Chapter 40
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 40
My close-quarters combat skills ranked among the very best of the cadets. I took a certain pride in that.
But the attacker shattered that pride without mercy. He was on another level entirely. Every time he flicked his hand—palm or back, it didn't matter—my blade veered aside as if by magic. He was parrying my strikes barehanded.
Clang!
I barely wrenched my deflected blade back and lunged for his neck again. The attacker angled his upper body low and drove his palm toward my chest.
Crack!
I blocked with the pommel of my sword. An impact that felt ready to shatter my fingers blew me backward.
'He's holding back. If he weren't, I'd already be dead.'
Not even five seconds had passed since the fight began. In extreme moments, your sense of time warps. A single second, normally gone in an instant, stretched out like a full minute.
The attacker was exceptional. His martial arts were so refined it was almost admirable. If he weren't my enemy, I'd have wanted to learn from him.
“Back off, kid. I don't want to kill you. If your superiors know I was your opponent, they won't blame you. The Imperial Guard doesn't teach its cadets to throw their lives away for nothing.”
The attacker spoke at a leisurely pace, letting a piece of information slip.
I had a feeling I knew who he was. However tightly the Empire controlled information, it couldn't stop rumors from spreading by word of mouth.
'An anti-imperialist terrorist group.'
The rumored 'Enemy of the Empire' stood right in front of me.
Everything clicked into place. The Imperial Guard had been maneuvering to draw the terrorists out. If a higher-ranking unit had moved too soon, the terrorists would have scattered—that explained all the caution. A low-ranking grunt like me was just one small cog in a much larger machine.
Whatever. The bastard in front of me was looking down on me. A mere rebel against the Empire, daring to sneer at me?
“Haa...”
My breath slipped past my lips and scattered into the air. Maybe it would be my last.
'From now on, I ignore my injuries.'
I raised my sword, lining it straight before my eyes.
From this moment on, I am a blade. There are only two outcomes: I shatter, or I cut him down first.
The enemy was stronger than me. To close the gap between us and tip the scales even slightly in my favor, I had to bet on one assumption.
'Trust that he doesn't want to kill me.'
Only then could I throw away survival and defense entirely and pour everything into offense. It was a desperate stopgap to make up for my lack of skill.
Crack!
I kicked off the ground and lunged. I'd pushed my prosthetic body's output to its absolute limit, and the sheer force of the leap rattled all the way up to the crown of my head.
Spurt.
Blood gushed from the gunshot wound in my flank. It didn't matter. The fight would be decided long before I bled out.
Clang!
Gripping the hilt with both hands, I brought the blade down with everything I had. The attacker tilted his upper body smoothly aside and slipped past the strike.
Thud!
I stamped my lead foot down, spun my body, and slashed. My blade whipped through the air, chasing his movement.
Grate!
My waist twisted under the brutal acceleration. I heard the sickening tear of flesh at the gunshot wound in my flank.
Because I'd committed everything to attack, my openings were wide open. It was terrifying. A single counter from him could crush my heart or shatter my skull.
But I didn't flinch. I wouldn't dodge, and I wouldn't defend.
Only attack.
My reckless approach threw the enemy off. Just for a split second—but he hesitated.
'Kill me if you dare.'
For whatever reason, he was reluctant to kill a practitioner of the Akies Combat Style. I had to bet everything on that reluctance and keep pressing.
Whoosh!
The attacker slipped inside my guard. I didn't defend, didn't retreat. I thrust my blade straight at his head.
Flinch!
The attacker halted his advance and stepped back. He clicked his tongue, thoroughly annoyed.
“You've trained this hard at your age, and yet you're this eager to throw your life away for the Empire? You really think I won't kill you?”
If he actually meant to kill me, he wouldn't be running his mouth.
The blood pooling from my flank had already soaked down to my feet. I didn't need to look to know how bad it was. The cold creeping through my limbs was warning enough.
My razor-sharp focus would start to slip soon.
“The Empire's one thing... but your smug attitude was just too annoying to let slide.”
Honestly, that was the real reason I was fighting.
I just didn't like the guy. I wanted to prove that his arrogance—his assumption that I wasn't even worth taking seriously—was dead wrong. I guess that's just my nature.
“I like that rebellious streak, kid. You're definitely closer to our side than theirs.”
The attacker chuckled, shoulders shaking. He opened the mouthplate of his helmet, revealing a faint smirk, and went on calmly.
“My name is Rick Kaiser. I'm a republican.”
“Ah, so a terrorist?”
“I'd prefer 'resistance fighter.'”
“So from now on I can just call you a son of a bitch? How can a person's name be 'son of a bitch'? Truly bizarre.”
Without a word, the attacker snapped his mouthplate shut. The crimson glow of his visor flared. He seemed a bit pissed off—or maybe a lot.
Thud!
The attacker bounced lightly in place. A high whine rang out as his power output surged. In the blink of an eye he vanished from my sight, only to reappear right in front of my face.
His crimson visor glared down at me. Clenching his fist, he drove it straight at my head.
A strike aimed square at my skull. He was going for the kill. He'd changed his mind.
Too late to dodge. Still clutching my sword, I crossed my arms to block. This wasn't a defense meant to keep me alive—it was purely to buy a fraction of a second.
Crunch-screeech!
My crossed arms began to shatter. Through the shower of flying parts and metal fragments, his fist drove forward like a spear.
Everything slowed to a crawl.
I was already bringing my leg up, aiming to drive my heel into his chin. Even if my head shattered first, my leg would carry out the last command from my brain.
Go ahead, crush my skull. I'll take your jaw with me. If I'm lucky, we go down together.
Crunch!
The impact landed.
The slow-motion world snapped back to real-time. I blinked. I wasn't dead yet.
Squeeze!
The attacker had gripped the back of my neck. Somehow he'd stopped that impossibly fast punch mid-strike. I'd have bet money the bastard could catch a flying bullet barehanded.
Clatter, clack.
My trump-card kick fell to the ground, reduced to scrap. The attacker had caught my foot with his other hand and crushed my right leg into junk.
'I lost.'
We were in completely different leagues. He'd dismantled my final, desperate move without breaking a sweat.
He was using a far superior prosthetic body, but that wasn't why I lost. Even with identical output between us, I still would have lost. It was a bitter truth I had to swallow.
My arms were shattered into nothing below the elbows, and my right foot was crumpled to pulp in his grip.
“You've thoroughly pissed me off. I'll give you one last chance: beg for your life, and I'll let you live.”
The attacker said it while still holding me by the neck. I forced my lips into a smirk.
Clang!
I kicked him square in the groin with my remaining left foot. A metallic clang rang out—he was clearly wearing a cup.
“...Haha, fine. Let's see if the universe is watching over you. If you somehow survive this, give my regards to Kinuan. Tell him I'm doing well.”
With those last words, the attacker squeezed.
Crack!
The last thing I heard that day was the sound of my own neck snapping. It's not every day you get to experience that.
* * *
When an organic human's neck snaps, they usually die.
...Key word being usually.
I stared at the metal pins embedded in the back of my neck. It was a traction device holding my broken vertebrae in place.
Reaching back, my fingertips brushed cold metal. An external spine—serving as a temporary bridge for my severed central nervous system—ran cold from the nape of my neck all the way down to my tailbone.
Thanks to that external spine, I could move my limbs. Aside from my neck being locked in place, I was in decent shape.
“Hey, Felix. Can you talk?”
I twisted my upper body slightly to look at Felix in the adjacent bed.
“U-uh... Lu... Luka? It... it hurts.”
“You idiot. Of course it hurts—you're trying to move your neck.”
Felix lay there with a vacant expression. The confident, charismatic guy was gone. Drool pooled at the corner of his mouth, soaking his pillow.
I let out a bitter chuckle as I looked at him. He was beyond recovery. Felix had suffered severe brain damage—the price of being left with a broken neck for too long.
I, on the other hand, had gotten lucky. I'd heard that right after the attacker took me down, four Imperial Guardsmen had arrived alongside Giselle. Their swift emergency treatment was the only reason I'd escaped brain damage.
The image of the terrorist who'd snapped my neck was burned into my mind. Even with my eyes closed, it stayed vivid. Lingering trauma.
'Rick Kaiser.'
That was the name of the terrorist who had beaten me. It had taken me fifteen days to finally wake up.
'How ironic. A republican named Kaiser.'
Kaiser meant emperor. A piece of dark, cynical irony.
An Imperial Guardsman stood watch outside our hospital room. The door slid open, and Imperial Guard Captain Heilas stepped inside. More precisely, he'd come to see me—Felix was in no state to communicate.
Creak.
The Captain stood before me in full uniform. Since I couldn't move my neck, my field of vision was limited to his chest.
“No need to try to stand. Just lie back.”
The Captain pulled up a chair and leaned forward to match my eye level. He glanced past my shoulder at Felix, and a brief flash of sorrow crossed his eyes.
“...Felix carried out his duty to the very end.”
I brought up Felix before beginning my report. It felt like the least I could do to show him respect.
Then I gave a verbal account of the incident. After listening quietly, the Captain told me there was no need to file a written report.
“Rick Kaiser. Real name, Rick Silva Nunez. One of the Empire's most wanted.”
“I've never heard of him.”
“Not every wanted criminal is made public. Especially the ones who represent the Empire's dirty laundry.”
I stiffened.
'The Empire's shame.'
The Empire had to be perfect and flawless. Speaking of the 'Empire's shame' could easily be read as treason. Yet those very words had just left the Captain's mouth.
“So Rick is a former Imperial Guardsman.”
“Did he tell you that himself?”
“He called Felix and me his juniors.”
The Captain nodded. A terrorist who used to be an Imperial Guardsman—no wonder his bounty was kept off the public records.
“It's only fair that I tell you the truth behind this operation. Don't be modest; you've earned the right to know.”
I waited for him to go on. He seemed to be considering where to begin.
“Operation Juliet has been five years in the making. The goal is to infiltrate the leadership of the anti-imperialist terrorist group, 'Nemesis.'”
“Infiltration, not eradication?”
The Captain held out his terminal. The holographic lens flared to life, projecting a three-dimensional organizational chart—a map of the terrorist network they'd investigated so far.
It looked incredibly decentralized, barely a visible connection between the nodes.
“Nemesis is built entirely from independent cells. Wiping them out by conventional means is impossible. However many branches we prune, they just keep multiplying. It's pointless unless we can sever the head.”
I thought of Rick Kaiser. He was probably a key figure within Nemesis. Was capturing him the true objective of this operation?
“Since we failed to capture Rick, does that mean the operation was a failure?”
If so, Felix's sacrifice had been for nothing. The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.
The lines around the Captain's mouth deepened. He shook his head, a faint smile playing on his lips.
“We succeeded brilliantly, Luka. We've planted one of our own at the very heart of Nemesis.”
I couldn't grasp what he meant. For the first time in a long while, I felt completely out of the loop.
“What do you mean by that?”
“The fact that even you are bewildered is proof the operation succeeded.”
The Captain swiped the hologram aside. My eyes widened as the next image loaded. Barbara's face was projected in the air.
“Barbara is our operative. Nemesis recruited her as a hacker. They'd had their eyes on her for a long time—because we made sure they did.”
My grip tightened on the bed rail. It was a good thing my original prosthetic body had been destroyed; if I hadn't been stuck with this cheap, standard-issue prosthetic arm, I'd have crushed the metal rail to pieces.
Just how many people had high command deceived for the sake of this operation? Even Giselle, the Captain's own daughter, had been kept in the dark.
“Does Giselle know?”
I couldn't help asking, my feelings bleeding through my voice.
“She knows nothing. And it's best it stays that way. Do you understand why I'm telling you all of this?”
The Captain narrowed his eyes. My heart skipped a beat.
'Disposal.'
That was the first word to flash through my mind. However talented I was, I was still a low-ranking pawn who could be discarded at a moment's notice. And with no family to speak of, getting rid of me would be effortless.
“...Read this over and sign it.”
The Captain drew an electronic document from his coat and handed it to me. I let out a hollow laugh, the tension draining from my body.
It was an adoption paper, already signed by Imperial Guard Captain Heilas Custoria. The only blank left was for my name.
“Welcome to the Custoria family, Luka.”
Heilas rose from his seat.