Chapter 35
Chapter 35
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 34
Chapter Title: Inferno at Rum Pump Pump
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Intense flames swept through Rum Pump Pump.
Those weren't natural fires by any means. Compressed to their absolute limit until they felt solid to the touch, then suddenly unleashed—a storm of scorching heat currents.
The shockwave sent glass shattering outward from every window.
It must have sounded like a bomb going off.
Jin could only guess because he hadn't heard a thing. Whether his eardrums had ruptured or his inner ear was damaged, his ears were filled with a piercing beeeeep.
But that didn't matter.
Even as his vision spun and his entire body burned with agony, Jin first checked the item clutched to his chest.
An old speaker.
To be honest, he had no idea why he'd grabbed it. His body had just moved on instinct.
Jin mouthed silently.
Buddy, you singing right now?
As if in answer, he felt a vibration through his fingertips. It was like the ragged gasps of a drowning victim revived by CPR.
Jin relaxed.
Then, slowly turning his head, his eyes took in the scene engulfed in fire.
It was a quiet time anyway, with only four customers total including himself.
Two of them were dead, and the terrorist responsible was trembling in the flickering flames, arms spread wide.
Even with part of his skull blown off by the Gravis, the bastard was still alive.
Inside his mangled metal frame, wires sparked erratically like short-circuiting veins—zzzt! zzzt!
A body mechanized to the technological limit.
But that wasn't surprising.
Just as Purists prided themselves on pure flesh, the opposite extreme existed too.
What mattered wasn't that steel frame.
It was the mana pulsing from within.
Heat raging out of control.
A blaze surging wildly, ultimately devouring even its source.
Then the terrorist turned his head.
"...!! ...! ......!! ...!"
He was screaming something at Jin, but it still wasn't clear.
Jin scowled.
Not from frustration at the muffled sound.
Just raw irritation twisting his gut.
His neck veins bulged like the madman's over there.
You fucking bastard! You know where this is?
Rum Pump Pump!
Nobody fights here!
One of the few safe spots in this shithole city...!
His unheard shouts wouldn't reach anyway.
The guy was thrashing and howling on his own.
Fine, you scream your lungs out.
I'll beat the shit out of you my way.
Was it the backlash of his surging rage? His heart's core reacted on its own.
Pzzzt!!
Jin was suddenly wrapped in faint purple currents. He didn't even notice.
He just charged full tilt and slammed his palm into the guy's face, smashing it into the floor.
Lubricant, not blood, sprayed from the crushed skull.
A normal human would've died instantly.
But the terrorist grabbed Jin's right arm—the one gripping his head—with both hands.
The contact point ignited.
Flames erupted without warning.
Excruciating burns.
And fuck that.
Jin swung his flaming arm in a wide arc through the air.
Still clutching the terrorist's head tight.
No letting go.
His five mechanized fingertips had long since dug in.
Whoosh!
A fierce wind trailed the arc. The head whipped through the air and slammed back down.
The terrorist's legs shot straight up.
His neck snapped, a mechanical eye protruding from the dented socket.
But even then, he kept spewing flames.
His gaping mouth vomiting not pain, but blind fury.
Burn. Burn brighter. Hotter. Fiercer. Even if it consumes you.
Jin didn't stop either.
He was pissed too.
Who the hell is this guy? Don't know.
Berserker? So fucking what.
Why pull this shit here?
Why Rum Pump Pump, of all places?
His lately calm eyes fully flipped.
Krunch!
Jin ripped off the hands gripping his arm with superhuman strength, then snatched the falling ankle midair.
He inhaled deeply, shoulders dropping loose.
Then the world's most violent fireworks show began.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!
Just like that green monster pulverizing Thor's brother who fancied himself a god.
The body flew in all directions, shattering into debris. Impacts cratered the floor like stamps.
Jin had no intention of stopping.
Smash, smash, smash—
Suddenly, the body rocketed up like a missile, boom! smashing the ceiling before crashing down.
The ankle in his grip had snapped off mid-swing.
"......"
Jin glanced at his suddenly light right hand, tossed the lone foot over his shoulder, and patted out the flames on his arm with his left.
The revealed skin was a charred mess, but adrenaline pumping—pain wasn't bad yet.
Jin strode forward.
Toward the ragdoll terrorist sprawled there.
He no longer looked human.
Blood and oil oozed from the flattened skull in a bizarre sight. Limbs snapped like twigs formed a swastika, joints pierced by protruding parts for extra horror.
Put simply, a human windmill.
Result of a berserk superhuman's full swings.
Jin stomped what used to be the head.
"Who the fuck are you."
Questioning a pulp?
Way too late.
Even if he'd asked sooner, no answers.
"Whatever."
Jin slowly looked up.
Then pressed down—
Crunch!
The flickering head burst like a bug.
Simultaneously, sprinklers burst from the ceiling, spraying water everywhere.
Was it the XP? The burns?
Or the rage?
Standing there, hot droplets hitting his face, his hearing slowly returned—frantic footsteps pounding up the stairs.
"Jin?!"
"Wha—Ji, Jin!"
Familiar faces staring in shock.
Right. Came back for them.
Like the rising steam around him, the heat fogging his brain began to clear.
Feeling the prelude of pain filling the void, he opened his mouth toward the siblings.
"Hey."
Splash!
Ice dumping into the tub. Already the seventh bag.
Five more to go.
"Ugh, cold. Enough already."
Jin, neck-deep in the icy bath, whined as Jenny sliced open another bag with a knife.
She ignored him.
"Shut up. You know what you look like?"
"Nah. Like week four of a polar vortex? Or last winter?"
"What're you babbling about."
More splash splash.
The temp wasn't dropping noticeably, but he groaned anyway.
Pain.
Specifically, his right arm.
Third-degree burns damaging nerves—ice baths stopped helping ages ago.
Even if a doc came back to life, they'd shake their head.
Whew. Gotta amputate, yeah?
Lucky if they didn't swing that axe they skipped on Zhao.
But wrong diagnosis.
For Jin, at least.
Nerve damage should've meant no pain.
But it throbbed, stung, burned, itched, drove him mad—because his body was already healing fast.
Irregular, Superhuman, Street Rat.
Zombie build right again today.
Though it just hurt like hell.
"...Done."
Jenny slumped on the toilet after emptying the last bag, turning away.
"What the hell happened?"
Jin, teeth chattering from pain and cold collab, answered.
"Dunno. Waiting for you guys, some terrorist asshole shoots a customer in the temple. Even dogs don't bite at the table, but this prick's worse."
"......"
Jenny went quiet, then turned away.
"What?"
"...Total chaos. Not just Rum Pump Pump—Junk Plaza Block 3 got hit too. Mass shooting, seventeen dead, five critical."
Jeki's voice from outside drew closer, leaning in the doorway to continue.
"Perp was a regular gangbanger, but took time to take down. If not for a Solo at a nearby diner, double the casualties. But the real issue..."
Jenny narrowed her eyes at his trailing off.
"What?"
"The Solo who fought him is in critical condition."
"What?"
Jenny's echo; Jin, shivering in ice, whipped his head around too.
"Exactly. Killed the guy, but got messed up bad himself. From what I saw, not sure he'll pull through."
Everyone wore ambiguous looks.
A Solo handles three armed punks solo, easy.
But not absolute.
This world's one slip from death.
Hard to judge.
Maybe the Solo got careless.
That's what Jin thought.
"Here. Video of it."
Jeki stepped in, holding a tablet for all to see, hit play.
Starts on the floor. Tense breathing.
Hiding and filming? Camera still for a bit, then shaky pan reveals two in a brutal fight.
Punch, dodge, gap, shoot.
Clash again, exploit opening, counter.
Hard to tell gangbanger from Solo.
But briefly.
The howling maniac's the gangbanger, figured.
Jin nodded—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Unknown Solo finally pumps rounds into the gangbanger's heart. As he turns from the downed foe—
"A’aaah-!"
Gangbanger springs up like a jack-in-the-box, draws dagger from waist, slashes Solo's nape.
Solo staggers, clutching neck.
Gangbanger collapses after final ambush.
Fuck fuck—frantic curses, shaky screen.
Video ends.
"Yeah. Got cocky."
Jin tsked; Jenny picked up.
"Even for a regular gangbanger, too... like he slotted a pricey combat data chip."
"Link to the Rum Pump Pump terrorist?"
"...Who knows. Nothing solid now."
Jin furrowed his brow.
Hit him: first gig was like this.
Edmund Nielsen? Hanson? Johnson?
Whatever, snatched a leaked data chip and went berserk.
Poh called it berserk then too.
Smells fishy.
So he thought inward.
Hey. You there?
Show me something.
No, wait. Mental prep.
...Ready.
Counting down. Come out on three.
One-time pass.
...Three, two, one.
The status window stayed silent.
You fucking prick.
Jin ground his teeth—
"Uh, here..."
Jeki cautiously pulled something from his pocket.
"Brought this just in case."
Their eyes followed his voice—
Both saw it.
Between Jeki's thumb and index: a dangling mechanical eye, wires limp.