166. Firing

The instant Carl pulled the trigger, the fully charged "KK" let out a high-frequency hum, and the electromagnetic coils in its chamber glowed with deep blue arcs.

When the supersonic round left the muzzle, it tore the air apart with a piercing sonic boom.

Aguilar's Sandevistan reacted within a thousandth of a second. He was forced to activate it again.

Neural currents raced through his spine like crazed silver serpents. The burning sensation of his cyberware overclocking spread from the back of his neck to his temples—but even so, when facing an opponent on KK's level, he clearly felt the limits of the Sandevistan for the first time.

Three seconds, three at most.

After forcing it to activate again, that was the limit of how long his nerves could endure the accelerated state.

Of course, he knew the principle: synapses would burn out when transmitting electrical signals under excessive load, like an overloaded circuit board. But as KK's ballistic trajectory dragged a rainbow of death across his retina, he desperately wished this flesh-and-blood body could become pure machinery—so that this damned acceleration could last forever.

Yet at the same time, he was terrifyingly clear-headed—why would a machine need neural acceleration? Those cold alloy joints and servo motors were merely puppets operating precisely according to predetermined parameters.

No, the crueler truth was this: even the most advanced Titanium Alloy framework would cry out from metal fatigue under loads beyond its critical point.

Data did not feel fear, and programs did not understand what it meant to risk one's life. They had their own "limit" protocols, but when the strain coefficient crossed the red threshold, they would only calmly execute a shutdown protocol, like a fuse blowing on a circuit board.

His flesh-and-blood body was not a machine, so he could still