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Local bodyguards really had no manners at all.
Pulling guns on people at the drop of a hat. Looked like the devil's blood in their veins still hadn't been cleansed.
"Relax. The Organization's job is to take out the guy in the photo. I'm not interested in your lives."
Steven put the photo away and took a power belt out of the Mystical System's inventory, fastening it around his waist.
As for weapons, he planned to use the blade Araide had given him.
Whether it was a mule or a horse, you had to take it out for a run.
"Baka! You crazy bastard! I'll count to three. Get the hell out of here, or you're dead, dead, dead!"
Heh.
Short guys, big tempers.
A mocking smile curled at the corner of Steven's mouth. With a flick of his thoughts, Araide's blade appeared in his hand.
The blade curved like a crescent moon, radiating cold. Twenty-one inches of edge, a little over two inches wide, with an eight-inch handle. Perfect for close-quarters killing.
Among the traditional weapons, there was a saying: blades go head-on, swords take tricky angles.
Steven had put on the power belt for one reason only: explosive force when he struck.
"Three… two…"
As the countdown began, fingers tightened on triggers.
"Ever seen a Grim Reaper come back empty-handed? Since you're so eager to die, I don't mind sending you off for free."
"Almost forgot. This job wasn't even about revenge. Cleaning you up is just a bonus."
Fighting with a single blade was all about charging forward with the resolve to die.
Steven slowly raised his knife, calmly waiting for them to fire.
Seven steps. Let's see which was faster, blade or bullet.
Bang!
The countdown ended. The guard pulled the trigger.
Slash!
Steven swung his blade. The bullet split cleanly in two.
Before the echoes faded, he followed with a cross-shaped slash. The iron gate behind them shattered and crashed to the ground.
So it really was a treasure blade.
Cutting steel like tofu, every strike carrying a chilling frost.
The two bodyguards froze in shock. Every hair on their bodies stood on end. The pressure rolling off Steven was suffocating, so overwhelming they forgot to pull the trigger again.
Before they could even react, Steven was already in front of them, his blade resting against one man's throat.
"What kind of knife is that?" the guard asked, voice shaking.
"A pig-slaughtering knife. Made for beasts."
Pfft!
Blood sprayed. A head hit the ground.
Steven reversed his grip and slashed again, cutting the other guard in half at the waist. Organs spilled everywhere.
Facts proved it clearly. With the system backing him up, within seven steps, the blade was faster.
Rat-a-tat-tat…
Gunfire erupted in the courtyard as more guards opened up wildly.
"Heh, getting excited now?"
Steven snorted and pulled out his sniper rifle, instantly dropping the three guards with the heaviest firepower.
Then he charged, blade in hand, hacking through bullets and plunging straight into close combat.
With the Eighteen Martial Arts skills awakened, Steven moved like a war god incarnate, gliding through the battlefield like a dragon.
Cold flashes of steel passed by, leaving behind one corpse after another. Wherever he went, not a drop of blood touched him.
After clearing the courtyard, Steven stepped into the villa's living room.
Five assassins from the island nation stood waiting, armed with daggers, longswords, jitte, and other weapons.
Compared to the watchdogs outside, these were the real experts.
True masters never relied on guns. They preferred blades and steel, savoring that split second between life and death.
"Tsk, tsk. Not bad. Looks convincing."
"My target's only one person. You're not on the menu. If you know what's good for you, get lost."
After tossing out a couple of taunts, Steven didn't bother giving them another look and walked straight toward the stairs.
Whoosh!
A sharp sound cut through the air as a throwing dart flew toward his back.
Clang!
Without even turning around, Steven blocked it with his blade. He spun back, eyes dark and cold as he stared at the five.
"Some people just won't listen until they die. Why rush to your graves?"
Anyone who blocked his path would be killed.
Steven sneered, silently pronouncing their death sentence.
"Kill!"
The five exchanged glances, roared, and unleashed their signature techniques, attacking in perfect coordination.
Like moths flying into a flame.
With Wolf Bro's power belt boosting him, Araide's treasure blade in hand, and the Eighteen Martial Arts skills awakened, Steven didn't take these five nobodies seriously at all.
Slash!
The blade roared like a dragon soaring into the heavens. Wherever its edge pointed, nothing could stand.
In just a few exchanges, all five were sent off to meet their great-grandmothers.
Bang!
Just as Steven sheathed his blade and started up the stairs, a hidden gunshot rang out. The bullet narrowly missed his right arm.
"Good thing I reacted fast. Otherwise my right arm would've been done for."
With a full-revive skill in his pocket, he wasn't worried about dying. Pain, though, was another matter.
Pressed against the wall, eyes fixed on the second-floor door, Steven thought back to the guards in the courtyard and living room. A bold guess formed in his mind.
"They even put guards upstairs. Could it be…?"
Under normal circumstances, who stationed bodyguards on the second floor?
Take the Suzuki conglomerate, for example. Living in the same city as that Grim Reaper kid Conan, they rarely even brought bodyguards when going out.
Yet this unremarkable villa was guarded like an iron fortress.
When things were abnormal, there was always a reason.
The only explanation was a mole inside the Winery.
The thought barely crossed his mind before Steven cursed himself for being an idiot.
The Winery was full of fake liquor anyway. Having three or five traitors wasn't strange at all.
"I'll worry about that after I finish this job and join them. Whoever the bastard is that wants me dead, I'll just cut him down."
Bang!
The moment Steven leaned out, another bullet flew at him.
"So I'm a sick cat just because the tiger hasn't shown his claws?"
Sniping from the shadows was classic coward behavior.
Steven got fired up. He flicked a booger, stuck it onto his blade, and hurled it straight at the doorway.
Boom!
Under his mental control, the explosion was just right.
It blew the door apart without collapsing the floor.
Using the blast as cover, Steven charged into the room in one burst, cutting down more than a dozen ambushing guards like chopping vegetables. He left only one alive for questioning.
"Where is he?"
Steven looked at the trembling survivor on the floor and pulled out the photo again.
"In… inside!" The guard pointed toward the bedroom, about to beg for mercy.
Steven stepped down and crushed his skull without hesitation.
Creak—
He opened the door and froze, then couldn't help blurting out, "Holy hell."
Bodies were piled outside, yet the target was inside indulging himself, completely unaware that anyone had entered.
Before transmigrating, Steven had occasionally watched island-nation adult films on his computer with his roommates.
A live show like this was rare. Of course he had to appreciate it.
"Ah—!"
The two island-nation women screamed when they realized there was suddenly someone else in the room.
Steven raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence.
"What are you screaming for? One more sound and I'll send you to Brother San's place."
At the same time, Jo Murakami snarled viciously.
The women clapped hands over their mouths.
Everyone knew what happened in Brother San's territory. Even lizards passing through had to leave their scales behind. As for delicate women, keeping a whole corpse would already be a blessing from their ancestors.
As Jo Murakami finished speaking, his peripheral vision caught Steven's silhouette. He jolted upright in shock.
"....."