NOVEL NEXT Chapter 18: Clocking Out
The fortress was silent.
No, not silent.
It was the silence after a storm—the kind where every groan of the building's steel beams, every drip of blood trickling from a ceiling crack, sounded like cannon fire against the suffocating stillness.
Sobin stood at the center of it all, surrounded by unconscious bodies—corpses, actually—and the wet remains of the Plunderer Boss. His fists unclenched slowly, blood dripping from his palms where his nails had dug too deep.
His breath was ragged, not from exertion but from the storm still raging inside his chest.
Her face.
Even now, when he closed his eyes, all he saw was fog. The blurred impression of someone who should have been clear as day. The ache of that absence hurt more than any bullet, any blade, any monster's claw ever could.
"…Tch." Sobin wiped his face with his sleeve, smearing away gore without care. "Guess I'll deal with this later."
His RCD buzzed in his pocket. The faint holographic light pulsed insistently until he finally fished it out.
[Delivery Log Reminder: Please update task status.]
Sobin stared at it blankly. "Really? Now?"
He pressed his thumb against the screen and opened a channel.
"Yo. This is Sobin, Rider E-Rank." His voice was flat. "Reporting an incident in Zone E-45. I've located and neutralized a major Plunderer hideout."
For a moment, the line was dead. Then came a sudden explosion of voices on the other end.
"Repeat that!?"
"Zone E-45 Plunderers… neutralized? By who?"
"Did he say E-Rank?"
Sobin sighed and held the RCD away from his ear. "Yeah, yeah, I said neutralized. I'll send proof."
He tapped a few commands, switching to camera mode. The device hovered slightly in his palm, scanning the hall. The grotesque carnage, the collapsed Plunderers, the splattered remains of their so-called Boss—all of it was captured in stark clarity.
[Photo Upload Complete.]
[GPS Tagging Active.]
Sobin pocketed the RCD and turned toward the corridors branching from the main hall.
His steps echoed against the steel as he muttered, "Might as well check the rest before I leave."
************
The chamber where the Boss had wallowed was easier to find than he expected. The stench of cheap alcohol and perfume clung to the heavy doors.
Sobin pushed them open, the metal groaning on rusted hinges.
Inside, the atmosphere shifted. The women—half a dozen at least—huddled together near the far wall. Without the Boss's shadow looming over them, their painted smiles had collapsed into trembling expressions of fear.
The silks and furs on the mattress looked even filthier now, stained with years of abuse. Broken bottles littered the floor, alongside plates of half-rotten food.
Sobin raised a hand. "Relax. I'm not here to hurt you."
One of them—a thin woman with tangled hair and bruises along her arms—peered up cautiously. "…Who… are you?"
"Rider." He flicked his license from his jacket, the holographic badge glowing faintly in the dim room. "E-Rank. Association sent me."
For a moment, silence hung. Then, slowly, the women's shoulders loosened. Relief washed over their faces, and a few even broke into tears.
"Y-you killed him?" another whispered. "The Boss?"
Sobin glanced back toward the hall. "Yeah. He's not coming back."
The women exchanged looks—hesitant, but undeniably hopeful.
"…Thank you," the first woman murmured. "You've saved us."
Sobin scratched his cheek, uncomfortable with the gratitude. "Don't thank me. I was just… passing through."
At the women's urging, Sobin followed them deeper into the fortress. One of them produced a key from a hidden drawer and unlocked a massive reinforced door.
When the lights flickered on, Sobin stopped.
"…Damn."
The warehouse was enormous, shelves stacked high with crates and barrels. Weapons, medical supplies, food rations sealed in military packaging—loot from years of raiding. Whole racks of clothing, jewelry, and even electronics sat collecting dust.
"These bastards really did hoard everything, huh…" Sobin muttered.
The women nodded bitterly. "They stole from travelers, from nearby settlements, even from Riders. Everything came here."
The System chimed in suddenly.
[You are entitled to compensation, Sobin. By Rider Association standards, neutralizing a hostile group allows you to claim spoils. They won't complain if you take what you want.]
Sobin shoved his hands in his pockets. "I don't care about shiny things or old junk."
[There are weapons here. Higher-grade equipment. You should—]
"Not interested," Sobin cut it off. His eyes scanned the shelves until they landed on a familiar shape propped against a crate. An Artifact—similar to the strange gun the Boss had wielded.
Sobin picked it up, weighing it in his hand. Its surface still hummed faintly, glowing inscriptions pulsing like a heartbeat.
"…This, though." He holstered it, grimacing. "Better in my hands than theirs."
The System hummed approvingly.
[Practical choice.]
When Sobin returned to the Boss's room, the women looked at him expectantly.
"So… what will you do with us?" one asked quietly.
"Me? Nothing." Sobin shrugged. "Association will send cleanup. They'll rescue you, handle this mess."
A ripple of murmurs spread among them.
"But… you're leaving?"
"Can't you stay, just for tonight?"
"We don't want to be alone here…"
Their voices wavered, desperate but sincere.
Sobin paused, the weight of their words pressing faintly against him. But then he forced a smile—the first real one since his wife's face had vanished from his mind.
"…Sorry. My shift's over. I'm clocking out."
They blinked, confused at first. Then, slowly, one of them chuckled. Another joined. Before long, the room carried the soft sound of laughter—not hollow, not forced.
Genuine, if fragile.
"Then… at least tell us your name," the thin woman said. "The name of the Rider who saved us."
Sobin exhaled softly. His usual cold mask cracked as he dipped into a small bow.
"E-Rank Rider. Sobin."
Their eyes widened. Then, as one, they bowed back, tears streaking their cheeks.
"Thank you, Sobin."
*********
By the time Sobin reached his truck, the fortress felt less oppressive. The weight of the Boss's reign had already begun to lift, replaced by the faint hope of something better.
He climbed into the driver's seat, tossed the Artifact onto the passenger side, and leaned back with a long sigh.
"…System."
[Yes?]
"Don't forget what you said." His eyes narrowed. "If finishing these Quests is the only way to see her face again… then I'll finish them all. Every last one."
[Understood.]
The engine roared to life. Sobin gripped the wheel, hope and fury flickering together in his gaze.
"…Deliveryman Sobin, clocking out."
The truck rumbled out of the ruined hideout, headlights cutting through the darkness.
*********
Meanwhile, at the Rider Association.
Inside the building's main hub, chaos erupted. The live feed of Sobin's report replayed on several holo-screens: the images of the Plunderer fortress, the unconscious criminals, the blood-soaked hall.
"Unbelievable…" one officer whispered. "An E-Rank did this?"
"He didn't just survive. He annihilated them. The most notorious Plunderer group in Zone E-45!"
A senior inspector slammed his palm on the table. "Draft the paperwork. Immediate re-evaluation. That Rider isn't staying E-Rank. Not after this."
The room buzzed with urgency, yet beneath it all, a ripple of unease spread.
Because deep down, every official watching the footage knew the same thing—
Sobin wasn't normal.
Not at all.