The Last Train (2)
Dexter Crowman! He's the infamous killer from far-off Midland, the mastermind behind the "Red Night" massacre where an entire division was wiped out overnight. The bounty on his head is a staggering 4.2 billion gold just in Midland alone—not counting the simultaneous wanted posters across multiple nations, which push it well over 10 billion gold.
Such a vicious criminal had ambushed the final run of Train No. 1 with fifty of his underlings in tow. Their goal? Ransom from the hostages.
A hulking brute with a savage face, his body covered head to toe in tattoos.
"Can't even take a piss without those pursuers from every damn country on my tail. We're making one big score and vanishing for good. This is our last job—no screw-ups."
Crowman laid down the law to his men, then led a few toward the front car of the train.
Beside Roin, the conductor with his hands on his head trembled as he muttered.
"Wh-why...? Sure, ever since the train pulled out, these sketchy-looking thugs on horseback have been tailing us nonstop, yelling they'd slaughter us all..."
"That's plenty of foreshadowing! Why didn't you report it?!"
"I thought they were just your run-of-the-mill biker gang hooligans who get off on threats!"
"They're not run-of-the-mill to begin with! Does that even make sense!?"
As Roin kicked the sniffling conductor and yelled, one of the Crowman fan club thugs snapped, "Hey, shut it over there!"
Roin clamped her mouth shut and bowed her head.
Oh crap! Hotse, do something!
Roin glanced back at Hotse, seated in the row behind.
"......"
Hotse was tapping a boiled egg against her forehead to crack it, then chugging a 2:8 mix of soda and makgeolli.
"Krr~ Train's perfect fer,,,makju,,,long as the breeze,,,don't,,,mess it up~"
She was having a solo youth train adventure.
Shivering with rage but in no position to snap, Roin held it in for now. She whispered as softly as she could.
"Hotse!"
"Wha?,,,"
"What do you mean 'what'? Do something about these guys! They don't even seem like the real Crowman crew!"
Roin and Hotse had met the "real" Crowman once before. That's how they knew—these train-jacking punks were just imposters masquerading as him.
"Too much hassle,,,they ain't gonna,,,kill us all,,,anyway,,,whatever. Hood's on,,,good enough~"
"......So you're just gonna let 'em?"
"Hear out,,,their demands first~ If it ain't too much trouble,,,just go along,,,with it~ Now that yer queen,,,ya gotta listen to yer,,,underlings too~"
"That's not the kind of 'listening' I mean!"
Anyone could see Hotse was annoyed. Roin racked her brain on how to convince the already-drunk elf.
That's when a few Crowman fan club thugs approached Roin.
Eek!
Roin tensed up and bowed her head low. If her queenly identity slipped, it could spell disaster.
But the thugs breezed right past her toward the back.
"Huh?"
Roin looked up. They were heading straight for Hotse's seat.
"Hey, you there, missy."
",,,Huh? Yeah?"
Hotse looked up mid-chew on some squid legs. Roin briefly worried they might be hitting on her—Hotse's looks were downright dazzling, after all.
But no, that wasn't it.
"Phew, reeks of booze."
"How much you gotta drink in broad daylight, lady?"
"Hey, granny, this ain't a bar."
The thugs laid into Hotse, her hood pulled low. One pointed at the floor by her feet.
"Yo, granny, what's that next to ya? A kukri?"
"Hand over all weapons."
Hotse snorted nonchalantly.
"Can ya even,,,handle it?"
"What? What're you on about? Cough it up!"
"Fine,,,here ya go,,,"
With obvious annoyance, Hotse bent down and chucked the kukri.
Whoosh—the crude black blade sailed lightly through the air.
"Yeah, that's more like... Gah!?"
In an instant, the thug who caught it toppled backward.
Crack!
A nasty snap echoed from his ribs. It didn't sound like just armor breaking.
"Gaaahhh!"
"Hey, what the—Gah!?"
Another thug touched the kukri and freaked out. Hotse's throw had made it weigh as much as two grown men couldn't budge at full strength.
"Gravity magic? No way. How's it this heavy?"
"Quit yapping and lift the damn thing! I'm dying here!"
It took three burly guys heaving together to budge Hotse's kukri. They couldn't fathom how such a "small" blade packed that punch.
Roin asked worriedly.
"Hotse! You sure it's okay giving up your sword? Doesn't seem ordinary..."
"It's just,,,one ton anyway~ They can't even,,,use it~"
"Still, it looks valuable. What if you lose it...?"
"No sweat~ That old lady sellin',,,shiverin' late into the night,,,bought her last batch. This was from then~"
"......A grandma selling a one-ton kukri? What kinda grandma?"
As Roin and Hotse whispered, more thugs got disarmed—including Georges.
Damn it!
Georges handed over her flamberge, stealing a glance at Roin in the front row. Duty to protect her charge had her on edge.
But as a mere cadet, she was outmatched alone. She could handle mana, but against this many? Too risky. And these were supposedly Crowman's men—one of the world's top eight villains! Now weaponless to boot.
What do I do? Gotta figure something out...
Georges eyed the pile of confiscated weapons sidelong. Snag a blade quick—how many seconds? Could she drop three at least? But if they were mana users...?
As Georges pondered, the front door burst open. A few thugs swaggered in.
"Front car's all old fogeys and kids—no fun."
"Same here. No women, just brats and geezers."
The local thugs replied. Then one cyclops chuckled sleazily.
"I like this age group, though..."
He approached a seat and shoved his head in. A petite girl shrieked.
"Stop! She's only thirteen!"
Her elderly guardian cried out desperately. But the cyclops ignored him, yanking the girl out.
"Thirteen's perfect!"
"Haha, Tank Lolli's at it again."
"Gets no play from his age group, so he goes for the young ones, the loser."
The others just mocked him without intervening.
"Heh heh, c'mere."
The cyclops hugged the thirteen-year-old, groping her legs wildly.
"Grandpa!"
The girl sobbed.
"Let her go!"
The old man swung at the thugs. No chance against young muscle.
"Stay put, gramps."
The cyclops shoved him back into his seat with brute force.
Thud!
The old man crumpled helplessly.
"Grandpa!"
The girl wailed. The cyclops snickered, ripping her skirt. Her bare legs gleamed.
"Kid. Keep actin' up, and gramps gets hurt?"
Biting her lip, the girl bowed her head. Silent tears dripped from her chin.
"Good girl."
Panting, the cyclops rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a black marker. He started drawing leg hair on her bare skin.
"Ahh, I just can't resist when a girl's legs get all hairy!"
Soon her legs were furred over. She screamed.
"Kyaaah! So humiliating! I just got waxed last week—what is this?!"
Onlookers averted their eyes in despair. No one wanted a knife in the gut.
Meanwhile, Roin's forehead vein throbbed at the sight.
"How dare he defile an innocent girl's legs like that! Hotse! Please! I know it's a hassle, but do something—Huh?"
Roin turned, tilting her head. Hotse was gone.
Where'd she go?
She turned back. Poke.
Something jabbed. The teary girl's eyes flew wide. Two long fingers were jammed up the cyclops's nostrils.
"Huh?"
The cyclops pulled away from the girl's leg, rolling his eyes in confusion.
Then—crash!—glass shattered, and he was hurled out the speeding train.
"Save meee!"
He clung desperately to the window frame, dangling outside... until thunk! He slammed into a trackside tree. A sharp branch speared his groin; blood splattered the glass.
"Huh?"
The Crowman fan club thugs gawked.
A woman had appeared from nowhere, yeeting their buddy with two fingers. Dazzlingly beautiful eight-foot golden blonde stunner. Regal, elegant features, lily-like grace. Goddess of beauty incarnate.
Hotse. But her words...
"You motherfuckin perverted sick fucks gonna get your asses curb-stomped and balls-deep in your own shit till you puke your guts out you worthless pieces of trash shit!"
Her nonstop torrent of thick curses snapped everyone alert. They backed off, grabbing weapons. Hotse snatched her kukri from the floor.
Three thugs gasped—they knew its weight.
"This bitch is nuts."
"Hot chick though. Sell her to a slaver, make bank."
"We'll sample first..."
"Your legs are gettin' hairy too."
The savage-faced thugs cracked their necks, advancing.
Grrr—Hotse gripped the fallen kukri, smacked its broad blade with her palm, and licked the edge.
Then.
"Heh heh heh,,,young bucks still wet behind the ears~~ Gonna shatter quick,,,"
She grinned.
Now!
Whoosh! Georges, watching for her chance, grabbed her weapon. Knights stake their lives for their lord! Not a knight yet, but ready to die for Roin.
As Georges whirled with sword drawn—
"Huh?"
She blinked around, eyes wide.
......?
Hotse and the thugs—gone. Every window on both sides shattered.
"Where'd they... fight,,,"
Thud—Hotse was already at the far door, heading to the next car.
Aaaaahhh—wind like screams howled outside.
"What the...?"
Georges couldn't process. Where'd the robbers go? In 0.5 seconds flat?
She scanned, but they were gone—like morning dew.
She dashed to the next door Hotse had vanished through.
Next car: terrified passengers, shattered windows. No robbers.
Swoosh—aaaaahhh—wind voices outside, eerily articulate. Imagination, probably.
"......!"
There—Hotse crossing to the following car.
"W-wait!"
Dash! Georges raced to the end again.
She flung open the door—crash!—glass exploded. Robbers visible now, all mid-toss out windows.
Mooonsteerrr—aaaaahhh—their screams faded with the wind.
In a blink, Hotse cleared the car and moved on.
"......!"
Chills raced up Georges's spine. Whole car swept in seconds? All these armed bruisers?
She sprinted full tilt after her. But next car, the one after—no catching up.
"Hah... hah... What in the world...?"
Georges just bolted end to end. Hotse plowed ahead, smashing robber-packed cars.
How fast was she dropping them?
Each car Georges passed prickled her arms and back with goosebumps.
Finally, the lead car. Deep breath—she opened the door. A shocking sight unfolded before her eyes.