MTLNOVEL chapter 82 The Ones from That Day
The streets were bright with midday light, but his concealment ensured that as long as he didn't physically bump into anyone, he would remain unnoticed.
Following the main road, Gin entered a vast open lot and continued walking for thirty minutes. Eventually, he reached the area where three large warehouses stood, unchanged from the last time he had visited.
People—both ability users and regular civilians—milled about, their presence indicating that the location was still active.
Activating his territorial awareness, Gin gathered information on those present.
There were numerous ability users mingled with the ordinary workers. For now, he decided to get a closer look.
He approached one of the warehouses, blending seamlessly with the shadows.
The doors to the warehouses were closed, but as he neared one of them, the entrance swung open.
Four men stepped out, lighting cigarettes as they chatted idly. Gin seized the opportunity, slipping inside before the door shut behind them.
Inside, he found himself in what appeared to be a storage facility for equipment. Shelves lined the walls, each stocked with various gear likely meant for use in the hidden world.Gin quietly made his way to a corner of the warehouse and enhanced his hearing with mana.
The warehouse housed about ten individuals.
Some were engrossed in mobile games, while others gathered in groups, exchanging mundane conversation—topics like cars and women.
However, snippets of more significant discussion soon emerged.
"Man, this whole situation's got me on edge," one of them muttered.
"What are you worried about? We've got plenty of people here. If anything goes down, we'll have dozens rushing in to back us up," another reassured him.
"Yeah, but what good is that if I'm the first to get killed?"
A brief silence followed before the first speaker continued, his voice low and cautious.
"Who are these guys, anyway? They wiped out the entire last team. Their goal's clearly to secure the portal."
"Exactly why we're on standby. But I'm telling you, they know we're laying a trap. They won't come unless we drop our guard."
"And if we tire out waiting, they'll strike again, right?"
"Exactly. They're smart—playing the long game."
"Shit…" the man cursed under his breath, frustrated by their predicament.
The conversation shifted to warnings about their superiors, who were apparently in foul moods due to recent failures.
"Upper management's been in a bad mood lately. You'd better be careful," another man chimed in.
"When aren't they in a bad mood?"
"Good point. If they were ever happy, do you think we'd even hear about it?"
The men laughed bitterly, their frustration evident.
The conversation turned to rumors of advancements overseas.
"Hey, I saw something on WizardNet. Looks like the Americans succeeded in potion development."
"Seriously? Isn't that something we've been busting our asses on too?"
"Yeah, but it's not perfect. Their version's only about 10% effective compared to real potions."
"Still, that's impressive. The U.S. always seems to be at the forefront of this stuff—new discoveries, breakthroughs.
They even led the charge into the hidden world."
"They gave everyone access to portal detectors, didn't they? Without that, we'd still be fumbling in the dark."
"Maybe. But I bet other countries lost a ton of people trying to figure it out.
The Americans probably shared the tech to avoid a political mess."
"Or they had ulterior motives.
Could've been some kind of accident or an incident they couldn't cover up."
The group debated the implications of spreading magical knowledge to the broader world. Gin listened intently but found nothing particularly surprising. The mention of "WizardNet," however, piqued his curiosity. It seemed to function like a hidden web network for magic users—eerily similar to the mage-exclusive sites of the hidden world.
He silently concluded that there was little more to gain from this warehouse. Moving swiftly and without a sound, he approached the door.
Ensuring no one was watching, he activated a sound-muffling spell, cracked the door open, and slipped outside.
His next destination was the portal warehouse.
The second warehouse seemed unremarkable, so he bypassed it entirely. At the portal warehouse, Gin expanded his awareness once more, confirming the presence of five people inside—all of them ordinary workers. These individuals were likely tasked with maintaining the portal.
With stealth at its peak, Gin slowly and silently opened the door, slipping inside unnoticed. None of the workers paid any attention to him.
He carefully closed the door behind him and moved further in, positioning himself near the dormant portal.
Not fully charged yet, he noted.
He could tell at a glance that it would take at least two more days before the portal had enough mana to function.
From his concealed position, Gin observed the workers.
They appeared tense, their faces serious as they engaged in a hushed but urgent discussion. He waited, blending seamlessly into the shadows, ready to uncover more about the strange web of events unfolding around these warehouses and their connection to the hidden world.
Five men sat in a tense circle around a round table, their expressions grim. The atmosphere was suffocating, as if a heavy, unseen weight pressed down on them. Each man's gaze was hard, their eyes betraying the anxiety they dared not speak aloud.
"You think we'll get thrown under the bus?" one of them muttered.
"We can't let that happen," another replied tersely.
"And how exactly are we supposed to stop it? If the higher-ups decide to cut us loose, we're done for," a third man said bitterly, his words laced with resignation.
"Which is why we need to be prepared," the second man countered, his tone cold and resolute.
The group fell into a tense silence before one of them spoke again. "The mood's been off lately… It's all because of that raid. The guys who were ambushed—everything's gone to hell since then."
"Yeah. I heard they're leaning toward the Americans being responsible. Is that true?"
"Leaning toward? No, it's more like suspicion at this point. Nothing confirmed," another answered, shaking his head.
They exchanged wary glances. The fear of being scapegoated loomed large, and the air grew heavier as the conversation deepened.
Every word carried an undertone of mistrust—not just of external enemies, but of those above them in the chain of command. It was a dangerous time, and they all knew that survival might depend more on political maneuvering than raw strength.