leave me alone. Please. Stop it. Please dont hit me! Ill be good, I-Im good! Aaahhhhhh!

She went crazy, taking in dozens of men in that attic at an age when she was just starting to become a woman. Father was also one of those men. Mother? She slapped my face, saying that daughters are more profitable than sons. Then blamed me for coming out as a son. Living with those kinds of people, my sister met a long, painful death. On the day that my older sisters corpse flowed down the Inn river behind our house, nine-year-old Ian went to church for the first time in his life and prayed.

God.

I think you can stop now. Trying to help people and sending down angels like my older sister.

This world is too dangerous for angels to come down and protect it.

Creaak

Hahahahah. The wine this year hm? Hey, kid. How did you get in here? The door was closed.

Reverend. The window over there Its broken.

You son of the devil! How dare you break the church window?

That was the first time I talked with the pastor.

God.

This child, hes that kid, Reverend! The son of the yellow roof on the three-way!

If its that house Kick him out right now! Hes probably here to steal from the donation box!

You rascal, stay still! You little thief!

Dragggg

This means you understood me, right?

Scrapeee!

Aghh!

Hwack-tu! Dirty little thief. Dont ever come here again!

Anyway, its a shame, though.

Ahh, the yellow-roofed house. It was cheap and nice

Thumpp!

I knew after I saw the pastor. That God already gave up a long time ago.

A bitter smile laced up on the young childs face. There was now no chance that his angelic sister was going to come back down to Earth ever again.

Please take good care of my sister, God.

After saying my last prayer in front of those closed doors, I never went back to church ever again. I found out later on, but my sister died from AIDS. Without any separate education, I think she thought it was just a contagious disease and intentionally pushed me away You crying?

Phhhhnk!

N-no! The campfire The smokes getting in my eyes!

Heheheheh, is it okay for a guy working at the Inspection Bureau to be so emotional?

F-forget it! After that, then Did you stay in that house? Stealing money and buying beer?

Ts, tsst!

Hahhhh

Ian stopped talking for a moment and put a cigar in his mouth. Along with the dense smoke, remorse tied to the old memories floated out.

I planned to. Honestly, at that point, I was a kid who was nothing more than a doll. I didnt have anything I liked or disliked. I just stole because it hurt to get beat, and I thought I would continue living like this until I was lucky enough to get hit in the head by the metal buckle on Fathers belt and flow down the Inn river like my sister. Until that day came.

That day?

Yeah. God actually had a pretty good aftercare.

Booooomm!

Aaaahhhh!

Fire! Its a fire!

A person died!

G-get away! It might blow up again! The gas caught on fire!

Wow.

Boa. That was the first thing I said for the first time in three months since my sister died. It was to the point where the sound coming out of my throat felt weird.

The house blew up?

Yeah. That yellow house was far from safe and peaceful after all. They said it was a gas explosion. Probably started from something little like a cigarette or something.

When Ian flicked the cigar in his mouth, several small embers flew out.

That was it. For the house that would have taken all four of us kids lives, and for the trash that couldnt even be called parents, to be erased from this world.

Ash flying through the air and a completely destroyed building. What young Ian felt as he looked at the house that was now gone was a little bit of shock and an odd feeling he didnt know the name of. The emotion he felt for the first time made young Ian nervous.

It was interesting. The thought that Theres an answer like this in the world too? and the question of Whos going to kill me now? swirled through my head around and around.

Crackle, crackle

Watching the flames dance in the cold night air, Ian spoke with a nostalgic look in his eye.

Emily If only she held on a little longer, she might have been able to live the peaceful life that she wanted so much for even a short time.

Phngk!

Ian turned his head towards the sound that stood out from the aesthetic vibe of the night sky and campfire. Along with Ezel, he could see Vex sniffling with his back turned as well.

Should I stop?

W-what are you talking about? You dont even look like you started.

Heh, youre all still kids. Anyway So quiet, depressing, and dull Ian was left all alone in the world. Without the ability to think or the power to do what he wanted, Ian sat in front of the destroyed house for two whole days until a neighbor called the cops and he was sent to an orphanage. Traumhaus, meaning House of Dreams in my language. It was the turning point in the life of a skinny boy who lived life blankly, ignored by everyone.

The word turning point made Vexs expression brighten.

You met a savior! A warm, kind nun healed the broken heart of young Ian and

Flick!

Ouch!

What kind of dumb story is that? There was a nun, but she just took care of the kids so she could get paid. She was definitely better than Father. Didnt hit me that muchhm, although that doesnt mean she didnt hit me. But she did give me food at mealtime. I liked that. I didnt want anything special, but I felt that I could just spend time here until I died too, so I tried not to disappoint the nun.

At that point, Ian was completely used to living without opening his mouth. He would wake up at six in the morning and wipe the hallway with a wet rag, clean the small barn behind the orphanage, and then, when he brought back water from the well, there would be a tough piece of bread and tasteless soup for breakfast. After eating, it would be time to do chores at the chemical plant nearby. Once he finished his quota, he just continued to do whatever work he could get his hands on. He didnt have anything else to do anyway. Then lunch. Evening cleaning and laundry. Dinner. Sleep. Then morning again. A quiet, peaceful, satisfying life.

I did that only because I didnt want to get involved with anyone, but the way I quietly did my work must have looked good to Sister Margaret. Because when I told her I didnt know my age, she said we could make the day I came in here my birthday and throw me a party for my tenth birthday.

That day, when Ian was told by a nun to follow her after covering his eyes, he thought, I must have done something wrong. Because sometimes his father covered him with a blanket when beating him, saying he didnt like the look in his eyes.

But the place the nun led him to was not the punishment room, but the cafeteria.

Pop! P-pop!

Happy birthday! Yeahhhh!

Clap clap clap clap!

Happy birthday! Ian!

Happy birthday!

Woahh! They have cookies!

Everyones getting tasty treats today because its Ians birthday, so what should we say?

Thank you, Ian!

His names Ian?

Thanks, Ian, for the food!

Everyone was smiling at me. That was new for me. Until then, the only person that smiled looking at me was my sister, but even the ones that normally looked at me with a disgusted expression were smiling brightly at me and clapping.

That was a big shock for young Ian.

Because the children that always pretended he wasnt there were all smiling and congratulating him with the name Ian.

Pop! P-pop!

Clap clap clap clap!

The sound of fireworks with cheap gunpowder going off, sharp clapping sounds, and smiling faces.

Aaah

Pop!

[Boooom!]

Pop-pop!

[Booooom!]

Every time the colorful confetti busted into the air with the popping sound, Ian was reminded of his old house blowing up with ashes floating through the air.

Aaahhahah, hahahah

Huh? Ian laughed!

Its the first time Ive seen him smile!

So you did know how to talk!

Yeah. I learned for the first time that I knew how to smile too. And that Ive smiled before.

He couldnt hear the sounds of the kids talking. All he could hear was the pop! pop! of the fireworks and the image of the massive house collapsing with a massive explosion.

The more he thought of that, the smile across small and skinny Ians face widened. The emotion of that day was something that Ian, who was born with little emotion, didnt know. It wasnt shock, but a great deal of joy. The joy of finally regaining freedom and achieving revenge. The gray, colorless world of young Ian had already been painted colorfully by the roar of explosions and bright flames. In a little broken and twisted way.

The accident that blew away the house broke my shackles and sent me out into the world, and those small firecrackers reminded me that even I had an emotion called joy. To that little scrawny kid Ian, explosions set their place as the only way to share his feelings with the world.

He spoke with a calm voice, but what he said was grim enough for the listener to feel sick. Especially if the narrator is the main character of said story.

So, thats why youre so gung-ho about explosions?

Ian nodded to Gyosus question.

Yeah. Since its the first time a kid who was basically a sociopath felt joy. From that day on, Ian changed. He was still quiet, but he started to talk with other people. It wasnt like he could feel other emotions yet, but he realized that this made things less troublesome and more efficient.

And the time he gained from acting more efficiently was used to study about the thing that gave him that joy, explosions. Starting from black gunpowder, smokeless gunpowder, perchlorate, lead oxide, lead chromate gunpowder, methods for extracting ammonium nitrate, destructive engineering I learned anything I could find related to explosions. Utilizing my skills from my youth, I used the money I pickpocketed to buy books, then read those books until they were worn down to the spine. Id go and find senile veterans and listen to their history about the old wars again and again and next thing I knew, I was in college majoring in Destructive Engineering and Chemistry. After learning about thermal efficiency and stuff, I turned into a robot-like guy that strived for efficiency in every single way.

Bounce!

Collegeee? You, the literal embodiment of ignorance, went to college?

Keheheh, completely different from my cool image now, right? Back then, I tried out everything that the other people said was good, but I didnt feel anything. Booze? It was an ineffectively diluted alcoholic solution. Hard liquor was just a little better. Since it caught on fire. Cigarettes? It was just unnecessarily spicy. I wondered if it would get a little better if it smelled like gunpowder, lit a cigarette with gunpowder added to it, and almost blew my lip off. Woman? There were enough to the point that it was annoying. I tried my best to enjoy it, but it wasnt as explosive as gunpowder.

I cut them off, saying, Im not interested in women. Get out of my way. But apparently they found that more attractive and followed me around more. And men that misunderstood what I said started to approach me too, so that was a pain.

As if unable to believe what Ian was saying, the three others squinted their eyes and exchanged glances. From them, Ezel rummaged through his bag and took out a pencil and paper.

Sk-s-s-s-s-sk

Ezel, whatcha drawing?

Mmm based on his current facial structure, Im trying to draw an Ian with a normal chin and a little less muscle. I cant believe what hes saying is actually true.

Ezel was quite a bit drunk, but his hands still moved without hesitation.

Hey, youre pretty good.

Kekekeke. I got some extra points on the Inspection Bureau exam with this talent. Here, done!

Ooh!

Woahh!

It looks exactly how I looked when I was young.

In the sketch that Ezel drew, there was a handsome man with cold eyes who could indeed make any woman or man fall for him.

It does? This handsome guy and you?

Like a picture. Gaybar, thats a good hand you got there.

It was a compliment, but hearing what he said, Ezels expression looked incredibly conflicted.

You really did look like this. So you were, after all

Hm? Im what?

N-nothing! Youre handsome! You deceiver!

No wonder. Of course women would like it more if you said, Buzz off with this face.

I bet that womans heart exploded at least twice.

Nonsense. Whats so good-looking about that? I look scrawny and mean. Anyway, my only interest was gunpowder and explosions. I thought about getting a job at a construction company after graduating to demolish abandoned buildings, but it didnt feel like enough, no matter how I thought about it. I wanted to see something explode and burn up closer.

As if missing it, Ian smirked as he continued to narrate his past. Of course, no one else was able to sympathize.

Is that a college student or a terrorist?

Bingo! A terrorist was one of my other options. It didnt matter whether people died. All I wanted to see were the explosions. I always had my eye on plane tickets to the Middle East. And since I kept looking into that field I ended up taking a leave of absence from college and entered the PMC.

The PMC is

A Private Military Company. It was the only path that relieved my urges without making me a criminal. Committing a crime and going to jail isnt efficient, after all. You cant work with bombs in prison. So I spent about two years as a bomb expert doing mercenary work when that happened.

No one asked what that was. Everyone could intuitively know what it was.

World War III. The Great War. The start of the fall of humanity.

I volunteered right away. I asked to go to Korea, the most fierce battleground, located right next to the starting point of the war. I wasnt interested in sparing my life. Only the urge to experience bigger explosions, bullets and shells that flew through the air full of energy from the gunpowder, and the flames and debris as a result.

I was just a mercenary, but I always ran into the most dangerous of battlefields and caused an explosion where the most people were. Counting the number of people that died from a single explosion and the amount of enemy equipment that was rendered useless as a result, I felt accomplishment. I felt proud for causing an explosion more beautiful and powerful than anyone else.

Glug Glug

Clack.

The only memories he had of those times were ash and flames. He wanted bigger, better explosions. His obsession with efficiency helped with that. At some point, the number of people who volunteered to follow Ian on the battlefield increased, and Ian utilized them as efficiently as possible and ran through the most intense of battlefields with a car full of explosives.

In other peoples eyes, Ian looked like a leader who was worth respecting more than anyone else. At some point in time, there was a line of people willing to take his place when he charged into places of death.

Jim, Carter, Kenichi. Lead your own squads and take the high ground. The enemy is waiting, so there will be sacrifices. Any questions?

Not a single one, Ashfield.

Like always, we know youll come save us when the time comes! Heheheh.

Dont depend on uncertain predictions. I will only act according to the strategy.

Yessir. Why dont you call the commander taking the lead as a strategy as well?

Thats just a hobby of mine.

Hahahahah! Hobby? Goodness gracious! A hobby?!

Ken! Youre being impolite to your superior. Im sorry, Commander Ashfield. Ill deal with this

Dont bother. Kenichis ability to carry out operations is not related to his words and actions. The 7^th and 8^th companies will break through the enemy defense line with me. Use the chance when the firepower of the high ground is paralyzed to attack.

Yes sir!

Well finish preparations and depart in 15 minutes. Burn and tear the enemy apart.

Ahhh, I feel like coming every time I hear that line. Damn it, marry me when the wars over, Ashfield!

Kenn!!!

By the end of the war, Ian was officially the Regimental Commander of the ROK Armys 7^th Armored Regiment and unofficially the commander of an army of mercenaries and volunteers several times that amount. He always left the battle in the frontmost position, and because he always returned covered in dust and ash, people nicknamed him Ashfield out of respect.