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Dungeon Stampede 2.0 Retaliation
Hated but Still Standing! Behold, the Immortal Politician Ohara Kurotaro, who’s alive!
Dragged into a public bathhouse, Ohara Kurotaro was left for dead by Dr. Tobari, his last hope.
However, after being transferred to a hospital, advanced medical science saved his life—he didn't come back as a mechanical cyborg, but he survived.
The price of the accident, however, was steep.
Ohara’s face was literally smashed, his right eye blinded, and his skull shattered like an archipelago.
Now, metal bolts protrude from his face, bound with braces to hold him together.
“Hyu…kofuu…hyu…kofuu…”
His face, free of bandages to avoid pressure, reflects a horrific image of stitches and bolts in a glass pitcher.
Normally, Ohara Kurotaro would sneer in disgust at his appearance.
But with brain damage, even his tongue was paralyzed, rendering him speechless.
“Hyu…kofuu…hyu…kofuu…”
Blood and pus collect in his crushed nasal cavity, forcing him to breathe through his mouth.
Yet without a proper upper lip, air leaks painfully through the gaps between his teeth.
In politics, where image is everything, such a grotesque face would destroy his chance of re-election.
Without his own voice, he couldn’t even shoot a sarcastic joke at those pesky reporters.
Ohara Kurotaro sensed the end of his political career.
(Damn it, why me?!)
At the same time, an uncontainable rage welled up inside him.
Who was to blame? The lousy driver? The cowardly secretary who kept rushing him?
No, those weaklings would just cower if he scolded them.
Lashing out at them would never quench this fury.
Through his damaged consciousness, Ohara desperately searched for a target for his anger.
(Curse it…what went wrong? The dungeon! It’s all because of that! Damn those monsters!)
At that moment, Ohara’s secretary entered the hospital room.
“Ah, sir! Thank goodness you’re awake! But…why are you shaking so much? Are you…needing the bathroom? I’ll fetch a bedpan right awa— Gah!”
Seeing Ohara trembling, the secretary assumed he was holding back his urge to urinate and moved closer with a bedpan.
But Ohara grabbed the secretary’s tie, yanked him close, and stared into his eyes.
“Hyu…kofuu…hyu…kofuu…”
“S-sir…what…is happening?”
Ohara glared at the secretary with his metal-ridden face, pulling tighter on the tie.
“Ev…er…ything! D…un…geon!”
“Wha—what are you saying, sir?”
“Ev-ery-thing! Dun-geon!!”
The secretary, shoved to the wall, finally understood his master’s intent.
“You mean…to exterminate them all? The monsters in the dungeon, sir?”
Adjusting his crooked glasses, the secretary asked, and Ohara gave a slight nod, his shoulders heaving in rage.
“Then…how much of your power should I commit to this task?”
“All…of it. Dun-geon…”
With his remaining left eye blazing in cold hatred, Ohara spoke quietly.
Staring into his chilling gaze, the secretary, pale with fear, managed to stand and bowed deeply.
“Understood, sir. I’ll arrange for the complete eradication of those dungeon monsters using all your resources!”
“Go…now!”
Though disfigured, Ohara Kurotaro was still a cabinet minister. But if his critical injuries became public, he could be ousted at any moment.
And so, before that happened, he vowed to exhaust every card he had to take vengeance on the dungeon and its monstrous denizens.
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