Chapter 104
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 104
I felt a bit wronged—no, incredibly wronged.
The one who had slaughtered the nobles at the torture facility was Iskan. The only person I'd actually killed was Bao Zakanan.
But even if they knew that, the nobles, blinded by vengeance, wouldn't bother distinguishing me from Iskan.
Thump!
The armed helicopter's machine gun spat out its first burst of fire. Large-caliber rounds—the kind that could shatter even my prosthetic arm and leg.
Pop!
It sounded almost like a joke, but it was the sound of a human head bursting apart. Brain matter scattered in every direction, fingernail-sized bits of flesh flying across the room.
Before the screams could even rise, a rapid volley followed. The muzzle swept across the entire banquet hall, practically tearing it apart as it chased after me.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
The gunfire shattered the glass walls, sending tables and tableware flying. Nobles standing near the walls were swept out by the sudden drop in air pressure, plummeting into open air.
Just how powerful is this noble to pull off a stunt like this?
I grimaced.
The armed helicopter unleashed its onslaught as if innocent bystanders didn't matter in the slightest. Everyone caught in a straight line between me and the gun was turned into Swiss cheese by the hail of bullets.
Ilay, take care of Giselle.
I glanced toward Giselle and Ilay. Ilay was already evacuating the crowd, Giselle included. Most of them were fools, frozen in place, still unable to grasp what was happening.
"This way!" Ilay shouted.
He'd realized instantly that the helicopter was targeting me, and was leading the crowd in the opposite direction.
In the middle of the Upper District. At a gathering of noble families, no less...
It was a reality even I found hard to believe.
Most of the crowd in the banquet hall were nobles. They'd probably never imagined dying in a place like this. After all, they lived their lives believing death was something that only happened to others.
...But then again, it wasn't that surprising. Their vision was just narrow, their thinking short-sighted.
The empire's noble society was rife with power struggles. Extraordinary monsters pointed swords and pulled triggers at each other while wearing smiles. Right now, that deep-seated malice had simply surfaced for a brief moment.
Whir, whir.
The machine gun tracked me.
I lured the gunfire toward an area clear of people. Since my mobility outpaced the rotation of the turret, evading wasn't difficult—as long as I had enough space.
"Whew."
I exhaled, sharpening my focus. Thanks to Ivan's advice, I'd come prepared for battle, so my nervous system was warmed up to just the right level.
My only weapons were the dagger Grakken Boot and a standard-issue pistol. I'd left both Crucis and Ruina behind. I already missed them.
With my signature gear, I could've smashed an armed helicopter like that with ease. But wishing for what I didn't have wouldn't make it fall from the sky.
The odds are stacked against me in every way.
But I was sick and tired of bad environments and unfavorable conditions—I was thoroughly used to them. Whining about my circumstances wouldn't change a thing. I had to make do with what I had.
My tactical mind mapped out a path. Factoring in the machine gun's rotation radius, all I needed was to advance by bouncing between the walls and the ceiling. Move like that, and the muzzle would never line up with me in a straight shot. A perfectly safe path.
But someone was in my way.
Enrico Lagan!
I frowned. Enrico was up ahead, slumped on the floor, utterly helpless.
His position overlapped with my route—terrible timing. If I moved as planned, Enrico's body would be shredded by the barrage. He'd die for certain.
I quickly plotted an alternative. Now I had two choices.
Take the safe, certain path and let Enrico die—or take a bit of a risk and save him.
I had to decide right now.
Screeech!
I dragged my right foot against the floor to brake. Shedding my momentum, I hurled myself in the opposite direction. This way, my path wouldn't cross Enrico's.
I'm saving Enrico.
Not because I'd gone soft. I owed Enrico a debt. And this whole situation was my fault to begin with. If I let him die here, it would leave a bad taste in my mouth for years.
The helicopter's muzzle locked onto me. Time to pay the price for abandoning the safe option. The one situation a Ballistic Control user hated most was irregular suppressive fire—exactly like this.
Dodging bullets wasn't a matter of reflexes. It was a matter of high-speed thinking and calculation-based prediction. The more irregular the fire, the harder it was to read.
Don't think of it as a linear trajectory. Think of it as a circular area.
There would be errors, but I just had to define the machine gun's firing zone as a circle and move accordingly. That way, even if I miscalculated, only my extremities—a hand or a foot—would get blown off.
Theory is always easy. It's the execution that's hard.
Whoosh!
I leaped high and flipped. My body narrowly cleared the firing zone. Countless bullets tore apart the spot where I'd just been.
Having jumped, I was now falling. I didn't have the luxury of righting myself and landing on my feet.
Crack!
I slammed my fingertips against the floor to accelerate again. My left fingers shattered and twisted from the impact.
But because of it, I retreated in an instant, escaping the machine gun's range completely.
Safe zone secured.
My lips twitched into a fierce grin. Once again, I'd snatched life from the jaws of death. My brain pumped out hormones like I was high on something.
My fear was numb. I wanted to pull off that same acrobatic stunt all over again.
Yes—a life-or-death battle was something only madmen did. Not something for anyone in their right mind.
It would take the helicopter's muzzle a while to reacquire me. I'd bought enough time to close the distance in a straight line.
Dash!
I kicked off the ground and sprinted. The scenery blurred past. The air was thick with the smell of oil and blood.
My debt is paid, Enrico.
Enrico had finally come to his senses and was scrambling away. I owed him nothing now. Next time, if a similar situation arose, I'd leave him to die.
Click!
I drew my standard-issue pistol and took aim. The distance to the helicopter had closed, my posture was stable. A split second for a precision shot.
Bang! Bang!
I pulled the trigger in rapid succession. The bullets struck the joint between the helicopter and its machine gun. Jamming into the narrow gap, they ground the turret's lateral motion to a halt—now it only creaked.
"What... what did you just do?"
Someone gasped in admiration. I flicked my eyes over.
Garcia Kartika. True to his military background, he hadn't run. Crouched behind a pillar, he was warming up an energy rifle he'd scavenged from somewhere.
Without turning my head toward him, I sent a hand signal requesting cover. Judging by his movements, he seemed like a competent soldier. He'd be useful.
But instead of advancing, I moved for cover. The helicopter's movements had turned strange.
Grind!
With its machine gun disabled, the helicopter charged straight ahead, ramming its fuselage into the banquet hall. Its rotors scraped against the ceiling and floor with a horrific screech.
Rumble!
I ducked behind a pillar too, shielding myself from the flying debris and shrapnel.
The door of the helicopter—half-destroyed by the forced entry—slid open. Five combat androids stepped out. Illegal models, the kind whose owners and affiliations couldn't even be traced.
"Surrender, and you will not be killed, Lucaus Custoria."
The android's dry, mechanical voice echoed.
"Dammit, were these bastards after you?" Garcia shouted, as if pinning the blame on me.
"Shut up and just cover me," I snapped, irritated. Figuring out who to blame could wait until after the fight.
They want to take me alive. Torture me to their heart's content. That would be far better revenge than a clean kill.
That was why they weren't using explosive weapons.
The banquet hall's civilians had already been evacuated—all thanks to Ilay's diligence. Only Garcia and I remained to face the androids.
Crack!
Suddenly, an android's head blew off. The force was so immense it felt like an explosion. Red residual heat sizzled on the stump where the head had been.
The gunshot had come from the banquet hall entrance. There was no mistaking who fired it—Ilay, back after clearing out the crowd.
"Wow, Luka. Didn't expect you to still have all your limbs," Ilay said in that infuriating tone, leveling his pistol again. He called it a pistol, but the barrel was as long as a forearm. At a glance it looked unnatural, its balance tilted forward.
Ilay's signature weapon.
Not Imperial Workshop make. The pistol was engraved with the seal of the Kartika Family. Whatever its internal structure, it was clearly a gun built to squeeze out every ounce of Ilay's specialty.
"If you're going to help, do it fast. I'm running on empty," I said, pressing my back tight against the pillar with a sigh of relief.
Drip.
Blood trickled from my nose. My nervous system was overloading. The battle had been short, but that difficult—especially the needle's-eye acrobatics I'd pulled off to save Enrico.
"Going up against a machine-gun helicopter with nothing but a standard-issue pistol. Ha. You've really turned into a monster yourself," Ilay said, firing again and again. His pistol far exceeded any personal firearm. Not as strong as my Shock Pistol, but it seemed to use explosive rounds—every shot detonated on impact.
Hiss.
White smoke and steam curled up from Ilay's pistol. That it withstood such heat without any dedicated cooling system spoke to its top-tier durability.
Sizzle!
Ilay's hand was melting under the pistol's heat. The artificial skin peeled away, baring the mechanical prosthetic arm beneath.
Boom!
Every time Ilay fired, an android burst apart. Combat models capable of some degree of ballistic calculation—and they still didn't stand a chance. The bullet speed and firepower were simply too far beyond what any pistol should possess.
Ilay wiped out all five androids, then checked inside the helicopter for any remaining threats.
"This whole mess is because of you, isn't it? Answer me, Lucaus Custoria. More than a few people died here. And they were of our Kartika Family."
The moment the fighting ended, Garcia rounded on me.
I didn't even look at him. My eyes were on Ilay, who was now handling the android's firearm.
Click.
The sound of a round chambering. My eyes must have widened.
"Ilay, wait—"
Before I could finish, Ilay had already taken aim. The instant he pulled the trigger, a bullet hole opened in Garcia's temple.
Thud.
Garcia crumpled helplessly in front of me. I frowned, making no effort to hide my displeasure.
"I didn't kill him to protect you. It was just a good moment to clear out a rival. This way, it'll look like he got caught in the crossfire," Ilay said calmly, tossing the android's gun out through the broken glass.
"He wasn't enough of a rival to kill."
At my accusation, Ilay smiled thinly.
"...Ever since joining Custoria, you've gone soft, Luka. You'll get yourself killed like that. Noble society isn't so forgiving."
I curled one side of my lip and stared at him.
"Like you said, I'm from the gutter, so I don't know how things work up here. But I know this much. What you just did was cowardly, Ilay Kartika."
"Then you can keep the honor. I'll take the practical gains."
We fell silent and gazed outside. Belatedly, the Public Security Guard's aerial vehicles were beginning to arrive.
Grit.
I ground my teeth.
Irritation surged; my blood boiled. I was angry at Ilay—but when I really thought about it, his actions made sense.
The real reason for my anger lay elsewhere.
Ilay's right. I...
Ever since joining the Custoria Family, I'd been rapidly rusting, losing my edge. The blade named Luka was growing dull.