Chapter 897 - This Game Is Too Realistic

## Chapter 897: The Combat Power of a Passerby Player The sudden appearance of a figure on the street took the soldiers of the cleansing team by surprise. The person was cloaked in a raincoat, their face obscured by the night, as was whatever they concealed beneath the raincoat. The squad leader immediately became alert, raising his gun to aim at the figure before reporting the situation to the centurion. "Unidentified target spotted... located outside the mission execution zone. This guy is blocking the escape route of the armed militants." Amidst the static crackle of the comms, the centurion's voice swiftly came through. "Report his detailed condition." The squad leader took a deep breath and hastily reported. "I can't see clearly from here. He's wearing a raincoat... something feels off about him." The centurion coolly ordered, "He might be an accomplice of the militants. Detain him." They had already captured some prisoners, but it wasn't enough. According to the captured underlings, the one who escaped through the window was their leader—the so-called disciple of the Enlightenment Society. "Understood." After cutting off the communication, the squad leader signaled with a right fist. The team quickly split into two groups: one continued to advance along the street, and the other raised their rifles, aiming at the raincoat-clad figure as they approached. For some reason, the squad leader felt his heart racing—a primal sense of unease, like being watched by a dangerous predator. At a ten-meter distance! Just as the five-member team was about to make contact with the motionless figure, an eruption took place. "Ratatat—!" From the shadow beneath the raincoat, fire erupted unexpectedly; tracer rounds shot forth, catching the five-man team unprepared. At less than ten meters, the dense gunfire left no time to dodge, nor was there room to maneuver and evade! Thankfully, the exoskeleton's bulletproof panels managed to block the storm of bullets. While disheveled by the assault, none hit vital areas and they retaliated swiftly. In that flash of a moment, the figure in the raincoat moved. Two curved blades, like the forelimbs of a mantis, flashed bright in the rain, slicing sideways into the five-member team in a split second. The soldier standing to the left had no time to react. The sharp blade sliced through raindrops hanging on his tactical visor. "Clang—!" The alloy blade cleaved into the helmet. Under the force of a player with over thirty levels of agility, even bulletproof plates were no more than slightly thick wood. Moreover, powered by the exoskeleton, the strike dealt immense damage instantly. Blood splattered from the cracked helmet, and the struck person lost consciousness immediately. Releasing the hilt, the Jester abandoned the blade lodged in the helmet, switching to another in his left hand, transforming from dual-wielding to a two-handed grip. The remaining four soldiers, watching their comrade's fate, were stupefied; they hadn't even grasped what had just happened before the lightning-quick figure charged again. "Block him—" The first soldier to recover turned his gun to fire at close range. Yet before his sentence ended, the whirlwind of blades swept towards his neck. "Die!" No sooner had the cursed word reached his ear than his head was severed, his vision soaring skyward in a tumbling roll. The first corpse had barely hit the ground, and two members of the five-man unit were already down! With eyes blazing with fervent battle spirit, the Jester's slaughter continued unabated. He swiftly evaded the muzzle flash that nearly licked his face, turning with a flash of blade, slicing at the soldier's calf amidst the ongoing gunfire. "Ah!!" The blade wedged into the exoskeleton's armored greave. Jabbing would be a better description than slicing—it hammered its way inside! The soldier cried out, dropping to one knee as his knee guard sent rain splashing from the ground. Seizing the back of the soldier's neck with his left hand, the Jester hoisted him as a shield, crashing him toward the next target, seamlessly smooth. The soldier stumbled, colliding with his comrade, knocking him off balance; he staggered and fell backward. Abandoning the legless soldier, the Jester darted forward, swiftly drawing the half-spent submachine gun from his waist, jabbing the muzzle like a dagger beneath the stunned soldier's chin. "The fourth!" As the grim voice escaped, the muzzle spat fire. "Ratatat" rang through the exoskeleton's soft spots—the soldier's head exploded into mush, body convulsing with electric spasms amidst sparks, before collapsing heavily onto the rain-soaked street. Watching their comrades fall one after the other, the last remaining soldier was petrified. When the raincoated figure turned toward him, courage failed him; with one terrified cry of "Monster!" he fled frantically into the rain. Clearly, not all Valorant soldiers were fearless. Especially in the face of such an illogical "monster." Seeing the unbelievably fast blur and brothers fallen in mere breaths, the squad leader's pupils shrank to a point, a mix of fear and fury in his heart, without even scolding the retreating soldier. "So fast!" Though he too was an Awakened, confronting such terrifying power and speed at this distance inspired no confidence of victory within him. Despite his severed leg, the soldier still lived, eyes wide, staring at the raincoated man, gasping in pained spasms upon the rain-soaked ground. Taking the assault rifle from the injured soldier's shoulder, the Jester used his submachine gun to hold him hostage, preventing an attack from the five-man group not far away. "Still want to fight?" Turning his head slightly as he spoke, he faced the five remaining at the street's edge. The around-twenty-meter distance was neither near nor far for him. The squad leader swallowed, the muzzle with silencer trembling slightly. This guy was a monster... He covertly called for the sniper but received no reply, causing his heart to sink. These people had come prepared! Their sniper hidden nearby most likely met with misfortune... "...Who are you?" the squad leader asked in a low voice, buying time. The Jester was originally there as a delay and, seeing the other side scared stiff, wasn't in a hurry to fight, deciding to toy with the man. "Disciple of the Enlightenment Society." The squad leader's pupils narrowed slightly. "The Enlightenment Society..." Again, that name! Rubbing his trigger finger nervously, he asked in a low voice. "...What exactly do you want?" "You don't need to know..." the Jester replied, lowering his voice like a true villain. The air between them seemed frozen, locked in a stalemate. Minutes slipped by. Swallowing repeatedly, the squad leader felt increasingly anxious, yet helpless. What really held him back wasn't just the man before him, but also the comrades underfoot and the concealed threat of another gun. With the sniper unresponsive, he was almost certain—it now watched this street. His superiors had dispatched a ten-man unit to search the sniper's post, and until results emerged, he dared not gamble the lives of himself or his men. Then came the centurion's voice from the communications. "...Reinforcements are arriving soon. Hold out a bit longer." The squad leader replied tensely. "Understood... what of the fleeing target?" After a brief static break, the centurion continued. "Ignore him temporarily; first, control the target before you. As for the fugitive, his identity is confirmed... he won't escape." Hearing this, the squad leader finally exhaled, calming himself from the prior tension. Since they needn't rush after the escaping figure, there was no need to risk it against this man. They just needed to keep him in view and wait for reinforcements! The group stood under the pouring rain, drenched but unyielding, the rain drumming on raincoats and armor alike. At that moment, the wind carried the sound of approaching vehicles. Simultaneously, Laughing Clown, standing in the storm, heard a voice in his comms. "...There's two bits of bad news, which do you want to hear first?" Laughing Clown rolled his eyes at the remark. "I'm in the middle of putting on a show here; can you cut the crap and just spill it?" Without further teasing, Sand Sculptor continued. "The troops surrounding the broadcast station opened fire on civilians. In the Desert Corps, one is dead and another injured, but fortunately, there were no traces left. Our people managed to withdraw... Additionally, the residents of Evernight Harbor seem to have suffered significant casualties. I saw the explosion and quickly checked offline, listening to what the deceased had mentioned." Laughing Clown clicked his tongue in surprise. Seems like the Southern Legion is ruthless enough to turn on their own civilians when pushed to the brink. "...Are these the two pieces of bad news?" Sand Sculptor kept on through the comms. "That's one; the other concerns you. Two armored vehicles are headed your way, roughly two to three minutes away by car. I saw them on the drone." He paused before adding. "Of course, I'm almost done here too, so take your time." "Received." After a brief reply, Laughing Clown tapped his finger on his helmet, disconnecting the comms. Gazing at the five people on alert in the distance, he pondered for a moment before making up his mind, and then called out. "Hey." The squad leader across from him tensed immediately, his finger on the trigger like a drawn bowstring. "What do you want?" Laughing Clown grinned and said, "I'm letting you live. What's your name?" A flash of anger passed through the squad leader's eyes, but remembering reinforcements were on the way, he decided not to provoke this monster and replied in a subdued voice. "Toby." "Toby... I'll remember that," Laughing Clown repeated the name, nodding with an enigmatic tone, "Until we meet again." Having said that, he kicked aside the leg-wounded soldier he had underfoot. Toby was momentarily stunned, not understanding the implication of "until we meet again." Then, suddenly, a blinding flame erupted from beneath the raincoat, and in full view, the ruthless killer exploded into a fireball! The intense blaze ignited the exoskeleton's battery; half a second after the first explosion, a second blast ensued, spewing thick smoke everywhere. Sparks flew like fireworks, illuminating the dark street. In the face of this abrupt change, Toby was dumbfounded. Suicide?! The screams from within the smoke brought him back to reality, and he swiftly lowered his gun, sprinting forward to drag his comrade out of the smoke and flames. The comrade's leg still had a curved blade stuck in it, and the bulletproof vest on his chest was alight and wouldn't extinguish no matter how much he patted it. Gritting his teeth, Toby ripped off the burning vest and tossed it into the inferno nearby. At this moment, two reinforcement armored vehicles finally reached the other end of the street. The vehicles pulled to a stop by the roadside, and a Valoran soldier with a rifle jumped out, striding toward Toby. "We're the recon team from the 40th Man Group, heard there was reinforcement needed here, rushed over from the harbor area." Glancing at Toby and the injured soldier, the soldier shrugged. "Looks like your fight's over." Toby moved the embedded curved blade in his teammate's leg a bit, noting it might have sliced into the bone. Deciding against trying to pull it out, he resolved to leave that to the professionals. Grim circumstances. Without taking injuries on the battlefield, it happened right at his doorstep, possibly pushing an early discharge. Toby stood and brushed himself off. "It's over; you just missed it." The scout soldier cracked a grin. "Aren't you in the same boat? I heard an important person died." Toby nodded silently. "A hundred-man commander." The real issue wasn't the rank; it was that this guy was the secretary to the war zone logistics department's minister. At the time, Toby had no idea his allies had turned civilian fire. If he had known, he wouldn't have been surprised by the "death of a centurion." The scout soldier clicked his tongue, eyeing the fire. "Killing a hundred-man leader... these gang members must have a death wish." The billowing smoke was quickly washed away by rain, but the flames burned unextinguished, resilient in the increasingly heavy downpour. When the acrid smoke cleared, only a charred corpse remained on the street. Toby swallowed, his finger pressing on his helmet, reporting upward. "We lost three... one seriously injured." "The opponent claimed to be a disciple of the Enlightenment Society, suspected stage-two Awakened... maybe even stage-three or four, that wasn't just exoskeleton-speed." The channel held silence for a moment. Then, his centurion's voice, weighty, asked, "...The person? Did you capture them?" Toby replied in an undertone. "They ended it themselves... and the body burned down to just a charred husk." Once more, silence fell over the comms before the centurion concisely spoke. "Understood, withdraw." Toby hastily asked. "What about the escaped target?" The centurion answered. "The city guard has sealed Evernight Harbor, especially Blackwater Alley... that rat's trapped." "Tonight's disturbance was big... there may be more tasks coming." Toby took a deep breath. "Received." ... Elsewhere, Morris finally, with fragmented memory, found the Enlightenment Society’s hideout, stumbling like a drenched rat, soaked and reeking of sewage stench. Disregarding his appearance, he staggered forward, pounding on the closed door with all his might. Yet, the door remained unyielding, unmoved, unopening. Panic surged within him as he yelled at the door. "Open up! I did everything you asked... though there was an issue, Tony died, nothing I could do, who knew we'd face Legion regulars!" Wait... Why were Legion regulars even there?! Wasn’t the Enlightenment Society supposed to have settled with higher-ups? Otherwise, he couldn’t have wreaked havoc at Tony’s casino... just the guards should’ve squashed him, Legion regulars being overkill. Unless... The guardians didn’t intervene due to something unexpected. The one who extended an olive branch, whom he killed, was the actual big shot. That might explain why Tony chose death over fleeing his hand. But... What about previous matters? The Enlightenment Society unquestionably broke him out of Carternauld prison. Morris's mind spiraled into chaos, achingly pulsing at the temples, bloodshot eyes veering madly. The cursed visions returned. He bit his gums raw, forcefully knocking his head, banishing the hallucinations. What was wrong?! He had an inkling. Perhaps, it wasn't collaboration between Legion and Enlightenment but secret struggles with the Alliance. As for him... Merely drawn into the vortex, harboring delusions. Not a sewer maggot, but a cocooned larva. He'd exerted might and will, finally gnawing open the cocoon, only for the blinding light to sear his eyes. Which was illusion, which was reality? "Damn it! Open up!" Roaring till hoarse, he pounded with numbed arms, nearly splintering the door. "Didn't you acknowledge me? Am I not part of the Enlightenment Society?" At the mention, there was finally a stir inside. A glimmer of hope sparked in his eyes, kindling when the door creaked open. But in the ensuing split second, hope crystallized in his pupils as a gunshot shattered it. "Bang—!" A 9mm bullet pierced his skull; Morris crumpled silently to the ground. Glaring at the corpse soaking in the downpour, the dark-faced man cursed, stowing the smoking gun. "Annoying... Damn it, as if being loud wasn't enough!" These fools... It's bad enough they risk their lives, but they go around spouting the name of the Enlightenment Society, drawing attention everywhere they go. Great, now they're in a fine mess. Even if they wanted to keep a low profile, they couldn't anymore! He couldn't even count how many hats of blame had been thrown onto his head. He wished he could peel the skin off this idiot alive! Casting a glance down the street and seeing no one else around, the man breathed a sigh of relief, squatted down, and grabbed the corpse's feet, preparing to drag the dead weight inside for disposal. Just at the moment he bowed his head, a whistling sound sliced through the air towards him. With no time to react, a heavy blow struck his head, knocking him flat on the ground. Dropping the baton, Sand Sculptor looked at Morris's body and sighed softly. He had read this guy's story on Talan's post—a complete scoundrel, a madman with a screw loose, yet someone with dreams nonetheless. Rumor had it, in his dreams, he transformed Blackwater Alley into a Night City on the wasteland, a low-budget version of Bugra's Free State. Had he been born elsewhere with a decent education, perhaps he could have achieved something significant with his capabilities, even if not becoming some underworld emperor. However, this was Evernight Harbor, under Valoran rule. Born as an outsider in the rotting Blackwater Alley. "You'll become a legend in Blackwater Alley. People here will remember your name for a long time... This is all I can do for you. Rest in peace, mate." After uttering those words, Sand Sculptor dragged his corpse, along with the unconscious man, into the "true" Enlightenment Society's hideout. By tomorrow, this guy's wanted posters would probably plaster Blackwater Alley's streets and corners. Once the trouble in the northwest district was sorted out, the Valoran would hunt him relentlessly. But they wouldn't succeed. He would vanish completely from this settlement, as if he'd evaporated from the earth, becoming a legend whispered throughout Blackwater Alley, a legend in the eyes of countless young men... Taking with him the secrets he possibly knew, or maybe he didn't. To be continued...