Chapter 90: In My Day, There Wasn't Even Time to Grieve (2)
Chapter 90: In My Day, There Wasn't Even Time to Grieve (2)
“No, should I call you a clone Mutant? Mutant Thunder God?”
To be honest, she was an existence hardly worthy of the name Thunder God, but that strangely familiar face made me soft.
Perhaps a lingering shred of guilt for killing her still remained. To think I would show such an attitude toward an enemy of humanity, a mere fragment of the Thunder God.
“Personally, I’d prefer it if you just called me Thunder God.”
A loathsome smile spread across her face. The shape of the smile was identical to the original Thunder God’s, yet it felt strangely distorted.
My stomach churned. I pulled a metal rod from my coat and bit down on it.
Cr-crack.
Amidst the calming sensation, the Fake Thunder God tilted her head and pointed at the metal rod.
“What’s that? I don’t have anything like that in my memories.”
That couldn't be right. Unless the Thunder God...
...I see. A half-baked clone, then.
This was my first time having a calm conversation with a clone Mutant, so I hadn't realized.
Seeing as she didn't attack me right away, it seemed the rumors were true—clone-type Mutants tend to follow the temperament of their originals to some extent.
Regardless, instead of answering her, I gave the man sprawling on the ground a light kick and replied.
“The real Thunder God doesn't grill people like this. If you want to be called Thunder God, at least act according to your memories.”
“But this guy was selling drugs to kids. He deserves to die.”
At those words, I turned my gaze to the man beneath my feet.
A victim, roasted golden-brown, the smell of cooked meat wafting up from him.
When I nudged him with my foot, he squirmed; it seemed he wasn't dead yet. Since a drug dealer couldn't possibly be an upright citizen, I gave him a kick just hard enough not to kill him.
“Aaaaaagh!”
Ignoring his despair-filled scream, I looked back at the Fake Thunder God. Her smile twisted even further as she spoke.
“So you do listen to me, after all?”
“He lives in the slums, so you’re probably right. Even if you’re wrong, well, I just have to treat him before he dies.”
“That’s so like Lee Ha-ram.”
Cr-crack.
How annoying. It was even more irritating because she exuded an aura that was strangely like the Thunder God.
“What’s your objective?”
“Do you really think I’ll just tell you?”
“Then die here.”
Thump.
As The Hammer extending from my right hand dropped and shattered the pavement, the smile vanished from the Thunder God’s face. She seemed to realize I wasn't joking.
“Don't bother trying to lie your way out of this. If you really are the Thunder God, I can tell the difference easily enough. So spill it.”
“....”
She hesitated for about ten seconds.
For me, that was a long time.
“The order was to blend quietly into society, then paralyze the network and attack power plants when the command comes.”
“Who gave you that order?”
“I don't know. I was just born to do it. Thinking about it only gives me a headache.”
The words spilled out of her mouth so flatly, so naturally. As if it were simply meant to be.
I see. So that is the nature of the control exerted by the Entities at The End of the Story.
It was easy to understand thanks to the information I’d received from Al’shirin and Al’shel beforehand.
She was certainly different from Linshua. Linshua’s orders were closer to something abstract.
For example: Be a friend, run wild to your heart's content, I hope you’re smart and calm.
Considering some of them grew up differently from their orders, it seemed that while Linshua had the authority to command, she lacked absolute enforcement.
The Fake Thunder God, however, likely found it difficult to resist that command on her own.
That raised a question.
“Then why did you cause a scene here? Doesn't that contradict the order to blend quietly into society?”
“Because it was annoying. Isn't it natural for a Hero? Killing bad guys.”
A Hero, huh.
Thud. Thud.
I nudged the human-shaped trash with my foot a few more times, and he still responded with a squirm.
Still alive.
“As a Hero, you shouldn't have the authority to attack civilians, right?”
“That sounds rich coming from the Lee Ha-ram who was part of the Assassination Unit.”
So she has that memory? But not the memory of this rod? She’s like a sponge full of holes.
Well, whatever.
I’d gathered the necessary data. Now it was time to clean up.
I gripped the handle of The Hammer resting loosely on my right arm, channeled a bit of strength, and swung it through the air.
With a sound that sliced the wind, The Hammer settled onto my shoulder. I tapped it against my collarbone, making a rhythmic thudding sound, and spoke.
“Thanks for giving up the information so easily. Now, here are your options. Will you be quietly ejected to the Otherworld? Or will you die with your head crushed? Personally, I’d prefer it if you chose the quiet ejection.”
I unleashed my killing intent toward The Enemy.
In that instant, she reacted immediately, transforming her body into black lightning and vanishing from before my eyes.
Crackle. Zap. Crackle.
I felt multiple precursors of an attack manifesting around my body.
Thunder God Descent. It was a bit clumsy, but she really was a clone of the Thunder God.
Her appearance was that of an older Thunder God, but her skill was only a fraction of her prime. Her memories were a mess, yet her personality was that of the aged Thunder God.
“A total patchwork.”
Something stitched together haphazardly.
That was exactly the level she was at.
Zap.
I forced my head to turn toward the direction of the precursor.
Behind my back.
My upper body leaned back, putting a massive strain on my neck, but seeing the Fake Thunder God’s shocked expression made me feel slightly better.
Perhaps because her position had been compromised, the thing with the surprised face hadn't given up yet. It avoided my gaze and shifted its eyes toward the next escape point, but...
“Too slow.”
Did you think there would be a next move? The real Thunder God’s speed wasn't this pathetic.
I spun The Hammer on my shoulder into a reverse grip and swung it casually behind my back.
Whoosh. Crunch.
The battle ended with the sensation of crushing meat.
When the Mutant realized she couldn't dodge The Hammer, she tilted her head back and thrust her hands out to defend and minimize the damage, but it was meaningless.
The Hammer met no resistance as it pulverized the Mutant’s skull.
It was a hollow end for a Mutant who bore the name of a Hero.
Thud.
The headless corpse, which had been tossed into the air, hit the ground. I watched as blood spurted from the jagged cross-section of the neck in time with the heartbeat.
Seeing the scene, I figured it would make for a decent photo, so I pulled out my phone and adjusted the focus.
I suppose you could call it beautiful, in a way.
Using the blood flowing toward the sewer as a backdrop, I took a photo of the corpse to send to the Management Bureau as proof of extermination.
Whirrr. Clang. Clang.
Flames erupted from the afterburner at the back of The Hammer, disposing of the body.
The moment the Mutant’s corpse touched the fire, it turned to ash and scattered into the sky, carried by the hot wind generated by the afterburner.
“Come to think of it, this is quite the morbid hobby.”
I, the one who killed the Thunder God, kill a Mutant in the exact same way and then perform a cremation. Of course, in this case, it was just the most appropriate disposal since it was nearly impossible for the Bureau to recover the body, but the fact that it looked like I was holding a funeral made me want to laugh.
After a few minutes, even the last fragment of the corpse had turned to ash. I ground the black bone dust stuck to the pavement under my heel, erasing the traces and finishing the job.
Now, for the next task. Something I’d left alone because I didn't particularly feel like doing it.
“Hey. You alive?”
“Uuuuugh....”
Hmph. He’s alive, at least.
I pulled out the emergency medicine hanging from my waist and jammed it roughly into a spot where a vein should be.
Let’s see... painkillers, topical ointment for burns, emergency cell regeneration injection, low-irritation bandages.
To do this properly, I should have slowly cut away the clothes with scissors and monitored the progress, but...
“This is more than a junkie deserves, right? Just be glad I’m saving you.”
I prioritized speed.
Whether he screamed or not, I forcibly ripped the clothes that were fused to his skin right off, skin and all. I injected the painkillers, slapped on the ointment, and wrapped the bandages loosely enough that gaps were still visible.
“Try to live a good life.”
Finally, I slammed the cell regeneration injection into the area over his heart.
Normally, you’re supposed to inject it in small doses around the injured area, but it can be used like this too.
If you ignore the side effects, that is.
The immense regeneration pain, the maddening itch beneath the skin after healing, and the arrhythmia that would persist for several weeks—if you ignore all that.
“....”
He had passed out long ago and said nothing, but when he woke up, he would likely writhe in agony once more.
After tucking him into a secluded corner of the alleyway, I left the scene.
He might get rolled for his underwear and die while sprawling on the street like this, but that would be death by natural causes, so it wasn't within my scope of concern.
Having finished the cleanup, I waited until I was a fair distance from the scene before tossing a question to the tail following me.
“So, what are your thoughts after seeing the Fake Thunder God?”
“It’s offensive to even call her a fake. I don't act like that. Even with criminals, I give them a stern talking-to.”
I’m sure you do. You probably apply electric shocks directly to their nerves, giving them trauma that lasts a lifetime.
“So, how is it with The Society kids?”
“It’s the worst. I didn't know Mutants were running rampant in society like that.”
Well, there’s a lot of shocking stuff once you know. But still.
“You’re a Mutant now too, so why don't you be a bit more generous?”
I looked at her. Her yellow hair now had faint black highlights.
Perhaps she was matching her colors; while she used to wear bright clothes in the past, these days she mostly wore strangely somber black outfits. What stood out most were the black leather gloves covering her hands.
“Is Linshua doing well?”
“I didn't know the man I liked was a married man. You con artist.”
“Calling me a con artist is a bit much. Wasn't it your fault for not asking in the first place?”
Zap. Boom.
My vision was tossed into the air.
A short light jab. A vital point strike that happened in an instant.
“Whose. Fault?”
“It’s... my fault for not telling you.”
I was always the one who lost. And after that incident, I would probably have to let her win forever.
“Well, putting that aside, The Kid seemed bright. She keeps asking me to tell her stories about her dad.”
“I’m glad to hear she’s doing well.”
From the brief conversation I’d had, it seemed Linshua unilaterally disliked her, though.
“Glad, my foot. I’ve been so confused lately. Whenever I see her, I get this strangely fluttery feeling in my chest.”
That was likely due to the restriction Linshua had placed on her.
My heart ached, and I took her hand to lead her.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“A place like this isn't right.”
Walking with a woman in the slums? That’s an idea that would only come from a madman who’d been shot in the head.
“Let’s just pretend we’re on a trip abroad.”
“Just the two of us?”
“Is there a tail? If not, then it’s just the two of us.”
Was there a stealth-type Mutant nearby that I couldn't sense?
For some reason, she turned her head away at my words and covered her mouth.
‘Idiot.’
While that small sound drifted on the wind, I pulled her along by the hand.
Past places covered in filth.
Over corpses smelling of blood.
Splashing through backflowing wastewater.
I ran with her.
Through the dark slums.
Into the bright sunlight.
“It’s Paris, after all. It’s declined a lot, but it’s still a major city.”
I forced a bright expression. A bright voice.
Because I was the one who made her like this. Because this was all I could do.
Then, at the very least, shouldn't I let her feel some joy?
Between the narrow alleys of the uphill slope—a place barely wide enough for one person to pass—I led the way, pulling her along.
“Wait! It’s narrow! Slow down!”
A complaint mixed with a strangely joyful laugh.
Hearing her laughter, something I could only hear after falling into the abyss, my face contorted.
It is my fault. It is my sin.
Breaking through the darkness, light appeared. A bright street where beautiful sunlight poured down.
Bathed in that backlight, the two of us faced each other under the sun.
Forcing my muscles to contort into a smile, I squeezed out a bright voice for her.
“Well then. Shall we?”
I didn't know what was nearby, but I was sure I could create a pleasant atmosphere. For her sake.
“Okay.”
She answered back.
This time, she wasn't chasing after me. Standing by my side, she took my hand, looking a bit embarrassed.
“Let’s just hold hands, Thunder God.”
“Don't call me by that name.”
And so, we ran out into the sunlight.
* * *
In the pitch-black darkness.
On a night sometime along the distorted timeline.
Amidst the warped moon and flickering stars.
“Dad. We can bring the Thunder God back to life now.”
She whispered.
I answered.