Stockwell carefully read the document that the man sat in front of him; the man known as Marquis Pespea.
Pespea was a young man for his position as the noble residing over the city of E-Pespel, and being one of the so-called "six great nobles' '. The name of the city itself was a hallmark of the noble who's lands the city sprouted from centuries prior.
He was the son in law of King Rampossa III, having married the king's second daughter and was squarely within the Royal Faction.
It was very important that Stockwell kept good relations with him since E-Pespel was the largest city within Moot's vicinity, and also because Marquis Blumrush would likely be a powerful adversary going forwards.
"Now then, Wesley-dono, please sign there."
The document in question was regarding the arrangement they had just made concerning Stockwell's steel trading business. Unfortunately, Stockwell's understanding of Re-Estize's written language was rudimentary at best, so he had to trust Pespea at his word there was nothing shady written in the contract.
Luckily, Stockwell trusted Pespea.
Among all the nobles he had met so far, Pespea possessed the greatest level of humility. Pespea did not look down on Stockwell despite him being a commoner and was immediately ready to do business with him upon hearing about his ability to refine iron ore cheaply.
The deal in question on the table was fairly straightforward. The exact numbers in question had needed to be worked for a days prior but simply put, in exchange for a percentage of profit generated by "E-Pespel Steelworks" (the name they agreed upon that would be Stockwell's business), Pespea would grant priority to all coal and ore purchase within the city to Stockwell. In addition, taxes on all related goods would be greatly reduced. Pespea would allow the privatization of mines within E-Pespel's jurisdiction and would be willing to even sell them to E-Pespel Steelworks at a discount in the future. Moot village would also have it's taxes greatly reduced and its people freed from future military drafts. And finally, Pespea would grant E-Pespel Steelworks an extremely generous loan to quickly get it on its fell.
It was a very good deal for Stockwell. Almost too good.
The reason Pespea was willing to go so far was two fold. Firstly, Pespea genuinely believed in Stockwell's revolutionary technique for making steel. He was especially impressed with the so-called "Stainless Steel" which did not rust. Pespea could not imagine the company failing with an innovation.
And secondly, he hated Marquis Blumrush with a passion. He would be elated to see him dethroned as the proprietor of most of Re-Estize's metal.
Stockwell eyed the contract.
I think that's good? Is that the word for 'propensity'? I wish I could've brought Niven to translate.
"Is something wrong, Wesley-dono?"
"No. I think we're good."
Stockwell signed his name at the bottom of the contract. It was one of the only things he did know how to write in Re-Estize script.
"There."
"Very good, Wesley-dono. Let's see…"
Pespea furrowed his brows. "You didn't put a surname on here."
"Is that a problem?" Stockwell asked.
"Y-Yes. I'm sorry but you need a surname. I'm afraid it won't be considered valid without one."
"Oh."
Pespea handed the contract back to him.
"I understand if you don't wish to divulge your family name. However, in high society, a mononym will not suffice. People will look down on you for it or may regard you with suspicion."
"I see…"
Stockwell trained the pen over the contract.
He really didn't wish to write the name "Stockwell".
He had grown so accustomed to that name being plastered everywhere on Earth, as being the name of one of the richest men in the world. It made him a little sick. He used the name with his close friends since it was his name after all. But he just felt uncomfortable having it also be the name of what he hoped would end up being a fresh start.
Additionally, it might sound strange to the people of this world.
So he wrote the first thing that came to his mind that he knew would not sound weird.
Pespea took the contract back and nodded upon reading the name.
"Alright. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance Wesley Aamon."
The name was a good reminder to him. A reminder that the elites of the Earth existed in the same form on this world but just under different faces and names. The money he would be making from this would go towards both his research into this world's foundations, and towards toppling the hierarchies at large.
…
Marquis Raeven had always suspected that there was more to the Golden Princess than what meets the eyes. But he never expected her to be so ruthlessly intelligent to such an absurd degree.
After Climb had left the room and they were alone, he was able to see her true nature. She had already determined that he was the secret leader of the Royalty faction with her monstrous intelligence.
As the discussion continued, Raeven was able to calm down. They had currently only talked about his alignments and other pleasantries.
"So, what is your real reason for calling me here, your highness?"
The Golden princess smiled pleasantly but did not bother to hide the malevolence in her eyes. She sat on the couch opposite him across the table happily sipping a cup of tea.
"Have you heard of the steel trader? The commoner named Wesley Aamon? Of E-Pespelsteel Works?"
Raven racked his brain, he did indeed recall the name of the steel trader who had been making news recently.
"Yes, I've heard of him. The nobles are calling him the 'Gray Wolf'. I heard that he's a ruthless entrepreneur, what of him?"
Renner put down her tea and smiled sweetly.
"He is systematically buying the kingdom's ore refineries, at the rate he is expanding, he'll likely have a monopoly on all of Re-Estize's metal by the end of next year. And I suspect that he will not stop there."
Raeven pondered for a moment. Indeed, it did seem natural that someone who showed such incredible voracity for expansion would not halt their progress at just one sector of the economy. "What do you suspect he'll go for next after metal?"
"Of course, after the metal, he'd try to take over the mines to secure his own supply chain. Then after the mines, he'd go for the weapons, armor and tools made with his metal. By that point, he would be one of the most powerful people in the kingdom. The Re-Estize kingdom would not be able to wage war without him, nor would farmers be able to replace their tools, and not even buildings would be able to be built without his nails."
Raeven nodded in understanding. When laid out like that, it really gave him an appreciation of how important metal was to their modern society.
"How is he managing to expand so quickly?" He asked. "Does he have support from an outside force?"
Renner shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't know the full picture. He is working with Marquis Pespea, that I know, but that doesn't seem to be all. His current business strategy is to drastically undercut competition. He sells steel for barely more than the price of iron ore, sometimes he even sells steel for less than the ore when he needs to drive another refinery out of business. Either he has an additional backer to Marquis Pespea who can tank the losses for him, or he truly has discovered a way to manufacture steel for far cheaper than normal. My sources indicate the latter."
Renner turned over a napkin on the table. The back side was covered in ink scribbles. "I've analyzed his expected revenue and purchases closely. He is operating on a razor thin profit margin. Doing so allows him to focus all efforts on destabilizing the market and forcing other refineries to sell to him or face surmounting debt. "
Raeven thought deeply. It was a simple but highly effective strategy. Moreover, it was one that required absolute confidence and a willingness to wield economics without mercy. "He seems experienced. Are you sure he's just some random commoner."
Renner smiled. "From what we know. He really is a nobody. No records or references anywhere from within the kingdom or outside. But," Renner's eyes flashed with a cold intelligence, "exceptional people can exist in surprising places."
Duly noted, so called Golden Princess. Raeven thought.
"What are the nobility doing about it?" He asked. "Surely they must have realized what is
going on by now. Boullope's holdings include a large number of mines and refineries. As ravenous as the 'Gray Wolf' is, Boullope's faction could still easily refuse to hand over ownership to him to starve him out."
"I'm sure he knows as much." Renner said. "Most of the information I have on Wesley Aamon originated from Marquis Pespea, who owned the refiners of E-Pespel before selling to Wesley. I'm uncertain as to the precise nature of the deal they made, but he likely understands the extent of the situation and knows that he will need allies when the time comes."
Renner giggled softly. "Hehe~ To put it simply, most of the nobles are terrified of him."
Raeven smirked. It was only natural that the greedy and pompous lot would be terrified about a commoner coming from seemingly nowhere and gaining enough power to threaten their holdings.
"The reason I called you here specifically is to discuss this." Renner said.
She laid a piece of parchment on the little tea table. Raeven examined it with his snake-like eyes.
"A party at the palace. What of it? They happen all the time."
"The Gray Wolf's name is on the guest list. The nobility faction will certainly try to make a move on him then."
It was an understandable play by the nobility faction, Raeven thought. Then he wondered how the commoner had even managed to get on the guest list before realizing that the girl sitting across from him likely had some hand in getting him put on there.
"So what do you think they'll do to get him on their side?"
"Unsure." Renner said flatly. "But they are terrified, that much is sure. Even though he is a commoner, they will likely try to coax him with a noble title and some land. That, or they'll try to bribe him some other way. Those are the most probable pathways."
"Do you think he will accept?"
Renner shrugged.
"I am unsure, I do not know enough about him personally. I have not met him."
"I see. Then are you suggesting we try to recruit him to our side first before they make their move?"
Renner smiled and nodded in her scarily saccharin fashion.
Raeven shuddered and continued, "Yes, I see, If he is indeed able to obtain a monopoly, he could become a valuable tiebreaker in the power struggle between the Royal and Noble factions. How do you suppose we get to him."
"As I have said before, I do not know enough about him. If he is motivated by avarice, then we'll have to convince him that our side will be more lucrative. But if we discover that he has different motivations, then we'll just have to work from there. Needless to say, we should endeavor to start talks with him before the others."
Raeven nodded, "I presume I'll be attending the party then?"
Renner looked up sweetly at him. "It would be unbecoming of a young princess to be so interested in talking business with a stranger at a ball."
"I-I see…" Raeven shuddered.
He got the notion that all Renner really saw in him was a Marquis capable of doing basic leg work. Which, compared to Renner's intelligence, was probably true.
…
The forge master slumped his shoulders in defeat and handed Stockwell the key warehouse.
"Here you are, Mr. Wesley. I hope you take good care of her."
Stockwell gave the short muscular man a polite bow before taking the key
"Please don't sound defeated, Mr. Kurzog, you're a retired man now. You put up a valiant effort."
The man was saddened to see his business become prey for the Gray Wolf, but there was little he could do against him. If he held out any longer he would be forced to sell for even lower. He walked off sadly into the night.
Stockwell watched his back retreat down the road. After he was out of sight he turned to the boy next to him.
"Alright then Niven, do you think you can manage to get everything set up for when we start assembling another bessemer?"
Niven looked up at his master and smiled. "Of course! Just like last time! —Oh, there was also this weird blackish powder among the supplies this time, what do you want me to do with it? Is it new?"
"Nah." Stockwell said. "That's the drug called black dust, I got a little along the way to try to figure out what it was, it's just a plain old opiate, you can go ahead and toss it."
"Okay!"
"That's the spirit. Vera and I'll be gone for the rest of the night so you'll be on your own."
"What? Why?"
"We've been invited by some nobles to attend a party at the royal palace."
"What!? Really!? With Miss Vera!?"
Niven bounced up and down excitedly.
"Yes, hopefully we won't be gone too long."
"Okay! Have fun, master!"
Niven bowed to his master and disappeared into the warehouse and Stockwell headed down the road toward their temporary residence in the capital.
….
Vera looked at herself in the mirror. She gazed in awe at the elegant piece of plate armor that the blacksmith had crafted to fit her body.
Adamantite with its blackish-blue and aluminium with its brilliant silver could both be pretty metals on their own when polished, but when combined into the alloy that the blacksmith had dubbed, "Stygilight", the effect was infinitely more stunning.
Its color could only be described as the surface of the ocean in the dead of night, pitch black, with subtle hints of blue and green, with the occasional curtain of moonlight washing it with a silvery sheen. The dark metal's hues changed with every subtle movement of the head, emphasizing the green and blue pigments in the otherwise black metal to stunning effect.
In the well-lit room, the armor's ever-changing dark colors contrasted and extenuated her porcelain skin to bewitching consequence.
And yet-
"It weighs almost nothing..."
As an alloy of aluminium, stygilight is already expected to be a light metal, but when made with adamantite enchanted with 「lesser mitigate weight」, its lightness is even more apparent. Vera turned her body in the mirror, taking in the pleasant sensation of the cold armor on her bare skin.
"I can't believe such an amazing metal exists…"
As an alloy of adamantite, it also excels in hardness and shatter resistance. It would take a very skilled swordsman with an excellent blade to even scratch it.
She shook her head, finishing her marveling. It wouldn't be needed for the party.
She turned to the box that contained her dress. She had yet to see it
While in the cult, she had only ever worn one thing, a black cloak, and while on the outside world, she wore either simple clothes or a brown cloak. As such, she had never grown a sense of fashion or even a particular interest in such things.
However, she had been told by Stockwell that she needed to wear this dress in particular and that he had had it specially made.
She pulled it out of the box and gawked.
"H-How expensive was this?"
She heard the sound of the front door being unlocked and a man walking in.
"Vera, are you ready yet?"
She heard Stockwell's voice come from behind the closed door.
"Almost done, just a moment please!"
"Don't worry, I still have to get ready as well. We're going to be arriving fashionably late anyways. It'll really piss them off."
She heard him laugh in the distance as he went to go change.
…
Marquis Boullope sat at the table in the middle of the ballroom tapping his foot in annoyance.
"Where is that damn commoner!? He should've been honored to be in our presence and arrived before us, yet it's already been an hour since we got here!"
He reached behind him to grab a cup of wine off a waiter's tray. He swigged it angrily.
The noble sitting across from him leaned in. "Marquis, you're being too loud."
Boullope crossed his arms with a *Harumph* and took another angry swig from his cup. The mild grogginess of the alcohol reaching his mind did little to ease his disgruntled attitude.
"Do you think the damn wolf is a no show?"
"He might've gotten scared of the venue and ran off. A commoner would only make a fool of himself here anyways."
The ballroom's announcer voice projected from the front of the room.
"Now entering, owner of E-Pespel Steelworks, Wesley Aamon."
The countless women with their beautifully swaying gowns and well-dressed men all turned their attention to the door. They had known that a commoner was on the guest list but they had figured he wouldn't seriously show up after being this late.
Boullope stood angrily. "Finally-=!"
They had expected a shy commoner to waltz in and make a fool of himself.
And if they were startled before, now they were blown away.
The man walking in was no mere commoner. He was tall and his sharp features looked to be artfully chiseled from stone, they spoke of a quietly composed power. His graying hair was neatly trimmed atop his head. He looked every part like a "Gray Wolf". He practically oozed confidence.
The woman at his arm was no clutz either.
Her raven hair was styled behind her head and rolled down in swaying curls. An elaborate piece of jewelry caressed her forehead and hid her left eye so that only her obsidian one was showing. She wore a set of earrings and a necklace made from a mysteriously beautiful dark metal. In the ideal lighting, she could've easily rivaled any of the other women in the room.
But the most shocking thing about her appearance was not her beauty, but the gown she was wearing. It was so black that it looked to be cut straight from the night sky. It was apparent from all the way across the room that her gown was made from fabric of the highest possible quality. The black dress had been embroidered with threads of platinum and gold so that when it swayed, it would flicker like a starry sky. The effect was bewitching as they walked through the door.
The man too also wore clothing that was probably just as expensive as hers. He wore an outfit of fine silk and furs, entwined with copious amounts of gold and silver thread. Intricate patterns were sewn into the clothing along with small jewels. His outfit would probably rival the six great nobles in sheer cost.
Stockwell saw that everyone was staring at them. He did everything he could to suppress his smirk. He gave a subtle glance to the nobles sitting at the table. Not enough to be blatant to onlookers, but just enough to let the nobles know he was looking at them.
Oh don't mind me, ladies and gentlemen, I know how this game goes. You invite a commoner to the party assuming he'll humiliate himself, make him think he's out of his league, then you swoop in and capitalize on his embarrassment. Well, I'm sorry but I'm going to have to beat you at your own game. Muhahaha! This is going to be fun! It seems spending nearly the entire company profit on these outfits was so worth it.
Through the course of his life on Earth, Stockwell had to meet and act pleasantly with wealthy elites all the time. This venue was nothing to him.
He bowed with unreal elegance and addressed the room. "Apologies for my tardiness ladies and gentlemen, I had important matters to take care of."
Boullope was fuming,
"He! He!—"
The noble on the other side of the table finished his sentence. "He's making a fool out of us…"
The music began to play again and the gawkers hurriedly resumed their activities.
Stockwell turned to Vera and spoke to her softly. "I'm an expert when it comes to these kinds of things, just follow my lead."
Vera nodded and they started making their way to the table.
The noble leaned over to Boullope who practically had steam coming off his head in rage. "The wolf is coming over, what do we do?"
Boullope glared at the man who simply returned his gaze with a pleasant smile. "We stick to the plan." He took another deep swig of wine to calm his nerves and repeated himself. "... we stick to the plan."
"But Marquis, are you sure you're okay to be friends with him? You don't seem to be in the calmest mindset right now."
Boullope ignored him, he took a deep breath and forced a smile.
Stockwell made his way to the table.
"Well it's good to finally meet you, gentlemen, I must thank you for allowing a mere peasant such as myself to come to such a prestigious venue."
Boullope was panicking on the inside. Who is this man!? His posture is immaculate!
Stockwell stuck out his hand for a handshake.
"I'm Wesley, nice to meet you."
He's just a commoner! He should be groveling at my feet! Ahhhhh! Fine, I'll shake the damn hand if that's what it takes.
Boullope hid his duress and smiled. As he reached out to meet his hand, Stockwell suddenly stopped.
"Oh, pardon me. I'm so sorry I can't believe I forgot. I have a cold, I wouldn't want you getting sick."
Stockwell swiftly pulled out a handkerchief and shielded his hand before shaking Boullope's
Boullope's face froze. His eye twitched. It took every ounce of will to not explode.
"I-It's no trouble at all, Wesley-d-dono."
Stockwell gestured to the women next to him, "This is my companion, Vera."
Vera curtsied and Boullope couldn't help but look at her with a small amount of envy. I bet he thinks he's some bigshot escorting such a cutie.
She felt his lustful gaze and shuddered. Boullope replied with a scornful nod and gestured to the noble next to him.
"This is Count Lytton."
"Pleasure."
They did not shake hands under the context that Stockwell had a cold, which of course everyone at the table knew was an overt lie. They sat down at the table with them.
Boullope had so far only been made a fool of, so even if they had brought him here to win him over, he at least needed to get one punch in.
"You're wearing rather odd clothes for a commoner. Most of us here were expecting you to show up in rags."
Stockwell simply returned with a smile.
"A thousand apologies, I did not consider that you would be dressed so poorly. You have my sincere promise, it was not my intention to embarrass you."
Stockwell gave a short bow.
Boullope's eye twitched again. He heard snickering coming from somewhere behind him.
Goddamnit! Do you want to die, you peasant! I can't believe these people are beginning to take sides with a commoner! I'm losing face! Hurry! Say something Boullope!
"Oh no, sorry Wesley-dono, it's not that, It's just that those clothes seem rather expensive, it must have cost you your entire fortune."
"Hmm? Oh no, my wealth comes from industry and continues to grow by the second, so I can afford to buy these kinds of trivial things. The economy of Re-Estize is based primarily on feudalism, but capitalism is still allowed to prosper within the cities owned by the crown and other private ownerships not withstanding. Someone like you who was born with a lump sum and whose holdings have been stagnant for the last several years probably wouldn't be able to understand."
He heard snickering coming from behind him once more. His face twitched. Luckily, Count Lytton was there to save him.
"Excuse me, Wesley-dono, speaking of your business, there is something that we would like to talk about."
"Hmmm? And what could that be?"
Lytton put on his best smile and leaned in closer so that only those around the table could hear them.
"There is a great power imbalance in this kingdom and we could really use someone with your talents on our side."
"Really? I hope there's something good for me if I join."
Lytton smiled. "Oh yes indeed. We could offer you wealth, land, and even a noble title."
Stockwell looked at him with a perfectly innocent questioning face.
"Now why would I want that?"
"Hah?"
Lytton and Boullope were frozen.
Vera tugged on Stockwell's arm.
Stockwell nodded and turned to the two nobles.
"I'm sorry gentlemen, but my companion has been dying for a dance on the ride over here, and seeing that we're already late as is, it would be rude of me to ignore her any longer. We will have to discuss this some other time."
"Why you insolent—!"
He stood and took Vera's arm in his. He led her to the dance floor without giving them a chance to respond. Stockwell had been to the fanciest, highest-stake venues back on Earth and had cultivated the skill required to alter one's manners and expressions on a whim. But even so, he struggled to hide his smirk.
"Did I do alright? Wesley?"
"Your timing couldn't have been better."
Stockwell fought to contain his laughter. He had expected the nobles had invited him to try to schmooze him, but he didn't expect them to be so blatant about it. He figured that they must've been terrified of his growing wealth.
We're not even that rich yet, we just made it look that way. This is just too funny.
Men and women got out of their way as they walked toward the dance floor.
"Wesley, everyone is watching us."
"Of course they are. That's the point."
He didn't need to look to know that everyone was taking glances at them.
They're probably wanting to see how a commoner dances. We've already made quite the impression so far. I wonder how much it'll take for them to really piss their pants.
He smiled evilly and looked to Vera.
"Don't worry Vera, if they're going to be judging anyone, they'll be judging me. They wouldn't dare criticize a beautiful woman like yourself."
Vera blushed, "If you say so."
"Do you remember the dance steps I showed you earlier?"
"Yes."
"Good, then just relax, take my hand and follow my lead."
Vera nodded and thus they began to dance.
Stockwell was no amateur when it came to these kinds of things, he used to be one of the wealthiest people in the world after all. He had danced in all of the most prestigious ballrooms on earth with the finest dance instructors. He guided Vera and their dance captured every eyeball in the room.
Vera moved well too. But maybe that should've been expected. She had extensive combat experience. Perhaps using 「fly」 all the time improved one's balance even while on the ground.
"Wesley, why did you refuse their deal? Wasn't that a big chance? If we make them mad, couldn't they forcibly take action against your business? They are nobles, they run this country."
She twirled and wrapped herself into his arms. He then elegantly stepped and unraveled her. Her gown twirled in a brilliant squall of black, dazzling the onlookers.
"When Andrew Carnegie was creating his monopoly, he at least had some competitors, no, in this world, it almost feels too easy. Capitalism is a dirty book that hasn't even been fully written yet in this world, and I already know every damn dirty trick in it. Rhamnusia will also be there to back us up if worse comes to worse. Besides, wasn't it just plain fun to see that guy's eye twitch?"
Vera giggled as she twirled into his embrace once more.
"—Ah, It seems someone is looking at us."
"But I thought everyone was looking at us?"
Vera unraveled. Her hair and gown sparkled in the ballroom's lights. In that moment, she was undeniably the most beautiful woman in the room.
"No, not like that. You can tell by the type of gaze. Why don't we end our dance here?"
Vera nodded sadly, she had been hesitant at first, but she really did enjoy the dance. She couldn't help but wonder if this is what it felt like a young maiden, blushing as she danced with a handsome man. She wondered how she might've been had she not been raised in a reclusive necromancy cult.
They waited for the final cadence of the music and completed their closing set of moves. Vera jumped into his arms and they ended in a dip.
The onlookers couldn't help but clap. Stockwell and Vera bowed and made their way over to an empty table to cool off.
Boullope and Lytton had been watching the whole time, receiving the cocky glances from Stockwell.
"That damn wolf, he never had any intention of joining us from the start. He's been deliberately making fools of the nobility. I can't believe the gall of that bastard! He wants to die. He's a fool who actually wants to die."
"Then what do we do Marquis?"
"Let me think— Hey! Who's that!?"
They both craned their necks to see someone walk up to Stockwell.
"Hey! That looks like Raeven. What's that bat doing here? Look! He's sucking up to him!"
They were able to spy Raeven kneeling to kiss Vera's hand and then shake hands with Stockwell.
"Shouldn't we stop Raeven?"
"No, I think he'll give Raeven the same treatment."
They were shocked to be immediately proved wrong. They saw Stockwell begin to get up and walk towards the door with Raeven.
Boullope pinched his nose and closed his eyes. The first clear thought he's had since the Gray wolf walk in the room crossed his mind. "Change of plans." He said.
"W-What is it?" Lytton muttered.
"We get the eight fingers involved, the sooner the better."
"Are you serious?"
"Do we have any other options? We can't touch his company if he sucks up to the royalists."
"But surely he wouldn't do that, after how much hate he clearly has for nobil—... great gods…" Lytton trailed off as he saw Stockwell and Raeven laughing together like old friends as they exited the room.
"You see?" Boulope said. "He had already decided to cozy up to the royalists before he got here. Taking him out now by force is the best method we have. If he isn't lying dead in a ditch by next year, they'll have this whole kingdom by the throat."
"Do you really think that'll happen?"
"I don't want to find out the hard way."
…
"I apologize for assuming you were just a mere commoner, forgive me, Wesley-san."
Stockwell walked alongside Raeven through the palace's courtyard. The nighttime air was refreshing.
"Not at all."
This one is at least tolerable. Stockwell thought It doesn't seem like his mind is on fear or greed. I might be able to use him. Might as well see what he has to offer me.
"So where are we going then, Marquis?"
It was subtle, but Stockwell noticed that he was looking around as if he was looking for spies.
"We're going to visit the princess of this kingdom, Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself."
Stockwell quickly went through his mental map of the members of the Re-Estize royal family. He was confused.
"The fifteen year-old? Why would someone like her want to talk to me?"
"Sixteen," Raeven corrected,"and I think you'll find out soon enough. We're here."
They rounded the corner and came to a door. There was a youth in full mythril armor guarding the way forward. The youth approached them.
"I'm going to have to take any weapons you might have before I allow you to see the princess."
Raeven was evidently surprised by the youth's action. "Wait Climb, this is our guest, I doubt he has any weapons on—"
"—It's alright."
Stockwell felt under his clothes and undid the sheath of his dagger. He hesitated when he was about to hand it to the boy. He felt like he was giving him a little bit of his soul, he didn't know why. He shook his head and handed it to Climb.
Raeven looked at him questioningly, "Why did you have that on you?"
"It's a kill or be killed world marquis."
He looked at Climb and handed it to him. "Keep it safe."
Climb nodded and opened the door. Raeven and Stockwell walked in.
Climb didn't know why he asked the man for weapons, it was an impulsive decision on his part and in hindsight was indeed exceedingly rude. But perhaps he did truly sense something from the man and his desire to protect the princess had flared up.
He pulled the dagger from its sheath and examined it. It was just a simple piece of steel but it gave off an ominous feeling like it was possessed by a malicious spirit. He then turned his attention to the hilt and he shuddered. There were several tally marks inscribed into the handle. Evidently, the man had been keeping track of his kills.
…
Stockwell sensed that something was off. He had walked into the little room after Raeven. Sitting across from them was the Golden Princess as well as Prince Zanack.
Something is wrong.
The prince seemed normal enough, if not a bit uncomfortable. Raeven also seemed to be on edge the moment they walked into the room, but the Golden Princess was all smiles. Moreover, judging by the way the two were sitting and who was looking at who, it was clear that Renner was the one in charge.
Is it something about the princess? Shize, I've been standing too long, I need to bow. I would have avoided this if I knew the prince was going to be here as well.
It was incredibly hard for him to do. It was against his nature to bow in deference to authority. The only way he was able to do it was to trick himself into thinking he was doing it out of spite. He began to force himself onto one knee.
"Oh! You don't have to bow if you don't want to. I understand!"
Renner smiled innocently at him, Zanack and Raeven were stunned.
Stockwell stopped himself out of surprise.
"Huh?" He looked up at the princess.
She made no attempt to disguise the calculating tone of her voice. "Like I said, you don't have to bow if you don't want to."
Stockwell made eye contact and squinted with curiosity. "I assumed that bowing was proper etiquette."
He looked at Renner's smiling face. "It is, but I wanted to talk to you about some things without distraction." She no longer tried to hide her true nature.
Their eyes met in understanding.
Is she…? She is. One of those insane people who can read others like nothing.
"Well isn't that terrifying?" Stockwell laughed uneasily. "So you're the brains of this operation? Only genuine psychopaths can read people that easily. I've met people like you before but never so young."
Stockwell sat on the couch and dropped his pleasant facade.
"So what do you noble bastards want with me?"
Raeven and Zanack stood up, even though they were sensible people, Stockwell was getting way too far out of line for a commoner.
"Relax onii-sama, he's fine."
Her smile stunk of artificial saccharine, she turned to Stockwell.
"I think we can help each other. It's in our mutual interests that your company succeeds."
…
Stockwell walked back into the ballroom, It seemed that it was wrapping up and people were already going home. Boullope and Lytton were nowhere to be found.
He found Vera sitting all by herself.
She stood up when she saw him approaching.
"Wesley! I was beginning to get worried, you were taking so long, what happened?"
He took her hand and guided her to the door.
"I ended up making an unexpected business partner. What about you? Did anything happen on your end?"
Vera looked down and shook her head. "No. No one would approach me. That's okay though, I'm used to it."
"I think it's just because everyone was intimidated by your beauty. They must have been frightened to approach you."
It was a simple explanation, though one she had not considered.
"Now I think it's time we've made our leave, it seems like the ball is pretty much over anyway."
She nodded and took his arm. They walked out the door and boarded the carriage that they had hired.
After a short ride, they landed at their residence and paid the driver.
They walked up to the door and Stockwell put his hand on the doorknob. Suddenly he froze.
"What is it, Wesley?"
"The door is open, someone's been here."
He opened the door and they walked in cautiously. The place had been robbed clean. Stockwell began immediately racing around for clues. "Niven!" He called out.
No reply came.
"Wait. Wesley. Look at this."
Vera bent over and picked up a note off the ground. She began to read it.
"It's the eight-fingers. 'Know your place,' It says. It says that they also raided all the warehouses and that they have Niven"
"Give it here."
Stockwell practically ripped it from her hands and began to read. "They want us to…" He hurriedly handed it back to Vera when he remembered that he couldn't read the language. "What does that part say?"
"They want us to meet with them. And it also has a location written down here,"
He ripped the note back from Vera only to immediately crumple it in his hands and throw it on the ground in frustration. He began to pry at one of the floorboards.
"What are we going to do? Should we get the guards?"
"I doubt they would help us, this was the handy work of Tweedledee and Tweedledum from the party. I'm sure they already bribed the guards. No, we're going to meet these 'eight-fingers' all right."
He lifted the floorboard, revealing a hidden compartment underneath. Two gas masks stared back at them.
"And we're going to kill them all."
...
"Did we really need to bring the entire six-arms for this? What's some rich kid going to do?"
Zero snorted at the snake of a man known as Succulent.
"We've been paid a lot of money to do this, we're not here to just kill him but to make an example of him. The guards have already been paid off, but he may still have his own private forces so we need to be ready."
"What if he doesn't show up?"
The answer came from a man wearing full plate armor, Pesylian.
"We took all of his company's assets within the city along with his apprentice—"
"—Ohhhh, that adorable little boy. What was his name? Nigel? He better show up or he might end up as a toy for Cocco doll~"
The fencer, Malmvist, licked his sword.
"Isn't this wolf guy a little late though?"
They were standing in a wide-open courtyard that looked to be a training area, bonfires blazed lazily, covering the area in a dim red light. Zero looked up to the tall building at the end of the courtyard. He could see the bored and twisted faces of the elite who had arrived here for a show.
"They're getting anxious. Hopefully, he doesn't take much longer to get here. Stay here while I rub shoulders with the wigs and buy us some time."
…
Stockwell stood before the main gate, he was still in his formal wear and all he had was a rifle strapped to his back to avoid suspicion. The walls around him were dark and enclosing, like a prison, or perhaps a fortress. The gate was lattice-shaped, so he could peer through it, but the trees within prevented him from seeing too far inside.
"Oi, aren't you a little late?" a voice asked hoarsely. Following that, a man stepped out from among the trees.
He walked to the gate and opened it.
"This way. Follow me."
Stockwell stepped inside but didn't proceed any further.
"Would you mind looking here for a second?"
"Huh?"
The man looked at Stockwell, or rather he looked down the barrel of the weird stick that he had just pulled from his back.
"What is it?"
Stockwell pulled the trigger and the man's head erupted into a shower of blood. His body crumpled to the ground. "Thanks for opening the gate."
Vera appeared behind him carrying a load of equipment.
Stockwell looked her over, "Lets not have a repeat of the spider fiasco. Clean, fast, decisive. Follow my lead and make sure they're dead by the time they know what hit them. Keep them in constant surprise."
She nodded with conviction. "Of course."
"Then keep your wits about you."
Stockwell didn't wish to dwell on the thought that a part of him was rather looking forward to what was about to happen.
…
"Two people approach."
The lich, Davernoch, craned his head. As a member of the undead, he had superb night vision and could see much further down the shadowy courtyard.
The scimitar wielder, Edstrom squinted but couldn't see. "Should we get Zero from the viewing box?"
Succulent cut in. "We didn't need Zero's help in the first place. He's probably here to make a deal."
He smiled sadistically.
"I can't wait to see his face when he realizes he's going to die."
"I don't think they're here to make a deal. Davernoch's eyes narrowed in concentration. "I think they're armed."
Davenroc focused his vision down the shadowy courtyard. "Yes, they're wielding... I don't know."
"Do they intend to fight with just the two of them? Unfortunate for them that all of us happened to be here."
The two strangers stepped into the light of the courtyard.
The members of the six-arms were all seasoned fighters and were all very confident in their skills, as such they didn't not think for a second that they could lose to a pair of strangers. However, and it was only for a moment, they felt a shiver when they saw the pair.
Stepping into the light of a courtyard was a man who appeared to be heavily armed.
He wore a heavy black coat that completely shrouded his body. Strapped across his chest was a bandolier of cylindrical metal canisters, and attached to the front of his coat around where a breast pocket would be was a sheathed dagger that gave off an ominous feeling.
Strapped to his back was some kind of black box with an antenna sprouting from its side and rising a meter above his head. Also strapped to his back was a strange staff made of wood and metal.
The most disturbing thing however was the mask he was wearing. Peeking out from beneath a protective cage distending from his dark metal helmet, the mask he wore had large hollow eyes that looked like that of a skull's eye sockets or perhaps an alien monster. The mask's maw distorted into a large, unnatural cylinder that distended downward from the jaw. Additionally, another cylinder also descended from one of the cheeks, giving the mask an uncomfortably asymmetrical look. It was, to the best of their descriptive abilities, an unashamed perversion of the elegant human form.
They did their best not to recoil. It made them feel like a group of lab rats about to be experimented on.
Another form stepped into the light behind him. She too looked to be armed.
She also wore a similar cloak that hid her body, though she didn't appear to be as heavily armed. The only thing she visibly wielded was another one of the staves. However, unlike the one the man carried, it was longer and slimmer, and it had some kind of cylindrical attachment on the end of it.
And she too wore one of those grotesque-looking masks.
The man signaled to the woman and she stopped at the end of the courtyard. He proceeded to meet the five of them alone.
The six-arms shook the daze out of their heads. Although he had a disturbing visage, their warrior senses could tell by the way the man walked and carried himself that he was unlikely to have significant martial prowess. They quickly put on their cocky smiles.
Malmvist was the one to speak up to him as he drew near.
"Well well well, something tells me you're not here to make a deal. Are you the 'Gray Wolf'?"
The masked man spoke, his voice was chilling when filtered through the mask.
"No, I am the demon Rhamnusia. Realize that none of you will leave here alive."
A form materialized behind Rhamnusia. Succulent had been hiding using 「Invisibility」. His sword was held at the demon's throat.
Stockwell flinched from underneath his mask, but thankfully they did not notice his surprise.
Succulent smiled sadistically, "That's pretty big talk considering I could've killed you or that lady friend of yours at any time I pleased."
He took his sword away from his throat and walked around from behind Rhamnusia to stand before him.
"But that wouldn't have been fun if I had just killed you then, no, we're going to break you and toy with you for a long time demon-san, we have to put on a show for the big wigs after all."
He held his hand up, gesturing to the building behind him. They were able to see twistedly eager faces waiting in anticipation.
Succulent stuck his hand out for a handshake. "So why don't you call your lady friend over and we can have a fair fight."
"Succulent, stop playing around with him and let's get on with it— oh?"
Rhamnusia outstretched his right hand and met Succulent's handshake. Succulent felt the cold metal plates on Rhamnusia's palm meet his skin.
"See, that's more like—"
—Succulent recoiled in pain as a surge of electricity pierced through his body.
"Wha—!?"
His muscles locked up.
Rhamnusia used his left hand to draw the dagger at his chest. Without hesitation, he swung it around and aimed at Succulent's neck.
Succulent was a seasoned warrior with heightened senses. To him, Rhamnusia's attack was slow to his eyes. However, he was paralyzed in Rhamnusia's electric grasp and could not move his body to defend. He watched in horror as the blade neared him.
Rhamnusia plunged the dagger deep into the side of his neck. A deluge of blood sprayed from ruptured blood vessels as Succulent's legs immediately buckled from the loss of consciousness. He died as he hit the ground, his corpse still twitching from the electricity.
Rhamnusia ripped his hand away from Succulent's stiff hand, completing their handshake. A faint wisp of smoke rose from beneath Rhamnusia's cloak from the fried circuitry of the taser. He had given it all the current he possibly could, destroying the system in the process.
"No such thing as a fair fight!" Rhamnusia cackled and he immediately turned on his heel and sprinted away from them.
As shocking as the scene was, the remaining four members of the six-arms were on par with adamantite adventurers and recovered from their surprise immediately.
"He's running away!?"
"Get him!"
The first to react was Edström, her six scimitars hovered and launched at the demon's back.
Bang
She blinked.
"What-"
The bullet had gone clean through her forehead and lodged into her brain.
Vera exhaled slowly at the end of the courtyard. She pulled away from her scope and opened the chamber of her bolt-action rifle with a satisfying mechanical click. She loaded another round in the chamber.
Edström, fell to the ground, not knowing what happened, oblivious to the fact that she would be dead in less than a second. Regardless, her scimitars continued through the air, maintaining the trajectory of their final orders.
However, the scimitars were weak individually and they skidded off the Stygilight plate armor bethath Rhamnusia's coat. They clattered harmlessly to the ground.
The three remaining members of the six arms turned in shock, "How did…?"
Malmvist shrieked like a chicken at Rhamnusia's receding form. "What are you doing!? Get him!"
The closest one was the man in full plate armor, Peshurian. He snapped out of his confusion and ran after him, keeping his hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.
Rhamnusia's hands went to the metal cylinders on his bandolier. He pulled the tabs one by one and clouds of pressurized yellow gas erupted forth. The huge amount of gas being allowed to expand all at once caused the surrounding temperature to plummet. Frosts of water and hydrochloric acid immediately formed on Rhamnusia's exposed armaments.
Chlorine spewed forth in incredible concentrations. Peshurian charged through the thick yellow fog.
He made it a few meters before he keeled over and began to retch inside of his helmet.
"Wha...What is this…"
The concentrations of chlorine he was inhaling were several hundred times beyond the realm of plausible survivability. Neither his magic items nor his innate endurance did little to stop the effects of the sheer amount of poisonous gas entering his body. The chlorine rushed into his airways like the water of a burst dam, destroying the sensitive tissues of his lungs.
He began to feel faint as a feeling of impending doom streaked through him. "H-Help! Malmvist! Davernroch!" He wailed through his retching. "Help me!"
He did his best to stumble out of the fog, but the chlorine had turned the water of his corneas into acid and his vision had gone blurry. Nor would escaping the chlorine have actually helped much at that point. The alveoli of his lungs had already been utterly destroyed so no matter how many breaths he took, his body failed to receive oxygen.
His head felt light and his body heavy. He stumbled out of the fog. He then began to make his way toward a door at the end of the courtyard that led deeper into the eight-fingers facility. Apparently he had given up on fighting and was looking to retreat.
"Hey! Where are you going!?"
The Lich and the fencer stared back into the yellow cloud, they were utterly terrified. They had heard Peshurian's wails and did not dare take one step into the fog.
Rhamnusia's grotesque facade appeared, silhouetted against the yellow backdrop. The hollow expressionless eyes of his gas mask turned to the fencer.
The demon was holding his lever-action rifle and his voice was twisted with amusement.
"You're dressed like a matador, that means you're good at dodging, right?"
Malmvist gulped. "D-Davernoch. We have a chance if we take him together!"
"R-Right."
The lich's hands caught aflame in preparation for a spell.
Malmvist did not know the nature of the demon's weapon, so he held his blade forward and prepared to counter his attack. Not only did he have the quickest feet in Re-Estize, but he also had the quickest blade, there was nothing he couldn't parry.
Rhamnusia glanced at the lich's flaming hand and was unconcerned. And upon seeing the fencer's stance he smirked. "I take that as a yes then? Then good luck parrying this."
Bang.
He fired the rifle. The bullet exited the barrel at 342m/s, an order of magnitude faster than any blade Malmvist had ever had to counter. It crossed the distance between them in less than a blink of the eye and lodged itself in his shoulder.
"Gah! What was that!? Davern—!"
The lich launched a 「Fireball」 at the demon's form.
Rhamnusia's cloak was coated with a fire retardant, and thus, could not burn. Additionally, the thick layers of insulation he wore served to disperse much of the shock. But that is not to say that he was immune to 「fireball」 though, far from it.
Because although his body was fully shielded and insulated, the impact and heat were intense. His pressurized canisters of gas hissed in the rising temperature. Though the heat was uncomfortable, Stockwell persisted through it. It also helped that the initial temperature had already been far below freezing due to the gas release.
The demon pulled the lever on the rifle and squeezed the trigger again.
Bang.
Malmvist felt another jolt of pain, this time in his leg.
Malvmist was no simple human, all of his senses were honed to an extraordinary degree, far beyond anything that a human from Earth could hope to achieve. Still, a tiny metal projectile moving at 342m/s was out of the range of his kinetic vision, they were simply too fast for his eyes to track, registering only as a small blur.
"What's happening!? Davernoch!"
The lich continued to launch 「Fireball」 after 「Fireball」.
Rhamnusia's figure was engulfed in flame. His remaining canisters of gas exploded from his bandolier and rocketed around the courtyard leaving trails of chlorine gas in their wakes.
Stockwell began to cook alive behind his fire retardant cloak. The pain was intense but did not discourage him, rather, it seemed to do the opposite.
As his mind began to lapse from the heatstroke, he laughed with insanity. He was enjoying this fight. He felt something akin to a barbaric rage possessing him.
"Hahahaha!" His voice boomed.
Bang. Bang, Bang. Bang.
He continued to ignore the lich. The fencer cried in pain as each bullet entered his body.
"Dance!"
Malmvist could not track the bullets and dodged sporadically, weaving back and forth. His blood was spraying from holes all over his body. He could try to brave the bullets and rush the demon, but doing so meant rushing into the poison fog.
This was the best he could do for now.
The demon continued to unload his entire clip into him before the primers in his remaining rounds exploded from the heat.
But it was just too much for Malmvist.
Malmvist felt a jolt of pain as a bullet collided with the bone in his left leg. He tumbled to the ground, his sword falling out of his hand.
He heard footsteps approaching him and he tried to reach for his sword. However, he couldn't get to it in time. The demon stood over him and kicked it away, sending it clattering across the courtyard.
"...Please…"
The demon let out a deranged laugh.
"You took so many! You're a superhuman alright! You might've had a chance if you simply charged at me!"
"...What…?"
The demon planted his dagger in the back of the fencer's neck.
He stood and turned his attention to the last survivor if he was ever actually considered alive in the first place.
The Elder Lich was petrified. He stopped casting his 「Fireball」s, as it was obvious to him that they were ineffective.
The demon took a step forward.
Davenroc took a step back.
"No, please!"
He was a member of the undead and had a limitless life span. He was going to live for a thousand more years and grow his magical power until he could destroy all life. He wasn't going to be destroyed here.
He took another step back. He had thought that as a member of the undead, that he was immune to fear, he was wrong. The demon took another step forward.
There was no reasoning with the man behind that mask, that grotesque perversion of the human form.
"Get away from me!"
「Lightning!」
He outstretched his fingers and shot a bolt of lightning at the demon. Suddenly he stumbled forward as if being pulled forth by the lightning at his fingers.
"What!?"
The lightning veered from its path moments before reaching its target. It steered into the antenna protruding from the demon's back. It followed the wire that ran down his back and out of his pant leg that dragged behind him a foot or so back. The lightning zapped the ground underneath his feet, leaving the demon completely unharmed.
The lich abandoned his notion of trying to harm the demon, as he was clearly immune to all of his magic.
He got up and sprinted away as fast as he could.
Bang.
Vera's bullet was faster.
Stockwell's lever-action required him to use smaller and blunter rounds. However, Vera with her bolt action did not have such restrictions, so she had the freedom to use ammunition that was larger, faster, heavier, and overall, many times more destructive.
「Deflection ring」!
Darvonoch had raised his hand expecting Rhamnusia to attack. Luckily for him, he was just in time. The lich's body flashed with a translucent blue barrier.
Due to his one time use magic item, Vera's bullet was deflected. It bounced harmlessly off the back of his skull.
Vera blinked in surprise at the end of the courtyard before returning to her scope. "Oh no you don't."
It only took a second to load in another round and pull the trigger again.
Bang.
The round smashed into the back of Davernroc's skull, littering the courtyard with bone fragments. He skidded to a halt.
Rhamnusia walked up to him and rolled him over, he was still just barely moving.
"...Please…"
The last thing the lich saw was the terrifying visage of a gasmask and the pommel of a dagger smashing into his skull.
Rhamnusia stood up and stretched grandly. He basked in his handiwork.
Succulent: dead in a pool of blood, his muscles still twitching.
Edström: Bullet hole through the forehead, lying not too far away from her motionless scimitars.
Peshurian: Missing. Apparently he had managed to retreat into the facility. But he wouldn't get far in his condition.
Malmvist: riddled with bullet holes, a gory mess of blood still spilling out from the back of his neck.
And Davernoc: lying at his feet with his skull caved in.
He didn't get time to bask in the glory for too long though.
"—I bet you think you've won."
Rhamnusia turned to see a tattooed boulder approaching him from the building.
"Oh but I have. Can't you see? Would you like to join them?"
The demon turned to Zero and outstretched his arms as if presenting the dead bodies to him. He cocked his head back.
"Hahahaha! Oh, how glorious! I never knew stuff like this could be so exhilarating! It's so much different taking matters into one's own hands. Directly! I had only dreamed of things like this! Solving problems not money and politics, but with blood and bullets!"
Zero did not reply. He could tell that the man behind the mask was in no condition to have an intelligent conversation. He arced around him so that Rhamnusial was perfectly in line between him and where Vera was lying prone.
Zero crouched down into his stance, like a bull ready to charge. He had seen the demon kill the entirety of his comrades and would not hold back.
"I would like to see your tricks stop this."
He activated all of his tattoos. The leopard on his feet, the falcon on his back, the rhino on his arms, the bull on his chest, the lion on his head, they all alit into brilliant crimson flames.
He did not wait any longer than he had to. He exploded at the demon with ferocious speed.
He had positioned himself so that if the demon attempted to dodge, he would charge past him and mow over the woman in the back.
The demon showed no signs of dodging, however. Instead, he revealed a small pouch from his cloak and signaled to the woman behind him.
Vera caught the signals.
She realized what he was telling her and quickly shut her eyes and turned away in response.
Rhamnusia quickly tossed the pouch in front of him. He kneeled, covered his ears, and looked away.
Zero had put all of his power into that charge and thus could not change his trajectory. He trusted that his overwhelming power would knock aside and toy the demon threw at him.
He continued in single-minded intensity, his target was only a handful of meters away kneeling on the ground, he would be on him in less than a fraction of a second.
The pouch the demon had thrown brushed past him.
BANG.
It exploded with a tremendously powerful sound. It ruptured the fluid in Zero's ears, making him lose his sense of balance. His legs buckled underneath him. The light the pouch emitted was blindingly intense. His sense of vision was flooded with nothing but the color white.
He skidded past the demon.
Stockwell and Vera did not miss their chance. They knew from testing that the flash-bang only disabled people for a short while. And for someone of Zero's caliber, they likely only had a few moments.
Vera looked down her scope.
Zero tried to get up and immediately failed. The flashbang had destroyed his visual and vestibular systems and would find it physiologically impossible to stand for the next several seconds.
Vera focused and squeezed the trigger. It was a perfect shot, however—
"What!?"
Zero had activated all of his monk abilities and his skin was stronger than any armor. The bullet collided with his forehead. It bit into the flesh of his forehead with a small splash of blood but was unable to penetrate his skull.
Zero reeled in pain, but he did not die as Vera had expected. She began to load another round in panic.
Stockwell reached the grounded Zero and attempted to plunge his dagger into his back but the same thing happened. His dagger glanced off of it like it was made of metal.
Zero was regaining his senses and he managed to get to one knee. He was able to sense Rhamnusia standing behind him.
Zero reached over his shoulder and grabbed the demon. He pulled him over his shoulder and slammed him into the ground in front of him.
The force generated by Zero's super human arms was enough to have been fatal under normal circumstances. And had Stockwell not been wearing the various amounts of protection underneath his cloak, or if Zero had fully regained his senses, he likely would've been killed just by that one move.
Stockwell felt his ribs crack and his stomach burst as he hit the solid ground with tremendous force.
Zero was enraged. He brought his hands together into a large fist and raised them high above his head. There was no doubt that his downward swing would kill the demon at his feet, like a hammer crushing an ant.
Rhamnusia hastily raised his hand towards Zero. A thin cloud of vapor sprayed from a nozzle on his wrist.
Zero's outer layer of flesh and skin melted away in a mere moment in response to the cloud of acid and the concentrated power of dozens of fully grown slimes.
But it did not stop the enraged Zero. Pain stabbed through Zero's mind as he felt his outer flesh peel away, but he did not rescind his strike.
"RAWWWWWWWWWWW-!"
He brought down his fists on the demon.
Bang.
Vera shot once more. The acid had melted away his flesh, and with it, the strength of his monk armor. The bullet smashed through his skull and entered his brain.
The power that Zero had gathered into his hands evaporated. His titanic body lifeless fell atop Stockwell, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Stockwell rolled the monk's body off of him and staggered to his feet.
His body creaked like a rickety old tower. His ribs had been shattered by Zero's throw and his lungs wheeled in pain. Blood dripped from his mouth and pooled into the bottom filter of his gas mask.
"HaAhAHH! Take that!" His laughs of triumph gurgled in his mouth.
"How's that bullshit fantasy skin armor suiting you now, huh!?" He stabbed Zero's corpse several times with his dagger.
"Wesley!" Vera called out to him but he could not hear.
She rushed to him and hugged him from behind. "Wesley! It's over! He's dead!"
Her voice seemed to pierce through his hazy mind. In fact, Vera's voice had always had that effect on him. He now realized why. It sounded so much like his mother's.
However, all it did was bring him back to reality. He still thirsted for blood.
"...Right." He sheathed his dagger.
He wondered if this was the so-called "blood lust" that was written about in martial arts manuals. It was a trait that so-called barbarians possessed.
He retrieved a small ampule of red colored gas from his pouch. It was concentrated healing potion. He broke the head of the ampule next to the filter of his mask and inhaled deeply.
Immediately he felt his body bend in real time. It was like a surgeon with invisible hands began setting all of his bones back into place while his blood and tissues replenish themselves.
In a matter of moments, his body was fully restored and he only felt an echo of the pain he once had.
He turned to Vera.
"It's not over yet."
"What?"
"Look up there."
Vera followed Stockwell's outstretched finger to the viewing box to the top of the building.
She grabbed her rifle and looked through the scope. She saw many people in rich clothing, her eyes narrowed when she recognized Count Lytton and Marquis Boullope from the party. They were staring down at them in stunned silence, fear written on their faces. Many of the people behind them were already fleeing.
"I see the two nobles from the party."
Stockwell nodded.
"Figures. They've gone too far. You know what to do."
Vera nodded.
She put her obsidian eye to the scope and focused. She harnessed the power of her innate talent.
She could feel the path of the bullet in her mind. She traced Lytton's head in the markings of the scope, accounting for the effect that gravity would have on the arc of the bullet at her distance.
She exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger.
"Marquis Boullope! What are you doing just standing there!? We need to evacuate! They'll probably come for us next!"
Lytton was shouting at Boullope who was standing in a trance, looking down at the tiny forms of Vera and Stockwell across the courtyard below them.
He grabbed his shoulders and throttled him.
"We need to go!"
Boullope seemed to snap out of his daze and turned to Lytton.
"Right! Let's-"
The speed of sound is 343m/s, the bullet exited Vera's rifle at 623m/s.
Lytton's head exploded before they could even hear the explosion.
"Ha-?"
Boullope was showered in blood. It happened so fast that he thought he was dreaming. "H-how…"
His face contorted with insanity. Surely he was dreaming, no one could possibly kill someone from so far away.
He turned slowly, he looked down and saw the sniper lying prone on the other courtyard.
"It's- it's..!"
He recognized the figure of the women he had seen earlier that night. Suddenly the blood on his face seemed very real.
"It's her!"
His scream was cut short.
His head exploded, just as Lytton's had.
Vera flipped down the covers of her scope and breathed calmly.
"It's done."
Stockwell nodded, she couldn't read his expression behind the mask, but he seemed pleased.
"I'm going to go after the armored guy, he couldn't have gotten far. You go ahead and apprehend any important looking guys who might be working with this criminal organization. Also, let's both be on the lookout for Niven."
"Understood."
Stockwell loaded a fresh round into the chamber of his rifle since he saw that the entire magazine had blown out from under the gun. In fact, most of his equipment appeared to be pretty beat up.
It was like a month's worth of work had been used up in the span of a minute.
He headed off in the direction Peshurian had fled.
…
As Stockwell had predicted, the Peshurian had not gotten far. His loud retching could be heard echoing a great deal away in the facility.
The sporadic trail of respiratory ejecta was helpful in tracking him too.
On the other side he found what appeared to be a holding cell.
Behind the iron bars, Stockwell was able to spot Niven hanging motionlessly, attached to the back wall by a pair of chains latched to his wrists.
He appeared to be alive but his eyes were open and there was a dumb, half-smile on his face. Stockwell assumed that he was under the influence of some kind of drug or anesthetic.
Peshurian was there too.
He was standing next to Niven with his sword held to the boy's throat.
Was this your grand plan? Stockwell thought.
But as he considered Peshurian's options, this was probably his best choice. He wouldn't be able to run very far in his current state so taking a hostage was only logical.
"Guten abend, Herr Armored Man." Stockwell said as he approached the cell.
"S-Step back!" Peshurian shouted.
His voice was rasped with phlegm. And after just saying those two words he needed to catch his breath.
Or rather, he was constantly in a state of catching his breath, and speaking just exasperated the problem.
"I'll admit," Stockwell said, "I'm impressed you managed to survive this long. It sounded like you got a few cold lungfuls of the concentrated chlorine back there. I'd have thought your lungs would've been turned into pink slime ten minutes ago."
"Let me walk out of here or the kid gets it!"
Stockwell's eyes fell on a discarded bottle at Pesrhurian's feet. Did he manage to heal just a tiny bit of his lungs with a healing potion? Is that how he hasn't suffocated to death yet?
"No, no." Stockwell said. "You misunderstand. I'm genuinely impressed."
Stockwell crouched down in a casual manager as though to show Peshurian he was not a threat. "I'm afraid I got a little carried away and killed all you buddies. I had actually intended to just kill the boss and take over, so you see… I'm out of subordinates."
Peshurian went silent for a moment.
"I'm serious." Stockwell said. "Would you like to work for me? I respect a guy who knows how to survive. If you refuse I'll kill you, of course."
Stockwell casually brought his rifle up to his eye and aimed it at Peshurian's armored head.
Peshurian slowly lowered his sword as though considering his options.
After about ten seconds he eventually spoke. "O-Okay." He coughed, "I accept."
"Great!" Stockwell said. "However, I can't trust a guy whose face I can't see. Would you mind taking your helmet off?"
Peshurian paused.
"You first." He said. "Like you said, can't trust a guy whose face you can't see."
Stockwell scoffed and rocked his head back and forth in a manner that suggested he was rolling his eyes. "Fine, fine."
He undid several straps, and eventually his gasmask fell from his face. He gave Peshurian a shy smile.
"So you are a human…" Peshurian released a gasp that ended in a cough.
"So can I see your face now?" Stockwell asked.
"R-Right…" Peshurian tentatively sheathed his sword and pulled off his helmet.
Bang.
Stockwell immediately shot him through the head.
Pesheriran's brain matter coated the wall behind him as he fell over dead.
Stockwell racked his rifle before slinging it over his back. He stretched and cracked his neck.
"Well that took some convincing. Now, let's get you out of there, Niven."
…
Seven men and women sat around the table.
"Where is that damn Zero! He said that this meeting concerned the very existence of the organization! And he's late to it!"
A skinny and pale man leaned across the table, he talked in a lewd tone.
"Easy there Oscas~ that blade of yours is making me uncomfortable~."
The leader of the assassination department, Oscas, scoffed at the man. "Shut up Cocco. We haven't heard from Zero in over three days and suddenly one of his guys calls this meeting! Of course I'm on edge!"
Suddenly they heard the door being unlocked and everyone's heads turned.
The only ones who had the key to that door were the heads of the eight fingers, so there was only one possible person it could be.
"Finally! He's here— Who are you?"
Standing in the open doorway was a cloaked man wearing an eerily disturbing mask.
"As of a few days ago, I'm in charge of the Eight Fingers security branch. I hope we'll be able to work alongside each other without any issues."
Oscas stood from the table.
"This is preposterous! Where's Zero!"
"He's with me."
Rhamnusia tossed an item and it landed in the center of the table. They all screamed internally as they looked at Zero's severed head staring blankly at them.
"As I said, I hope we can work alongside each other without any issues. I have some ideas that many of you would be interested in."