The Calamity of Rumors
The 1st Squad had returned from the operation to lure out Abyss. It was hard to call it a success, but neither could they dismiss it as a flat failure. After all, simply surviving and coming back from a mission was a blessing in itself. Especially since they'd returned without a single casualty from the enemy's ambush. There had been a bit of... commotion, sure.
In the end, they'd learned that Abyss intelligently herded the enforcers. They'd also discovered that while it couldn't issue clear commands to other cadavers, it could at least influence their movements to some degree. Gaining that knowledge without any losses? That counted as a success in its own right.
And now, a rumor was circulating through the enforcer squads about a single cadaver. None other than the one suspected of ambushing enforcers: Abyss.
It wasn't a rumor Carlos had spread. He'd only reported the mission details to Director Ugo. But there had been other enforcers on the op besides the 1st Squad, and it was impossible to seal all their lips. It was just a matter of time anyway. With Abyss on the move, word spreading through the enforcer units was inevitable. It wasn't even top-secret info worth suppressing.
Besides, what kind of squad was the 1st? An elite unit of a handful whose fame preceded them. Just being assigned to a mission with them was an honor, and other squads were always dying to hear about the 1st Squad's solo exploits. People gathered to catch every detail of their feats. The four enforcers hadn't stopped talking for days.
Stuff like how a mere lookout swept through hundreds of cadavers. Or how a tiny pistol round took down a massive cadaver in one shot. And tales of the mysterious cadaver leading the pack—Abyss.
Night after night, they had to recount the mission from start to finish, vivid as if it were yesterday. Stories passed from mouth to mouth, becoming rumors—and rumors always get twisted.
Someone said:
"A cadaver stronger than anything we've ever seen—power beyond imagination has appeared!"
It was a bit exaggerated, but not entirely off-base when it came to raw strength.
Someone else said:
"Abyss commands every cadaver in the world! Soon, it'll lead an army to wipe out the Sector!"
That one was way over the top. The four enforcers had speculated that Abyss manipulated other cadavers, sure—but they'd emphasized it was just influencing movement paths, not perfect control.
Somewhere along the line, the rumors snowballed into a mountain, impossible to trace back to the source. A butterfly effect. What started as hot air from four mouths had become a storm from dozens, showing no signs of stopping.
How many times had the rumors circled? The Defense Bureau had officially announced info on Abyss, but no enforcer bought it. They all scoffed that the rumored Abyss couldn't possibly be that weak. Or maybe... they just enjoyed picking it apart too much to believe otherwise.
The Sector's outer walls housed all sorts of facilities for enforcer training: shooting ranges, gyms, dojos, you name it. Right now, I was at the Training Ground.
The Training Ground was where people honed their martial arts against each other. There were fighting rings for sparring, sandbags that Lira obliterated at random, and all sorts of gear.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The sandbags were exploding in rapid succession right now. No one was firing guns—this was a pure hand-to-hand spot. And the one shredding them? Just Lira's fists.
But... maybe as powerful as gunfire? Eek, scary. What the hell had gotten her so pissed?
Lately, she'd been grinding at training nonstop. Ever since that day I taught her life ain't fair.
"I'll kill it... I swear."
Probably talking to herself, but it still sent a chill down my spine. Whoever had pissed off that pitbull terrier had my pity.
The Training Ground was usually pretty empty. Enforcers didn't fight people much, after all. It was like a modern Colosseum—more for entertainment than serious drills. Who beats cadavers with fists when you've got guns? Not beast-tamers, that's for sure.
But these days, three people showed up every day. One: Lira, her head spun from rage. Two: the evil Carlos, tormenting a fragile, cute, huggable beauty. And three: the 1st Squad's mascot, their rising star. Me.
"Where are you looking? Focus."
"I am focusing."
"Your eyes are wandering."
Carlos threw a merciless punch. No to beauty violence~ I flicked my gaze aside and dodged lightly.
"Your physical abilities are impressive, as always."
Thanks for the praise~ But it was losing its thrill. Why? Because...
"But your follow-through is the worst. What's the point of speed if you're wasting it on useless moves?"
It's all buildup, duh. Carlos must not have a heart or something. Couldn't he give proper praise after all my hard work? How was every compliment just setup to tear me down? It made me feel worse!
There's that effect, right? When a good person does something bad, everyone gasps "Oh my god!" and rumors fly. But if the town golden boy saves a cat, it's heartwarming. Same with words. Bad after good hurts more; good after bad hits harder.
Was Carlos skipping the good-after-bad on purpose, or had he lost his humanity? His steadfast attitude in every situation screamed "heart worn away to nothing."
"I said focus."
I zoned out for a second, and he grabbed my wrist. No time to resist—he yanked me toward him.
Oof. What the hell? I locked my thighs to hold balance, fighting desperately. Too late; my center was gone.
Carlos didn't miss the opening, shoving his foot between my ankles. No base, no power. Sure, he had the strength edge from the start, but did I have to go down this pathetically?
I spun through the air and face-planted like an idiot.
"Eek...!"
Not really hurt, but I squealed for effect. Carlos didn't react. If anything, he frowned.
"No daydreaming. And you don't look hurt at all. If you're faking, do it right."
Well, excuse me. Now he was critiquing my acting on top of my technique?
"Not faking. I really hurt."
"Sigh..."
Carlos approached. If he grabbed my nape like last time and hauled me up, game over. No way was I letting some drab guy touch this pristine beauty body!
I sprang up and backed away from the wicked enforcer.
"...If you hate it, move faster. I'm only taking it easy because I have time."
Carlos kept talking without pause. I could predict his next line easy.
"'It's all for your own good.' That again? You're such a boomer."
Words that'd only work in the Stone Age! Not on fresh, young, vibrant Nera!
A vein bulged on Carlos's neck.
"Resume training."
These days, they called violence "training." Lira, Carlos—swinging fists packed with power, then slapping the "training" label on it for everyone else! Packaging twisted desires in pretty excuses? Textbook evil. As a cartel of justice, I couldn't stand for it.
The evil enforcer lunged fast, cocking his fist back full force. No holding back—I'd pissed him off proper.
Emotions narrow your vision. More power, sure, but slower reactions to surprises. I didn't dodge. Instead, I thrust my face forward like "Hit me."
Last chance. For the evil enforcer Carlos to reclaim his humanity! Miss it, and he'd be lost forever.
We charged head-on. His fist closed in on my face in a blink.
But it didn't connect. Just a gust of wind.
Carlos's face showed panic for the first time. He braked hard with his feet, losing balance.
Yes—he'd finally regained his heart. Time to pay the price. Equivalent exchange. You lose something to gain something.
Newly human Carlos was full of openings. Even skill-deficient me could counter now!
I grabbed his extended fist, pivoted on foot and back, and hurled the giant adult. Historic moment: girl tosses man.
"Ngh...!"
Prideful Carlos thrashed mid-fall. Leave him be, and his monster instincts would land him for a counter. No telling how a recovered Carlos would torment me. So...
Finish it clean. Half-assing leads to pain everywhere.
Objectively, my power didn't match his. Obviously—it was just the human-level stuff I showed. Human bodies lack strength and skill. But martial arts exist for a reason. Enter the ground game.
Not perfect against size differences, but ideal here. Drop low, collapse his center again. Slip in, entwine bodies. Lock joints as levers.
No need to break bones. Even with regen, fractures would be... terrifying beyond imagination!
Instead, choke for panic! Humans exhale on impact instinctively!
Carlos was trapped, no escape!
"What... the hell... is... this...!"
Breath failing, his face reddened.
"I win, right? Training's over today, yeah?"
Now or never. Miss it, and I wouldn't survive. No confidence I could. Once on the path, no stopping. Stopping meant death—the reaper behind me claiming my life.
Carlos ignored my fair proposal, thrashing wildly to escape.
Uh oh, might slip! Secret mental training meant low proficiency. I squeezed harder, but clumsy moves closed the gap tighter. Not planning full-body contact!
If reversed, Carlos would've been booted for conduct. Why won't he quit?! Evil spirit that strong?
Tap tap tap!
My mistake—he'd been tapping. Weird he could talk while choked. Should've released on first tap. Not my fault.
"Guh... haa..."
...Probably?
I peeled away cautiously. Feet stuck at first. His dark amber eyes fixed on me, emotionless.
"Fine... training ends for today."
Wha, accepting it straight?
"And."
"Look forward to next time. Inspector Nera, your passionate training attitude exceeds expectations."
No. Nope?
"You'll commit to the next one too, right?"
I saw the devil. Name: Carlos. His request? A tiny contract. Old tales warn: never deal with devils. But devils don't lose deals—or offer refusables.
I turned away, speechless.
"Answer me."
Left: nothing. Right: ...Lira glaring murderously. Wait, she apologized all teary last time—effect worn off? Punching sandbags made her beastly.
No allies here. This relentless hell gave no breaks.
"Yes. Great. See ya."
No need to overthink. My decision was swift; my escape swifter.