41. John the Armstrong
41. John the Armstrong
After finishing his shopping spree, John returned to his hotel and began donning his equipment.
Dressed in a suit, loading magazines into his inner pockets and assembling his guns one by one, he paused at the window and peered through a telescope at something in the distance.
In that direction stood a noble's grand mansion.
John glared at the mansion with dark, heavy eyes, then turned away and resumed checking his equipment.
The setting sun cast his shadow across the desk.
By chance, the shadow of his gun overlapped with John's shadow.
The shadow of a reaper bearing a scythe silently prepared for the party.
*
While the orchestra played a beautiful melody, men and women in gorgeous dresses and suits mingled in the ballroom.
The nobles tapped their feet and spun their bodies to the rhythm, enjoying their time.
The host of the party, Marquis Gregor, looked down from the second-floor terrace with a benevolent smile, watching them with satisfaction.
"A night for all of you who have joined the great cause—enjoy yourselves!"
Indeed.
Those gathered in this party hall were all who had agreed to join the Marquis's rebellion.
The nobles and the mercenaries.
Though their status and professions differed, all had aligned themselves with the Marquis's cause.
All raised their glasses, declared their oaths, and began to dance once more.
The screen transitioned to a dark room in the mansion.
"Position Alpha, any issues?"
"Alpha. No abnormalities."
One sniper answered.
"Beta?"
"Beta, no abnormalities."
Another sniper answered.
"Gamma?"
"Gamma, no abnormalities."
John answered.
"All positions clear. Hold your positions."
"Roger."
John slowly steadied his breathing and caught one sniper in his scope.
Presently, as the ballroom's music reached its climax,
Thwick
One sniper collapsed.
The music reached its climax once more, and in sync, another sniper fell.
In time with the music, every sniper was taken down.
The time it took: five minutes.
Once more, the command center called the snipers over comms.
"Position Alpha. Have you spotted anything suspicious?"
"Nothing suspicious."
"Huh?"
The reply came not over the radio but from directly behind them.
Before they could even register the strangeness, with a sound like a soda cap popping open, every person inside the control room collapsed.
[Control room, is there a problem?]
"No problem whatsoever. A champagne bottle popped. Pay it no mind."
[Idiots. Be careful.]
After dragging the bodies into a corner, John carefully closed the control room doors.
*
The next scene shifted to the spa.
The nobles, who had apparently just finished fooling around with women, washed themselves while humming, their bodies covered in kiss marks.
John appeared in the mirror before a noble who was washing up, slit another noble’s throat, and vanished.
"Hey? Keep it down, would you?"
He scolded his vanished comrade and resumed washing his face.
John slit a guard’s throat before the man could make a sound.
Only then, sensing something wrong, the noble tried to summon his magic—but before he could, John's karambit severed the tendons in his wrists and ankles.
"Gurk—glub!!"
John slammed the noble's face into the washbasin as he tried to scream and slit his throat.
By the time red water spread through the basin, he released the noble, and the man sprawled across the floor like a marionette with its strings cut.
As John left the spa without a backward glance, the screen showed the sight of men floating in the red-tinged water behind him.
*
Marquis Gregor stood among the crowd to deliver the closing address for the ball.
"Tonight shall be forever recorded as the great night that changed the kingdom's history."
"No. Amudo neohuireul gieokhaejuji anheul geosissda. (No. Nobody will remember you.)"
"?"
Everyone's eyes turned toward one spot, searching for whoever had suddenly thrown cold water on the moment.
There stood a man clad entirely in a black suit—the sort one would wear to a funeral, not a party—his face smeared with blood.
Sensing something ominous, people drew back.
Naturally, the crowd between him and Marquis Gregor parted as well.
"It's been a while, John. I didn't want to see you again like this. There was nothing personal."
"Naneun jigeukhi gaeinjeogiya. (For me, it’s entirely personal.)"
A Kingdom Marquis speaking in the Imperial tongue, and an Imperial agent speaking in the Kingdom tongue.
In the hair-trigger atmosphere, John drew his gun.
Bang, bang, bang
Twelve gunshots rang out, and the knights guarding the Marquis collapsed.
Amidst it all, the Marquis fled from John.
John swiftly reloaded his pistol and pulled the trigger on the nobles at the party.
There were no civilians among those gathered here.
By joining the rebellion, every last one of them had chosen to live by the sword.
The nobles, too, began to fight John instead of fleeing.
Blades and bolts flew toward him from every direction.
*
At first, John held his own with his pistol.
But once the nobles with mixed-blood heritage stepped forward, the pistol alone could not pierce their flesh.
John targeted their vitals with his pistol, but against overwhelming numbers, even he was helpless.
Just as it seemed he would be defeated, John began fleeing toward the wine cellar.
The emboldened Nobles and mercenaries pursued him.
Pounding on the firmly locked cellar door, one of the nobles laughed arrogantly.
"John! You foolish friend! Why act so recklessly and choose such an ugly end? Do you at least wish to get drunk before you die? I'll grant your wish—!"
KA-BOOM!
In that instant, an enormous slug burst through the cellar door and pierced the noble's chest.
"?!"
John, emerging from the cellar, trampled the noble who was foaming blood and collapsing, then aimed his shotgun at the man's head.
Before the noble could even beg for his life, John racked a shell into the shotgun and pulled the trigger.
BOOM-BOOM!
Fire erupted from the shotgun, engulfing the noble's head.
John turned his body and began exterminating the surrounding enemies who had been staring at him dumbfounded.
- Aaaagh!
Mowing down all the enemies writhing in the agony of their bodies burning, John ran once more toward Marquis Gregor.
*
John finally reached the underground vault where Marquis Gregor was hiding.
Standing guard before it was—shockingly—a woman he had once loved.
"Tila?"
"I'm sorry. John."
She confessed everything to him there.
She was a double agent, and she had betrayed her comrades for the Marquis.
Tears streamed from her eyes.
John gazed at those tears as though in anguish, yet even so, he drew his karambit from his waist.
Tila, without wiping her tears, also drew her knife.
A knife fight steeped in betrayal and bitter resentment began.
At first, Tila held her ground.
She even managed to sink her dagger into John's limbs a few times and, for a brief moment, bring her blade near his nape.
But once John wiped away his tears and began fighting in earnest, she was overwhelmingly overpowered.
At last, John stabbed one of his daggers into her lung, then snatched the dagger she was holding and drove it into her heart.
"Cough... I'm sorry, John."
"Don't apologize."
"But loving you—that was real."
"Me too."
Shunk.
As John finally embraced her, a sound of tearing flesh rang out and her body went limp.
John remained frozen in that position, silent, then lifted her body.
Avoiding the places strewn with blood and corpses, he laid her gently in the cleanest spot he could find, then advanced once more toward the Marquis.
Limping yet with eyes that had lost none of their venom, John finally opened the vault where Marquis Gregor was hiding.
Inside was the Marquis, clutching a crossbow and trembling violently.
"D-don't come any closer!"
He pulled the trigger.
The bolt couldn't penetrate John's suit, but the pain was beyond imagination—enough to bring him briefly to his knees.
John advanced in silence.
The more John advanced, the further Marquis Gregor descended into panic and fired his crossbow without restraint.
Click, click
And once the Marquis had no bolts left, John, now within reach, shot both his knees with his pistol.
"Aaaagh! How can you do this! Sacrifice is necessary for the great cause! I was the last key that could revive this kingdom! To be swayed by such petty personal feelings—"
Bang
Without even listening to his words, John pulled the trigger.
His work finished, he left the mansion without a shred of regret.
The film concluded with the image of him turning his back on the mansion and fading into the distance.
=================================
<John Armstrong: Gh0st Protocol>
This time, shortened to John 0
It was a massive hit again.
No—compared even to 2, the results were utterly overwhelming.
Considering it had already nearly caught up to 2's performance on opening day alone, it would surpass 2 in less than three days.
Word of mouth contributed to the success, but the publicity operation Nikolai and I had prepared could not be ignored.
Distributing leaked behind-the-scenes footage—something this world was still unfamiliar with—
Running collaborations with several trading companies on opening day,
Handing out autographs to fans to get word spreading.
That was twenty-first-century viral marketing for you, medieval people.
And so, once again, I was celebrating the film's success, raising a toast by myself with lemonade.
Ding!
An emergency notice flew into my Communication Crystal.
Right after, likely for students without crystals, an announcement broadcast across the entire island through the school speakers.
[Attention, all students. After today's opening ceremony, an incident occurred in which some students and professors who went to the cinema were subjected to an unidentified mental attack. Accordingly, all academy lectures will be canceled tomorrow, and all students are advised to refrain from watching films. Thank you.]
"?"
Don't tell me—the cultists?
At the news that students and professors had fallen victim to the remnants I'd failed to properly deal with that day, my mind went white.
"Karl! You guard Leon! I'm heading to the scene right now!"
[Wait—]
"Nicol! Stay inside the club room and don't come out!"
[Boss? What's suddenly—]
The club room wasn't exactly converted into a bunker, but I had done the minimum security treatment to prevent leaks.
Even if the cultists targeted the people I knew, it would buy more than enough time.
I immediately bolted out of the club room and headed for the cinema.
Through my enhanced hearing and the conversations of people around me, I learned that the cinema at the center of the island had suffered the worst damage from this terror attack.
Fortunately, the cinema wasn't too far from the club room.
Sprinting at full speed, the cinema quickly came into view.
I nearly charged in as I was, but barely remembered that I was still in Allen Price’s form.
I turned back, ducked into a suitable building, and transformed into the guise of John Armstrong.
Only after checking my weapons and re-conjuring my clothes into a suit for the sake of an alibi did I run back toward the cinema.
- Huh? Is that...?
- No way...
- That's... impossible...
The closer I got to the cinema, the higher the proportion of collapsed people became.
As it happened, the Followers of Pleasure I'd been chasing possessed exactly this kind of ability.
The Eternal Pleasure Festival
A barrier that forcibly made people euphoric, as if drugged, until their brains short-circuited from overflowing happiness.
The followers would move those who collapsed to a suitable location and hammer brainwashing into their reason-deprived brains, swelling their congregation.
However, as the phrase "high-level barrier" suggested, it could not be activated without at least an Archbishop-grade practitioner, and even with an Archbishop present, it was a technique that required sufficient preparation and sacrifices.
Normally, the preparations were so conspicuous that it was difficult to set up anywhere except a ghost town or abandoned ruin—but as luck would have it, Hetairo Academy had been empty during break season.
The average time required for an Archbishop to prepare this was one month.
Marquis Gregor's domain was close enough to the capital that nobles frequently visited it.
'Damn it...'
Because of my own inadequacy, civilians were once again...
The nightmares of my past life unfolded before my eyes.
The screams of citizens, the shrieks of zombies, the laughter and weeping mixed into the gunfire and bombardment.
My ears grew muffled, and my vision narrowed.
But I could not collapse here.
It was agony, but the responsibility for my mistakes was mine alone.
Barely suppressing the PTSD rearing its head from deep within my heart, I headed for the cinema's exit.
'The entrance is too conspicuous.'
The entrance doors were too large—any entry would be completely exposed.
But the comparatively narrow exit meant less risk of detection and easier control over variables.
Inside the cinema I entered, things were quiet.
It seemed all the people were inside the screening rooms.
Still, the one fortunate thing was that the cinema employees were outside the screening rooms.
- Hey, that... re...?
- I-it's...
- Th... ...ven,,,right?
Through my muffled ears, whispers mixed with tinnitus reached me.
Unfortunately, most of the employees had already lost consciousness whenever I saw them, so I couldn't tell what was happening inside.
There was one employee among them who seemed to be holding onto some semblance of his senses, so before he collapsed, I grabbed him and asked.
"Are the people inside?"
"Yes? Yes... inside... Screening Room 8... Urgh."
Regrettably, he too could not endure the euphoria and passed out.
Still, I laid the young man who had clung to consciousness for the people's sake until the end down nearby, draped my jacket over him, and headed for the exit of Screening Room 8.
Leaning against the exit door and pressing my ear to it, I heard the sound of thunderous applause beyond the soundproof walls.
"God damn it..."
Was the brainwashing already reaching its final stage?
I could waste no more time.
I kicked open the exit door and aimed my pistol.
What unfolded before my eyes was a packed audience, rising to their feet in unison and applauding.
They still could not tear their eyes from the screen.
'At the very least, the screen—'
I didn't know what their reaction would be if I cut off the brainwashing footage midway, but at least leaving it incomplete was better than letting them watch to the end and finish the brainwashing.
With that thought, I conjured my shotgun to burn the screen and loaded a Dragon's Breath round.
And when I aimed at the screen, what was playing on it was—
An extraordinarily familiar image.
Yeah.
Something I couldn't possibly not recognize—
'Ending credits?'
I froze for a moment, unable to grasp the situation, then turned back to look at the audience.
Only after I'd drawn my shotgun did they seem to realize that the person who'd burst through the exit wasn't an employee, and the gazes of the audience focused on me as well.
For some reason, an employee in the projection booth turned off the speakers and illuminated the spot where I stood.
A moment of silence.
"?"
"Huh? That person..."
- Is that John?
At those words, as if on cue, several audience members near me collapsed again.
"..."
I only understood the situation after hearing Leon's explanation when he arrived to handle the scene.