Chapter 76
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 76
Chapter Title: Ambush at the Bookstore
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"What, sending this many guys just to clean out one little bookstore?"
He scanned the faces of the rough-looking men inside the van as he said it.
A few of them nodded with smirks, clearly agreeing deep down.
Then, Chang-ho—the leader of this second van—spoke up from right beside him.
"You know the drill. Spare just the two most useful ones and kill the rest."
"...Yeah? Fuck, got it."
Everyone's expressions darkened.
They had no choice but to know.
All of them here had been handpicked that way.
Organization members who'd trusted their strength to the end, resisted Wolf, and lost everything.
So of course they understood.
The vans were parked at positions not far from the bookstore, timed perfectly to arrive right on schedule.
"Time to move."
They slowly rolled the van forward, blocking the bookstore entrance.
The moment the time hit, burly men in black poured out of the van.
Everyone drew their swords.
Every single one pulled out the daggers supplied by Wolf.
These were real weapons, leagues above the tools or so-called "extensions" they'd used before.
You could feel the power of the villain organization Wolf even in these small details.
The guys from the first van stared at the bookstore entrance, chuckling incredulously before one spoke up.
"These bastards... gotta give 'em props for guts, fighting to the end."
"For real."
It was genuine admiration.
Among the top villain groups, plenty surrendered out of fear at the mere name of Wolf.
Yet this tiny bookstore—barely over 100 square feet—was holding out as a villain hideout.
True courage.
Once out of the van, their fifteen heads felt like a massive crowd compared to the shop's size.
If they all crammed in, they'd just get in each other's way and not even fight properly.
They'd have to split up a bit.
Reading the mood, the leader from the first van raised his hand.
"We'll take it."
"...Do whatever."
"Okay, let's go~"
The first van's crew headed in, swinging their swords—looking almost excited.
"Crazy bastards."
Chang-ho spat curses at them.
No one piled on, but they all agreed inwardly.
Anyone volunteering to risk their life in a fight was a lunatic.
And those guys? Murder addicts or psychopaths.
When Wolf came recruiting and said they'd only take two, those psychos from the first van fought each other for spots.
"...Poor sods inside."
He pitied the ones in the bookstore.
If they'd faced him or the third van's crew, at least it'd be quick and painless.
But of all the luck...
Those guys were scum in personality and tendencies, but every one was a high-rank villain near B-Rank.
Top enough to lead most domestic villain groups.
Hell, one had even been a boss before.
"Wanna light one up?"
The rest smoked and waited for it to end.
And sure enough, the metallic stench of blood started wafting from inside.
"Ah, ruins the smoke..."
They could barely hear the fighting, but the blood smell hit first.
That usually meant a one-sided curbstomp, not even a real fight.
"Start the car?"
Chang-ho nodded at his suggestion.
It was a quiet spot, but not completely deserted.
No point lingering in matching black outfits with daggers out.
Sure, most heroes couldn't touch them, but still.
Then the blood scent grew closer, and someone burst out from the bookstore depths.
"That guy's—"
It was the first van's leader.
"H-Hey, hey! W-What's going on?!"
The blood-soaked guy, missing one eye, fled the store.
Thud.
Crash!
In his panic, he tangled with Chang-ho—who'd been smoking by the door—and they both went down.
The collision was so hard ash flew everywhere; they rolled nearly a full turn.
"You fucking shit!"
Furious, Chang-ho shoved him off, but the guy ignored it, scrambling to the car with terror on his face.
Even Chang-ho—who'd pushed him—looked baffled.
What the hell was he so scared of?
His trembling hands fumbled the ignition; it wouldn't catch.
"What the fu—"
"...Hey, over there."
Someone pointed at the entrance. A man strolled out.
Blood splattered his clothes here and there. Huge build, tattoos snaking his arms—an obvious villain.
A crude jungle machete dangled from his hand, red droplets pattering off it.
He casually strode through their group—passing guys holding smokes and daggers like they were nothing—and smashed the driver's face in.
...Yeah. Dead.
Then he muttered.
"Nine."
Everyone just gawked, dumbfounded.
And they all sensed it.
"Fuck... we're screwed."
No idea who said it, but it nailed their feelings.
They weren't dumb.
Spotting he was no ordinary foe, they hastily stubbed smokes, raised daggers.
Some activated powers, bracing for battle.
Him coming out was a mistake.
Outside the cramped store, they could all rush him.
Tension hung thick in the standoff, then they charged as one—no one waiting.
Well, precisely: everyone except him (ranged thrower), the fleeing guy, and Chang-ho (sprained ankle from the tumble).
His power was throwing.
Plan: eight rush in, he shows an opening, chuck a dagger.
Yeah. He kept cool, waiting for that gap.
Even as the guy swung and took three necks in a flash.
Even as a crunch! echoed from a guy's face getting curb-stomped.
Just gripped his dagger, poised to throw.
The gaps were showing—tiny at first.
Closer in, they sharpened.
'...Closer...?'
"One."
That instant, he spun and bolted.
Hid behind dazed Chang-ho, staring at the guy just like him.
Gamble.
The man kept counting aloud.
He'd thought it was their numbers.
Half right, half wrong.
Probably...
Counting his kills.
"You little shi—"
Chang-ho glared at him fleeing behind, cursing.
But the curse cut short.
"Last."
The voice rang close.
Chang-ho slumped like a puppet with cut strings.
"I want to join Wolf."
"..."
All he could do was nod.
[You killed all our guys... and wanna join?]
"...Yeah."
Bella's voice came through the receiver.
For someone hearing her crew got wiped, it was awfully chipper.
Almost like she was half-welcoming the news I'd done it.
[...This is fun. Cool, sending you the address. Come here.]
I glanced at it, then handed the phone back to its owner.
The sole survivor in black.
The man took it and collapsed to the ground.
Fourteen.
A lot dead, but no guilt.
They'd lived like beasts, not humans.
Killing villains who thrived on murder, robbery, violence? I'd seen too much to hesitate.
I entered the bookstore.
"G-Good work, sir."
The man from the secret back room handed me a towel.
No sweat, but blood splatter was sticky—welcome gesture.
Everyone inside had dropped their tools, hands clasped politely.
They'd watched via CCTV, no doubt.
"...Y-You're really police?"
I pondered, then answered.
In this world, my jobs piled up.
Hero, villain—now collaborating as honorary cop.
"For now."
"...Ah."
They nodded at that.
"Contact the captain, please."
I could, but had somewhere to be first.
Out of the store, to the downed guy.
"You drive?"
He nodded frantically.
"L-License! I got one!"
"To that address."
"Yes, sir!"
Snappy reply—nice.
We took the least bloody first van and peeled out.
I turned off my phone, just in case.
The guy kept slamming brakes and gas, hands shaking—reliving it all.
Me? I was impressed.
"So this is a car..."
"W-What'd you say?"
"Nothing."
Hard braking, hard accelerating?
Compared to a carriage, it was heavenly.
I marveled at the car, enjoying the drive.