There’s No Love In the Deathzone (BL)

Zein frowned and looked at the man inquisitively. From the way he had no mask on, and the stealthy way he approached the guide, Zein knew this man was an esper.

But the man clearly wasn't a member of the Unit, or from any other Unit, because there was no way a borderland's esper would dress in something as cumbersome as a whole three-piece suit. Normal clothes would get damaged if they were touching miasma too much, so everyone here wore a combat uniform made from a corrosion-resistant material.

Unless, of course, the suit itself was made from resistant material, which actually looked possible, from the persistent luster on said suit. Zein knew nothing about the fashion of the safer zone, but he knew enough that such material wasn't cheap.

So his immediate impression was 'Who the hell is this rich esper?'

From the aura emanating from the tall and imposing figure, Zein knew he was faced with a 5-star esper. And so his next thought was about why a 5-star esper hanging around in the borderland. Not to mention the posh type like this one.

It was only after he was done with scrutinizing the esper's overbearing fashion that he started to look at the face.

Adhering to the neat clothes, the platinum blonde hair was arranged neatly, the color contrasted with the copper complexion underneath. It framed a handsome, just slightly mature face adorned with eyes akin to liquid amber, glowing in a reddish-golden hue even inside the murky air of the black field. There was a small tattoo of three black scales beneath the man's left eye that reminded Zein of a snake.

The constricted feeling from the amber eyes gazing at him just accentuated this image.

Zein had no interest in getting acquainted with this man. He looked like all the typical esper that he hated—overbearing, elitist, and overall a pain in the ass. So rather than asking something that would incite an infuriating exchange, he just answered the man's earlier question nonchalantly.

"It's a job. Not supposed to be fun," he turned his head to the marsh again.

And it wasn't as if it was empty; there was a whole field of bubbling liquid miasma that could generate a wraith any time. Zein didn't understand why an esper didn't think about that.

"Still as curt as ever, huh?" suddenly, the voice was beside Zein, and the man had already leaned into the railing in front if him, amber eyes looking keenly at the guide.

At this, Zein frowned and turned his gaze toward the man again. "Have we met before?"

The outpost was a 3 x 3 rectangular sentry box with a roof and chest-high metal railing. It stood ten meters above the ground and was equipped with a shield generator as well as a low-level mana railgun, which took a quarter of the room's space. Half of the room was stuffed with a table set and a pantry, which left only a quarter for an observation spot.

So it couldn't be helped that they stood close to each other in the remaining space that got invaded by the esper. But even under such proximity, Zein couldn't remember this man, despite the appearance that shouted 'flashy' from every angle.

"You don't remember me?" the man frowned, looking quite insulted at the fact that Zein didn't recognize him.

It had to be pointed out that Zein had poor memory regarding faces or names that he didn't encounter often. And based on this man's appearance, he surely wasn't a red-zone dweller. So how could Zein manage to remember him?

"I can't remember every esper I had guided," Zein shrugged.

It was especially true because Zein was a mercenary guide. There were countless espers he had guided since he awakened as guide seventeen years ago. Even in the red-zone, he'd secretly guided people other than Umbra's espers. Ever since he turned into a non-affiliated mercenary guide, the number of espers he guided ballooned along five sections of borderland he had traversed through in four years.

An esper might easily remember a guide, especially the one that was extremely good or extremely bad. Most esper also had their own regular go-to guide, including the one that belonged to their guild.

But guides who did guiding as much as Zein, due to his extraordinary capacity, couldn't recall every passing esper. Because this man was surely that—a passing esper that he only guided once.

After all, where and on what occasion would Zein ever cross paths with an elite member of society like this? He tilted his head in pondering. It was also possible that they didn't meet during guiding. Could it be during a guild's newbie excursion? Some guild would bring their fresh recruit to the borderland to show them the frontline condition, sometimes going as far as entering the deathzone for practical trial. He remembered seeing one or two 5-star espers there, although he didn't bother to remember their name, thinking that they wouldn't meet again.

"Every esper...you guided, huh?" the man repeated Zein's words slowly, with a hiss and pressure in every syllable. It was followed by a low muttering accompanied by sneering lips. "He really just treats me like any other esper, huh?"

Zein gave the esper a cold, sideway glance. 'High-rank espers are conceited like always, thinking everyone in the whole world should know about them,' he sighed inwardly, choosing to focus on his sentry duty again.

"You really have no idea who I am?" the man tilted his head, peering curiously at the blue eyes.

"Am I supposed to?" Zein only replied curtly. 5-star espers were inherently the hero of humanity, so the man was supposedly a known figure, at least in Eastern Federation—this much, Zein could infer. But even if he was famous, that had nothing to do with someone who lived in the borderland like Zein.

If anything, he quite loathed these high-rank espers. Shouldn't these people, who had so much power, be the ones stationed in a place like the red-zone and the borderland to increase safety? But those elites were enjoying their lavish nobility in the comfort of the green-zone instead.

The world sure operated in a funny way.

Suddenly, Zein heard a chuckling sound. "Ha...haha..." the man was laughing now, covering his face with his gloved hands, amber eyes glinting like twilight's sun. "Oh, this is interesting."

He sounded frustrated before, but now he seemed more amused at the situation. Not that Zein particularly cared to cater to an esper's mood.

Zein could care less about who this esper was. But he did have a little bit of curiousity about why this esper was here in the first place. So he finally asked the man for the first time. "What is an outsider doing here?"

There was a glint in that amber eyes that almost made Zein feel as if he was being tied by something. The stare the man gave him was akin to a slithering snake, circling his body slowly. The answer came in a light voice, as if he had been waiting to let it out. "To see you."

It took Zein a few seconds to be able to respond. "What?"

"I come here to see you," the man repeated, even clearer than before.

They stared at each other for a while, wordlessly, before Zein sighed heavily and turned his head, muttering "Another one," softly, which made the esper's eyes twitch and frowned.

What was implied behind those words was clear enough for the esper to realize. That he was not the only esper came to specifically meet Zein. In fact, it was a common occurrence; an esper from other sections came to request guiding from Zein.

Anyone who had ever tasted his guiding, evidently, would feel other guides to be quite unsatisfying. Adequate as much as business was done, but something was missing. It wasn't as if there were no talented or excellent guides in the borderland—but they were, ultimately, not Zein.

There was no soothing feeling during the guiding, no pleasurable caress that cradled their soul, no calming fresh scent that invigorated their body.

So these addicted espers would travel to the section where Zein currently resided to request his service, even if they had to pay for it.

So this tall, handsome, copper-skinned, amber-eyed, blond-haired imposing esper was hardly the first one to do so. Zein was already quite desensitized about this, and just treating all of those espers as annoying mosquitoes—buzzing around, back-and-forth, annoying...

Although the man surely was the best-looking and had the highest rank so far.

But...surely, the man didn't come here all the way from a safer zone to request a guiding, right? Zein tapped on his arm while pondering the answer, and then lifted his face to ask about the 'real' reason the man was there, only to suddenly had the man in his face.

"Hey, fuck off—ugh!" Zen was about to step back while cursing, but a strong arm suddenly circled his back and pushed him toward the man's broad chest, face planted square on the wide shoulder, sending a faint scent of leather and fragrant wood into his senses.

He frowned, and was about to protest—halfway thought about punching the man too—before he felt goosebumps across his spine, and dread flashing on his nape.

It was his instinct warning him of danger.

So instead of rebelling, Zein let himself stay still inside the man's half embrace. He knew he shouldn't disturb an esper in the middle of casting. He just turned his head, so he could observe the situation, and instantly widened his eyes.

"What..."

Without any warning, in the little window of time that he used to argue with the esper instead of watching the marsh, dozens of wraiths had formed and risen from the black water, like a bunch of ghosts, and circling the outpost. Their smoky, almost transparent figure was swaying inside the harsh wind of the black field. One even managed to throw a curse ball, which would hit Zein if the esper didn't pull him in.

Wraith from miasma was tricky because they could only be killed with magic power, so physical weapons were useless unless they were clad in magic aura. It was for that reason a mana railgun was situated on the outpost.

But there was no way a single railgun could take care of dozens of wraiths at the same time. Wraith wasn't supposed to come in a horde like this anyway.

"What the hell..."

"Oh, it's just like the report says!" while Zein was flabbergasted and filled with dread, the esper was grinning, morphing his face from a well-groomed adonis to an excited child.

"...what report?" despite the seemingly urgent situation, Zein had it in himself to throw out a question. Perhaps because the esper was facing this with glee instead of worry.

The esper swayed his hand, and mana rippled in the air. Zein felt as if the darkness surrounding them was being absorbed and shaped following the mana, forming something like spikes, or thick needles, all while the esper answered him. "There's speculation that the presence of Saint-class esper could aggravate the miasma," the spikes lined up, each facing the fast-approaching wraiths. "It's a defense mechanism toward a being closest to the celestial tower,"

The esper snapped his fingers and the dark spikes lurched forward, impaling the wraiths on their freshly formed cores in deadly precision. As the marsh filled with shrieking sounds, Zein gained two pieces of information.

First, the fact that the man was actually a Saint-class esper. It was a rank above the 5-star, given to the one that managed to finish one of the tower's trials and reached the peak of a specific tower. Seeing that the man looked like he was still in his mid-twenties, it was an incredible feat that even Zen couldn't help but commended.

'No wonder he was so conceited,' Zein thought as he watched the dozens of wraiths eradicated with—literally—a snap of a finger.

And then, the second one. "So this is because of you?!" he looked up at the smirking esper, who chuckled at his response.

"But I took care of them, didn't I?" the man replied easily, and Zen couldn't exactly refute that. Actually, since the accumulation of miasma was surging up all at once and getting eliminated, it would take quite some time until it formed again. Which meant the marsh would be at a low level density and quite safe for at least a few weeks.

Zen shook his head, and then realized that he was still being held by the man, pressing into the expensive fabric of the esper's suit.

"Hey, let go of me," he pushed himself away, stepping back from the man's embrace. Thankfully, the esper let go of Zein easily, although he clicked his tongue in the process.

"By the way, why is a guide like you doing here on the outpost by yourself?" the man asked while Zein looked at the marsh again, checking for any surviving wraith.

"None of your business," he answered, almost feeling disappointed by the thorough job of the esper. For some reason, he wanted to see this man fail.

Leaning against the railing again, the man propped his elbow, looking at Zein inquisitively. "Is this have something to do with why people called you 'Suicidal'?"

Zen didn't answer. He had never answered. "This is the first time I see a guide so eager to walk into danger," the man continued despite Zein's silence—or perhaps because of it.

"Have people ever told you that you're interesting?"

Sighing loudly, Zein looked straight at the amber eyes and replied harshly. "Yes. What's your point?"

What he got was a smile. "My point is, why don't you come with me?"

"Excuse me?" Zein tilted his head. What was this man on about?

"If you like danger so much, why don't you come with me?"

Zen frowned. It wasn't that he liked danger that he was here. But before he could even refute, the esper had spoken again.

"For a starter," like a salesman making a presentation about a product, he smiled deeply while opening his hand and waving it towards the mass of darkness, to the dense black jungle and jutting rocks far beyond. "To the Deathzone."