You Know Nothing About Power

Fire Fox's injuries were serious. The shoulder wound was one thing, but the gunshot to her abdomen alone had already cost her the ability to fight. While Bullet Time was active, the adrenaline had kept her from feeling much pain, but as it ended, her condition worsened rapidly.

Wesley's hands trembled as he lifted Fire Fox from the cold floor and gently held her in his arms, pressing a hand over her wound.

Fire Fox gave a faint, heartbreakingly beautiful smile. She placed the M1911 in Wesley's hand and began the standard pre-death routine... a flashback montage!

"You didn't have to do this... If you hadn't, none of this would have happened..." Fear laced Wesley's trembling voice. Warm blood seeped from beneath his hand, glaringly red through the gaps between his fingers.

"That day at the train station, you asked whether I wanted a different life... I lied..." Fire Fox stared at the ceiling and murmured to herself, "I often dreamed that I was an ordinary person, with my own family and someone I loved. But it could only ever be a dream. I can't turn back..."

Wesley held Fire Fox tighter. "You can! The Brotherhood is already finished. If you live, you can start over!"

Fire Fox gave a bitter smile. "It's impossible. Whenever I close my eyes now, I see so many faces. They were all innocent... I bear too many sins... I thought I was an assassin of fate, but it was exactly the opposite. I'm the kind of person fate despises..."

"To hell with fate! You're overthinking it. Just live your own life!"

"Thank you. Help me kill Sloan... I want to dream one more time. Don't disturb me, okay?"

After saying that, Fire Fox closed her eyes. Wesley held her and sobbed softly, his face smeared with tears and snot.

Elsewhere, the surviving assassins had hidden for a while. When no more shots came, they cautiously rose and aimed their weapons at the desk.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Russell fired. He had used a Bullet Time Skill Card, killing five people with three bullets. Two of them died along the same trajectory.

Sloan was not in the office. Russell swept his gaze around the room, but his sharp senses detected no extra heartbeat inside. Aside from himself, there were only Wesley and... Fire Fox.

Seeing Wesley clutching his goddess as if he were about to cry himself to death, Russell walked over, crouched down, and felt Fire Fox's neck.

"Stop crying. She's not dead!"

Wesley lifted his tear-streaked face, even blowing a snot bubble. "Really!?"

"The bullet didn't hit any vital organs. Otherwise, would she have had the strength to talk nonsense with you?"

"But she..."

"She fainted. If you don't get her to a hospital soon, she'll die from excessive blood loss. Let me think, it was probably 1,000 CC..."

Before Russell could finish, Wesley scooped Fire Fox up in a princess carry and sprinted out of the office. Before leaving, he tossed down the M1911. "Kill Sloan, please!"

Russell picked up the M1911 from the floor. "Of course. What did you think I came here for?"

After checking that it had enough ammunition, Russell circled the study and found a half-open wooden door.

The door was locked from the inside. Picking a lock was delicate work, and for someone with no experience, it mostly came down to luck. Russell had good luck—he had a Remington M870. One blast blew the lock clean off.

Beyond the door was a spiraling iron staircase. Following it led to the top floor where the Loom of Fate stood. When Butcher was killed, Sloan had come here alone.

Not to live and die alongside the Loom. He was not that noble. It was because he had stored all the wealth he had amassed over the years in a safe hidden behind a secret compartment.

It was an utterly blasphemous act. If the assassins learned that money earned from innocent lives was stored beside the sacred Loom of Fate, Sloan would be torn apart alive.

Unfortunately, no one knew. The assassins had always thought Sloan was a dutiful leader... All that could be said was that he was a good actor!

Which was more important, money or life?

Many people would say life was more important. What use was money if you were dead? But the reality was completely different. Given a real choice, they would rather have money than life. Sloan thought so too. He had struggled for most of his life—wasn't it all for money?

Now that the Brotherhood was gone, if he lost his money too, what meaning would there be in staying alive?

In the spacious room, the Loom of Fate stood at the very center. Before the secret compartment in the corner, Sloan desperately stuffed gold, silver, and jewels into his pockets. Bundles of U.S. dollars lay scattered at his feet.

There was also a backpack behind him, already stuffed full of valuables. He intended to flee with this treasure.

The room contained a secret passage known only to him, leading directly to the river behind the textile mill. Sloan had prepared a speedboat and could escape at any time. But because he could not bear to abandon money more precious to him than his own life, he missed his best chance to flee. Only when he heard the wooden door being blasted open did he snap awake and feel a trace of regret.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Sloan fired at the iron staircase, trying to stop Russell from climbing up, and shouted, "I know who you are. You're Russell, a nobody assassin... It seems my intelligence source was mistaken. You're quite capable."

Russell pressed himself against the wall, listening to the sounds from upstairs. He really wanted to fire a shot and kill Sloan with a curved bullet. But Sloan kept changing positions. Russell could not get a proper aim, and it would only be wasted effort.

Russell raised his head and called upstairs, "Sloan, you have nowhere left to run. Give up! I'll plead with Cross. As long as you promise to behave yourself in your next life and live alone in a nursing home, he'll spare you... Really, I swear!"

"Heh heh..."

Sloan chuckled and did not take the words seriously. Though he was a clergyman, he was a staunch materialist who believed money could settle anything.

"Whatever Cross offered you, I'll pay double... No, ten times as much!"

"He gave me an opportunity—the chance to kill you."

"Don't joke around. We have no grudge against each other. You have no reason to kill me." Sloan kept his gun trained on the stairs to prevent Russell from coming up, still unwilling to give up. "Russell, don't be so naive. You shouldn't trust Cross's lies so easily. You're just being used by Cross. Do you think he's a good man?"

"You've been deceived. He's a complete bastard, a cold-blooded assassin who would stop at nothing. I don't know what agreement the two of you have, but I'm certain that the second you leave the textile mill, a Sniper Rifle will blow your head apart. Betrayal is what he does best!"

"That makes a lot of sense..."

"It's the truth! If you join forces with me, we still have a chance..."

"But I want to kill you right now!"

"..."

"You may not believe this, but I'm someone chosen by fate. Since you altered fate's instructions at will, the old man came to me in a dream and told me to kill you."

Sloan was speechless for a while before trying to reason with him. "Times have changed. To hell with fate. I've been defying his orders all along, and haven't I been living just fine?"

Russell deeply agreed. He did not understand how the binary code on the Loom worked, but if this world truly had something called fate, then it had to be a useless bastard who could only talk big.

"I agree with you, but everything has its rules, doesn't it?"

"Rules exist only to protect the weak. They're so hypocritical that they shatter at a touch. In this dog-eat-dog era, why should the strong like us be bound by rules? Besides, even if rules truly exist, they should be made by the strong. We have the right, and we have the power!"

Russell laughed at that. "No, neither of us is strong. You know nothing about power!"

Failure Diary

The moment tickets were mentioned, the readers stopped being so enthusiastic.