Overturned Tower

Good people...should be held at gunpoint?

Although it was another world, Russell felt ridiculous for some reason.

"I didn't kill them just now."

He lowered his eyes, raised his hands and said softly: "Can you give me a chance?"

"Opportunity? Who cares about you? It's not like I didn't let you kill them."

The bartender wearing a smiling mask was as happy as the smile on the mask: "It's just bad people. As a hero, you are attacked and defending yourself - why don't you kill them?

"Are you afraid of going to jail? Are you afraid of fines? Are you afraid of getting into trouble? Are you afraid that your children's dreams will be shattered?

"Or...are you just scared?"

Looking at Russell, the bartender laughed: "After all, you are a coward, aren't you."

Russell was silent.

"...This is uptown. You also have a chip, right?"

He closed his eyes and whispered: "If you kill me here, you will also be exiled."

"It's just a change of one. I'm a bad person. I've done robbery, arson, fighting...it's not like I've never done anything like murder. How can I get away with it? I've killed more than one person. I should have died long ago...now I don’t think it’s a loss to replace a big shot like you.”

The bartender said leisurely without any hesitation: "Not to mention, the boss will take good care of my family for me. Whether I am exiled or beaten to death by the bad guys here - I will not lose. You will lose."

"...a big shot."

Russell breathed out softly and whispered the last words: "I'm not a big shot."

He swayed and stood upright.

He raised his chest and looked up at the muzzle of the gun - emerald green flames gradually ignited in his pupils.

"Of course you are a big shot. You are a 'hero'!"

The bartender laughed loudly: "Have you not had time to enjoy your power? Have you not experienced the experience of killing the people you want to kill with just a name and an excuse? That would be such a pity!"

Russell's unwavering, uncomprehending gaze—just looking at it made him sick.

It's the same murder, why can he become a hero...and I have to die?

Malice that comes from the heart and has no direction emerges. And gathered in front of their eyes, converging on Russell.

So he didn't hesitate and shot Russell.

Those are very small projectiles - they are not lethal ammunition, and I am afraid that if they hit the fatal part, they may not die quickly.

It was obviously a projectile with some kind of paralysis or poison, and the purpose was to stay in the body. It can torture the opponent for a long time, or make the target lose its resistance quickly with the sound as low as possible.

In the dim room, the bartender could clearly see that it had indeed hit Russell's body.

Russell suddenly shook, groaned, knelt down, and closed his eyes.

The four highly prosthetic bodyguards have also regained their mobility for some time.

Instead of turning invisible again, they turned back to the bartender and asked, "Are you okay, Mr. [Bartender]?"

"I can do it. Don't do anything. Just step back and look at the door...let me create a murder scene."

The man known as the "bartender" gave the order.

He took a deep breath and slowly approached Russell.

When there was only one step left, he paused.

"Hurry up."

One of the bodyguards said calmly: "We still need to evacuate."

"What are you hesitating about?"

The voice of the other person was even colder: "Your crime has been exposed a long time ago. You will die if you take action today... You don't still want to escape, do you?"

"...I can't escape. I know it."

He whispered, clenched the broken wine bottle in his hand, and moved closer to Russell.

Under the mask, the bartender's eyes were quite complex.

Fear, hatred, pity, remembrance, regret... change rapidly.

In the end it was determined to be a kind of cruelty. That is cruelty when one is determined to take another person's life.

This is not the first time he has shown such cruelty.

The bartender took a sip at Russell, who had his eyes closed as if he had lost the ability to resist.

The hoarse and deep voice no longer disguised itself, revealing its hoarse and gloomy true tone for the first time: "Thank me for letting you die cleanly..."

As if to embolden himself, the bartender drank loudly.

"——die!"

He raised the broken wine bottle high, held it behind his back and thrust it into Russell's temple!

But at this moment, Russell suddenly opened his eyes.

"Ping——"

The blood-stained dagger held behind his back rose up like lightning, blocking the broken wine bottle in the bartender's hand, causing it to shatter even more.

Among the broken glass flying everywhere, Russell's strange green vertical pupils shone with a green light like a flame.

Under his abnormally high reaction speed... time around him seemed to slow down.

He wasn't shot at all - he used the [Insurable Weapon] to block the bullet.

When you have the awareness of "killing" and "being killed".

Russell's neck felt like his throat had been cut, with shallow blood marks appearing.

And the bright red light blade instantly rose from the hilt of the dagger!

When the "bartender's" right hand was blocked and the empty door opened.

Russell's right hand is holding the [Sage's Beheading] behind his back, while his left hand is supporting his right hand and exerting force together.

He stabbed the dark red blade of light into the bartender's belly and slashed upwards to his chest.

Different from the crackling and sparking state of the airship before, this time the blade is sharper, more deadly... and quieter.

Russell pushed the bartender away and pushed his body toward the four men.

At the same time, he lay prone on the ground and ran around the room at high speed, with bullets chasing after Russell.

Russell had only gone around less than a circle before he found an opportunity.

He handed the light blade held in his right hand to his left hand and suddenly raised his hand to stab!

The blade penetrated one of them from the back and came out high from the chest. Like scarlet fangs.

Russell reached out to hold the opponent's hand, hid behind the opponent, pulled the trigger, and fired at the remaining three people.

But what surprised Russell was...the bullet couldn't penetrate the prosthetic protection at all.

The bullet fell on the body, only breaking the black clothes and exposing the metal underneath.

No wonder they dare to shoot in such a small space without fear of ricochet!

So Russell immediately changed his thinking.

He reached out and pried open the buckle of the left arm prosthetic - it was an emergency switch, used to manually eject the projectile when the thrown weapon had a low probability of getting stuck.

Smoke bombs, flash bombs, shock bombs.

Russell fired three rounds of ammunition in sequence.

Although at this time, as long as Russell, who is small in stature, is holding the body, he can hide behind the opponent and leave through the door without continuing to kill...

but……

…I do have to thank you, bartender.

Because you taught me such a valuable lesson...

Now this is a more critical situation than on the airship, and one mistake will lead to immediate death... Russell's hope of luck has finally been completely wiped out.

Perhaps it was because Russell never really got blood on his hands until the end on the airship.

Even if he encounters a hijacking, Russell's mentality is not correct enough.

But at this moment, the blood on the top of his head was still dripping.

It was an extremely clear reminder to Russell... that he had indeed fallen into the cobweb of power and conspiracy, and was no longer the safe greenhouse he had been a few days ago.

Moreover, the words of the "bartender" teacher reminded Russell very clearly:

The inferior cannot kill, the delphinium cannot kill, but...

——Russell, as a "hero", is okay.

Not the same as the bartender.

Russell, who raised the blade, said nothing, his vertical pupils shining with dark green light.

That is the spiritual light that is extremely activated when emotions are extremely agitated!

Russell suddenly let go of his hand.

But the "saint beheaded" he held tightly did not fall to the ground.

It just dropped a little. It was as if there was an invisible hand holding it firmly instead of Russell.

Russell held onto the air, hid behind the corpse and closed his eyes.

I saw the invisible hand holding the knife moving forward quickly——

Russell was like a child holding the "Air Sword", aiming at the void and slashing three times in a row!

Accompanied by the flash bombs that lit up at the same time, there was the twisting light of the sword, the splattering of blood—and the three heads flying high.

The invisible hand was so firm and accurate that it easily cut off three heads.

As Russell opened his hand again, "Saint's Beheading" flew back to his hand again.

It is different from the method of using psychic powers developed by the mother who saved people.

The exact same spiritual energy showed completely different evolutionary directions in Russell's hands.

in case.

"I still need to make up for it with one more cut."

he said softly.

Russell stepped on each falling head with his left foot, stabbed the knife through the left eye and touched it to the bottom.

The man he stabbed through the back and hung in front of him as a shield was treated with more dignity. Carefully cut off the head and pierce the left eye to confirm death.

Finally, there was Mr. "Bartender" who had his abdomen cut open vertically by Russell and filled with bullets from his teammates.

Although he fainted, his still shaking eyeballs told Russell that he was obviously not dead yet.

then.

A precise and swift knife penetrated the head from the left eye.

The "bartender" didn't even struggle, his limbs twitched and became unresponsive.

"hiss……"

Russell took two steps back and took a deep breath.

The head that was knocked before was still a little confused.

This is the first time Russell has completely taken another person's life.

But what was unexpected was... there was actually no psychological burden.

I didn't feel like vomiting or shaking. There was no ding to tell you how much experience you had gained, no heat to warm you up.

No fear. No fun. There is no joy. No regrets.

It's really too simple. His mood was too calm.

So much so... that there is some inexplicable emptiness.

Like a vase with water emptied and flowers removed.

It was just there, empty. The mouth of the bottle attracts attention like a black hole.

"……Ah."

Russell held the "Saint's Beheading" which gradually shrank and turned into a dagger again, and the cold vertical pupils returned to round pupils.

He touched the wound on his throat that was gradually healing, and standing in the pool of dripping blood, he suddenly laughed out loud for no reason: "What?"

Along with muttering to himself like a dream, Russell gently caressed the beheading of the saint in his hand, and his mood gradually became calmer.

This psychic weapon that had taken the lives of four people could now bring Russell a warm sense of security just by holding it in his hand.

"It turns out that I'm not... as good a person as I thought."

Russell sighed in a low voice.

just now.

Click——click——click——

It sounded like a chick cracking an eggshell, or like glass breaking.

Crisp, but not broken. Although the cracks have spread, they have not yet truly broken out of the shell and been reborn.

The brilliance of spiritual energy flickered in Russell's pupils, and the uncertain green flame gradually faded and turned pale with his breathing - it was not the brilliance that came from his mother, but Russell's own burning fire.

But the fire didn't last long before it shook violently and changed back again. Like a candle blown by the wind.