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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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Chapter 32
São Paulo, Brazil.
The atmosphere inside the Brazilian Hero Association’s conference hall was heavier than ever.
“So you're saying Luis Moraes is dead, and the Luminar Guild was completely wiped out with no survivors? You call in all these people just to drop that on us out of the blue—what the hell are we supposed to do with that?”
The man standing in front of the massive screen slowly nodded, unfazed by the tense, hostile question.
“I know how hard that was to hear right out of the gate. But it’s the truth.”
“And you’re absolutely certain? Once someone enters a Rift, no outside communication is possible—as far as I’m aware.”
“Please, take a look at this.”
Instead of replying, the man gestured to the screen. A new image appeared.
The first photo was of a completely shattered camera—crushed beyond recognition.
“Because of how critical this operation was, the Association had been sending heroes into the Rift every ten days for status updates. But during the second report cycle…”
The man paused, exhaling deeply before continuing.
“This camera was brought in by the Luminar Guild to document the closure operation.”
Despite the age of smartphones with ultra-high resolution, the camera shown was an outdated film model.
In Rifts and near gates, modern electronics became completely useless. In contrast, analog devices like film cameras still functioned reliably.
In a world gone backwards technologically inside these zones, film had made a big comeback—out of necessity.
“As you can see, the camera was utterly destroyed… But thankfully, we were able to salvage the film.”
Click.
With a press of the remote in his hand, the image changed.
Now on the screen was a group photo taken just before entry into the Rift—Luis Moraes, Brazil’s S-rank hero and national icon, standing proudly at the center, surrounded by the 180 members of the Luminar Guild he led.
Everyone in the photo wore bright smiles, brimming with energy and optimism. Some in the conference room shook their heads in disbelief. The photo didn’t look like the prelude to a massacre.
The man sighed quietly and moved to the next slide.
Click.
Now on the screen was a full view of the Rift they’d tried to close.
Several of the images that followed showed glimpses of intense battles with monsters—but also Luis Moraes cracking jokes for the camera, the guild members goofing around, trying to lift each other’s spirits. Despite the chaos, their morale remained high.
Everything seemed to suggest the operation had been going smoothly.
But then—
“Now please focus closely from here on. These next images were recovered from the destroyed camera.”
Click.
The man’s tone turned grave as the next set of photos flickered on screen.
The first few looked no different from the earlier ones. But then…
“What… what the hell is that?”
“…A monster?”
“Rather than a monster…”
What appeared in the photo was a creature perched arrogantly atop the head of a serpent-like monster—so massive, it was easily the size of a mid-rise building.
“I’ll zoom in.”
At the man’s words, the photo on the screen began to zoom in on the small figure atop the monster’s head.
Though the image was grainy—it had been taken with a film camera—the figure’s outline was clear enough.
“…Is that a person?”
The conference room instantly erupted in murmurs.
Until now, heroes had tried to tame monsters.
Especially after elite beast tamers awakened as heroes, there had been grand plans to use monsters against other monsters.
But in the end, not a single hero had succeeded in taming one.
All that effort had merely proven: monsters were not the same as wild beasts.
The man flipped to the next slide without a word.
Click.
This time, the photo captured dark fireballs erupting around the human figure atop the monster’s head.
As if no explanation was needed, the man continued to cycle through the photos at a steady pace.
Click. Click. Click.
Photos of those black fireballs crashing into the Luminar Guild members.
Photos of torsos blown clean off.
Photos of faces contorted in terror and agony.
Even one of Luis Moraes attempting a desperate counterattack.
The images were shaky, unfocused—but they spoke volumes.
The scene had been absolute chaos.
“…You’re saying Luis Moraes lost… to that person?”
Someone scoffed, refusing to believe it.
Luis Moraes—Brazil’s national hero—was ranked among the top 50 heroes worldwide.
And at that level, even a single ranking was separated by barely a sliver—paper-thin margins.
The idea that someone like him could be killed by some unknown figure? Unthinkable.
Instead of replying, the man showed another photo.
A charred corpse—burnt to cinders.
Next to it, the shattered remains of a sword, snapped clean in half.
“…Dear God.”
The body was so blackened it was unrecognizable.
But the sword—there was no mistaking it.
It was Luis Moraes’ blade.
He’d had it in every previous photo.
Wielded it against monsters.
Held it even in the photo where he launched his counterattack on the unknown enemy.
Silence fell over the conference room as the truth hit everyone like a truck.
Their country’s hero was dead.
No one spoke.
No one COULD speak.
It was a long time before someone finally broke the silence.
“So… what’s the point of calling us all here?”
The man standing at the screen glanced toward a middle-aged man seated nearby.
Daniel Lopez, President of the Brazilian Hero Association, gave him a small nod.
With a sigh, the speaker responded.
“Everything you’ve seen here today is strictly classified. Luis Moraes’ death—along with the complete annihilation of the Luminar Guild—must not be made public. That’s why you’ve been urgently summoned.”
“There’s no such thing as an eternal secret. Even if you plant a fake and manipulate the media, there's always a limit.”
Someone replied.
“Of course. But we only need to hold out until the closure operation is complete. After that, we’ll release everything ourselves.”
Now the room began to understand.
Everyone present was a key figure—government officials, guild executives, journalists, corporate heads.
If they decided to cover this up?
Then yes—at least until the operation ended—it could be hidden.
The Brazilian Hero Association had one goal:
To prevent the mission from falling apart due to the death of an S-rank hero.
If this went public, any hero planning to head to Brazil would think twice.
That could spark a full-blown national crisis.
And so, those in the room had little choice but to become co-conspirators.
“But are we sure the thing that killed Luis Moraes was even human?”
“At this stage, we can’t say for sure.”
“What was the name of the Rift he tried to shut down?”
“It’s the BA014 Rift.”
Some understood what that meant—others didn’t.
So the man elaborated.
“It’s located about 20 kilometers west of the confluence of the Tapajós and Amazon Rivers.”
“…That’s near Santarém.”
“Exactly.”
＊ ＊ ＊
Although the trip to Brazil had been arranged suddenly, for Dojun, it was a necessary move.
To craft a sword with the mana absorption rate he wanted, he needed the heart of a Blue Croco. That meant, annoying as it was, he had no choice but to move in person.
’Since they’re planning to shut down the Rifts, I might as well use this chance to collect several Blue Croco hearts in advance.’
In a way, it worked out well.
Unless Blue Crocos started appearing in Rifts of other countries, they would soon become incredibly hard to obtain. Which meant this was the perfect opportunity to stockpile as many of their hearts as possible.
Actually, since he was going all the way to Brazil anyway, Dojun had even pulled up the list of monsters that could only be found in the region and was drafting a shopping list of resources he needed.
“So Terwaka’s only found in Brazil, huh.”
Terwaka, a massive plant monster, was so ferocious that most other monsters wouldn’t even approach it.
Ranging anywhere from 30 to 100 meters in height, it had an insane ability to absorb moisture—so much so that it could desertify a 10-kilometer radius of land.
⋮
“Terwaka’s extreme moisture-absorbing ability comes from its root seeds. Just a single Terwaka seed can dry up a decent-sized pond in no time. So what happens if you turn one of those seeds into a proper weapon?”
⋮
Dojun recalled Ryuntena’s mischievous face.
Human bodies, of course, but also most monsters—except for a few specific types—were made up largely of water and blood.
That meant if he could make a weapon that fully utilized the Terwaka seed’s ability, it could instantly drain all the moisture from a body and kill it on the spot.
Just the thought of it made for a terrifyingly destructive concept.
Of course, even in the world that had already fallen into ruin, no one had ever successfully turned a Terwaka seed into a weapon.
“Still, it’s worth trying.”
Dojun added Terwaka seeds to his shopping list for the Brazil trip.
⋮
“So far, I haven’t seen a textile material more flawless than Belkera’s thread. Look at this—crazy, right? Cassel, want me to make you a set too?”
⋮
Ropehom, known across the continent as having the finest craftsmanship hands could offer.
Dojun could clearly recall how Ropehom once proudly showed off a full-body suit of armor—lightweight yet incredibly durable—crafted from the silk of Belkera.
Thanks to him, Dojun had also benefited greatly from armor made using the silk of Belkera, a giant spider-like monster known to grow up to five meters in size.
And it wasn’t just that. The mana amplification from Zerk’s eyeball, the mana-reflective scales of Phaela’s wings, the spine of the Twin-Headed Ogre—Dojun was surprised to find that many of these rare materials were exclusive to Brazil.
“A truly blessed country.”
Dojun couldn’t help but think that a nation with such resources at its fingertips could rise to become the greatest power in the world at any time.
“The monsters are stronger, and even the heroes are said to be significantly more powerful than those in other countries, right?”
No one knew the reason, but in Brazil, even the same type of monster would be noticeably more powerful than its counterparts elsewhere. Naturally, the heroes here were also on a higher level.
And yet, Brazil had failed to become a dominant force in the world of heroes. The reason? They were too overwhelmed just trying to protect their own country.
The fact that they had even decided to shut down certain Rifts within their borders said everything—Brazil’s situation was dire.
“If you’re living here, it wouldn’t feel like a blessing.”
Clicking his tongue in sympathy, Dojun began narrowing down the list of materials he absolutely needed from Brazil.
“The most important is still the Blue Croco’s heart. Next would be the seed of the Terwaka. Belkera’s silk is too valuable to give up, and if I can get Zerk’s eyeball and Phaela’s wing scales, I should. And then…”
Just as Dojun was deep in thought, seriously contemplating the list—
“Oppa…”
Eunyeong stepped into the room.
Clutching a snow-white bunny doll, she looked like she’d just woken up from a nap.
Dojun put down his pen and turned to her.
“What is it, Eunyeong?”
Even when he asked, she didn’t respond right away.
Ever since the news broke on TV that Dojun had officially become South Korea’s eighth S-rank hero, the way Eunyeong and their grandmother looked at him had changed.
It wasn’t just shock or awe. It was fear.
She was only seven, but even she knew—thanks to TV—that being a hero was one of the most dangerous jobs out there. And every time she looked at Dojun now, her big, clear eyes would tremble with unease.
It made perfect sense.
To Eunyeong, the world only had two people: her grandmother and Dojun.
She’d cried the hardest when he entered a newly discovered Rift. He knew that. And because he knew that, Dojun had spent the past few days doing whatever he could to reassure this tiny girl.
Eunyeong silently wrapped her arms around one of Dojun’s legs.
Like she was trying to anchor him, to stop him from going anywhere.
Dojun gently stroked her head without saying a word.
“You can’t… go to heaven and leave me behind… like Mom did.”
“......”
Dojun’s hand hesitated for a second mid-stroke—but then continued softly, brushing her hair with care.
“Of course not. Oppa would never leave you behind.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
He smiled brightly at her, as if to calm her heart.
“How about we go grab some hamburgers?”
“Yeah! Let’s take Grandma too!”
“Of course, we’ll take Grandma.”
“I’ll go tell her!”
Unlike the gloomy look she had when she came in, Eunyeong now raced out of the room.
And watching her go, Dojun could only wish that moments like these—small, quiet joys—would last forever.
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HELIO SCANS
[Translator - Hestia]
[Proofreader - Kaya]
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