Overturned Tower

A good guy... deserves to be pointed at with a gun?

Although it was another world, Russell somehow felt ridiculous.

"I didn't kill them just now."

He lowered his eyes, raised his hands and said softly, "Can you give me a chance?"

"Opportunity? Who cares about you. It's not that I didn't let you kill them."

The bartender wearing a smiling face mask is as happy as the smile on the mask: "The bad ones are fine. As a hero, you are attacked and defending yourself—why don't you kill them?

"Are you afraid of going to jail? Are you afraid of fines? Are you afraid of trouble? Do you not want the children's dreams to be shattered?

"Or...are you just scared?"

Looking at Russell, the bartender laughed: "After all, you're a coward, aren't you?"

Russell was silent.

"...This is Uptown. You have a chip, too."

He closed his eyes and whispered, "If you kill me here, you will be exiled too."

"It's just one for one. I'm a rotten person. Robbery, arson, fight... I haven't done murder. It's different or I'm not guilty? I've killed more than one person. I should have died a long time ago... Now replace it I don't think it's a bad thing for you to be such a big man."

The bartender said leisurely, without any hesitation: "Not to mention, the boss will take good care of my family for me. Whether it's being exiled or beaten to death by the inferiors here - I will not lose. You will lose."

"...Is it a big shot?"

Russell exhaled softly, and whispered the last words: "I'm not a big shot."

He staggered and stood upright.

He raised his chest and looked up at the muzzle of the gun—the emerald green flame gradually ignited in the bottom of his pupils.

"Of course you're a big shot. You're a 'hero'!"

The bartender laughed loudly: "It's a pity that I haven't had time to kill someone yet!"

Russell's unwavering, uncomprehending stare—it made him sick just to look at it.

It's the same murder, why can he become a hero...and I have to die?

Maliciousness emerged from the heart without knowing where to go. And gathered in front of the eyes, gathered on Russell.

So without hesitation, he fired a shot at Russell.

It was a very small projectile—not a lethal ammunition, and I am afraid that it may not kill quickly if it hits a fatal part.

It was obviously a projectile with some kind of paralysis or poison, the purpose was to stay in the body. It can torment the opponent for a long time, or make the target lose resistance quickly while the sound is as quiet as possible.

In the dimly lit room, the bartender could clearly see that it had indeed hit Russell's body.

Russell shook suddenly, groaned, fell to his knees, and closed his eyes.

The four highly prosthetic bodyguards have also recovered their ability to move for a while.

Instead of re-cloaking, they turned to the bartender and asked, "Are you all right, Mr. [bartender]?"

"I can, you all don't do anything, step back and look at the door...Let me create a murder scene."

The man called the "bartender" gave an order.

He took a deep breath and slowly approached Russell.

When there was only one step left, he stopped.

"Hurry up."

One of the bodyguards ordered flatly: "We have to evacuate."

"What are you hesitating about?"

The other person's voice was even colder: "Your crimes have already been exposed, and you will die if you don't do anything today... You don't want to escape, do you?"

"…I can't escape. I know that."

He whispered, clenched the broken wine bottle in his hand, and approached Russell.

Under the mask, the bartender's eyes are quite complex.

Fear, hatred, pity, remembrance, regret... rapid changes.

In the end, it was fixed as a kind of cruelty. That is the cruelty when you make up your mind to take the life of others.

It was not the first time he had such cruelty.

The bartender poohed at Russell, whose eyes were closed as if he had lost his resistance.

The hoarse and deep voice was no longer disguised, revealing the hoarse and gloomy original voice for the first time: "Thank me, I can make you die cleanly..."

As if to embolden himself, the bartender drank loudly.

"—die!"

He raised the broken wine bottle high, held it backwards and thrust it towards Russell's temple!

But at this moment, Russell suddenly opened his eyes.

"Ping—"

The blood-stained dagger held backwards rose like lightning, breaking the broken wine bottle in the bartender's hand, making it shatter even more.

In the shattered glass flying around, Russell's bewitching green vertical pupils shone with a green light like a flame.

Under his abnormally high reaction speed... the surrounding time seemed to slow down.

He wasn't shot at all - instead, he blocked the bullet with the [Insistence Device].

When you have the consciousness of "killing" and "being killed".

Russell's neck was as if his throat had been cut, and there were shallow bloodstains.

And the bright red light blade jumped up from the handle of the dagger in an instant!

When the "bartender"'s right hand was blocked and the empty door opened.

Russell held the [Saint Beheading] in his right hand, while his left hand supported his right hand and exerted force together.

Stuck the dark red light blade into the bartender's abdomen with force, and slashed upwards to the chest.

Different from the crackling and sparkling state on the airship before, this time the blade is sharper, deadlier... and quieter.

Russell pushed the bartender away, pushing his body toward the four.

At the same time, he prostrated himself on the ground and ran around the room at high speed, with the bullets chasing after Russell.

And Russell found an opportunity in less than a circle.

He handed the light blade that was held backwards in his right hand to his left, and suddenly raised his hand to stab!

The blade pierced through the back of one of them and protruded high from the chest. Like scarlet fangs.

Russell reached out to hold the opponent's hand, hid behind the opponent and pulled the trigger, shooting at the remaining three.

But to Russell's surprise... the bullet couldn't penetrate the protection of the prosthetic body at all.

The bullet landed on the body, only breaking the black clothes, exposing the metal underneath.

No wonder they dare to shoot in such a small space without being afraid of ricochets!

So Russell immediately changed his mind.

He stretched out his hand to snap the buckle of the prosthetic body of his left arm—it was an emergency switch, which was used to artificially eject the projectile when the throwing weapon got stuck with a low probability.

Smoke bombs, flash bombs, shock bombs.

Russell snapped three times in a row, firing three rounds of ammunition in sequence.

Although at this time, as long as the small Russell is holding the corpse, he can hide behind the opponent and leave from the gate without continuing to kill...

but…

...I do want to thank you, bartender.

Because you taught me such a valuable lesson...

Now this situation is more critical than being on an airship, as long as one mistake, you will die immediately... Finally, Russell's chances of luck were completely wiped out.

Perhaps it was because on the airship, Russell didn't really have blood on his hands until the end.

Even in the event of a hijacking, Russell's mentality is not correct enough.

But at this moment, the blood on the top of his head was still dripping.

It reminded Russell very clearly... that he had indeed fallen into the cobweb of power and conspiracy, and was no longer the safe greenhouse a few days ago.

Moreover, the words of the "bartender" teacher reminded Russell very clearly:

Bad guys can't kill, delphiniums can't kill, but...

—Russell as a "hero", yes.

Unlike the bartender.

Russell who raised the blade didn't make a sound, his vertical pupils shone with a dark green light.

That is the psychic light that is extremely active when the emotions are extremely agitated!

Russell let go of his hand suddenly.

But the "sage beheaded" he was holding tightly did not fall to the ground because of this.

It just dropped a little. It was as if there was an invisible hand holding it firmly instead of Russell.

Russell held the air weakly, hid behind the corpse and closed his eyes.

I saw the invisible hand holding the knife moving forward rapidly—

Russell is like a child holding an "air sword", aiming at the void and slashing three times in a row!

Accompanied by the flashbang, the light of the knife was zigzagging, the blood was pouring down—and Goofy's three heads.

That invisible hand was so firm and accurate that it easily cut off three heads.

As Russell opened his hand again, "Saint Beheaded" flew back into his hand again.

It's different from the psionic use developed by the saving mom.

The exact same psionic power showed a completely different evolutionary direction in Russell's hands.

in case.

"I still have to make another cut."

he said softly.

Russell stepped on each falling head with his left foot, pierced the knife from the left eye, and touched it to the bottom.

The man who was pierced by him from the back and hung in front of him as a shield was handled more solemnly. Death is confirmed by carefully cutting off the head and piercing the left eye.

In the end, it was Mr. "Bartender" who was cut open vertically by Russell and filled with bullets from his teammates.

Although he fainted, his still trembling eyeballs told Roland that he was obviously not dead yet.

then.

A precise and quick cut pierced through the head from the left eye.

The "bartender" didn't even struggle, his limbs twitched and he lost his response.

"hiss…"

Russell took two steps back and took a deep breath.

The head that was knocked before was still a little chaotic.

This is the first time Russell has taken the life of another person entirely.

But unexpectedly... there is actually no psychological burden. UU reading www.uukanshu.com

Didn't want to vomit, didn't shake. There's no ding popping out to tell you how much experience you've gained, nor is there a rush of heat that warms your body.

no fear. No fun. no joy. no remorse.

It is too simple. His mood was too calm.

As a result... there is an inexplicable emptiness.

Like a vase that has been emptied of water and its flowers pulled out.

It just lay there empty. The mouth of the bottle attracts attention like a black hole.

"…Ah."

Russell carried the "sage decapitation" that gradually shrank and turned into a short sword again, and the cold vertical pupils returned to round pupils.

He touched the gradually healing wound on his throat, stood in the pool of dripping blood, and suddenly laughed inexplicably: "What?"

Along with talking to himself like a dream, Russell stroked the beheaded saint in his hand, and his mood gradually became calm.

This psionic weapon that had taken the lives of four people, now just holding it in his hand, could give Russell a warm sense of security.

"It turns out that I'm not... such a good person as I thought."

Russell sighed in a low voice.

just now.

Ka-ka-ka-

It sounds like a chick cracking an eggshell, and the sound of glass breaking.

Crisp, but not broken, although the cracks have spread, but the shell has not really been reborn.

The brilliance of psionic energy flickered in the bottom of Russell's pupils, and the dark green flame with uncertain light and dark gradually faded and turned pale with the breathing - it did not come from the brilliance of his mother, but the fire that Russell burned himself.

But the flame didn't last for too long, and it shook violently again and changed back. Like a candle blown by the wind.