Ex Hunter Current Queen, All That's Left Is the Actual Battle - Chapter 2

Translator: White Lotus 

Even though Jackson already knew it was an “external elimination mission,” his curiosity deepened after discovering the identity of the client.

Who in the world could he be?

What kind of circumstances would drive someone of such high status—one of the New Humans, no less—to come all the way to a dingy office like this? If they had come to the underworld begging to have someone killed, it had to be something huge. Jackson knew this was not a job he could afford to miss. Whoever the target was, the payout would surely have an extra digit or two compared to his usual jobs.

Noticing the greed on his face, the client smiled gently.

“It’s a big project, so I specifically sought you out. I heard you’ve completed missions on off-world planets before.”

“That’s right. Though it was a few years ago…”

At the mention of “off-world,” Jackson’s expression darkened. The excitement that had been rising in him unraveled in an instant, and a dull ache spread from his prosthetic leg.

No way… They’re sending me to work on an outer planet?

Sure, the money sounded good, but if this job required going off-world, that was a different story. Jackson swallowed hard and focused on the client’s plump, brightly colored lips.

“We needed someone with experience dealing with alien species. The rest of the team is already assembled. If you take on the role of sniper, the project will be complete. Will you accept the job, Jackson?”

“Hold on, this sounds pretty serious. You’ve got to tell me who I’m supposed to deal with and where it’s going down. Is it off-world? Is this some kind of confidential mission?”

Jackson wasn’t quick to agree and pressed for more details. Sensing his wariness, the client chuckled softly.

“No, it’s not quite that big of a project. The mission will be conducted here, on this planet… As for who you’ll be eliminating, I’ll tell you once you accept the mission.”

So they’re not telling me anything else, huh? Jackson stood there for a moment, arms crossed, pondering. Knowing the mission would take place on this planet was a relief. The payout might not be as sky-high as off-world jobs, but at least it would be quick and far less dangerous.

Moreover, since it was an “external elimination mission,” the target wouldn’t be human—it’d be one of the alien species. That narrowed things down even further. While there weren’t too many non-human species residing on this planet, plenty of them had fallen out of favor with the New Humans. It was hard to pinpoint more than that. Frowning deeply, Jackson finally spoke.

“How much are you offering?”

“1 billion. 1 billion ral* for you as a sniper.”

(T/N: In this context, “랄” (ral) appears to be a fictional or in-world currency.)

“Whew, well now… That complicates things even more.”

The moment Jackson heard the number, he whistled. He had started to lower his expectations when the client mentioned it was a planet-bound mission, but hearing a figure big enough to make his eyes pop widened his grin. 1 billion? Most people would be lucky to earn a billion ral in ten years of non-stop work. If he could complete this mission, this could very well be his last job in this dirty business.

Is my life finally about to turn around?

Or maybe, it’s a trap disguised as sweet honey.

The seasoned hunter quickly began calculating. A planet-bound mission with a payout of 1 billion ral. Not a solo mission but a project, and it involved taking out an alien species.

That means it was no ordinary job.

It was a gamble, almost too tempting. A mission of this scale meant that if he failed, death would be the least of his worries. Jackson figured that the mission the client was offering must be tangled in some kind of interspecies political conflict. Otherwise, there was no way they would offer such an astronomical sum.

Noticing that Jackson, despite his outward reaction of surprise, was taking too long to answer, the client smiled slyly and added, as if making a secret proposal.

“100 million ral as a deposit. If you fail or abandon the mission midway, the penalty will be double the deposit. I’d say it’s not a bad deal… Don’t you think?”

“Hold on there. Things involving such huge amounts of money aren’t something that can be decided quickly.”

Even 100 million ral would be enough to end this lowlife existence of his. If he succeeded and got the remaining 900 million ral, he could leave this cursed city behind and start fresh anywhere.

Nevertheless, Jackson found it hard to believe that such a golden opportunity had fallen into his lap overnight. Having spent so long struggling at the very depths of life, his instincts, honed by years of hardship, triggered alarm bells of caution almost instinctively.

Am I really the guy for this? Someone like me?

As the assassin wavered, temptation gnawing at him, he kept questioning himself. Why hadn’t they chosen a better killer? He wasn’t the worst in the business, but he wasn’t the best either. Out of all the unfortunate hitmen out there, why him?

The doubt didn’t last long. It was interrupted by the client’s clear, ringing voice, cutting through his stray thoughts.

“I don’t have much time. If you’re not interested, I’ll have to find someone else.”

“Oh, really. You haven’t even shown me a contract yet, and you want to close the deal just like that…..”

“Are you suspicious of my identity?”

The client reached into the pocket of his white suit and pulled something out to show him. It was a small badge. Even someone who had no connection with the higher-ups as Jackson knew what it meant. This angel-faced, beautiful man worked for the intelligence bureau.

“So, it’s political after all.”

Without realizing it, his thoughts slipped out. The client nodded quietly at Jackson’s muttering.

“We will ensure your safety. We will do everything possible to make sure the assassination goes undetected… but even in the worst-case scenario, if you’re caught, we’ll protect you—by brokering a judicial deal if necessary.”

“This… I understand the magnitude of what I’m getting myself into.”

“Jackson Carter, so will you take the job?”

Jackson narrowed his eyes as he looked at the client, who sat with his hands neatly folded on his lap, asking a question. He’d been thinking this from the start—the man didn’t fit this dingy office at all. Sitting on the dirty sofa, speaking with a voice as though he were coaxing and persuading, the client looked more like an angel trying to redeem a demon. He was pure, beautiful. In contrast, with his large frame and fierce, calculating gaze, Jackson felt he could be called a monster without any objection.

“Alright. I’ll do it, I’ll do it. I can’t throw away this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Someone once said that opportunity is like a winged man with a bald head at the back. It comes at you fast and, before you know it, is already slipping away before you can even grab hold of it.

And so, Jackson made the decision that would change his life.

*****

A sleek motorcycle shot through the lanes, weaving between the cars moving at a steady pace. Barely obeying traffic signals, making a deafening roar as though reveling in some wild stunt, the motorcycle belonged to none other than Jackson.

If anyone ever asked why he still rode such a dangerous, outdated mode of transport, he’d simply answer, “Because I can’t afford anything else.” Despite all the hassles, Jackson cherished that bike—his only one that had been with him for years.

But today, something felt strange as he sped down a proper avenue, side by side with sleek, modern cars instead of the back alleys and dingy streets he was used to. He felt like he’d ended up somewhere he didn’t belong. On the road, aside from himself, there wasn’t a single other biker in sight.

But what did it matter? He had 100 million ral as an advance.

Though he loved his bike, it couldn’t compare to a new model. Feeling giddy at the thought, Jackson sped up, thinking, Once I get that advance, I’ll sell this hunk metal of junk in no time.

Heading down an unfamiliar route, he finally arrived at the designated location, where he was supposed to meet the client from the intelligence bureau.

“This is the place?”

Jackson tilted his head back and looked up at the towering building. The structure glittered against the cloud-covered night sky, as if it could pierce through the heavens, glowing like a massive pillar of fire.

Stepping confidently through the front doors of a place he never imagined he’d set foot in—especially through the main entrance, no less—Jackson clicked his tongue, muttering about how living long enough really does let you see it all.

As he stood before the automatic doors, they slid open silently, and a security robot approached him smoothly. The robot had a flat, expressionless face but displayed a cute emoticon as it spoke in a cheerful voice.

––Please wait here for a moment.

While the robot verified his identity, Jackson stood stiffly, eyeing the machine. No matter how cute its face looked, he knew that beneath the surface was a gleaming lens whirring away, just like the one on the desk of his former boss. The thought of it gave him the creeps.

Damn robots.

With a bored expression, Jackson raised his hands to show he was unarmed. Once the robot confirmed that he was indeed Jackson and was unarmed, it began to guide him toward the designated location.

––If you head inside, Mr. Francis is waiting for you.

“…”

The robot stopped in front of what appeared to be a conference room at the end of the hallway. It seemed that was as far as the programming allowed it to go.

Before opening the door, Jackson paused, quickly straightening his hair and clothes. Not that it made much difference—he was still dressed in his usual shabby, worn-out shirt under a cheap jacket. After adjusting his helmet-messed hair, he knocked carefully on the door. In response, the door slid open automatically, revealing the bright interior of the conference room.

“You’re here.”

Francis, seated at the far end, greeted him with a warm smile. This charming new breed of human had a talent for smiling in a way that was both pure and genuine. It was the complete opposite of Jackson’s smirk, which lifted only one side of his mouth into a cynical grin. Without waiting for Francis to offer him a seat, Jackson dragged a chair out and dropped into it with a thud, getting straight to the point.

“So, who’s the target?”

He had no intention of exchanging trivial pleasantries. After all, he was merely a human, on a completely different level from the new breed human sitting in front of him. He wasn’t here to make friends, and they both knew it. Francis had hired him knowing full well that he was a low-rate killer, so there was no need for pretenses.

“…..Straight to business. Fine. Jackson, your target is Terencia Lakron.”

“Terencia?”

Had he heard of them before? The unfamiliar name made Jackson tilt his head as he leaned in closer to the table. Considering the hefty sum involved, he’d expected to be tasked with assassinating a high-profile alien figure, but it didn’t seem like that was the case.

“She is the current queen of Arachron. For your reference, the Arachron are a race that built their kingdom right in the middle of the passage to Palaik.”

Jackson had heard something before—about opening trade with a new race in the Palaik region, only for it to be indefinitely delayed. Some fool had bet heavily on that venture and lost everything, ranting about it in a bar. Jackson nodded, showing he understood. Francis, watching his reaction, continued with a soft smile.

“After numerous attempts at negotiations, Terencia proved to be a very stubborn queen. Her influence has caused multiple negotiations to fail. And now, with the Arachron king recently deceased, her position is quite vulnerable.”

“Hmm, I see. So, now that she’s weakened, you want to strike while the iron’s hot. Alright. Got it. I’m in.”

Jackson rested his arms on the table, slouching slightly in his chair as he listened. Even when he tried to sit properly, the habit of sitting at a desk had never stuck with him, making the chair unbearably uncomfortable. Even now, if he could, he’d prop his legs up on the desk and stretch out immediately.

Francis never once commented on Jackson’s disrespectful posture. He simply provided the necessary information in a calm, orderly manner. Watching him, Jackson wondered if maybe there was oil running through this New Human’s veins instead of blood.

Well, it’s okay to say something you don’t like at least once. 

That rebellious streak inside him was starting to itch. Jackson knew that most of the new breed humans looked down on regular humans, treating them like insects. No matter how beautiful they were on the outside, who knew what they really thought inside?

So, he almost wanted Francis to throw out some sort of disdain, whether through scornful words or a contemptuous glance, anything to keep him from holding onto any false hope. He had no desire to be treated like he was important. The last thing he needed was to start thinking he was more than what he was and get himself killed in some foolish, reckless act of bravado.

Whether Francis sensed Jackson’s feelings or not, his voice remained gentle as he asked, “Arachron… if you face her head-on, it won’t be easy even for a queen with little combat experience. Have you ever encountered an Arachron before?”

“No. First time I’ve heard of them.”

Although Jackson lived in a human city, it was an era where interplanetary trade was common. Various races mingled in the city, and some of the older, native species still claimed the right to the land, building structures and throwing their weight around. Hell, even the owner of his usually frequented pub wasn’t human.

Despite growing up in such a diverse environment, the Arachron were unfamiliar to him. Had he cared more about non-human species, he might have known about them. But truth be told, Jackson didn’t much care for other races—or even for most other humans, for that matter.

“I think it’d be better for you to see her yourself, rather than hear a description.”

As Francis gestured, a holographic screen expanded, revealing the full figure of an Arachron. Jackson’s face twisted into a strange expression as he took it in. It was truly a bizarre-looking creature.

Like a centaur, this species had a human upper body, but its lower body resembled that of an arthropod, with a total of ten limbs, including six legs.

The upper body was nearly identical to that of a human, save for the carapace-like shell covering its forehead and eyes, leaving only the nose and lower jaw exposed. Aside from having four arms instead of two, there wasn’t much else remarkable about the upper half.

But from the waist down, things got much stranger. The hard shell extended into an arthropod’s body, replacing legs with insect-like appendages. The Arachron’s legs were bent like those of a spider, though much thicker and sturdier, far beyond anything that could be compared to a human’s. Its long tail, though not as bulbous as a scorpion’s, tapered to a sharp point, making it look as though it could be venomous.

“They are much larger than humans,” Francis explained. “So, it’s best to avoid direct confrontation and rely solely on ambush tactics.”

“Well, that’s my specialty, as you know. An assassination’s just another job—disguising it as an accident or shooting them from a distance. But… if I shoot them, will they actually die?”

“You’ll probably need to aim for the upper body.”

“Obviously. What I meant was, will they die if I shoot them here?”

Jackson tapped his temple with his finger. To a human, getting shot in the head was a death sentence, but with this species, things were different. Jackson had faced other non-human targets before, and aiming for the head hadn’t always guaranteed success, so he wanted to be cautious.

“I’m not sure… That’s why we’re hiring an expert like you, isn’t it?”

“Hah! That’s true. Nothing ever comes easy, does it?”

“Everyone will be grateful for your work. Once this trade route is opened, it’ll be a glorious day for humanity.”

“I don’t care about all that. I’m in this for the money. So, when do I start? I assume you’ll provide the weapons and any gear I’ll need?”

Jackson smirked, shifting the conversation away from Francis’s talk of glory. Internally, he couldn’t help but think cynically.

Glory, my ass. I’m just a butcher who does anything for the money.

He had confidently promised he’d get the job done, but the truth was, he was exhausted. He was sick of this work, sick of the constant killing, and wanted out. He felt no heroic thrill from crushing another being, only an overwhelming sense of emptiness.

Sensing Jackson’s cynicism, Francis slid another contract across the table, his tone still calm and composed.

“The contract you signed earlier at the office was with the employment agency to officially hire you. This one is a separate agreement between you and our organization specifically for this mission. Please check it out.”

“This is exactly what I was looking for.”

Jackson preferred getting straight to the point rather than being bogged down with excessive explanations. As he skimmed through the contract, checking carefully for any tricky clauses, his eyes stopped on one section.

“10. Payment will be made once Arachron officially announces the election of a new queen.”

“The payment terms are a bit unusual, don’t you think?”

“Given that this is a project tied to political events, it’s to be expected. But it’s actually quite straightforward. Arachron never leaves the queen’s seat vacant. Even though they have a monarchy, the queen has her own specific duties.”

Francis’s reply came in his usual smooth tone, so effortlessly persuasive that it almost made Jackson feel foolish for even asking.

“I believe you know how fast political journalists work. All you need to do is relax at home, and when you see the news on TV, you can check your account. We’ll be certain you’ve completed the job as soon as the headline breaks.”

“Well… sure. I suppose the higher-ups have everything figured out. Understood.”

Unlike other jobs, assassination payments were always contingent on confirmed death, so the payment clause wasn’t entirely unreasonable. In fact, everything else was so generously supported that it almost felt too good to be true. They provided him with weapons, clothes, gear for defensive countermeasures, and even transportation to the Arachron territory.

The only part that raised any doubt was Clause 10. But with nothing else to complain about, Jackson signed without hesitation.

“You are now officially a part of our project. Thank you. Make sure you’re well-prepared, though. Since this is such a significant mission, there will be a few more verification steps before you can begin.”

Francis smiled, his eyes narrowing slightly, as he pointed to Clause 7 in the contract.

“7. The employee must possess excellent physical abilities, and must pass physical fitness tests and medical examinations prior to the mission.”

“Are you telling me to cut down on drinking? They’re offering me 100 million Ral in advance, so I guess I’ll have to endure it. But…”

Jackson trailed off. He was in decent shape overall, but the fact that he was missing a leg weighed heavily on his mind.

Fuck.

“What if I have a disability? Will I fail the test? Because if so, I might as well head home now.”

“Well, no, that’s not the case. Even if you have a disability, you just need to prove that your skills are exceptional.”

“Got it.”

As Jackson nodded, Francis, who seemed to consider the conversation truly over, waved his hand over the contract. With a simple gesture, the hologram screen vanished instantly.

That was the end of the meeting. Seeing the client rise from his seat, Jackson followed suit.

Just then, as Francis was about to leave the room, he suddenly asked a completely unexpected question.

“By the way, Jackson, have you ever had sex?”

“…What?”

Jackson looked down at Francis, grimacing as if to say, this man had lost his mind. Francis, with his chiseled features, wore an innocent expression, blinking his eyes at him as if the question was the most natural thing in the world.