"No... How is this possible?" Granny Remo furrowed his brow.
According to the information he had gathered, the blond young man before him had been nothing more than an ordinary person until recently. How could he have reached the level of an Instructor-class fighter in just a few days?
This wasn't funny at all!
Not even the greatest genius could do that.
Granny Remo had loved combat sports since childhood. When he grew up, he trained under a master, traveled far and wide, competed in countless fighting tournaments, and survived terrifying battles to the death. The fighting world had hailed him as a genius, and he had become a professional fighter officially recognized by the Bremen Empire.
Even so, he was already thirty-seven.
How old was Gilan Iros?
Twenty!
"Then there's only one possibility." Granny looked at Gilan with keen interest. "That Mysterious Film transformed you!"
Gilan had no idea what he meant by an "Instructor-class" fighter, and he had no interest in listening to him ramble. He charged forward with a cold expression and threw a punch.
But Granny seemed to have anticipated him. He spun, the hem of his coffee-colored trench coat flaring, and thrust out his right leg like a cannonball. Before Gilan's fist could reach him, his kick slammed into Gilan's chest!
Bang!!
Gilan's body jerked backward, pain flaring through his chest.
His attack had been stopped, but he wasn't discouraged. Once he regained his balance, he pulled back his right fist and thrust his left hand, fingers together, straight at Detective Granny's throat.
But the other man was just as quick. He stepped back and kicked again.
Smack!
Gilan's left hand was knocked aside, turning bright red and going numb.
The private detective had gained the upper hand with one move, and now he pressed his advantage. He abruptly lunged forward, unleashing a flurry of kicks. His black suit trousers snapped in the air as his legs became powerful, heavy shadows.
Whoosh—
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!!
Faced with the fierce assault, Gilan could only counter each move as it came, relying on his robust physique to defend himself. He soon found himself at a disadvantage, unable to find an opening to strike back.
Since learning the White Cross Body-Forging Technique, this was the first time Gilan had faced an opponent who could match him in close combat. Clearly, the private detective's skill and experience surpassed his own.
After an intense exchange of fists and kicks, the dryness in Gilan's throat suddenly worsened. His head grew hot and hazy, and his reactions slowed.
Bang!!
Detective Granny's kick struck Gilan's left leg dead-on.
Gilan winced and lost his balance.
"Die!"
Detective Granny's eyes sharpened. His leg lashed out again like a black whip, aiming straight for Gilan's head.
Bang!!!
At the last moment, Gilan hurriedly raised his arm to block. But the kick was too powerful. Amid a thunderous crash, an agonizing pain drilled through his forearm, and the force sent him flying.
Bang—thud!
He first crashed into a concrete pillar, then hit the ground hard. The pain all over his body, combined with his dizziness, made Gilan spit up blood. For a moment, he couldn't catch his breath.
A gust of wind swept over him. Detective Granny was already at his side.
Holding down the upturned brim of his cap with one hand, he looked down at Gilan coldly and brought his foot down!
"You bastard!" Gilan bared his bloodied teeth, eyes blazing with fury.
Ignoring the stabbing pain in his arm, he seized the man's kicking leg. Detective Granny frowned as Gilan summoned all his strength and flipped him straight onto the ground.
Bang!
Gilan scrambled to his feet, his face twisted in a snarl, and slammed his right knee down.
Crack!!
The detective's left shin broke on the spot!
"Argh!!" Detective Granny roared. "You bastard!"
His other leg lashed out in fury, kicking Gilan several meters away.
Then Detective Granny dragged himself upright on his broken leg. Looking battered and disheveled, he flipped open his trench coat and pulled a gleaming, short-barreled revolver from his waist.
"Damn it! You asked for this!"
He released the safety and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Although Detective Granny excelled at hand-to-hand combat, his shooting skills were just as impressive. He was nothing like the armed thugs of the Oak Gang—he was fast, accurate, and ruthless.
Bang!!
The bullet flew at an oblique angle, aimed at Gilan's head.
Clang.
Holding the gun, Detective Granny froze in astonishment.
In the blink of an eye, a triangular iron plate had appeared before the blond young man, blocking the bullet at just the right moment and sending sparks flying.
Before Detective Granny could figure out what was happening, a Double-Barreled Shotgun poked out from behind the plate and trained on him.
Gilan, holding the shotgun, even gave him a ferocious grin.
Detective Granny's expression changed drastically. An indescribable sense of death descended upon him, more intense than anything he had ever felt!
His left leg was broken, so he instinctively threw himself to the right.
But Gilan seemed to have anticipated everything. Almost simultaneously, he raised the gun and fired—
Bang!!
The detective's head exploded in midair as he dove.
Blood and brains sprayed everywhere.
The headless corpse hit the ground with a thud, sliding a short distance from the momentum before coming to rest.
"Ptooey!" Gilan turned his head and spat out a bloody mouthful. "You tried to kill me. You deserved to die!"
He put away the shotgun and the triangular shield, then clutched his chest and walked over to Detective Granny's corpse. Crouching down, he searched the man's pockets and found a pack of Mark Brand cigarettes and a brass kerosene lighter decorated with floral engravings.
Click—flick.
Gilan lit a cigarette and sat down at the edge of the second floor's concrete slab, his legs dangling outside the building. He gazed pensively at the barren lot beyond and took the occasional drag.
The detective's corpse lay beside him. Neither of them spoke.
Granny had been strong, and his fighting skills had even surpassed Gilan's. If Gilan hadn't caught him off guard with the Iridescence pocket dimension, he might well have died here.
The slight pride he'd felt after learning the White Cross Body-Forging Technique quietly faded away.
After a while,
Gilan took one last drag, exhaled a long stream of smoke, and crushed the cigarette butt beside him.
After resting briefly, he finally felt a little better. The pain throughout his body had eased, and he had recovered some of his strength.
Getting to his feet, Gilan picked up the detective's short-barreled revolver. He didn't recognize the model, but it seemed more powerful and effective than the Luger he'd lost. He slipped it into his holster, replacing the Luger.
There was a concealed pocket inside the detective's trench coat. It held two 9 mm speedloaders, containing a total of twelve revolver rounds. Gilan took them all.
Besides that, Gilan found a roll of banknotes and a strange black voucher on the man.
"Looks like he was loaded." He raised an eyebrow.
The roll was made up entirely of ten-Caesar bills. There were twenty-five of them, totaling 250 Caesar.
That was equivalent to more than twenty years of a bottom-tier laborer's wages, assuming he spent nothing at all!
For Gilan, it was a fortune!
He put the bills in his briefcase, then examined the black voucher more closely.
It was elegantly printed with a pair of wing-spread kites. The words "Atonement Voucher" were engraved in the center, with a motto written beneath in flowing script:
"Confess your secrets, and they shall be witnessed. Wash away your sins, and attain redemption."
The address read: No. 5, First District, Horst, Black City. Atonement Church.
"An Atonement Voucher? The Atonement Church?" Gilan murmured.
His original self had never been involved with the affairs of the wealthy districts, but he had heard of the Atonement Church. It seemed to be a church devoted to the God of Listening and Witnessing—the Twin Kites.
Gilan put the voucher in his briefcase as well. After glancing back at the corpse, he turned and went down the concrete stairs, intending to leave as soon as possible.
But where could I go...
A sense of confusion welled up inside him.
Ever since he'd crossed into this world, he'd either been fleeing or on his way to flee.
I just want to live a normal, healthy life for once. Is that really so hard?
Gilan clenched his teeth, his gaze unusually resolute.
No matter how hard it is, I'll survive! And I'll survive with dignity! I'll live like a real person!
Rattle, rattle...
Just as Gilan left the unfinished building and stepped onto the gravel path, the sound of wheels reached him.
He looked up and froze.
An elegant private carriage was coming straight toward him. A man and a woman sat in the back, dressed in expensive clothes. They looked his way and smiled warmly.
They're here for me...
The thought flashed through Gilan's mind.