Chapter 13
Chapter 13
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Good Neighbor
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Stun grenade.
The very same one that any Korean guy who's done his military service would've chucked during weeks three or four of basic training.
About the size of a mandarin orange and light as a feather, but its firepower was legendary across countless videos. With a kill radius of 15 meters and a danger zone stretching to 50, it punched way above its weight.
How dangerous? Even the instructors who usually glared like they could eat you alive turned into perfect angels on grenade day.
All to keep you relaxed enough not to screw up.
(It also helped prevent suicide attempts.)
Of course, recruits were still on edge.
From watching the instructors' live demo in tense silence, to holding the grenade in your own hand, throwing it, ducking, and hearing that deafening boom right in your ear.
That whole sequence, born of pure tension and focus, stuck in your brain forever.
Jin's reaction was pure conditioned reflex.
"Grenade in the case!!!"
He couldn't even say how he moved.
Next thing he knew, he was crouched on the opposite side of the display case.
And his right hand was pinning down the shopkeeper's collar.
BOOM!
The explosion hammered his eardrums the next instant.
Shrapnel shredded through the shop, glass shattering everywhere.
"Gahhh!!"
The old man, Brof, whose head Jin had forced down, let out a scream.
No time to demand what the hell was going on.
No chance to peek and check the situation.
Gunfire erupted next.
RAT-TAT-TAT!!
As the shop got turned to rubble again, Jin and Brof flattened themselves on the floor. Their eyes met naturally.
"Cover!"
Jin yelled, and somehow the old man caught it amid the chaos.
"Th-this way!"
They crawled on their bellies, glass shards and chunks of busted concrete raining down over their heads.
CRASH!
The indiscriminate shooting took out the lights.
Now they couldn't see a damn thing.
Jin just chased the old man's ass—the first time he'd ever laid eyes on it.
"Here! Here!"
At the end of the display case, Brof waved frantically from what looked like a staff room. The door was open—thank God.
"Shut it!"
Jin followed, slamming it himself and shouting it himself too.
Gunfire sounded fainter beyond the closed door.
Jin stepped back from it quick and said,
"Old timer, what are you, some kinda monster? They light up the place like that just for you?"
"Wh-what are you?"
"A customer, I said!"
"A real customer? Not one of Harifa's goons?"
Figures.
Caught up in some shady dealings with lowlife thugs.
"Harifa, whatever, I don't give a shit. Got anything here we can use as a weapon? This is a gun shop."
"You planning to fight? When we don't even know how many are out there?"
"What, sit here nice and quiet watching porn till they come? No time—gimme whatever. Hurry!"
At Jin's urging, Brof scrambled to his feet.
He flung open metal cases one by one, rummaging inside.
"What do you need?"
"Anything!"
"...Damn it. Handing my gear to some rookie."
A hunk of metal flew through the air.
Jin snatched it—a rugged-looking rifle. Thick barrel with a front grip underneath.
Reminded him of an M4, but more futuristic?
That was all he could figure.
Not sure if that was even accurate.
Then Brof held out two magazines stacked together.
"You know how to shoot?"
"Who you take me for."
As Jin snapped them together,
The heavy gunfire tapered off, replaced by footsteps thudding beyond the door.
Not one or two. At least ten.
All packing automatic weapons.
Could he win?
Jin was used to brawls with bullets flying, but he'd never been the bullseye for a dozen muzzles. No guarantees.
For a second, he missed the Steel Hands and their martial arts obsession.
"Brof! You disrespectful old fart. You dead? Say something if you're dead. So I can kill you again!"
A savage voice echoed through the shop.
"We looked like pushovers, huh? That's why you sold to those Butter Trip bastards. What, thought you'd get a cushy life screwing us over? Huh?!"
Jin listened while eyeing Brof's face.
The blind rage directed at him had the old man's features twisted like he'd eaten shit.
That's when it hit.
"Would've been better if you'd died just now... Guess you decided to cling to life like a cockroach, huh?"
The voice was aimed right at them.
Jin's hand shoved Brof's chest hard. The next instant—rat-tat-tat!—bullets punched through the door.
Yellow tracers sliced the air as Jin dove behind a three-shelf rack.
He flicked the selector to semi-auto, waited for the hail to pause, then snapped off precise shots.
No warning shots. In that split second, Jin's eyes locked on the shadows beyond the perforated door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Short, sharp cracks, and someone dropped.
"Shit!"
A startled yelp.
Jin didn't hesitate.
Instead of ducking back, he activated his Mana Circuit and charged the door.
Power surged through his body.
Like an accelerator hidden inside him, floored to the max.
His steps felt light.
The floor cracked underfoot.
His blue-glowing form slammed into the door.
BOOM!
The battered door exploded off its hinges.
In the darkness, Jin switched to full auto.
He squeezed the trigger at the first hint of movement, no hesitation.
Muzzle flash spat fire.
In the strobing light-dark, shocked, twisted, panicked faces flashed by.
They never understood what hit them.
Bullets spraying, bodies crumpling.
Jin ejected the mag while bull-rushing forward.
He'd already clocked the rest with quick glances.
His dark-adjusted eyes caught a gangbanger swinging his gun their way.
"D-don't come closer, you fuck!"
The guy spasmed off shots at the oncoming blue glow.
But Jin was faster.
He dropped low, letting bullets whiz overhead, then smashed the rifle stock into the man's knee at an angle.
"Gaaaaah!!"
The leg snapped like a twig, scream exploding.
Pain locked the body rigid as it fell, muzzle kicking up from recoil.
Blind fire spraying wild.
Someone caught one and went down.
"Agh!"
"Aim before you shoot, idiot!"
"Lights! Turn on the lights!"
"Quit bitching! Shoot the blue thing first!"
Shouts tangled in chaos.
But it didn't last.
Jin slapped in a fresh mag and fired again.
BRRRRT!
The burst dropped another three or four before they could react.
One left.
The one covering from outside the shop, farthest from Jin.
Click! Click!
Empty mag.
Of course.
Jin hurled himself aside as bullets stitched where he'd been, one grazing his thigh.
He gritted his teeth. His right leg burned like fire.
Rifle rounds packed way more powder and velocity than pistol ammo—enough to drop a rhino in one hit.
Even Jin couldn't guarantee survival if it tagged a vital.
He felt it instinctively.
But no backing down.
He pumped more mana through his body, kicking off the floor with everything he had.
"...?!"
The gangbanger's aim wavered.
The target was closing like a shell.
Zigzagging with impossible turns.
Superhuman strength, amplified by mana mastery, made it real.
"Die—!"
Too late. His shots carved empty air and chipped the floor.
Not that Jin was bulletproof—the guy's eyes just couldn't track him.
One breath.
In and out.
Five direction changes done, Jin planted hard.
The floor cratered, his body leaping high against gravity.
A soaring kick, leg whipping down like a scythe, slicing wind.
CRUNCH!
Heel crushed the crown of the man's skull. Blood sprayed from eyes, nose, mouth like a busted hose. He crumpled. Didn't get up.
"Hoo."
Jin exhaled hot breath, scanning around.
The gunfire had drawn eyes. Folks peeking from the alley bolted the second they locked gazes with him.
Scared of stray sparks, probably. Jin didn't care. Just pissed his new clothes were soaked in blood.
"What a goddamn mess..."
He muttered, limping back to the gun shop.
There, a guy clutched his busted leg in agony while Brof snarled down at him.
"You goddamn bastard!"
The old man kicked the guy's ribs over and over.
"Agh, urk, ow!"
The screams seemed more from the leg than the kicks.
"Selling to rival gangs? Planning to screw us over?"
Brof's kicks got fiercer.
Sloppy footwork, but the rage built with each one.
"I cut ties because you're scum fattening up on kids! Modding blood bags not even twenty! Formatting their trauma! Turning 'em into vegetables over and over!"
Jin frowned.
Should've made that last one suffer more.
Regret hit automatic.
"Even this shithole city has lines. Harifa crossed 'em."
Brof snatched a gun from the floor.
No excuses heard, he pulled the trigger without pause.
Bang!
The man's head jerked once. A brass casing clinked down.
"Huff. Huff."
Brof tossed the gun aside, glaring at the blown-open corpse. Finally, a shallow sigh as he looked away.
"...What the hell are you? Not some ordinary brawler, that's for sure."
It was clearly aimed at Jin, but he couldn't answer.
Dopamine exploding in his head right then.
Massive EXP rush felt like drugs.
Made him even madder.
Like grinning like an idiot over pocket money from your parents' killer.
Still, gotta claim what's his.
After all this hell.
Jin steadied himself, checking inward.
Not quite enough for a new star.
But mastering Mana Circuit in under a day? Solid gains.
As he opened his eyes, Brof bellowed right in his face.
"You deaf—?!"
"Whoa, chill. Why yell?"
"'Cause you won't answer! Asked five times. What're you?"
"For real! I'm a customer! Kalifa sent me!"
This geezer...
Fed up with the stubborn old coot, Jin downgraded him from "old timer" to "geezer" in his head.
And the geezer muttered,
"...Kalifa, huh?"
Brof narrowed his wrinkled brow, sizing Jin up fresh.
"If it's her recommendation... you're a Solo, then. New blood? Don't recognize the face."
"Jeez. After all this, my resume matters? I didn't fight for thanks, but priorities much..."
"Uh, ahem, well."
Brof coughed awkwardly at Jin's snark, averting his eyes. Guilty conscience, clearly.
"S-sorry about that. Harifa's got me paranoid lately... Not usually like this."
He extended a wrinkled hand after the rambling.
"Name's Brof. Thanks. Owe you my life."
Jin shook it.
"Call me Jin. The man who's gonna be Solo King. Remember the face."
Finally introduced, they glanced around.
"Shop's trashed. What now?"
"Can't be helped. My fault for not expecting Harifa to go nuts like this."
"Revenge?"
"That corpse with the busted leg? Boss. Harifa's done. Business spots like this have ways to clean up remnants. Don't worry."
Brof's eyes weren't casual.
Makes sense for a Downtown gunrunner.
Though hadn't he been screaming earlier?
Jin revised his mental profile.
Porn-loving, chicken-hearted, but somehow legit gun-dealing old dude.
Then Brof spoke up.
"Kept you waiting on the customer service. Wanna browse now?"
"Here?"
Jin eyed the wrecked guns.
"Flooded merch is a bit..."
Brof chuckled.
"Who said here? Looks ain't everything. Follow me. Special treat: the custom gear."