Hero

At that critical moment—

A bolt of silver lightning tore through the thick gun smoke and darkness of the dock without warning.

One moment, the torrent of bullets was about to swallow Daz Bones; the next, a tall figure stood firmly before him, back turned, between him and that destructive barrage.

Short silver hair flew wildly in the turbulent air whipped up by the bullets, like cold flames burning. His towering body and broad back were like an insurmountable mountain, completely shielding the badly wounded youth behind him.

Adams did not turn around. His voice was not loud, yet it strangely pierced through the deafening roar of machine guns and reached Daz Bones clearly:

"You did well. You're a hero. Leave the rest to me."

The instant his words fell, that violent torrent of metal slammed into his completely unprotected chest!

"Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!"

A dense barrage of flesh-piercing sounds erupted, enough to make one's scalp crawl. The specially made pointed bullets tore through the skin and muscle on his chest without resistance, leaving behind one horrifying bloody hole after another.

And yet—

"Clang! Clang clang clang clang—!!!"

What followed was the teeth-grinding clash of metal, as though countless heavy hammers were smashing against ancient black iron.

Every bullet that burrowed into his flesh exploded the instant it struck the stark white bones wrapped in muscle.

Blinding sparks burst violently one after another deep inside that broad chest. Scorching metal fragments and twisted bullets, mixed with shattered flesh and bone chips, sprayed fiercely from the wounds, striking the charred wooden crates and broken stone pillars around him with sharp crackles and leaving deep dents behind.

Adams's tall body jerked as if he had been struck hard by an invisible battering ram.

Yet his feet were like iron stakes driven deep into the earth, utterly motionless amid the muddy pools of blood and shattered flagstones. His taut muscles knotted like dragons, every inch swelling with terrifying strength as he forcibly absorbed the dreadful impact that could have torn through steel.

Gotti's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. He stared fixedly at the silver-haired giant standing unshaken amid the bullet storm, watching bloody holes continuously burst across his chest and blinding sparks flash within. A bone-deep chill instantly froze his spine.

What the fuck was this monster?! He was taking machine-gun bullets head-on with his flesh?!

When the barrels of the twin machine gun in his hands turned red as though they had just been pulled from a furnace, letting out a metallic wail at their limit, Gotti's remaining sanity finally overcame his shock.

He let out a shriek and, as if throwing off a red-hot venomous snake, violently flung away the scorching weapon.

"Boom—!"

The machine gun exploded into a massive fireball the moment it left his hands, scattering scorching shockwaves and metal fragments in every direction.

As the smoke slowly dispersed, Gotti panted heavily, his chest rising and falling like a broken bellows. He stared fixedly at the silver-haired monster ahead, drenched in blood yet still standing straight. His voice twisted out of shape from extreme fear and rage:

"Who... who are you?!"

Adams slowly raised his eyelids. Rather than answering Gotti's roar, he posed a seemingly unrelated question in a low, calm voice:

"Do you know Capone Bege...?"

He wanted to know whether this guy had already joined the Fire Tank Pirates. He had his eye on Capone Bege's enormous stockpile of cannonballs.

The abrupt question left Gotti stunned. Almost instinctively, he blurted out with surprise, suspicion, and a barely perceptible hint of fear:

"Capone Bege? That lunatic who's one of the Five Heads, hunts gang leaders everywhere, but never seizes territory or takes over turf? Are you one of his men?!"

That answer immediately told Adams that this guy had not yet met Capone Bege.

In that case, he had no value left to exploit. The corner of Adams's mouth twitched, but there was no warmth in the cold curve.

The next second!

"Whoosh!"

Only an afterimage remained where he had stood.

Gotti saw only a flash of silver before an irresistible, terrifying pressure instantly clamped around his throat.

A large, knuckled hand gripped his neck like an iron vise and forcibly lifted his entire body off the ground.

"Urgh... cough!" With his feet dangling in the air, Gotti kicked and struggled wildly. His face instantly flushed dark red from suffocation and terror.

He futilely tried to pry apart that vise-like hand with both hands, only to feel as though he were trying to shake a mountain cast from steel.

The remaining dozens of men in black suits were terrified by the sudden turn of events. After a brief dead silence, countless dark gun barrels instantly swung around and aimed at the silver-haired youth choking Gotti.

At the very moment their triggers were about to be pulled—

"Whoosh!"

A ghostly black shadow slipped into the chaotic crowd of men in black suits without warning, moving as swiftly as a phantom blending into the night.

"Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!"

Dull impacts like rotten wood being pierced suddenly rang out. Lucci's hands became a blur of afterimages, his fingertips carrying highly condensed force as they struck with perfect precision at the throats, temples, hearts, and other vital points of every man in black who tried to raise a gun.

Blood sprayed from one collapsing body after another like fountains. Within a single breath, seven or eight men in black suits fell soundlessly like cut wheat.

This absurd speed of slaughter instantly shattered the already wavering resolve of the remaining men in black. They screamed in terror and fired wildly at Lucci's blurry silhouette.

Flintlock bullets tore uselessly through the air, striking empty space or their companions' corpses. They could not touch the genius youth proficient in Soru at all. The dock had completely fallen into an abyss of chaos and despair.

Adams did not spare a glance for the chaos and slaughter around him. His gaze pierced through Gotti's bulging, suffocating eyes and stabbed straight into the depths of his fear.

His low voice was like a declaration from the depths of hell, every word striking clearly against Gotti's consciousness at the brink of collapse:

"Before you die, let me tell you something. I'm the one... responsible for making your employer furious."

As the final word left his lips, a crisp crack of bone breaking, enough to make one's scalp tingle, rang out with startling clarity across the noisy battlefield.

Gotti's wildly kicking legs abruptly stiffened. The bulging eyes lost every trace of life, and his head drooped to one side at an unnatural angle.

Adams casually swung his arm, as though tossing away a bag of filthy trash.

"Splash!"

Gotti's corpse drew an arc through the air and crashed heavily into the dark, surging sea beyond the dock. A muddy spray rose before the rolling waves swallowed him whole, leaving no trace behind.

Adams stepped through sticky pools of blood and shattered limbs before stopping in front of Daz Bones, who was kneeling on the ground.

"Can you still move?"

He looked down and asked, his voice betraying little emotion.

Daz Bones panted violently. Every breath tugged at the multiple gunshot wounds across his body, bringing tearing pain.

He gave a muffled groan, cold sweat streaming down his forehead, but stubbornly raised his head to meet Adams's gaze. His voice was hoarse but clear:

"I'm not dead yet. But you... can still move after injuries like that? Are you really human?"

"Injuries like these won't kill me."

Adams tugged at the corner of his mouth, as if he wanted to smile, but it only made him seem even colder. His tone was as casual as if he were discussing a scraped patch of skin.

He paused, staring fixedly at the bald youth before him as he continued:

"Can you tell me why you protected the civilians here? They were your mission targets, weren't they?"

Daz Bones fell silent for several seconds. He glanced at the civilians in the distance, who were looking over with all sorts of complicated expressions, then finally raised his head toward the silver-haired youth and answered firmly:

"I may be an assassin, but I only kill those who deserve to die. These people were clearly just being vented on. They shouldn't have died so senselessly."

A flicker of unusually genuine admiration flashed deep in Adams's eyes.

"That's a good way of thinking. There aren't many people with principles like yours. Want to consider working with me? I'm short on manpower right now."

His voice remained low, though it had lost some of its previous cold hardness.

Daz Bones glanced at the youth tearing through the men in black suits like an unstoppable force, his eyes full of undisguised suspicion:

"You already have someone... like a monster at your side. Do you still need me?"

Adams replied as if it were only natural:

"The more talented people, the better..."

He paused, and his voice slowed, carrying the force of a promise.

"Don't worry. I won't make you deal with targets you don't want to attack, like your employer does. At the very least, if you work for me, your targets will only be people guilty of heinous crimes."

He knew that the guy before him dreamed of becoming a hero, which was why he said it deliberately. How could punishing evil and eliminating wrongdoing not count as being a hero?

Sure enough, after hearing the silver-haired youth's words, the suspicion, pain, and weakness in Daz Bones's eyes receded like a tide, replaced by a light that grew brighter and brighter.

He stared fixedly into Adams's eyes, as though trying to discern the truth of every word from them.

Finally.

Daz Bones made his answer in a hoarse voice, but with the decisiveness of dust finally settling:

"I hope you keep your word. Otherwise, I'll leave at any time."

To be continued