Hello, Kid?

Sudden explosion—and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with it, a sharp right arm slashing toward my throat.

As my body flew back dramatically, I reflexively swatted away her incoming arm, leveled Al Capone's Tommy at her face, and pulled the trigger.

"Some welcome!"

The gunshot roared out like pouring rain, forcing the girl—who'd shielded her face with both arms—to stagger backward.

"Speak for yourself...!"

Blanca, shoved back by the hail of bullets, glared at me while licking the arm she'd used to block them. Despite the point-blank barrage, there wasn't a scratch visible on her skin. She was notoriously tough in the game, so it wasn't entirely surprising—but I hadn't expected her to come out unscathed.

"Even the guards' guns in Niflheim didn't sting like that. What the hell did you just unload on me?"

I taunted her by waving the gun in my hand, even as she licked her arm furiously, shooting me a razor-sharp glare like she was in agony.

She scowled.

"...As if that toy could hurt me. Too bad for you?"

"I was planning to sweep you under the rug with a sneak attack. You came in silent as a ghost—how'd you know I was here?"

Blanca covered her mouth with her hand, chuckling like she found my question amusing.

"That curious, huh? Answer my question first, and maybe I'll tell you."

"Your question?"

A little Q&A, was it? Intriguing.

I nodded at her proposal, and she clapped her hands with a beaming grin.

"Didn't expect you'd agree so easily! Great, my turn first?"

She flashed a radiant smile, looking thrilled.

"Which outfit are you with?"

...Straight to digging out my affiliation, huh.

Still, it told me something crucial.

"Judging by you asking about that, looks like Latte hasn't spilled yet."

"Oh, her? Tougher nut than I thought. You should make it easier and just answer, yeah?"

I glanced past her at Latte, slumped and bound to a chair. Her clothes were caked in blood and grime, barely recognizable anymore.

For now, I'd play along.

"Famiglia."

"...Famiglia? Never heard of it."

"Wouldn't be surprised. It's a new outfit—hasn't even been a month."

Blanca leaned forward, then suddenly closed her eyes. Her nose twitched moments later.

"Doesn't smell like a lie... Alright, my turn? You asked how I knew you were outside, right?"

She tapped her nose.

"Smell. Caught a new scent from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠out there."

She grinned confidently.

"...You picked up on my aura."

"Sharp one, aren't you? Bingo. I can even sniff out lies that way. Want more?"

I shook my head at her smug display.

"Nah, I'll get the rest after I take you down."

"Ooh? Tough guy."

She stopped licking her arm, crouched low, and flexed her fingers. Classic prelude to one of Blanca's charging attacks.

Fast mobility, ironclad defense—that was her gimmick. No point in Al Capone's Tommy here. I stowed it in my cube and clenched my fist, staring her down.

"What, so guns aren't your thing?"

"Problem?"

"Nah, bare hands suit you better."

She licked her lips—and vanished.

"Let's start by ripping that mouth of yours."

She closed the gap in an instant, claws raking toward my face.

"Predictable."

Blanca's first pattern: after the tell, a lunge aimed high—face priority one. That exploit from countless game fights held up in reality too.

"Huh? What the—?!"

Boom!

I weaved left, swung my right fist into her arm, and unleashed a shockwave like a bomb blast, the air itself shuddering.

Blanca rode the impact backward, landing lightly with a quick pivot.

"...What's this? You kept up without matching my speed. We met before or something?"

"Nah, just got a common face."

"Doubt it. I don't forget pretty boys like you. If not before... you research me?"

She shook out the hand that had met my fist, grinning. Crimson blood dripped from it.

"Skills and gear say you're no ordinary punk... So what's Famiglia really up to?"

"One thing's clear, though."

"Hm?"

"You're Villain Union."

She tilted her head like I'd spouted nonsense.

"That's all I need."

Blanca—a villain who thrived on dogfights, dirty and relentless up close.

Funny thing: I preferred that style too.

I spread Bloodline: Calione across my body, locking eyes with her. Thanks to the new Hunter of Villains in Trait: Hitman, my aura flowed smoother than ever.

"...Red aura? Smells familiar, like earlier. You sure you're just Famiglia?"

"Didn't your fancy nose say it was true?"

"Fair, but you could be double-dipping... like that rat over there!"

Blanca spun toward Latte's room, aiming to grab a hostage for leverage.

I channeled aura into my feet and slammed down hard.

Crunch! The floor caved completely, concrete crumbling as we plummeted to the first-floor lobby.

"Hahaha! Turn my back for a sec, and you smash the damn floor?!"

Her voice echoed through the dust cloud.

"Heard of manners? Walking off mid-chat's a no-no."

Visibility zero in the haze. The collapse filled the air with acrid dirt, blinding her nose too.

One ability sealed.

I raised my fists warily.

"Manners? You expect too much."

Her voice from the dust.

"I'm... a villain!"

A kick whistled in—I blocked with my forearm, then erupted aura to blast the dust away.

"Feisty?"

"Flattery from you just pisses me off."

True to a named villain, even blocking left my arm throbbing. Her attack power was infamous in-game, but feeling it for real? What kind of monster strength was this?

I grabbed her ankle to slam her down, but she yanked free, ducking low for my legs.

But.

"Get crushed."

I packed aura into my fist and jammed it in. Sparks crackled; the aura shuddered violently.

The amplified repulsion technique that shredded 'Sinchulguimol's chest.

Sacrificing a leg was fine with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠elixirs aplenty—this would end her.

She grinned like it was fun.

"This'll be good!"

As she raised both arms, white light enveloped her. It clung like animal hide—arms, legs, torso—forming clothing. The auras collided in a massive shockwave, winds howling.

Then, atop her head: two floppy shapes. A white mass at her rear.

Triangular white ears. A dog's tail.

"...So that's why Blanca."

"Pretty, right?"

Blanca—shining white. Her awakening, the skill that won her those shady rich backers.

Aura fully shaped around her body. Compared to my unsteady attempts, her control was unreal.

"Oh, right—thought of something."

She shoved my blocked fist upward and kicked my chest. The impact stole my breath, pain exploding as I flew back into the wall.

I gritted through the agony, eyes fixed on her. Maestro's suit, Dis Pater—anything less, and I'd be out cold.

Amused by my state, Blanca smirked.

"Your scent. Smells like that guy."

"...That guy?"

"Vito Calione. The old bastard who threw me in Niflheim."

She lowered her arms and one leg, grinning wickedly.

"...You're his son, aren't you?"

She'd figured it out.

"Makes sense now. The group that can dump me here. Hunting Villain Union backing. This skill at your age. All fits if that old man Calione's pulling strings."

No choice now—

"How far will your daddy go for you, Vito Calione's kid?"

"Latte!"

I wrung out every drop of aura, cloaking myself, then shielded my head and screamed upward.

"Huh? What are you—"

A blinding flash and deafening boom erupted.

The pre-placed booby traps from before climbing: flash-bang and explosives.

I'd braced with aura, eyes squeezed shut—but the eardrum-shredding noise, light piercing my lids, and blast recoil hit hard.

─────────!!

Slammed ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into the wall, scorching heat engulfed me.

A gamble I'd never try normally. But this was Maestro's masterpiece. Dis Pater held.

Plan intact. And if I took this, she got it worse.

"Gaaah—!! Damn Calione brat—!!"

Blanca thrashed blindly, aura claws raking the building apart.

I drew my flare gun and fired at the collapsed ceiling.

One meaning: Annihilate.

My ace in the hole.