Chapter 77
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 77
Heilas and I rode together in an aerial vehicle. It wasn't an Imperial Guard craft, but one belonging to the Custoria family.
"How was the security mission?" Heilas asked casually.
"It was strange," I answered honestly. Those few words carried more weight than they seemed to.
"If I may offer some advice—do not judge things by our common sense or standards. I'm sure you already know this, but I say it out of concern." Heilas left it at that.
I thought for a moment before speaking.
"The investigation into Kinuan has stalled. It's difficult to turn up any more traces."
"It would have been ideal to capture Rick alive... but it can't be helped. We still have time. With Rick dead, the terrorists will have to make a move. They might even try to assassinate you."
We discussed the mission. The truth was, the Kinuan investigation had ground to a complete halt. The clues had dried up, the momentum lost. More than anything, my own drive had cooled.
"We're not heading to the main estate right now, are we?" I said, glancing out at the darkening window. The Custoria mansion lay in the opposite direction.
"Luka, from this moment on, we act on family business—not Imperial Guard duty. I as the Family Head, and you as a member of the Custoria family."
As he spoke, Heilas handed me an electronic mask. It was designed to cover the entire face, its surface smooth save for a few exposed circuits.
Whir.
Without a word, I pressed the mask to my face. Recognizing my facial structure, it shifted in tiny increments, sealing over me from chin to temple.
With these masks and plain clothes, no outsider would be able to guess our origins.
"If it's family business, shouldn't we have brought Jupe along too?"
My voice, muffled by the mask, came out with its frequency altered. The same went for Heilas, who wore an identical mask.
"Jupe isn't suited for matters that demand strict confidentiality. He belongs in the light, not the shadows." Heilas chuckled softly. His words revealed the nature of tonight's work.
Our vehicle set down in an empty lot. By avoiding checkpoints and public airfields, this visit would leave no record.
Whirrrr.
The moment Heilas and I stepped out, the aerial vehicle shot off and vanished into the distance.
Step, step.
Footsteps approached. I gripped the hilt of my sword, senses on high alert.
"It's fine, Luka," Heilas said, resting a hand on my shoulder as he peered into the dark alleyway.
A destitute man—looking every bit the street vagrant—shuffled toward us. Beneath his deeply pulled hood, a single-lens visor served as his eyes.
"It's been a while, Master. And the young master beside you?"
"He is my son."
"Ah, the rumored adopted son. A pleasure to meet you. I am Paigon."
The man with the visor bowed deeply to me. Before I could even begin to guess his identity, Heilas introduced him.
"He is my personal retainer—unofficially. He handles matters in the Lower District."
"Think of me as Lord Heilas's eyes and ears, Young Master Lucaus," Paigon said with a smirk. A terrible stench rolled off him. He was a shabby old man, so wretched-looking it was hard to believe he served as the Custoria Family Head's retainer.
Heilas's watcher. Paigon.
If the Emperor's Watcher had been Kinuan, then Heilas's watcher was this man.
For those in power, unofficial subordinates were a necessity. At their level, dark deeds had to be done—deeds that could never see the light of day.
Paigon was surely one of Heilas's most trusted confidants.
"Too many eyes here. Follow me."
Paigon led us deeper into the alley. This was the outskirts of the Lower District—a lawless zone even gangs wouldn't set foot in.
Gangs move for profit. They mostly deal in businesses that straddle the line between legal and illegal.
Out in these crumbling fringes, there weren't even any businesses left to fight over. This place belonged to outlaws and vagrants who had nothing left to lose.
The factions that ruled here were no better than bands of thieves. Their nature was wholly different from disciplined organizations like La Vie en Rose or the Arena gangs.
Which is exactly why the Empire's most persecuted end up here. People like... terrorists.
With barely a decent soul in sight, it was the perfect place for criminals to disappear.
"Luka, the person we're tracking from here on is a contact for Nemesis. He left traces of activity on the day Nikolaos died. If we lose him once, there's no telling when we'll get another chance. I will not tolerate failure this time. This is not a training exercise, nor a cadet's mission. I say it again—this is Custoria family business." Heilas's tone was grave.
A dozen thoughts churned through my mind. But for now, I forced them all down—every idle speculation. I would focus on nothing but the task ahead.
"I'll open the entrance. Give me a moment."
Paigon stopped at a dead end. He searched the ground, then hauled open a manhole cover.
Damp steam billowed up from the sewer. The reek of filthy water, gone lukewarm from geothermal heat, was atrocious. My stomach was already turning.
"Jupe would definitely struggle with a mission like this," I muttered.
Paigon was already climbing down the ladder, leading the way.
"Haha—it won't be easy for you either," Heilas said, descending after him.
He wasn't wrong. Even for someone raised in the Lower District, this was an entrance that made me hesitate.
Squelch.
It wasn't just a normal sewer. Filth pooled like a swamp. It was a passage too vile to put into words.
"Bugs will cling to you and your skin will itch, but you'll have to get used to it, Young Master. Try to flick them off one by one and you'll never stop."
There was amusement in Paigon's voice. He seemed to enjoy watching me suffer through this.
Rustle.
Paigon drew out a map of the sewers—hand-drawn. The tunnels tangled together like a maze; without it, finding the way would have been all but impossible.
We waded through the swamp of sewage, eyes fixed on Paigon's back. And at this point, I have a confession to make.
...I couldn't hold it in any longer.
"Ugh—blegh!"
Vomit surged up my throat and made a spectacular exit.
In the end, I threw up once.
"Bleeeggh!"
No—twice.
...Maybe even three times.
* * *
"Your body is still biological, so the gag reflex can't be helped," Heilas said, as if to comfort me after my heaving.
Right. It wasn't that I was weak. Heilas and Paigon had full-body prosthetics—even their internal organs were mechanical, letting them suppress physiological reflexes entirely.
By the time the sour bite of stomach acid finally left my mouth, Paigon at last came to a stop.
Heilas and I, trailing behind him, held our breath and waited for him to speak.
Hummmm.
Paigon's visor glowed bright. He swept his optical light across the surroundings, pausing here and there. Wherever his gaze settled, an exit to the surface was revealed.
"Master, breach from this side. Young Master, you take that route. That way we cover every exit. I'll provide cover from the rooftop."
Paigon folded his fingers into a precise pattern. His left prosthetic arm flipped open, revealing a gun barrel.
"Speed is everything. If the target realizes he has no chance of winning, he'll take his own life," Heilas said, handing me an electronic pistol loaded with stun rounds.
Whir.
I tapped the pistol against my terminal. Recognizing my data, its sight adjusted in tiny increments to calibrate the aim.
Capture the Nemesis contact alive. Extract information.
That was the mission's objective.
This isn't Imperial Guard work... it's Custoria family business. Heilas has been investigating Nikolaos's death on his own all this time.
The eldest son of the Custoria family was dead. Rick's death alone hadn't been enough for Heilas. He meant to deliver a far greater retaliation.
So that no one would ever dare touch the Custoria family again.
Judging by his words, this wasn't a chance that came often. If Heilas could have caught Nemesis's tail on his own with ease, the terrorists would have been wiped out long ago.
"The target changes faces constantly—identifying him by appearance is impossible. We identify him by build and movement patterns."
Paigon projected a hologram from his terminal. A human-shaped model appeared, repeating various motions, walking among them.
Neither Heilas nor I so much as blinked as we burned the thirty-second clip into memory.
"Phew."
Having finished, I closed my eyes and drew a breath. A brief meditation to tune my nervous system.
Soon I would expand my nerves and senses, and my brain would scream under the flood of sensory overload.
I did it every time, and every time it hurt. My final years likely wouldn't be spent in peace.
At best, I'd end up like Kinuan, living with brain dysfunction. At worst, I'd end up like Ken Noma.
"Breaching," Heilas murmured, shoving open his manhole cover and climbing out. Standing at the other entrance, I pushed mine open and climbed up too.
Clack.
As I emerged, a boiler system came into view. The low hum of machinery droned around me. This was the building's rear entrance—and boiler room.
"Be careful, Young Master."
Paigon climbed up after me, then slipped away toward the emergency stairs. He would scale the wall to reach the rooftop.
Heilas is infiltrating through the sewage treatment room near the main entrance.
Heilas had taken the hardest route. He'd arrive about five seconds after me.
Three, four, five...
Counting the seconds, I pushed open the boiler room door.
"W-who are you?"
A man loitering in the hallway panicked at the sight of me. By his look, he wasn't the Nemesis contact.
Phut!
I squeezed the trigger. A stun round buried itself in the back of his neck. Sparks flew, and he crumpled, unconscious. That was the beauty of stun rounds—they worked on biological bodies and prosthetics alike.
This building was a long-term lodging house. Calling it a hotel would be embarrassing. The rooms were nothing but cramped single units, everyone sharing communal showers. A low-grade flophouse where only those with questionable identities ever stayed.
Still, being a lodging facility, it wasn't easy to breach from the outside. There'd be security devices at the main entrance. That was the very reason we'd waded through the sewer—for absolute secrecy.
We can't fail.
To raise our odds even a fraction, we'd braved that stomach-turning sewer.
My resolve was already burning. It had been an experience horrific enough to make even me throw up. The mere thought of failing filled me with rage.
Whir.
My cybernetic eye was surely glowing. I'd committed the entire layout of the building I'd passed through to memory. I could move through it without hesitation, as though I'd lived here for years.
Crash, bang!
I kicked in every door I passed, shattering them one after another. Fortunately, the building had no windows—which meant it doubled as a place of confinement. Moving room to room, I caught glimpses of scenes I'd rather never have seen.
"Kieeeek!"
There was even an alien—a rare sight in the Empire. The bipedal creature, something like a cross between a pig and a reptile, flared its nostrils and shrieked the instant it saw me. A truly hideous species.
Then again, by our standards, most alien species were grotesque. They probably thought the same of us.
Phut, phut!
I pulled the trigger twice in quick succession. Given the alien's massive frame, I doubted a single shot would do. Struck by two stun rounds, it foamed at the mouth and collapsed.
Heilas has already finished and moved up.
The opposite wing was already cleared—Heilas had advanced to the second floor ahead of me.
I readied myself to head up as well. Three floors in total.
Rumble!
I froze. The ceiling caved in, raining down concrete debris. A shadow staggered through the thick dust.
Someone had smashed through the floor above and dropped down.
The contact?
I couldn't be sure. A flophouse like this crawled with criminals and fugitives. Any of them might bolt blindly the moment they heard the commotion.
Click.
I pulled the trigger. Contact or not, my job was to drop everyone first.
Phut!
The shot missed. It wasn't the pistol's fault—an electronic sidearm, its auto-targeting was flawless. I hadn't misfired.
The target had read the round's trajectory through the dust and slipped aside. And he'd done it without even using his eyes.
"Tick-tock."
The enemy clicked his tongue. I'd seen that habit before. Ken Noma had clicked his tongue too, right before we fought.
He uses the Akies Combat Style.
Now I was certain—the figure in the dust was the Nemesis contact.
Ssssshh!
He set off a smoke grenade. I couldn't see an inch ahead. Acrid smoke choked the narrow hallway, making it hard even to breathe.
And yet he knew exactly where I stood. His blurred gun barrel leveled straight between my eyes.
Bang!
His shot rang out. I already had my palm raised, shielding my face.
Ting!
The flattened bullet ricocheted off the back of my hand and clattered to the floor. Through my parted fingers, I watched the shadow lunge toward me.
Heh. Not bad.
I holstered my pistol. This wasn't the kind of opponent I could take down with a gun.