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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator:Bobt
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Deep night. Unlike the dark sky, the city streets flashed with raucous lights.
Red, blue, green and all sorts of miscellaneous colors flickered chaotically, silently screaming to be looked at. However, that desperate light did not reach the cars and pedestrians passing by. The bright neon signs seemed to only dimly flicker in a corner of their daily life, barely more than a background.
Giant hologram advertisements moved silently from high above, and below them continued cold gray walls. Rusted railings, old air conditioners hanging there, ragged tents, and neon lights flashing between them. Damp asphalt, and on it, rain-soaked, tearing flyers and newspapers. Messy street stalls and the steam rising from them. A sour and damp smell. Cars slowly crossing the roads and their black windows.
And there were countless people coming and going on those more-like streets.
Big-eared elves, short dwarves, lycans whose fur had become damp and dirty from the recent rain, and orcs fiddling with fangs protruding from their mouths. Even goblins who were crouched in a corner of an alley, shivering and coughing, perhaps intoxicated by drugs.
In addition, there were numerous races that could not be known from which hole they had crawled out. At the same time, there were more humans than all those races combined, humans who looked truly cold and indifferent to others.
Locke was leaning his arm on the counter of a street vendor, blankly looking at all those scenes. It was just a moment of the cityscape, but somehow it felt like being sucked into a cold and deep black quagmire.
At that moment, someone tapped him on the arm. When he turned his head, the owner of the stall was holding out a hot dog with cheese and sauce on it. It was the food Locke had ordered.
Locke smacked his lips and quickly took it and took a big bite.
His expression contorted. The torched cheese was burnt on top and not melted enough on the bottom, and the bread was too chewy. Most importantly, there was a strange fishy smell from the most important sausage. It was a disgusting smell that could be artificial meat or maybe a piece of melted plastic.
“It tastes like shit.”
The stall owner was looking at him with a blank expression.
“No refunds. You already took a bite.”
Locke threw the rest of the hot dog into the nearby trash can and even spat out what was in his mouth. Dusting off his hands with a flick and giving the stall owner a glance, he soon turned around. He had thought of grabbing a snack on the way, but it only ruined his appetite instead.
His steps stopped in front of a car parked on the road. An old muscle car with an angular hood. A ’77 Black night. It was his car.
Locke opened the car door with a clunking sound and sat in the seat. There was a strange musty smell inside the car, whether it came in through the door that had just opened or somehow seeped in while it was parked for a while. Perhaps it was a smell similar to the fishy stench of dirty water drying on the asphalt.
Snorting, Locke inserted the car key and turned it. With a low rumbling engine sound, the car started. He immediately turned up the volume on the radio and stepped hard on the accelerator.
“It smells like shit.”
As if agreeing with those short words, rough orc ballads flowed out from the radio. Tusked troubadours shouted about dead gods, burning skies, and the unfathomable ancient magic of naked Valkyries flying through those skies.
His Black night crossed the wet road, reflecting the city lights on its sleek hood.
* * *
Outskirts of the city. The fringe of light where even the dazzling neon signs seemed to wither. The Black Night slowly slid along that dim road. And it stopped in front of a construction site.
Locke pulled the key to turn off the engine and opened the car door.
Getting out with a rustle and turning his head, he saw the gloomy construction site. Piles of rusted rebar lying on the ground, hollowly punched concrete, and tents clumsily covering them. Even at a rough glance, it was a messy sight that suggested the construction had been halted for several years.
Locke just smiled with the corner of his mouth.
“The atmosphere is killer.”
He slammed the car door shut with a clang and strode towards the construction site. Reaching that dim place, his hand swept aside the ragged tent without hesitation. He was going to go right in.
But as soon as he drew the tent, a black muzzle popped out and stopped his movement.
“Don’t move.”
Locke did not move. The owner of the muzzle faltered for a moment, seemingly taken aback by his truly unblinking stillness.
“Uh, who… who are you?”
“Who are you?”
The one aiming the gun was a skinny blond elf. He mumbled for a moment,moving only his lips while still staring at him. Clearly, it was the elf who was pointing the gun, but the one who was truly cold like that chilling muzzle was Locke.
“Ah, ah shit! I asked first!”
The elf shouted roughly, shaking the muzzle as if displeased with the situation. Locke said, still not blinking and only moving his lips.
“Someone with an appointment with Camel.”
“What? With bro? Then… are you Locke?”
“Yes.”
The skinny elf mumbled curses to himself, spat to the side, and lowered the muzzle.
“Damn it, if you had said so from the beginning, I wouldn’t have pointed the gun. Making me nervous for nothing…”
Pretending not to know that he had overreacted like a back-alley elf, he made a gesture of opening his arms.
“Raise your arms. No weapons allowed inside.”
Locke obediently raised both arms. The skinny elf searched his body and took out a revolver from his side. It was a vintage revolver that looked like it might have been used in the American West more than a hundred years ago.
“What the? Who uses this kind of antique these days…”
He grumbled to himself and finished the body search. There were no other guns, but there was a strange stick attached to his belt. It was a stick slightly longer than a palm.
“What’s this?”
“My sword.”
The elf snickered.
“What the fuck…”
To the elf, that stick could never be a sword. It was just a wooden stick of a length that could be held in one hand. But the elf took the stick along with the revolver, thinking that a small blade might pop out of it.
“Follow me.”
The disarmed Locke followed the elf who was leading the way into the construction site. After passing a few rough and messy concrete pillars that had not been finished, a tent that seemed to be used as a door flap instead of a door appeared. The skinny elf approached it, glanced back at Locke for a moment, then pulled the tent aside and gestured inside with his chin.
Going in there, a spacious room with a hollowed-out ceiling appeared. Judging by the scaffolding set up here and there and the rebars rolling around, it seemed that the construction had been halted in the middle of working on this side.
And in the middle of it, one drum can with flickering flames. One man basking in that heat. Nine men half-immersed in darkness, draped on the outskirts of the drum can’s light. It was clear that they were heavily armed from the protrusions here and there in their black silhouettes.
The man who had been basking in the drum can’s flames beamed at Locke entering. He was wearing large sunglasses in this dim construction site.
“Oh! Locke! You came right on time as promised! Then I can trust that you also brought the promised item?”
Locke walked straight towards him, taking out an item from the inside pocket of his jacket. It was a small disk.
Seeing it, the man grinned dangerously, revealing his teeth. His electronic eyes glowed red inside the dark sunglasses. They were verifying the information on the disk.
But the next moment, with a chak sound, the disk that had been in Locke’s Hand disappeared as if it were a lie. At the same time, Locke, who had stopped, moved his hand and raised his index finger in front of the sunglasses man. The sunglasses man’s expression stiffened slightly.
“…What does this mean?”
“It means to pay the balance.”
The red eyes glowing inside the sunglasses looked straight at Locke. Locke’s Black eyes met them.
After glaring at Locke for a moment, a smile rose again on the sunglasses man’s lips.
“The balance. Shouldn’t you ask the middleman for that?”
Locke slowly shook his head.
“That middleman said he couldn’t receive the balance.”
“Aha. You contacted him in the meantime, I see.”
The sunglasses man said that while taking a step back. Then one of the shadows that had been holding its breath between the boundary of the drum can light and darkness until now pulled the hammer, making a click sound. Locke’s eyebrows furrowed slightly.
“What does this mean?”
“It means there’s no balance to give you.”
Locke slowly lowered the index finger he had been raising and said,
“You’d throw away the city’s trust for mere freezer warehouse server data?”
The sunglasses man clicked his tongue against his teeth as if it were funny.
“Mere freezer warehouse? Haha, if you knew what’s in the basement of that freezer warehouse-”
“That’s Romanos’ drug factory. But there must be about ten of those Soviet madman’s factories in this city. Even if you manage to gobble up just one, you’ll end up having a merry shootout with rabid Siberian bears after 24 hours.”
The sunglasses man’s grinning lips twitched at those words. Locke continued, staring at him without blinking.
“I see you’re a corporate guy. Not from Esmi, but the Extechno side?”
“…Heh, quite a clever mercenary. Why don’t you try guessing?”
The left corner of Locke’s mouth lifted slightly.
“Just a subcontractor.”
The sunglasses man’s smile vanished. The word “subcontractor” seemed to have touched a nerve, and his electronic eyes inside the dark sunglasses glowed bright red, glaring at Locke. Even at that murderous gaze, Locke’s small smile did not change.
“I see you’re the kind of guy who roughly follows orders from above without knowing exactly what the head office is aiming for… and got greedy when money landed in your hands while doing the job. Thinking of firing a few bullets and gulping it down? Truly a pathetic plan by pathetic guys.”
Now the sunglasses man’s face was expressionless. It looked pale and emotionless as if wearing cheap silicon artificial skin. But the light in the electronic eyes behind the sunglasses was now flickering to the point that it could only be called a glare.
That red glare shifted slightly towards Locke’s back. The blond elf who had searched Locke’s body when entering the construction site met those eyes and nodded slightly. The corners of the sunglasses man’s mouth slowly parted. It was a smile as repulsive as the expressionlessness from a moment ago.
“Ha. Yes, you’re quite an insightful mercenary. But what are you going to do knowing that? With your bare hands without weapons?”
The raised corner of Locke’s lips sank.
“You’ve scanned my body in the meantime.”
“Of course. You think I had these eyeballs implanted for nothing?”
The sunglasses man chuckled and took a couple of steps back. At the same time, the shadows holding heavy rifles entered the drum can light. Combat personnel consisting of elves and humans. Their black muzzles aimed at Locke.
“When I first saw you last time, I thought my eyeballs were malfunctioning. No implants at all, at your age. No, wait, if you were eighty, you’d rather have your whole body plastered with implants, right?”
The sunglasses man laughed and said, shaking his head slightly.
“Anyway, great insight, but you failed to protect your own safety, mercenary. In this Midland, a mercenary without a weapon is like a whore walking through the middle of dark back-alley criminals. You’ll get all your holes fucked and even your guts and head robbed, becoming just a few pieces of an empty shell.”
The sunglasses man even smacked his lips. Locke’s body, which seemed to have no implants at all, not even a net socket, could fetch a high price if well preserved. Such a body was almost a natural monument in this Midland.
However, Locke, who should have been feeling fear at that sunglasses man’s gaze and muzzles, was quite indifferently scratching his eyebrow with his thumb, looking bored.
Seeing that expression, the sunglasses man who had been smacking his lips faltered. Why is he so nonchalant? Has he given up? Or could he possibly have some implant that my eyes couldn’t read? No, that can’t be. These eyeballs cost 20,000 dollars to replace.
After a brief pondering, the sunglasses man concluded that the attitude was nothing but a bluff. So, with the intention of shattering that bluff, he took out a gun from his waist and aimed it at Locke. And said with a sneer,
“Hey, mercenary. Don’t you understand the situation?”
Locke slowly lowered the hand that had been scratching his eyebrow after seeing that muzzle.
“No. I understand it well. Even better than you.”
The sunglasses man’s smile froze as their eyes met. Because at the moment he faced Locke’s Black eyes that seemed to not just be dark but suck in light, a chilling thought came to mind.
This thing that made the numerous races, who had been fighting for thousands of years over who was superior and who was the dominant species, finally equal. This thing that, even if handed to a back-alley goblin rotting away on drugs, could riddle elves or dwarves with holes as long as the hammer was cocked and the trigger pulled. This powder weapon that ultimately ended even the age of dragons by amplifying the power. Firearms, which are said to be stupid even if your whole body is plastered with implants and you face them head-on.
But there, that pure human who does not fear the muzzle.
At that moment, Locke reached his right hand back. His eyes were still locked with the sunglasses man’s.
“Whoa! Fuck, what!”
The blond elf standing far behind Locke shouted in surprise. Because the stick that he had confiscated and put on his belt a moment ago suddenly flew as if being pulled by a magnet. The destination of that stick was Locke’s Right hand.
The next moment, a gray flash erupted from the shadow between the concrete pillars where a small flame had been flickering in the drum can. It was a blade of light that had risen from the stick Locke was holding.
Seeing that beam of light, the sunglasses man screamed,
“Shoot-!”
Afterward, the scene reflected in the dark sunglasses was like an underground club with lights flickering madly due to broken lighting.
Ten muzzles poured out bullets indiscriminately by the chain reaction of triggers pulled by instinct, and between the sparse net drawn by those dotted lines, the gray beam of light cleaved through the darkness. Then, what sounded like either a battle cry or a scream joined in a chorus, buried under the gunshots.
Along with that sound, muzzles that had lost their target aimed at the wrong places, and deep grooves were cut into the concrete pillars that had only been covered in stale grime. Bullets that hit the pillars at an angle bounced off in unpredictable directions. From some point, bullets did not distinguish between friend and foe.
However, the short fireworks spewed by bullets and muzzles soon ended. Because those who should have pulled the triggers were all scattered on the concrete floor, cut into five or six pieces.
The construction site, where the frenzy of gunpowder had ended, became quiet again. No, perhaps it was different from the quietness from a moment ago. The breaths of those who had been alive and breathing had faintly turned into the sound of meat burning.
Locke frowned, smelling that burnt meat. It reminded him of the hot dog he had bitten into before coming here.
Then the sunglasses man muttered in a gurgling voice,
“…damn, Baal… Auror, ma… why…”
“What?”
The sunglasses man was leaning against a concrete pillar, groaning. His right arm, which had been holding the gun, was missing from the shoulder, and both legs were gone from the middle of the thighs. They were probably rolling around somewhere among the other corpse pieces over there. The sunglasses he had been wearing had also flown off somewhere, making it silly to call him sunglasses
The electronic eyes looking at Locke were twitching independently, pupils dilating and contracting. The sensory organs seemed to have malfunctioned from extreme pain. Locke looked at them and said,
“Expensive eyes.”
At those words, the sunglasses man coughed. It seemed like a laugh.
“Crazy… fucker… why is an Auror Master… doing mercenary work here…?”
“What does it matter? Wiping the assholes of fucking corporations or assassinating opposition politicians under a retarded government. Doesn’t seem much different from what I’m doing now.”
The sunglasses man leaned his head against the pillar and snickered again.
“True… damn it… that’s… true…”
Locke quietly looked at his face for a moment, then lightly waved his right hand. An indelible diagonal line was drawn on the thick concrete pillar. With a faint smell of burning meat, the sunglasses man’s head fell to the floor with a thud.
With that as the last, the gray beam of light retreated back into the palm-sized stick. More precisely, it went to sleep inside Locke.
Having chopped up a street magician and nine gunslingers, Locke turned around, dusting off his jacket. Then he faced the blond elf who was trembling with hazy eyes and constantly pulling the trigger.
“…What are you doing?”
“Fu, fuck, fuck… fuck…”
The blond elf was far behind Locke, so thanks to that, and because he had pulled out Locke’s revolver instead of his own automatic pistol and only pulled the trigger, he was able to avoid the gray blade. If even a single bullet had flown, Locke’s sword would have also turned towards that elf.
However, Locke’s revolver required manually cocking the hammer back and releasing it with the trigger, so bullets did not fire by just pulling the trigger as the blond elf was doing now. The elf was half out of his mind and kept twitching his index finger without knowing that.
Locke sighed lightly once, looking at that sight, and easily snatched the revolver. The blond elf, who had suddenly lost his weapon, blankly trembled.
Afterward, without warning, Locke’s revolver made a bang sound.
“Eek, aaahhhh…!”
The startled blond elf collapsed on the spot. Even in the dim light, Locke could see his pants getting damp. The elf, who had pissed himself like that, hurriedly fumbled his own body with trembling hands. He thought he had been shot.
However, there was no gunshot wound anywhere on his body.
“Wha… what…?”
Locke curtly said to the elf who was looking up at him with a stupid expression,
“Scram.”
“…Pardon?”
Locke cocked the hammer of the revolver again and aimed it at the empty construction site. Light flashed. Only then did the blond elf start running away in a hurry. Locke looked at the back of the elf, running or tumbling, and put the revolver into the holster on his side.
As the elf quickly disappeared like that, he also began to leave the construction site with long strides. The gray concrete, rolling rebars and scaffolding, torn tents, and trash rolling around that he had already seen sent him off in reverse of when he had entered.
Leaving the construction site, Locke returned to his love that he had parked on the roadside. After sitting in the driver’s seat, a sigh naturally came out as the car door closed with a clunk. He blankly stared forward for a moment, then raised his right hand to look at it. Then, as if doing a card trick, he flicked his hand, and the small disk that had been hidden in his sleeve was caught between his fingers.
“…It was a wild goose chase.”
He roughly threw the disk onto the passenger seat and turned the car key. A hoarse engine sound shook the car body. The Black Night, who had been resting for a while, began to run again.
This time, it was headed towards the chaotically flashing neon sign sea from the fringe of hazy light.
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