Rebellion's Fragrance (15)
My marksmanship clearly couldn't hold a candle to Kyung-tae's. There was no guarantee I'd land a hundred percent hit on an accelerating flying object at this range, so to maximize my chances of a successful hunt even slightly, the best move was to fire the first shot at a helicopter that hadn't taken off yet. I also had to account for the possibility that the puppet master's telekinetic field might bend the bullet's trajectory.
The next target was another helicopter preparing to lift off from the Diamond Crown across from us. To deceive the attackers, a body double dressed in clothes identical to the puppet master's, surrounded by heavy guards, was just about to board. Boom! As I pulled the trigger, the seawater right in front of me churned violently. The second shot streaked out viciously, smashing into the helicopter's engine just as it was rising, forcing it to crash back down onto the deck. That left the enemy without even a spare chopper.
It would take at least ten or fifteen minutes for reinforcements to arrive from beyond the horizon. Now I had just one round left in the magazine. I aimed it at the puppet master's temple, visible through the curtain of humanity.
Quick sighting, rapid trigger pull. A massive muzzle flash bloomed in the dark water, and the thick spent casing spiraled out slowly, sinking lazily. A 20mm sniper round had enough destructive power to punch through several human torsos like they were nothing. But the hollow-point sabot I fired barely pierced the single layer of the curtain of humanity.
The corpse puppet guarding the puppet master up close took the hit—its ballistic plate shattered, and the intense impact rippled through its sturdy frame. It immediately bubbled up grotesquely, turning into a mass of boiling flesh that rapidly dissipated the bullet's energy. A literal bullet sponge.
In that instant, the flicker of the mana circuit revealed a complex incantation too intricate to decipher from a single glance. A technique worthy of a grand master, indeed.
I hadn't expected much anyway. I was satisfied with buying time and widening my room to maneuver.
A massive explosion echoed from the southwest sea—the death knell of the Awakened shark that had coincidentally aided me. The elite guards on the perimeter were hastily tightening their encirclement inward, but at this point, they were no different from moths diving into flames. I'd already closed to within the minimum range of the rocket-propelled depth charge.
At a depth close to the surface, I conjured another air sphere and hammered the approaching minions with a series of powerful vapor explosions. At the same time, I scooped up spare 20mm magazines from the seabed where corpses had fallen, preparing for the fight ahead.
In the midst of this, a grand magus's mana field finally swelled behind me. The puppet master had decided no longer to conceal his presence. It was also an unavoidable preparatory phase to maximize his circuit's output.
But the water was still my domain. The giant's incantations I wielded would be an unknown power to a Round Table Master. After killing or incapacitating half the swarming minions, instead of finishing off the rest, I rocketed toward the Platinum Crown.
What followed was a pure contest of strength between a grand magus and myself over dominance of the mana essence. Our two mana fields clashed head-on. As my field compressed, so did the puppet master's. The mana essence caught between us turned into violent turbulence in the gap between our competing grips.
The blood in my veins heated like molten iron. In this moment, my surging battle spirit was the thrill of a hunter facing dangerous prey.
Inside Puppet Master Westbutton's mana field, projecting my incantations remotely was difficult. And now that field had engulfed the entire ship. But by lowering my depth and closing to lethal range, I finally extended my dominance to ten meters below the keel.
This would be enough. Suppressing my fear of the coming pain, I sharpened the enmity in my heart.
Groooar! A vapor explosion detonated right under the hull. Even though I'd braced my defenses, the shock hit me like a lightning bolt to the brain. The price of closing the distance too much with the enemy. As long as I didn't die instantly, I could recover from any injury—this was the incantation I'd used with the resolve to sacrifice flesh for bone.
My normal vision was stained red. Not damage to the Golden Age's Eye, but burst capillaries inside my eyelids. As my sight spun wildly, even though I'd already vomited once and had nothing left, fresh waves of nausea surged up repeatedly. It felt like my bones, organs, and muscles were all screaming, my entire body filled with pure agony.
When I finally gathered my wits with effort, I saw the Platinum Crown splitting in two with a metallic screech. The explosion's bubble jet had torn a massive hole in the hull, and the repeated vertical deformation stress had snapped the keel—the ship's vital spine. At this rate, sinking was imminent.
Sparks flew from the fracturing hull as women unrelated to the fighting flailed and fell into the sea. Not the dead puppets or noble house servants, but southern Asian types common in Guangdong, judging by their skin. Their clothes suggested they were sex workers from Dongguan plyhouses. But their disheveled state didn't match the profession—they'd clearly worn the same rags for a long time. Without exception, shackles bound their ankles.
The sinking ship's lower decks were packed with such prisoners. Easily two thousand of them. I had no idea what purpose they'd gathered so many for, but it couldn't be anything good. The ship's owner was a grand magus who turned people into puppets, after all.
'If they're lucky, some might survive.' I turned my attention away from the women. They might provide useful testimony if saved, but right now, I needed to focus on the battle at hand. If any survived, I'd hear about it through public security channels.
That brief moment of distraction was possible only because the puppet master's response was sluggish beyond belief. He stood on the tilting deck, lost in thought with a troubled expression—not like someone in a life-or-death struggle, but a chess player pondering his next move. His tense followers didn't dare interrupt their revered house lord's contemplation. This single scene revealed a suffocatingly rigid decision-making structure.
Unlike his outwardly calm demeanor, electrical and chemical flares of change raged in the puppet master's limbic system's amygdala. Were those fierce biosignals racing through synapses and neurons fury? Fear? The friction of mana fields and the mana torrent acted as visual obstructions, but the intensifying hue of epinephrine was unmistakable.
Watching him, an inexplicable anger welled up in me. He showed not the slightest readiness for this situation—a stark contrast to my own life of endless hiding and survival.
Ptoo! Fully recovered, I spat out the blood pooled in my mouth and shattered the Diamond Crown's hull with a single strike. This attack carried no burden. The Diamond Crown was already in my range, unprotected by the grand magus's mana field, and I could project the incantation from a safe distance.
As both ships sank, the puppet master's gaze turned toward the white sand beach inside the bay. Followers stationed on Little Crow Island were rushing to the southern beach, hastily forming a defensive line. Realistically, aside from this uninhabited island ringing the bay, there was nowhere suitable for their master to flee.
There was a larger Big Crow Island to the south, but it had fewer personnel and was six times farther away. Fleeing to the beach was the only realistic option. The puppet master knew he had no other choices. Yet he hesitated, likely uneasy that a single path left him vulnerable to checkmate on my next move. He probably harbored that fear deep down.
On the other hand, he must worry about my sniping. Would his head explode the moment he tried flying solo? In fact, I was preparing to shoot.
I lacked confidence in nailing a human-sized high-speed flyer with one shot, but if I did, the fight would end here. Aiming for the instant he burst through the barrier of humanity, my chances weren't hopelessly slim.
Well? What's it gonna be?
The sinking ship's list grew steeper by the second. A sharpshooting expert might infer from my first shot targeting the helicopter that my skills fell short of a top-tier sniper, but a Round Table Master seemed far removed from such vulgar gunfights.
Some followers might have seen through me, of course. But it would be absurd for a prophet who should transcend all to seek advice from underlings. And for a follower to presume the prophet's ignorance and speak without permission? Blasphemy itself.
This matched the Round Table's organizational culture lingering in my mentor's memories and the scene before me.
One advantage of implanting the Golden Age's Eye in place of my eyes when facing another mage was visually observing the incantations they tried to build. Even without knowing the spell's nature, foreseeing an imminent ability projection was immensely helpful. Just like now.
The Round Table Master was preparing to fly. The glow of his mana field in the circuit and its transformations showed a powerful force condensing.
I tightened my finger on the trigger. Click, click, creak. The high-pressure trigger pulled to just shy of firing.
The next instant, the puppet master—gripping the brim of his top hat with one hand—finally launched his form into the air.
Boom! Against the backdrop of dim starlight, blood and flesh exploded. Like a bird hit by lead shot scattering feathers, the puppet master showered his shattered body over the dark sea.
But the spiraling crimson fall turned back into flight before hitting the water. Clack! Cycling the bolt, I fired a predictive shot at its trajectory. The puppet master's hat tore away violently, caught by the sea wind. Hissing in frustration, I yanked the bolt again, but the gray-haired puppet master rolled onto the beach before it could cycle forward, his locks whipping wildly.
No blind spot from my position, and waiting followers immediately erected the barrier of humanity. Exemplary loyal hounds willing to die for their master.
Damn it. I thought this time it'd end cleanly...
One of the puppet master's arms was sinking into the depths. Blood leaking from the ragged stump spread like ink below. The fruit of my first shot.
Yet the puppet master swiftly regenerated the physical loss. As his shoulder reformed from the large-caliber hit, his grand magus soul—contracted from the severance—gradually regained normal density.
No payoff for the sniper hit.
From the two sinking cruisers, Round Table minions and well-crafted puppets were leaping into the waves. Picking them off one by one wasn't time-efficient.
What to do? As I pondered my next move, I sensed large mana fields approaching from the distant sea. Predators drawn by the blood scent, like the shark I'd killed earlier. One even included a hefty sea crocodile Awakened Being, making me chuckle wryly.
To the puppet master and his gang, distinguishing these mana fields as big marine life or enemy forces was impossible. No time to check each one. They'd surely suspect an alliance between the witch's cult and defectors.
No battlefield exists without environmental factors. Environment... environment.
A spark of inspiration flashed in my mind. I scanned the direction of the waves rippling on the surface.