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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator:Bobt
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Gripping the steering wheel as he drove towards North Street, Daniel shouted abruptly.
“What? Then you’re saying we know the next terror target!”
“Yeah. So for now, just focus on driving properly.”
As Daniel straightened out the swerving car, he spoke again.
“Damn it, we need to request backup right away. Surely they won’t ignore us and drag their feet this time. Alright. All those bastards who ignored me and my senior up until now, I’ll-”
“No. Don’t even think about calling anyone.”
Daniel was taken aback.
“What, but… why?”
“It’ll be a pain if this gets out.”
Daniel slightly flinched at the quiet tone coming from Locke, who kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, only moving his lips.
“Is there really a need to hide it? In any case, we’re trying to catch terrorists…”
Locke didn’t answer. He didn’t explain the cyberspace dive that occurred inside the dead mage’s apartment. Of course, Daniel hadn’t noticed it yet, but he would soon have questions as well. Like how exactly an orc Master like Locke, who had no net socket, was able to hack the dead mage and his computer to dig up information.
“Ah, I see. You were a mercenary before, right? I guess if there’s too much red tape, the police might be reluctant… Still, think it over again. If we catch the terrorists, we might get a reward or letter of appreciation or something, you know?”
“…”
On second thought, this naive detective probably wouldn’t catch on unless explicitly told. Locke silently raised a finger, pointing straight ahead, signaling Daniel to just drive.
“…I’m going, I’m going.”
Daniel’s used SUV cut across Midland’s main road and turned onto North Street. And at some point, a light drizzle began falling from the darkening Midland sky.
Guiding the way from the passenger seat, Locke suddenly glanced into the back seat. Lize was sleeping there, softly snoring under a blanket. Looking at her face, all the worries in the world seemed so trivial.
“Hey, are you sure she’s not your daughter?”
Seeing Locke like that, Daniel cautiously asked. Instead of answering, Locke turned his gaze forward and spoke.
“Pull over.”
“What? Ah, that, I’m s-sorry… I misspoke again…”
“We’re here.”
“…So that’s where it was.”
Daniel stopped the car and exhaled. Through the rain-stained window, he could see a factory with a considerably high wall.
“What factory is this?”
“Cultured meat factory. One of the subcontractors for Esmi, I heard.”
“Esmi? THE Esmi? Wow, they’ve got some guts, I tell you…”
Locke checked the time. Just past 6 PM. According to the information he had checked, there were still a few hours before anything would happen. However, the ‘Children of the Tree’ would have snuck inside long before the planned time of the terror attack. Having confirmed the distortions in the security system, Locke was certain of it.
Locke’s body moved, opening the car door and stepping out.
“What? We’re, we’re going in right away?”
Daniel, who had taken out his gun to check the ammunition, hurriedly followed after him. As Locke walked ahead towards the factory, he suddenly stopped for some reason and looked back at Daniel.
Awkwardly using his coat to block the rain, Daniel flinched under that gaze.
“…What now?”
“You lead the way, detective.”
Daniel quickly realized Locke intended to enter the factory using his detective status. Thinking to just get through this, he let out a small sigh and took a deep breath. Then he began striding confidently towards the factory’s main gate. Locke followed behind him, pushing his rain-soaked hair back.
As the two approached the factory gate, a guard inside came out.
“Who are you?”
“Detective Daniel, MLPD.”
“What? Why is a detective here…?”
The guard was half-hearted even after seeing the police badge Daniel presented. His expression showed he had no clue why a detective would come here.
“You know about the recent string of terror attacks on Midland factories?”
“What? Ah, yes… I’ve heard about that. Oh, wait, don’t tell me-”
Daniel nodded, seeing the guard’s expression rapidly filling with fear.
“This factory is currently a strong candidate for the next target. For now, don’t completely halt factory operations, but evacuate all the workers inside first. Quietly, without causing a commotion.”
“Uh… Well, for that, let me call the boss first…”
“No, hey.”
The guard ran to the security office, trembling. Daniel tried to stop him, but shook his head.
“This is going to take some time.”
Just then, Locke, who had been staring at the factory behind him, spoke.
“Make sure all the factory workers are evacuated before coming in.”
“What? H-Hey!”
Locke trudged into the factory grounds without even looking back at Daniel calling him. The gradually thickening rain soaked his shoulders.
Daniel alternated between the receding back of Locke and the security office, then spat out a short curse and ran to the security office. For now, he planned to do as Locke said.
Leaving the detective at the entrance, Locke advanced with steady steps as his jacket got soaked through. Some factory employees saw him from a distance and approached, but they soon received some radio transmission and quickly left towards the factory entrance.
After circling the factory exterior like that, Locke’s eyes fell upon two people who seemed to be arguing in what looked like a smoking area. A smile appeared on his lips.
“Found them.”
The orc, disguised as a factory worker, was in the middle of an argument – no, more like making threats. He growled at the factory manager elf who said an emergency evacuation order had been issued, telling him to stop spouting nonsense and get lost, that he needed to finish his own work.
The tattoo-covered orc, who had been making the other’s ears droop like that, also noticed Locke approaching. His mouth gaped open.
“Y-You! How did you…!”
“Good to see you again.”
The orc, who had been making a very surprised expression, immediately pulled out a submachine gun that had been hidden behind his work clothes. The factory higher-up who had been threatened by him froze on the spot the moment he saw that black hunk of metal, unable to even scream.
The orc, just as he had done earlier that day at the market, tried to pull the trigger of the submachine gun without caring who was between him and Locke. He had no doubt that the special armor-piercing rounds would tear to shreds the retarded elf blocking his way and the orc Master or whatever he was behind him. He put pressure on the trigger.
At that moment, Locke stretched out his left hand towards him.
“…Huh?”
The trigger wouldn’t budge. No, the submachine gun itself wouldn’t move, as if nailed in midair. The orc’s expression turned dumb. And the next instant, Locke’s right fist smashed into his jaw as he approached.
“Guh-uhk-”
The factory manager, who had been frozen in fear, only started running away in a fluster after the guy was knocked down. Locke made sure his retreating back was unharmed, then turned his gaze forward again.
In his sight was the submachine gun fixed in the air and the orc sprawled on the other side of the smoking area wall he had crashed through. As Locke released the concentration he had been allocating to the submachine gun, the hunk of metal suspended in the air immediately fell to the ground with a thud.
Locke raised an eyebrow as he looked at his own left hand.
The orc Master’s orc blade, or more precisely, the handle of the orc blade flies into the owner’s grasp according to their will because the wooden block and the orc Master’s psyche are connected.
The handle, called by various names such as orc key, intangible sword wave, muketsu-ka, etc. depending on the region or person – Locke just called it a handle – was a kind of acquired physical organ created through deep meditation and concentration, with the orc Master viewing that small wooden block as no different from a part of their own body.
Of course, that’s just a manner of speaking; it’s not an actual physical body with blood flowing through it, so breaking or losing it doesn’t mean the orc blade becomes completely unusable. Like how Locke had summoned it barehanded in cyberspace.
However, it is because of that handle that orc Masters can summon the orc blade into reality as soon as their will is set.
The reason orc Masters still survive in the modern age of exploding bullets and bombs is not only due to their amazing physical abilities, but also the power of the orc blade that allows them to instantly cut down any enemy as soon as they make up their mind.
But orc Masters being able to pull off such telekinesis-like feats is usually limited to their own handle. It varies from individual to individual, but switching handles usually takes anywhere from a few weeks to a few years. That’s why most orc Masters tend to keep the first handle they choose for life.
Yet just now, Locke had stopped a hunk of metal that wasn’t even his own handle, let alone an orc blade handle, in midair.
“…Interesting.”
Locke instinctively felt that the cyberspace dive earlier that day and this phenomenon were connected. Would diving again make this power even stronger?
“Cough, hack…”
Just then, the orc who had been knocked down staggered to his feet. Blood was pouring from his forehead where the gauze had fallen off. It was where he had been shot by Locke’s bullet during the day.
The guy bared his teeth, growling as he glared at Locke. His electronic eye glowed red.
Locke faced him and spoke.
“You know me, right?”
“…What?”
“I’ve seen you at our diner before.”
The guy’s face flinched. The next moment, he too gaped as if he had just remembered. The 24-hour diner. Late night news. Argument with the old man. And the man sitting in the corner there, getting hit on by the waitress. The guy who drove around in a weird old muscle car.
“…Damn it all to hell, what was the boss thinking…”
“You’re under arrest for now.”
“A-Arrest? Don’t screw with me, you bastard!”
He drew a short dagger from the waist where he had earlier pulled out the submachine gun, all while sneakily checking the location of the firearm that had fallen under Locke’s feet, as if intending to take advantage of an opening.
Of course, Locke had no intention of playing along any further. The real orc blade handle was in his hand. And a gray blade sprouted up with a swoosh. Raindrops that fell on it made a chijijijik- sound as they evaporated.
“Y-You son of a b*tch!”
The orc trembled as he saw that blade of light, then soon let out a roar and charged at Locke. At the same time, Locke’s light sword swung and passed through him. The orc collapsed to the ground, losing his support.
Falling forward, his eyes caught sight of the submachine gun he had dropped earlier. The orc picked it up without a second thought.
He only thought he did. His arms had already been cut off and were gone.
“Aaaaugh! Aaaaaah!”
The orc screamed in terror. Not only his arms, but his legs had also been severed and were being soaked by the rain. The orc, who had instantly lost all his limbs, squirmed like a bug and shrieked. Rainwater flowed down his face and congealed wounds.
Locke looked down at him for a moment, then retracted his orc blade and turned around. No matter how naive the detective was, he wouldn’t lose to a guy whose limbs had been cut off like that. He would catch up soon and arrest him on his own.
Since he was a guy who had also appeared in the footage from earlier in the day, he would know a lot, and he would be helpful in wiping out those ‘Children of the Tree’.
Locke walked away, leaving behind the orc’s screams. Now that he had set up the detective’s achievement, it was time for him to take care of his own business.
Near the smoking area, there was a small side door leading into the factory. Some kind of commotion could be heard from inside, and Locke ended up abruptly popping out in the middle of a noisy corridor upon opening that side door.
The long corridor that seemed to lead to the factory facilities already had many people fleeing en masse. They were workers wearing hygiene caps, rubber gloves, urethane waterproof aprons and such, covered in a pungent fishy smell. Most were humans, goblins, gnolls and such – the lower classes of Midland who were exploited for cheap labor.
After scanning over them, Locke began walking in the opposite direction from where they were fleeing. Since the place these people had been working until a little while ago would be the terrorists’ target.
He advanced with big strides, dripping water from his rain-soaked jacket. People running away brushed past on either side of him. Their gazes also brushed past.
Soon, Locke’s eyes spotted the wide steel door that the factory workers had opened to exit.
Entering through that steel door, he saw huge cylindrical facilities lined up in a spacious interior. Each silver cylinder was equipped with numerous valves, cylinders, plastic nozzles, etc., emitting a low humming noise, and had conveyor belts connected to the side.
With the excessively bright factory lighting and the pale reflected light from the silver stainless steel cylinders, the production facility emanated a somewhat cold and eerie atmosphere. In fact, it seemed to be so cold that a faint vapor came out of Locke’s mouth as he passed between the facilities.
Reaching the center of the production facility like that, Locke abruptly stopped. His gaze turned upward to the fat cylindrical facility in front of him.
There, a masked brunette was looking down at him.
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