Chapter 53
Chapter 53
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 53
Chapter Title: Territorial Dispute (3)
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There was actually a lot I needed to ask.
Why go to the trouble of building a free cafeteria just to brainwash people,
whether the brainwashed could be restored to normal,
whether he felt no guilt at all doing something like this—.
But.
The moment I came face-to-face with the "nauseating evil" disguised in human skin, my body moved first.
"P-Please wait just a moment. I don't know how you got in here, but it seems you've got some strange misunderstanding."
Thick cold sweat poured down his friendly-looking face.
But his narrowed eyes were frantically darting around, seeking a way out of the crisis we'd locked eyes in.
"Ah, you must have gotten the wrong idea seeing them like that. They're receiving treatment right now. Haha…."
I didn't stop walking.
The pig running this cult facility reflexively started backing away.
And at the same time.
The other believers who'd been scanning the surroundings hardened their expressions and charged at me without hesitation.
"How dare a heathen ignorant of the flow of circulation threaten the Leader…!"
"Protect the Leader from the intruder!!"
Just like the believers I'd seen at the grocery store, completely disregarding their own lives.
The Leader, naturally regaining his composure, shrugged his shoulders with exaggerated nonchalance.
"Oh dear, it seems you have no intention of clearing up the misunderstanding. Believers, bring those two ignorant fools before me—."
Suddenly, the Leader's mouth clamped shut.
Because my low, floor-sweeping calf kick slammed into the believers' shins.
Crack!!
They all collapsed sideways, limp as bowling pins struck by a ball.
Calf kick.
This kick, which maximized the advantages of the outside leg kick, could be called the essence of MMA—it was said to have revolutionized the sport upon its introduction.
Unlike a standard calf kick, which stimulates the peroneal nerve for excruciating pain,
mine shattered their calf bones entirely.
Watching my crisp performance, the Leader muttered in a trembling voice.
"Th-they're all just ordinary people…."
"So what."
Then they shouldn't have charged at me in the first place.
Brainwashed or not, I had no intention of going easy on them.
'As long as I don't kill them.'
Despite their leg bones being completely pulverized, the believers showed no sign of pain as they flailed their arms on the ground with manic glints in their eyes.
"…Lord!!"
"Stop right there, you demon!!"
But having broken my own ankle once before, I knew—you physically can't stand up when it's busted.
Especially not with both ankles shattered; even standing on tiptoes is impossible.
I ignored the worm-like writhing of the believers on the floor and walked toward my target.
"D-don't come…."
The nameless cult Leader's outfit was so extravagantly gaudy that, in his frantic attempt to flee, he tripped over the hem dragging on the floor and fell forward in a spectacular sprawl.
"…I said don't come near me!!"
He spat out a line that gave an oddly familiar sense of déjà vu, then drew a revolver from inside his robes, laden with ornate decorations.
Bang—! Bang!! Bang!
I knew revolvers held far fewer rounds in their cylinders compared to standard automatic pistols.
Perhaps because he'd aimed hastily with one hand, only one of the six shots actually reached me.
Thump—.
In the world of slowed consciousness,
I traced the gun barrel's direction and successfully snatched the bullet out of the air.
'It works.'
Honestly, it was about half luck.
Ting….
Seeing his face drain white as a sheet made grabbing it worthwhile.
The cult Leader gulped and began babbling desperately.
"D-do you want money? With skills like that, you must be some mercenary on a job—I can pay double what you're getting…. No, ten times over, easy."
"……."
"I'm serious. Do you know who's backing me? Big shots you couldn't even dream of!!"
"……."
"Mega-corp executives! Gang bosses! And more…. Damn it all! Where the hell is that bastard—why isn't he here yet! Calm down, just calm—."
I didn't stop walking.
"…Fuck! Listen to me!!"
His mask finally slipped off completely.
As expected, a simple, swift way to end the debate beat tedious, pretentious explanations any day.
I'd never intended to stop no matter what nonsense the cult Leader spouted.
No special reason needed to pick up roadside trash.
Unless someone suddenly jumped in to stop me.
"……."
"……."
I stared silently at the man who emerged from behind the cult Leader.
The man, dressed in such an unusual stealth suit he could be mistaken for a cosplayer, silently blocked my path without a word.
Seeing him, the Leader's face lit up.
"Phew, phew…. You made it just in time."
Then, dropping his affable smile entirely, he pointed at me with blatant malice.
"…You bastard!! I told you to stop! Do you know who you're facing? He was sent by the Hakuga-gumi to protect me—."
I didn't wait for him to finish, explosively kicking off the ground in a surprise lunge.
Boom!!
The bullet I'd dropped earlier, along with shattered concrete chunks, flew toward the cult Leader like buckshot from a shotgun.
That instant.
The muffler I'd thought was just unusual clothing flared wide and hardened like metal.
'What the hell….'
My kicked bullet and concrete pieces fell harmlessly to the floor, failing to reach the Leader.
His outfit too.
This guy, no way….
"Do—mo, Abel Anderson."
"……?"
Phew, thankfully not a real ninja.
No alarm bells of crisis rang like when I'd faced the mega-corp employee in Black Square.
Then, Michael, watching from afar, raised his voice.
"I've heard rumors that the Hakuga-gumi operates a special tactical unit…! Rooted in old Japan, they're said to be extremely dangerous—."
Before Michael could finish.
Something flashed from the opposite side.
A long shuriken launched from the man's fingertips flew straight at Michael.
Aitsatsu followed by an ambush…!
It was fast enough that I had no choice but to block it with my palm.
A small hole punctured my palm.
I spun the bloodied shuriken like a pen twirl.
"Hotdog Man…!!"
"I'm fine."
This much would really heal with some spit.
Thanks to the adrenaline rush, it didn't even hurt.
The stoic man, who'd kept his arms crossed rigidly, finally spoke his first words.
"…Indeed, Hotdog Man."
He'd ignored me when I greeted with his name, but reacted with interest to the nickname.
His gravelly voice, like sandpaper scraped over his vocal cords, was striking.
"As expected. You've come here personally to assault an organization under our management."
"…What?"
"No need to play dumb."
As he uncrossed his arms, thick muscles writhed beneath the black stealth suit like they might burst free.
"It's already well-known that you've joined hands with the gunpowder-stinking mafia."
"Why bring up mafia out of nowhere."
"Even the Hole Paradise incident."
His sunken eyes fixed steadily on me and Michael.
"…We've judged it as intent to sever the Hakuga-gumi's limbs one by one."
"What the fuck are you on about."
My sudden curse made the ninja flinch mid-sentence.
"You lot pull every shitty move in the book, and now what…. What a joke."
"……."
"Don't you even know the word 'self-awareness'?"
"……."
"Look, clamming up 'cause you've got nothing to say."
"…Vulgar street-thug speech, unbecoming of a boss."
I'm no boss.
Anyway.
I hadn't planned a long chat regardless, but their self-righteous blame-shifting was utterly repulsive.
I knew cyberpunk genres were packed with Japanese tropes, but this "ninja cosplay" felt suffocatingly clichéd.
'Save telekinesis as a last resort for now.'
The best defense is a good offense.
A maxim from countless commanders.
I kicked off the ground and charged straight ahead.
"Hiiik…!!"
Naturally, toward the cult Leader.
But as if anticipating it, the now-razor-sharp muffler surged at me.
Simultaneously, a fairly vicious kick targeted my abdomen.
The moment I reflexively moved to block, I spotted a sharp blade protruding from his toe.
"Such卑鄙 skills make your village origins clear."
"…I'm from this city."
What.
Dodging the blade, I blocked the kick and gauged his strength.
Even then, the muffler—now iron-plate rigid—targeted me from multiple angles.
Even without a honed edge, the pressure from such a plate was enough to shred flesh.
I couldn't evade every attack, so I inevitably grabbed a protruding end of the muffler with my hand.
Blood droplets scattered into the air.
And then.
The muffler suddenly softened, swiftly coiling tight around my hand.
"Caught like a rat."
"You."
"…?"
I'd had a feeling it'd go like this.
My recent win rate against cybernetic implants hadn't been great, but my raw strength was far from weak.
Plus, after the recent level-up,
I felt like I could move a bit faster, a bit stronger.
The fake ninja's muscles ballooned like balloons, but in our tug-of-war, the unexpected winner was me.
I gripped the muffler and swung it toward the opposite side.
"…What?!"
Did he let his guard down judging by my build?
The man offered no real resistance and was dragged along the muffler.
He smashed bodily through a ceiling light, leaving a massive skid mark.
Boom…!!
Then twice more, three times.
Recalling what I'd endured in Hole Paradise, I slammed the fake ninja's body into the floor repeatedly.
I could've kept it up all day, but in that flying instant, he'd hurled shurikens at me.
Several steel rods were now embedded in my shoulder and thigh.
'Tsk…. Can't just yank these out.'
While I hesitated over pulling the shurikens, the man slowly rose to his feet.
Thick rage burned in his masked eyes.
But he didn't approach like before—seemed he'd realized he couldn't win a direct strength contest.
However.
This was exactly the moment I needed: distance between the "fake ninja" and the "cult Leader."
I hurled the very first shuriken I'd pocketed straight at the cult Leader.
"…Urk!"
A short, guttural death rattle.
That was the end for the cult Leader, who'd been sneakily preparing to flee.
I spat once at the Leader, now collapsed and gushing blood from the back of his head,
then turned to the ninja standing awkwardly.
"What."
If it pissed him off that much, he should've protected him to the end.
The ninja's reaction was just as I'd predicted.
"……."
He gnashed his teeth like he wanted to charge at Michael right then, but getting past me—never dropping my guard for an instant—was damn near impossible.
Having failed to protect the cult Leader, the fake ninja checked his torn stealth suit and muffler,
then—
Boom!!
detonated a smoke bomb on the floor.
"This fucking…."
They really pulled out all the stops.
Footsteps faded away from us.
In case the smoke was laced with poison, or the fake ninja circled back to hit Michael, I stayed maximally alert and waited for it to dissipate.
Thankfully, the smoke didn't last long.
Only Michael and I remained in the passageway.
I clicked my tongue briefly.
"Tch, he got away."
Disappointing, but I couldn't chase after leaving Michael here.
Unless someone conveniently showed up to help….
"…That suspicious guy was fleeing, so I caught him for now."
"Good."
I gave him a thumbs-up.
Unfortunately, Troy Mason explained that restoring the remaining believers to normal would be extremely difficult.
"…No other way?"
"For now."
The Lv. 8 Web Spider Troy added in his utterly nonchalant tone.
Thinking back now….
I shouldn't have taken his words so lightly.
Everything went great up to uploading Troy's file to the main equipment and the people rising safely from their beds.
But then.
Every person in that room started gleaming with chick-like eyes.
And the question they hit me with was.
"…Excuse me. Might you be a god?"
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