I Became a Scoundrel of a Chaebol Family-Chapter 155

The Titan, a military-grade floating fortress often referred to as such, was an advanced aerial battleship measuring 419 meters in length, 89 meters in width, and 91 meters in height. It represented the pinnacle of Militaris technology, serving as a state-of-the-art airborne stronghold.

The Titan could carry up to 30 mechas and 150 onboard aircraft, with the capability to launch 10 mechas simultaneously through its side launch bays. It also housed 20 prototype unmanned mechas equipped with combat AI, capable of autonomous operations—a feature kept unofficial due to its violation of international law.

With an operational capacity of up to 80 sorties per day using just its mechas, and over 300 sorties when utilizing its aircraft, this colossal airborne fortress began its operation immediately upon appearing above Namdong Industrial Complex.

“Code Red alert, Code Red alert! All personnel to designated positions! I repeat, Code Red alert!”

“Disengage invisibility! Expose the hull!”

“Initiate mecha launch ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) sequence!”

The internal emergency broadcasts echoed as the Titan’s invisibility filter was disengaged.

This rendered the Titan more vulnerable to enemy attacks but simultaneously spread its overwhelming presence, intimidating the entire city below.

“Deploy from Launch Bays 1 through 10.”

“Maintenance check clear.”

“Synchronization stable.”

“Armament status optimal.”

“All systems green.”

“Opening launch bays.”

With a deep rumble, the launch bays opened. The inner runways, connected to the hangar, extended outward, revealing rows of mechas ready for deployment.

“Launch!”

With a powerful hiss, electronic catapults propelled the mechas forward, leaving behind clouds of smoke and sparks from intense friction.

The mechas raced down the runways as if skiing, bursting into the air upon exiting the bays. Their energy wings unfolded, and they soared high above.

“Clear!”

“Closing launch bays.”

“Commence maintenance!”

The launch bays sealed shut again, and the damage sustained during the launches was swiftly repaired to prepare for the next deployment sequence.

While the maintenance crew worked, the 10 deployed mechas began their bombardment of Namdong Industrial Complex under strict control.

Official casualty reports were deliberately avoided, but the area was known to house a significant population. Yet, none of the deployed pilots hesitated.

As the mechas swept through the area, countless explosions erupted like mushroom clouds, leaving the industrial workers in chaos and desperate flight.

The workers within the complex had been aware that a surrounding siege was being established to eradicate them and had been preparing a counterattack. But never in their wildest dreams did they anticipate the appearance of such a monstrous machine—or the simultaneous deployment of 10 mechas.

“This... This is a massacre!!!”

Men clad in crude exosuits fired oversized machine guns at the mechas.

These exosuits, repurposed heavy equipment used in industrial settings, functioned as makeshift upright tanks. Standing roughly three meters tall, they boasted thick armor and heavy weaponry, earning a reputation for near-invincibility within the complex. Yet, against actual mechas, they were utterly useless.

Whoosh.

One of the mechas spotted an exosuit and performed an acrobatic maneuver, appearing suddenly in front of it.

“!!”

The man inside the exosuit froze in terror, raising his weapon. But before he could react, the mecha had already vanished.

Only then did he realize his exosuit—and his body—had been cleaved apart, both halves sliding lifelessly to the ground.

“Guh...!?”

The industrial complex’s supposedly invincible final defense exploded pitifully.

The mecha, unfazed, took off again, scattering bombs and firing railguns with no hesitation or remorse.

This unrelenting onslaught was replicated by all 10 deployed mechas.

Though the Titan had initiated the assault, the teams already prepared for the operation didn’t remain idle.

The city defense forces positioned on the outer perimeter opened fire with their self-propelled artillery, focusing their barrage on the central zones of Namdong Industrial Complex.

As criminals flooded outward from the center, the police forces and special prosecutors, led by Lee Na-eun, stood ready to contain them.

“Please, no! Spare me!!”

It looked like a scene straight out of a zombie movie.

Swarming figures were met with relentless gunfire, each shot ensuring total suppression.

“You bastards! Please, I’m begging you, you fucking bitches!!!”

It couldn’t be called merciless.

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The fleeing industrial workers were all criminals, heavily armed and dangerous.

Each of them wielded the most lethal weapons they could find, threatening the police and prosecutors. The inevitable response was their death.

Thunk!

A railgun’s characteristic ripping sound pierced the air.

With a single shot, half a dozen criminals were skewered and exploded into nothingness.

Some gave up on escape altogether, choosing instead to focus on sabotage and terrorism.

Namdong Industrial Complex wasn’t far from the surrounding districts, and they turned their sights toward the city, launching crude rockets, shells, and makeshift missiles.

If left unchecked, these errant projectiles could cause significant damage to the urban areas.

However, every single one was intercepted.

The combined efforts of the 10 mechas deployed from the Titan, the 15 aircraft Go Muyeol had borrowed from Ko Min-young, and the Titan’s formidable anti-air defenses obliterated the attacks mid-air.

“This... This is insane!”

To those watching, it resembled a fireworks display.

Explosions painted the night sky beautifully—if one ignored the fact that the “fireworks” were made of blood.

The terrorists were eliminated as a top priority.

The operation to clear Namdong Industrial Complex was proceeding with almost laughable ease.

****

The sound was all too familiar to me—the deafening blasts of railguns tearing through the air, splitting the heavens and eardrums alike.

I had grown sick of this noise back on the artificial island.

The only difference now was that, back then, it was directed at the forest, while here, it was aimed at people.

And with that difference came an added cacophony—screams, groans, and wails mingling with the thunderous roars.

“The district mayor has been evacuated. She sustained severe spinal and femoral injuries and will likely be permanently paralyzed, if not left in a vegetative state.”

“As expected. Unless she opts for implant surgery, she’s stuck in a bed for life, right?”

“Correct.”

Inside the tent, I received the report.

A moment ago, I’d been listening to updates about the suppression of Namdong Industrial Complex. Things were progressing so smoothly, especially with the decisive weapon my aunt sent, that I allowed myself to relax.

Now, the report was about my “work of art.”

The district mayor, whom I had meticulously “handled,” was rushed to the hospital, and I was getting real-time updates on her condition.

“Do you think she’ll actually get implants?”

“She’d be bedridden forever if she doesn’t.”

“But she’s part of the Progressive Innovation Party.”

That bunch denies almost every aspect of life science, from basic anti-aging treatments to implants. They claim implants strip away humanity or some other nonsense, so they outright demonize the procedure.

Would a district mayor from that party really go for implant surgery?

“She might have enough pragmatism for that, right?”

“Maybe.”

Personally, I doubted it. They seemed incapable of even that level of flexibility.

Part of why I spared her was to see how far the Progressive Innovation Party’s stubbornness would go.

And if things went my way, there might even be some political advantages to reap.

If she goes for the implant surgery? She’ll lose the support of her party’s base, who’ll see it as betraying their ideals.

If she doesn’t? The moderates will view the party as irredeemable extremists.

In that gap, I could easily slide in my own candidate and take over the vacant position with less effort than expected.

“Keep monitoring her. If it starts to get boring, get rid of her.”

“Understood.”

After finishing the report, I stepped outside the tent.

It was just a piece of fabric, but the moment I left, the noise grew louder, and the stench of carnage hit me like a wall.

Journalists who had been kept at bay by my secretaries flooded forward.

“You assaulted the district mayor—can you explain your reasoning?”

“Reports say you planned this operation to clear Namdong Industrial Complex. Was this massacre your original intention?”

“It’s said over 50,000 people live in Namdong Industrial Complex! Are you planning to kill them all?”

What the hell.

Did they hire people to ask such inane questions?

Ignoring them, I kept walking, but they were relentless, following me like a swarm of gnats.

“Do you feel any guilt—”

I grabbed one of the phones shoved in my face.

“Do you feel guilt while cleaning trash off your front yard, reporter?”

“W-what? That’s not—”

“Everyone, listen up.”

I extended my arm toward the burning Namdong Industrial Complex.

“If we don’t clean this up now, that scene will come to your front door.”

“But—”

“Didn’t you see earlier? These criminals were launching rockets at innocent cities, carrying out acts of terrorism. Are you saying we should’ve just let them be?”

“...”

“I’m going to make Namdong safe. I’ll turn Namdong Industrial Complex into the most advanced and prosperous place in Incheon. No rockets will be flying toward your homes, and your children won’t be abducted on their way home from school.

“But if you prefer to keep getting in my way, be my guest.”