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“Haah….”

I leaned against the wall and let out a sigh. The smells of blood, sweat, and a faint whiff of gunpowder mixed with chemical fumes assaulted my nostrils. It was a rather nauseating aroma.

I wiped my damp face with my hand. Instead of the usual dark sweat mixed with foreign substances, my palm came away stained with a reddish liquid.

…Blood.

I propped myself up against the wall and peeked through the half-shattered window.

My skin glimmered slightly, likely covered in glass shards. I could see my forehead gushing blood as well. What if glass got stuck in the wound? I once had a piece of glass embedded in my finger that nearly severed a tendon. Worry washed over me.

While silently staring into the window, I limped and looked around.

The department store, once bursting with bright lights, was now dimmed to a faint glow of emergency lights. The store floor that had been bustling with nearly a dozen terrorists was eerily quiet.

Not a single soul moved.

After scanning the area for a while, I grasped my broken pistol and muttered absently.

“…Is it over?”

—

Episode 8 – Say Hello To My Little Friend

—

Gunshots and shouts echoed through the narrow corridor.

In the dim hallway, the blue light from the guiding lamps chased away some darkness, but in an instant, the deafening gunfire and flickering flames illuminated the corridor before fading away.

“Hey, hey! Block them! Don’t let them in!”

“Fall back! Get out!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

One terrorist unleashed a hail of gunfire towards the corner. The shotgun he had was relatively well-maintained and could fire rapidly, but sadly, his accuracy was terrible.

Bang! Bang! Click.

The terrorist pulling the trigger repeatedly noticed his ammo was gone just as he reached into his pocket to reload.

At that moment, someone dashed out from the end of the hallway.

“……!”

The terrorist instinctively halted his reloading, raising his gun into a defensive stance. He wasn’t sure what was coming at him, but he lifted his weapon to block whatever object was aimed at him.

“Ugh!”

-Clang!

A heavy impact surged through his arm, accompanied by a sharp sound of metal. The moment he closed his eyes, the terrorist opened them wide again to discover the object blocking his path was a blade.

A razor-sharp blade.

Just as that thought crossed his mind, the shotgun blocking the wicked blade was sent flying, and propelled by a sturdy force, the blade arched gracefully and came slicing down once more.

Toward his ankle.

“Ugggh-!!”

The terrorist screamed in agony as his calf was slashed. He dropped the weapon he cherished so much, clutching his injury and groaning, but he couldn’t escape the merciless kick aimed at his midsection that sent him tumbling down.

Thud. As his body was kicked, it seemed like he was about to break the door. The fallen terrorist rolled across the floor, while the others, who had been quietly observing the commotion outside, raised their hands high upon seeing the weapon thrust in front of them.

Francesca lightly twisted her wrist, holding the sword, and spoke.

“I think I’ve found the situation room…”

“Really?”

“Come and see for yourself.”

While Francesca dealt with the terrorists, Camila and Lucia entered the situation room, plodding along.

After glancing around, each started doing their part. Camila began gathering scattered communication devices and scraps of paper while Lucia held the legs of a fallen terrorist and infused him with divine power. It was emergency first aid.

As Francesca cornered the terrorists, she glanced briefly at Lucia treating the terrorist with the wounded calf.

“Do we really have to do this right now…?”

“There’s no benefit in delaying.”

Lucia responded briefly, focusing on the healing. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Francesca, the magician; it was just that treating the injuries took precedence. Moreover, it wasn’t exactly the best time for chit-chat.

Thus, neither Lucia nor Francesca placed much significance on questions and answers.

The situation was sorted out almost immediately.

Francesca had effortlessly disarmed and subdued the terrorists, while Lucia managed to close the wounds in the blink of an eye.

Camila chimed in.

“I found the radio!”

The original plan was to locate the situation room and inform the outside world about the state within the department store. More precisely, it meant finding a way out while relaying the internal situation or finding a way for others to enter since the military and police were likely surrounding the area.

The problem was,

“Ugh… does anyone here know how to operate the radio? I can use it somewhat, but I’ve never dealt with something so specialized before, so I’m not sure how to operate it properly.”

“I don’t really know about radios….”

“I haven’t used one either.”

None of them knew how to use the communication equipment.

—

While Camila, Lucia, and Francesca were busy locating the situation room, I was supposed to handle the terrorists. That was the plan.

There was only one goal. Escape.

Shut down the power and magic within the department store to turn off the lights, have Camila gather most of the dispersed terrorists in one place as a risky gamble, and I would confront those terrorists. That was the interim goal to exit the department store.

If Camila, Lucia, and Francesca turned off the lights and secured the situation room and requested external support after that, that would be the best scenario. Even if they couldn’t, it wouldn’t be a major issue as I could keep my distance and stay in a safe location without getting embroiled in the chaos.

The problem was if I could handle the terrorists whose numbers I didn’t exactly know.

And I did it.

All by myself.

“Haah….”

I sank to the ground amidst the corpses of the terrorists, exhaling heavily. As the tension ebbed away, the pain I had forgotten surged back, and countless thoughts flooded my mind.

I had never embarked on a solo operation in my life, and yet here I was. It might not have been a total success, but I’d managed to take down most of the terrorists.

By rough estimate, the number of corpses surrounding me was seven. It matched precisely with the number of terrorists I had killed earlier.

I surveyed my body in a daze.

“…….”

Not a single part of me was unscathed.

Scrapes and bruises dotted my body, as if I had collided with something. My forehead was torn, and the wound Lucia had treated earlier seemed to have reopened.

Was that it? As I rolled on the floor, I felt a sharp pain in my side, and there were various glass shards, wood, and metal fragments embedded throughout my body.

Plus, while I surveyed my injuries, I felt an odd sensation in my eyes, as if blood had trickled in.

I wiped my face with my sleeve, expelling frustrated words.

“Damn….”

Not even a lone wolf was as solitary as this. Even the terrorists travel in groups, yet here I am, all alone.

“…Man, this is really lonely.”

Anyway, the plan had succeeded. Most of the terrorists were dead, and it seemed Camila, Lucia, and Francesca were also alive and well. Well, not entirely… but I was still breathing.

So, what I needed to do was clear.

I dusted myself off and began to reorganize my body. I wiped away the blood and wrapped up my wounds. I discarded the revolver that had run out of ammo, packed up the spent pistol, and realized I had no idea where my knife had gone—it seemed I had dropped it somewhere along the way, but it was too dark to find.

I had two magazines left. One was spent on taking down Marco or Irina, so I had only one left.

I needed a new weapon. I rummaged through the belongings of the fallen terrorists. Though the maintenance condition was quite terrible, thankfully there were guns scattered around that would fire if pulled.

I needed to gather an absurd number of weapons. Or, at the very least, a massive one.

—

As I searched the corpses, an eerie sound invaded my ears.

It was the sound of a radio.

I halted my search for firearms and started uncovering the bodies of terrorists until I found a functioning radio.

‘…Ah, can you hear me? Can you hear me?’

“Camila?”

‘Oh, I got connected! Can you hear my voice clearly?’

It was Camila.

I weakly gripped the radio with trembling fingers.

“…I can hear you loud and clear. But where are you right now?”

‘We found it! There are terrorists here, and equipment too!’

“You said you found it…?”

‘Yes!’

“Holy crap….”

I was stunned. Since I didn’t expect anyone to find the situation room without staff guidance, I had minimal expectations. Now that I received confirmation they found it, I was more bewildered than relieved.

“Anyway, I’m glad you found it. You mentioned there are terrorists—there’s no problem with that, right?”

‘Yes, we’ve tied them all up! It seems like we’ve secured safety for now.’

Camila’s voice flowed through the radio. They found the situation room and secured safety, which was a huge relief.

‘Um, but we encountered a bit of a problem. A rather important one.’

“A problem…?”

‘We found some equipment that seems to belong to the terrorists, but none of us know how to use it. It’s somewhat specialized….’

“What kind of radio is it? If you tell me, I’ll help you connect to the communication network.”

‘How would I know which radio it is? I barely know the radios used back on Earth….’

“Oh.”

Right. Camila wasn’t in the military.

I momentarily forgot, mistaking her for being familiar with that due to her studying national intelligence and doing an internship at SIS.

“Then I’ll come over there. Please give me the exact location.”

‘Um… is that really okay? I think this is a public channel….’

“It’s alright. The terrorists won’t be able to hear us. We have all the radios.”

‘Huh?’

“We have four radios. One is with me, and the other two are with Camila.”

The radio Camila was using, the one held by the terrorists stationed in the broadcast room, the one I had just snagged, and finally, the one belonging to the first terrorist I killed in the employee passage, which is now broken.

In total, that makes four.

“So don’t worry. They can’t eavesdrop on our chat right now. I think we’ve taken down most of the terrorists.”

‘Okay, understood. But just in case, I’ll come to retrieve you.’

“Are you planning to leave the situation room?”

‘It seems safe for now. Plus, you’re injured, and I don’t want you to struggle coming here. So please let me know where you are quickly.’

“…Got it. I will tell you the location.”

Ugh. I struggled to stand up from my spot. As I tried to straighten and stretch my legs and back, I unintentionally let out a groan.

It wasn’t because I was aging; I was simply worn out. My body felt like it had been beaten up. While I was never in the best condition due to all-nighters or whatever, today, it felt like my legs wouldn’t cooperate at all.

Wondering why, I looked down and noticed a large hole in my thigh. Did I get shot? I couldn’t tell. I don’t know how I didn’t realize I had such an injury in the first place.

As I painfully hobbled along one step at a time, I ultimately decided to move in a halting manner.

‘Is something wrong?’

“Just a moment… I need to figure out where I am. Ah, I know where I am now.”

As I awkwardly hopped around, trying to figure out my location, I suddenly heard a cough coming from behind me.

“…Cough!”

I stopped and turned around.

A brief silence. Then, more coughing followed—a sound reminiscent of someone suffering from a severe illness, not just a simple cold.

‘Excuse me?’

“…….”

‘…Is everything truly fine? Should I head over there now?’

“…Wait a minute.”

I held the radio in one hand and the gun in the other, cautiously advancing toward the source of the sound.

The far end of the store. The corner behind the display.

Slowly lowering my gun, I checked behind the display.

There, I found a person.

—

In the corner of the store where the fierce battle with the terrorists took place, I spotted a single individual. A middle-aged man.

He hadn’t introduced himself nor had he illuminated the area to compare his face with a photo, but I could tell he was a terrorist.

One odd thing was that he was middle-aged.

Typically, terrorists are mostly in their twenties to forties with a variety of ages, but they commonly seem to be in their twenties and thirties. Whether spraying bullets, hijacking, or strapping on a bomb vest or driving a bomb-laden vehicle to detonate.

Because the younger one is, the easier it is to become a terrorist.

With social media propaganda flooding platforms like Twitter and Facebook, plus a relative lack of life experience makes them more prone to be swayed, and above all, brainwashing works effectively. Plus, they tend to be more reckless.

Of course, this method has been overused, so nowadays, they often use women, the elderly, and even children to commit acts of terror. Terrorist organizations aren’t as dim-witted as one might think, and the military and police are already aware enough to be wary of unmarried men in their twenties to forties.

Yet, this phenomenon was nonexistent here. Magic existed in this world.

Whether male or female, anyone could easily engage in terrorism. Even minors could wreak havoc if they could wield magic. In this world, a single magician could easily slaughter a few people on the street and take on the military.

However, even in this neighborhood, it was rare for someone as old as this, who was bordering retirement age, to directly engage in terrorism.

Thus, my first thought upon encountering a terrorist was, ‘This is strange.’

“…….”

When I first heard his voice, I hadn’t realized how small his stature was. Possibly due to malnutrition or health issues, his eyes were sunken, and his cheekbones were sharply visible.

He was holding his shoulder as if he had been injured. His blood-soaked right hand clutched his shoulder, while the left hand resting on his belly trembled uncontrollably.

His wrinkled hands were extremely dry and cracked. This could be due to the seasonal changes, but considering that doctors typically wash their hands frequently due to their profession, it’s also possible he really was a doctor.

Because in no man’s land, everything is scarce.

Even now, I wondered whether he had a license or not, but in this lawless no man’s land,

“That’s not really important.”

I asked the question.

“Are you the doctor?”

“……”

No response. I wasn’t really expecting one, so I didn’t mind.

After all, the bodies scattered around were mostly men and women in their twenties to thirties, and this was the only middle-aged one who might have spoken with me.

Is it luck or misfortune? Of all the terrorists, the one who survived to chit-chat with me was this guy.

I lowered the muzzle of the gun I was aiming at the lively terrorist a bit.

“Guess it’s you.”

“……”

I didn’t hear a reply, but I noticed blood seeping out through the gaps between his fingers. I lowered my gun and looked at the terrorist, who was half-lying down, as he forced his eyelids open and stared at me.

After a long silence, he suddenly spoke up.

“…Who are you?”

“……”

“Definitely not the police, ugh… I don’t think.”

The terrorist groaned in pain as he asked the question. He wasn’t bleeding much, but the wound seemed rather deep.

“I’m an unlucky civil servant who got trapped while shopping.”

“……”

Ugh. I was unsure whether his sound was a groan or a resigned chuckle.

“Do civil servants carry guns these days in Abas…?”

“What’s to say a civil servant can’t carry a gun?”

“Then you’re either police or military…? Or from the Magic Department…?”

The terrorist coughed out questions with ragged breaths.

Of course, I had no intention of answering. I didn’t feel like it either.

I placed my pistol on the counter and let out a faint sigh.

“You guys brought some cargo from outside. It’s related to that weird curtain covering everything, right?”

“……”

“Answer me while it’s nice. That way, even if you’re caught later, the court might consider you leniently.”

Leniency or whatever; I don’t care. I’m not a judge, so how would I know that.

What I was curious about was whether that thing separating the department store from the outside was linked to the cargo.

At this, the terrorist let out a snicker.

“If I was scared of the law, would I be sitting here in the first place…?”

Looks like he knows he’s made a huge mess himself.

If he manages to escape alive, he’s likely facing the death penalty. Based on his looks, he must either be a ringleader or a key executive.

“But were you trying to negotiate with the government? After causing such chaos?”

“There are no… ugh… dead people. Negotiation was possible.”

He didn’t intend to kill anyone but rather take hostages. To be honest, considering he was trying to kill me, I thought at least a person or two would have died. This was a surprise.

Would the government even negotiate with these guys?

Probably not.

The Government of Abas would want to put this guy on the gallows. That way, they could project a strong stance against terrorism and avoid criticism from the Cult or the Magic Tower.

So this guy is definitely heading to the gallows. It’s possible all the terrorists could be executed.

But.

Whether he’s executed or not is of no concern to me.

“Let’s keep it tidy. The cargo. What is its true nature?”

“……”

Again, no answer came back. The terrorist was just staring at me with intense eyes.

“…Did I have to see blood?”

“……”

I meant to ask if it had to come down to this kind of bloodshed.

To be honest, I didn’t really know.

Could I negotiate quietly with the terrorists and sneak out, would the government respond and bail us out, or would we escape on our own?

“To be frank…”

But one important thing is,

“It doesn’t matter.”

Such assumptions were not that important.

“If you didn’t want to see blood, you should’ve lived a decent life. Why crawl your way here to cause trouble?”

“……”

“This is your last chance. The cargo. What were you planning to use it for?”

-Thunk!

A huge noise rang out from the direction of the Atrium Hall in the distance. It sounded like something had fallen or maybe a metal sound echoing as if someone had kicked a steel door.

I turned my head to look over there, hoping it might be Camila.

In that brief moment of distraction caused by the noise, the terrorist sprang up and lunged at me. The middle-aged terrorist who had introduced himself as a doctor lunged, his bloodshot eyes glaring as he reached for my face.

I swung my arm to knock his grasp aside and grabbed the terrorist’s neck.

“Ugh, cough…!”

“Who do you think you’re messing with?”

As I squeezed his neck, I began to hear choking sounds.

“I’m asking you once more. That cargo brought from the outside. What is its true nature?”

“Ugh…!”

“Answer me, you bastard!”

Ignoring the gasping sounds, I kept applying pressure to his throat. Though it was tight enough to make breathing difficult, I hadn’t tightened it to the point he couldn’t say a short sentence.

However, the terrorist didn’t open his mouth. Instead, he used his weight and strength to strike my arm with his elbow, pushing it away.

“Ugh…!”

“Cough—”

The pain was far worse than expected, and I staggered back, while the terrorist heaved a heavy breath after finally liberating himself.

No one had their wits about them, but I was quicker on my feet.

With one hand, I undid my belt. Grabbing both ends and pulling tightly, I wrapped it around the neck of the terrorist crawling on the floor.

“Die, you bastard!”

“……!”

The leather sensation was clear against my palm. The belt adjusted to his writhing movements, and I yanked his legs to trip him.

I stepped on the fallen terrorist’s back while pulling the belt taut.

In that instant, everything felt like it was in slow motion, as if time had stretched out.

The belt twisted and swayed tightly, protruding veins and tendons.

The terrorist gasping for breath, scraping across the floor, and the unpleasant sound of glass shards grinding against the floor.

My hazy consciousness from blood loss, my blurry vision.

And just before I could completely finish him off,

The beastman who dashed in from my blind spot shoved me away.

“Shit!”

Bang! The astonishingly fast beastman collided with me, wrapping its arms around my waist as I tumbled to the ground awkwardly with it.

As I rolled a couple of times along the floor, I slammed into a hard edge. I couldn’t tell if it was the counter, a flower bed, or a pillar, but it hurt immensely.

The pain that struck my back involuntarily curved my spine, and I found it difficult to breathe as my lungs felt squeezed.

“Cough…!”

In that moment of dizziness, my eyes caught sight of the pistol that lay before me. The gun given to me by the Military Intelligence Agency. With the slide locked back, it had run out of bullets, and next to it lay the last magazine, fully loaded.

Crawling forward, I grabbed the pistol. I pressed the release to drop the empty magazine. With trembling hands like a aspen leaf, I struggled to insert the magazine.

-Clack.

The magazine finally clicked into place after a couple of taps near the handle. I lay on my stomach, exhaling ragged breaths as I pulled the slide with all my strength.

With shaky hands, I aimed at the beastman and fired.

-Bang!

But unfortunately, the bullet veered off target. The shot shattered an innocent window, and the slide of the pistol recoiled significantly. I tried to re-aim at the now-unscathed beastman, but unfortunately, I was one step too late.

“Who do you think you are!”

“You bastard…!”

The beastman mounted me.

The bushy-tailed fox beastman let out a savage howl, revealing its sharp teeth. With a mighty swing, it sent the gun I was holding flying away.

Then came a punch aimed straight at my face.

The small white hand struck my cheek. Squeezing my eyes shut in anticipation of the impact, I was shocked by a force that was beyond what I imagined.

My face burned. It tingled.

It was so powerful that for a moment, I felt as if I’d been shot, not punched. My head buzzed as I slammed the back of it against the ground.

I struggled not to lose consciousness, but I felt my brain declining like a car running out of gas. It was a sort of instinct. Yes. This must be what they call instinct.

As my vision dimmed, growing ever more distant, the ringing in my ears fizzled out, replaced by a furious voice breaking through the muffled sound.

“Run, Sensei! I’ll handle it here!”

“……”

“Get out of here now!”

It was the beastman.

The one who was riding on top of me shouted for me to run towards the middle-aged terrorist.

“What are you doing, Sensei? Hurry up!”

The middle-aged terrorist was crawling on the floor, struggling to pull the belt he still clung to. He seemed still disoriented.

The beastman shouted something at the terrorist, and I caught sight of a large knife strapped to the waist of the beastman terrorist. A blade that was more like an extension than a weapon.

In that moment, my brain screamed a warning.

Stay still, and you’ll die.

“……”

At that moment, my mind snapped back to reality.

Seizing the opportunity as the beastman turned its head, I jumped up and reached out for the terrorist’s face.

The youthful, soft skin of the beastman was more delicate than I expected. I gripped its lips with my thumb and pinched its nose with my index finger.

Then I bent the longest finger forcefully.

Towards its left eye.

“Ahh—!!”

A sharp scream echoed through the loud, bustling department store.

The beastman covered its blood-soaked eye with its hand, crying out in agony, while I felt the sticky warmth of blood and a piece of cornea at the tip of my finger.

I shoved my finger deeper, pressing harder.

“You, furry bastard…!”

The sensation of its eyeball squishing was clearer than anything else I’d experienced.

Screams erupted, but I didn’t hesitate to keep gouging. I intended to crush its eyeball and then trample it down and choke it to death.

However, as life often goes, nothing proceeds the way you want.

While I was gouging at the beastman’s eye, I felt a burning pain in my thumb that made me withdraw my hand.

“Argh!”

The searing pain made my hand instinctively drop. It felt as if it had been burned. Trying to keep the stinging pain from spreading from my hand up my arm, I grabbed my wrist with my trembling left hand.

My finger was gone.

Where my thumb should have been was now empty, occupied only by a messy mass of flesh and spurting blood.

My finger had been bitten off.

“Shit!!”

“Spit!”

While I was groaning in pain, the beastman spat something out. It was my bloody thumb, soaked in saliva.

I didn’t have time to think about picking it up or stanching the blood. There was no chance to resist, since the beastman had quickly regained its composure and was strangling my neck.

“……!”

“Die, you bastard!!”

The beastman’s grip tightened viciously around my neck. With my airway blocked, I couldn’t breathe. I reflexively grabbed its wrist, but with the pain from losing my finger, I couldn’t apply any strength.

I couldn’t scream or cuss. Every muscle in my body twisted as I gasped, feeling like my eyes would pop out.

Whether it was a survival instinct or a fading illusion, the world began to move slowly. Even with death looming over me, time flowed lazily.

Crawling on the floor, the middle-aged terrorist was close to unbuckling his belt.

The beastman was on top of me, squeezing my neck fiercely.

My hands fought to shake off the beastman.

The squished eyeball like a grape. Blood spilling down my chin, soaking my cheeks. Blood mixing with my cornea, turning my vision red. The ringing in my ears echoed with labored breaths. The distant glowing blue lights. The sparkling shards of glass. Muscles taut and aching, the pain flood, dizziness.

I felt as if my body was sinking into the ground.

While everything became more and more distant,

A sharp gunshot sliced through the air.

And my throat finally opened up.

“…Cough!”

Fresh air filled my lungs as the pressure around my neck vanished.

I opened my eyes wide as the suffocating grip was gone.

The beastman that had been choking me lay slumped on the floor, bleeding.

There, in the distance, was Camila, panting as she aimed the gun I had dropped.

“Are you, are you okay!?”

“……”

“What in the world is going on?! Get a hold of yourself! Don’t close your eyes!”

She rushed over and hugged me.

In my hazy mind, I gazed up at her, her eyes shining with tears.

Camila’s voice, mixed with cries, reached my ears just as my eyelids began to droop like curtains.

The department store filled with the bodies of terrorists.

As her tears dripped onto my cheek, I muttered quietly.

“…Camila.”

“Y-yes?!”

“I’m so damn glad to see you….”

Episode 8 – Say Hello To My Little Friend – END –

 

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