Exchange (4)
Renda.
They'd finally crested the hill and slipped out of the sniper's sights, but it was only a momentary reprieve.
What's more, the truck's speed had plummeted. It wasn't engine power anymore—just gravity carrying them down the slope.
At last, the vehicle ground to a halt. Vito twisted around, his face twisted in a grimace like a baby on the verge of tears.
"Now if they start shooting from up there, the two of us'll die all buddy-buddy. Still... th-thanks to you, that last drive was a real thrill."
Vito trembled but held back his resentment.
"Better than dying as a lab rat. I propped the shotgun up in the driver's seat. It's stuck down there at the bottom."
"It's not over yet."
"Let's just go easy. No, even in this mess, you're stone-faced. You're creepy as hell."
Allen hadn't given up.
Kurrrung!
The mana engine was so quiet that it came with an overlaid virtual roar. And the pickup truck's engine sound—packed with the user's personal flair—was thunderous, still filling the night sky over the plains.
That noise would reach Nobak as he climbed the hill. Thinking the truck was still barreling along, he'd likely leap high without slowing down, just like on the uphill streets of the city earlier.
Allen loaded a special grenade and spoke.
"Prepare your shield."
Vroooom!
Sure enough, Nobak's bike soared into the air. Allen pulled the trigger.
This grenade's rune letters read [Flight]. His skills weren't enough to steer it, but it could launch something skyward.
The grenade detonated midair, shoving the bike higher. At the same moment, Allen fired again—a blast grenade that rammed straight into the bike's underbelly.
Kaboom!
A spectacular explosion erupted overhead.
"Damn, you're something else... He's still alive!"
A pitch-black silhouette plummeted down. If it landed like that, Nobak's golem prosthetic arm would tear them to shreds.
Allen kept his composure—or pretended to. He slapped the shield generator from his left hand against his chest and pulled the trigger with his right.
Allen and Nobak. The distance between them: under ten meters.
Flames bloomed brilliantly in that space.
Exchange (4)
Allen opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the full moon hanging high in the sky—a cold, indifferent single eye gazing down at the mortal world until it locked onto his.
As if embarrassed, or deeming him unworthy to behold it, the moon slipped behind thick black clouds.
Even without the light that had illuminated the plains, the area remained bright. Embers from the grenade scattered everywhere, pushing back the darkness.
'Where's Nobak?'
Allen followed the traces of his pursuer. Pain like he'd been beaten with clubs gnawed at his entire body, but the most pressing issue now was whether Nobak lived or died.
The glow of the flames and the deep shadows cast by the truck's explosion-ravaged wreckage hit his vision first.
Allen swiveled his head left and right. The night made his field of view narrower than expected.
It was a sensation he often felt since Nobak's experiments had started degrading his left eye's vision, but tonight it felt worse than usual.
As if viewing the world through one eye alone.
Reflexively, Allen raised his palm to his left cheek.
'I can't see.'
Only then did he feel the liquid trickling down his left cheek. He gently swept it with his fingers and examined it with his right eye. It was red.
The shield hadn't been enough to block the grenade's blast. Or maybe shards from the shattered pickup truck had gotten revenge.
Suddenly one-eyed, but Allen's expression didn't crumple.
That eye had been losing light to Nobak's experiments anyway. He'd figured he'd replace it with an artificial one someday; it had just come sooner than planned.
Allen exhaled deeply and hauled himself up. His muscles and bones cursed his brain's commands, but he had no time to indulge their complaints.
He scooped up the mana revolver scattered nearby. It was called a revolver only in name—no cylindrical magazine, just a blocky barrel like a square battery.
As he gripped the handle, a blue light flickered where the hammer should be. A sign that it had chambered a round with his mana.
'Good, not broken.'
Aiming his sole lifeline forward, Allen stepped ahead. As pain surged and he bit his lip, a water drop splashed onto his hand.
Rain starting to fall in drips. Wind blowing from somewhere. Flickering flames. Shadows dancing along.
From within that, an alien form rose. Metal plates scraped against each other with every movement.
"Nobak..."
Allen pulled the trigger without hesitation. No gunpowder meant no report—just a clear blue flash streaking forward.
His shaking hands and arms ruined his accuracy. Of five shots, only one hit true, but even that bounced off the steel plate Nobak used as a shield.
Red light poured from Nobak's eyes, glaring at Allen. Goosebumps raced down his spine, but he kept squeezing the trigger as rounds chambered.
'The mana revolver's power is barely pistol-level. For him not to move means...'
His legs were definitely damaged. Otherwise, he wouldn't stay put with his hated enemy so close after his lair was destroyed.
Allen advanced cautiously. Pain forced him to move slowly, but the outcome would be the same either way.
A few glowing rounds flew, but the steel plate—likely a car door—shielded Nobak admirably.
Then his posture shifted. Still crouched, but instead of hiding behind the plate, he gripped it sideways and twisted at the waist.
Allen reflexively raised his arm to shield his face. Even so, he peered through the gap to watch Nobak's next move. No time to complain about his limited vision with one eye.
Nobak's torso rotated. His arm whipped out far faster.
The crumpled door slammed into Allen. Already frail, now wounded—he had no chance to dodge.
"...!!!"
The pain was so intense no scream escaped.
The silver lining: Nobak's body was wrecked too, so the throw lacked punch. It bounced off the ground a few times and hit flat rather than edge-on. Still, the door's mass and solidity weren't to be trifled with.
With his left arm now broken too, Allen barely struggled to his feet. His remaining right eye still glared at Nobak.
Nobak rose against the firelight, bursting into laughter at the staggering Allen.
"Pathetic. Did you really think you could escape?"
"..."
"Well, I'll grant you your skill and potential. To think you'd master rune letters without any teaching."
He hadn't taught Allen like the other assistants, peeking over shoulders. The plan was to harvest data fast through experiments and claim the eyes as tribute.
Deep down, Nobak found Allen unsettling. Stone-faced even during his own tests or as his vision faded. And his instincts screamed warning.
"My mistake. In my youth, I'd have followed my gut. But age brings complacency. Thanks to you, I've refocused."
"Should've wrapped more steel plates around the tank..."
"That surprised me. Or maybe I overlooked your mana excess syndrome. To engrave that many runes so quickly."
Runes didn't activate for just anyone. You had to infuse your own mana into the rune pen and draw in real-time, adapting to the shifting flows.
"The cost is your mental fortitude and mana. If you'd shown off to me, I might've taken you as a real apprentice."
"Hilarious."
"Haha."
Nobak chuckled in approval as he gripped his prosthetic leg with one hand. Forcing the twisted metal frame back into place, he rose.
"Time to end this. No— you'll be the example of what happens when you defy me."
Nobak advanced slowly. The crushed grass and earth beneath him hinted at the weight of his magitechwear-clad body.
Allen aimed the mana revolver with one hand. While they talked, he'd charged multiple rounds and fired them in bursts.
Tung! Tung!
Each time, the spherical shield enveloping Nobak rippled. Less stable than against sniper fire, but enough for this close-range shooting.
"Think I was just playing while we chatted?"
Nobak flashed a grotesque grin. His current form was bizarrely fused.
Synthetic skin shredded away, exposing the naked metal skeleton. Only his face and upper body remained intact; the rest hung in tatters like rags, artificial organs peeking through.
He looked like a half-finished robot—almost comical—but more than enough to dismantle a person.
Allen glanced skyward briefly. The rain was intensifying. Flames dying down, darkness creeping in.
Then something twitched at the edge of his vision. Keeping the gun trained, he flicked his eyes only. On the grass lay the shattered tank and an eye spilled haphazardly.
Never mind how it survived the clinic rooftop blast—that was secondary. A question arose first.
'Why's the tank here?'
Allen's gaze swept Nobak's waist. The ever-present spatial pouch was gone. Ripped open by the blast, spilling its contents.
Allen threw himself sideways in a roll. Mana excess syndrome had wrecked his body, but he'd never controlled it more perfectly.
He shoved the gun in his pants pocket and snatched the eye. The texture was odd— like stroking living tissue or smooth glass.
Allen extended the eye with its limp optic nerve dangling like seafood. Flaccid as a deflated squid or octopus tentacle.
"You..."
The remnants of Nobak's facial skin twisted in rage.
"I just stabilized it— you'll ruin its integrity! Don't touch it with your filthy hands!"
"Watch your blood pressure."
Still expressionless but smirking inwardly, Allen slowly brought the eye toward his face.
He couldn't stalemate Nobak forever. First reason: the cartel he'd allied with would arrive. Second: Allen's condition.
Strength ebbing from his body, mind starting to waver. Blood loss and pain gnawing at him steadily.
Above all, he couldn't pull the same bluff again. No getaway truck, and surrendering the eye meant certain death.
"Touch it and I won't let you go!"
Too late—he already had. Allen ignored the threat. If he fell here, he wanted to leave Nobak with an unforgettable memory.
Allen infused mana into the eye. Thanks to mana excess syndrome, even with his body in ruins, his mana heart brimmed full.
Normally, pumping mana into such an item would register him as owner. Even if Allen died, Nobak would waste ages reclaiming it.
Twitch!
Like a sprout welcoming rain, the eye quivered. A bit more mana, and the eyeball rotated, meeting Allen's right eye gaze.
As it swiveled solo, an eerie sensation—indescribable by word or symbol—brushed his nape.
"You!"
Nobak, walking slowly, jerked his joints wide. Like someone with numb legs forcing steps—almost comical. Of course, getting caught would erase any humor with terror.
The faintly vibrating eye slyly turned. It stared into Allen's empty left socket.
At once, the limp optic nerve reared up like a tentacle and slithered inside.
"Ugh!"
A weirdness he'd never feel in normal state, plus pain probing the wound, stabbed his brain. Allen ignored it, pouring more mana.
With the nerve fully inserted, the eye burrowed into the left socket.
And his left vision lit up again.
"Ah!"
Allen gasped in awe despite himself. He'd never seen a sight like this. Clouds hid the moon, rain doused the plains' fires—yet it looked bright.
Dizzying since it was only left-field vision, but seeing mattered most. He could adapt later, if he survived.
'So that's where you were.'
Suddenly, things he'd missed came into view.