Agents of the Divine Eye Bureau

Snow began to fall from the sky.

Fine grains of snow tapped against the windshield, swept aside by the wipers to either edge.

A Jeep drove through a tunnel, keeping a steady, unhurried pace, heading toward Gangwon Province.

A black sedan followed behind it.

The distance stayed around two hundred meters—close enough, far enough.

Four people sat inside the car, and none of them looked anxious. Pursuers trailing like this was a rare sight; they might as well have been out for a Sunday drive.

The bald man in the passenger seat turned around, chewing his gum. "Hey, Sam, what do you think these little Koreans are trying to pull—taking us out to some godforsaken field for an ambush?"

Sam leaned back in the rear seat, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips, not even bothering to raise his eyelids.

"Doesn't matter. If the dog don't behave, you give it a beating."

"Hahahaha!"

The bald man laughed so hard he rocked back and forth, clapping his hands. "Fair enough. But orders from above say we need to cripple this dog this time. The Super Youth Corps has been hopping too high lately."

"A dog that bounces too much becomes a headache for its owner."

The woman in the other seat chimed in.

Sam took the cigarette out of his mouth, twirling it between his fingers. "Then it's time to clip its nails."

In the eyes of the Divine Eye Bureau, what was the Super Youth Corps? And what was Korea?

Just a dog.

The four agents of the Divine Eye Bureau knew exactly what was about to happen, but they weren't afraid. They were waiting.

The more people came, the better. The bigger the mess, the better. Uncle Sam needed an excuse to pressure Korea, and these fools were walking right into handing it to them.

The snow fell harder.

The Jeep finally stopped.

An abandoned construction site—rebar jutted out of crumbling concrete, rusted and worn.

No sign of life anywhere, only the wind whipping snow across the open ground in spirals.

A perfect place for killing and burying the evidence.

Two people got out of the Jeep.

Two men, bundled in heavy winter coats, stood expressionlessly in the snow.

They didn't draw guns. They didn't shout. They just stared at the black sedan as it drew closer.

Just standing there.

The sedan slowed to a stop.

"What's with these two?" The bald man frowned.

Sam glanced through the windshield, then put the cigarette back between his lips. "Get out."

But before they could push open the doors, the two men moved.

They sprinted toward the sedan, tearing off their winter coats at the same time.

Two suicide vests.

Strapped across their chests, red indicator lights already blinking.

"F—f—f—!"

The bald man cursed, his hand barely touching the door handle.

The two men had already slammed onto the car's hood.

Boom!!

A fireball erupted, its orange glow illuminating the entire abandoned site. The shockwave flung gravel and snow into the air, shattered every window of the Jeep ahead, and shoved the vehicle back several meters.

Heat rolled through the air.

But when the flames died down, a blue shield enveloped the entire sedan.

Not a scratch on the paint.

The bald man clutched his chest. "WTF, are these people insane? It's not like they're from the Middle East—what's with the suicide bombing?"

Sam stepped out of the car.

Snow landed on his shoulders. He glanced at the smoldering wreckage on the ground, his face unchanged.

"Let's see what we've got."

He walked straight to the Jeep, circled around to the rear, and opened the trunk.

Inside lay a silver case, stamped with a glaring biohazard symbol.

Sam checked the rest of the Jeep, confirmed there was nothing else, and lifted the case with one hand.

It was heavy, but he carried it like a briefcase.

"Hold on."

A woman stepped out of the back seat—early thirties, short blonde hair, thin-framed glasses.

She walked up to Sam and ran a scanner over the case.

A few seconds later, she nodded. "Inside is a vial of some kind of agent. Can't tell the exact composition—need to take it back for analysis."

"As long as it's not a nuke." Sam hoisted the case onto his shoulder. "William's little shield can't stop that."

"F— you." William's voice came from inside the car.

Sam shoved the case into the trunk, brushed the dust off his hands. "Alright, back to the original plan."

The sedan turned around and pulled back onto the road.

The snow kept falling, a thin layer of white already building up on the asphalt.

The car had barely driven three kilometers from the site before they hit the main road.

A streak of exhaust smoke arced down from the hillside on the right.

A Javelin missile.

Fast—so fast there was almost no time to react.

"William!" Sam shouted.

The blue shield snapped open just a fraction of a second before impact.

Explosion.

The entire car was swallowed in fire, snow on the road instantly vaporized, revealing the black asphalt underneath.

When the flames cleared, the blue shield stood intact.

"Can these people just stop already?"

William swore, a thin sheen of sweat forming on his forehead. "A bunch of Koreans using anti-tank missiles we gave them?"

"Eric, stop the car," Sam said.

The driver hit the brakes.

Whether the car moved or not, it didn't really matter.

Second missile.

Third.

Fourth.

...

A total of sixteen anti-tank missiles.

More than a dozen exhaust trails rose simultaneously, streaking in from every direction with white smoke.

William braced his hands on the armrests, and the blue shield expanded outward by a notch.

All sixteen anti-tank missiles struck at once.

The successive blasts shook the entire road, flames painting the falling snow orange. Craters tore into the asphalt, debris flying dozens of meters into the air.

But the blue shield hung there, steady as ever.

"That's it?" He let out a cold laugh.

Eric whistled. "William, you should patent that shield. I want one on my car too."

"F— you."

William's grin was still on his face, but the next second, a glob of green liquid came raining down from above.

Not a missile. Not a bullet. Just a clump of thick, viscous fluid.

It landed on top of the blue shield.

Then came the hissing, sizzling sound of corrosion from above.

Visible erosion marks appeared on the shield's surface. The blue energy layer grew thin at the point of contact, like ice being doused with hot water.

William's face went pale.

"What the hell is that?!"

A second glob of green liquid followed, landing with pinpoint accuracy on the exact same spot.

The corrosion sped up. A fist-sized dent now gouged into the shield.

"Sam!" William's voice shot up an octave. "Do something! One more hit and it's through!"

Sam had already shoved open the car door.

He stood by the roadside, his gaze locking onto the direction the liquid had come from—a pine forest about four hundred meters to the left.

He raised his hand.

"Sorry, but before I joined the Divine Eye Bureau, I was a sniper."

His palm glowed red.

The light cut through the third glob of green liquid mid-air. The liquid evaporated instantly without even a wisp of smoke.

A laser beam shot out—silent, at the speed of light.

It kept going, piercing through the trunk of a pine tree, then a second, then a third...

Four hundred meters away, a man hidden behind a tree stood with his mouth open, a third mouthful of green liquid churning in his throat, before he could even spit it out.

The laser punched straight through his chest.

The man looked down at the bowl-sized hole in his chest. Its edges had already blackened and charred, and there was no blood—the heat had vaporized it the instant the wound was made.

Green liquid trickled from the corner of his mouth, eating away at his own chin.

Then he collapsed.