Chapter 41 Clever Boy

The bullet tore through the air and slammed into Shujinko’s abdomen. The force sent a shockwave of pain through his entire body. Blood poured from the wound as the bullet passed through him, leaving a gaping hole in its wake. He gasped for breath, feeling the life drain out of him as his body began to collapse under the weight of the injury. His vision blurred, and he crumpled to his knees, the agony from the shot gripping him like a vice.

Ichiban stepped in front of him, her body blocking him from any further attack. Her expression remained cold, her eyes focused, unwavering.

“I'm afraid, I cannot let you kill him, Kaiju,” she said, her voice calm, almost eerily so.

Kaiju’s crystal arm twitched again, spasming violently, as if protesting the attempt to resist its twisted nature. His face contorted with frustration.

"Fuck! Not now! You crystal piece of shit! I just injected myself with the damn serum, and it’s already spreading again? Fuck!”

Before he could finish, the crystal-like tendrils of his arm began to expand rapidly, his fingers curling and contorting as they morphed into razor-sharp claws. The pistol in his hand disintegrated under the force, its parts splitting apart in a shower of metallic fragments.

“Conor! Forget about the civilians, help me! Cut this damn arm! Hurry!” Kaiju’s voice rose in a shrill panic as the transformation spread further up his arm, the crystal infection refusing to slow.

Conor, who had been preparing to deal with Akarui and Shachiku, froze at the sound of Kaiju’s plea. With a low curse, he sprinted toward Kaiju, only to find him grappling with his own arm, struggling to gain control of the rapidly spreading crystals. He reached for his army knife but before Conor could use it, the worst possible outcome happened.

In a wild, uncontrollable motion, Kaiju’s crystal arm reached out and plunged into his chest, his claws tearing through his ribs and into his heart. The spreading crystals engulfed the wound, creating jagged patterns that seemed to crawl along his skin, as though the disease was devouring him from the inside out. He was quickly turning into one of the crystal creatures.

Conor stood frozen for a brief moment, staring at Kaiju’s body. But that hesitation was short-lived. His eyes hardened, and without a moment’s thought, he pulled his assault rifle from his back and opened fire. Bullets ripped through the air, smashing into Kaiju’s crystal arm with brutal force, the weapon bucking in his hands with each round. The barrage continued until the crystals shattered, the sound of breaking crystal echoing like a thousand brittle bones snapping in unison.

“Die, you crystal piece of shit!” Conor screamed, the words torn from his throat with raw rage. He emptied the magazine, his bullets tearing through the remnants of Kaiju’s arm, until it was reduced to nothing more than a pile of shattered fragments on the ground.

Conor, filled with uncontrollable rage, threw his empty rifle to the side with a loud metallic clang. His chest heaved with fury, his eyes narrowing at Ichiban as he reached for his .50 caliber pistol, the cold steel gleaming in his hand.

“You’re still here, huh? Good!” Conor snarled, leveling the weapon directly at Ichiban.

“Die already, you piece of c—”

But before he could finish, the air suddenly thickened with the sound of crashing footsteps.

Out of nowhere, Akarui barreled into him, slamming his shoulder into Conor's stomach, attempting to drive him off balance. The impact had done nothing. Conor stood his ground like a mountain, unmoving.

"You damn fool! You think that will stop me!"

 He smirked, ready to strike.

But Akarui wasn’t done. He gritted his teeth, reaching for his waist and trying to use his shoulder as leverage to throw Conor to the ground. The weight and power of his blow barely caused Conor to shift.

As Conor reeled back, he cocked his elbow to deliver a crushing blow to Akarui’s exposed back, but in that same instant, Shachiku came out of hiding, grabbing Conor from behind.

“You goddamn idiots! When will you learn!?” Conor shouted as Shachiku pulled his arms to the sides.

Conor swung his head back, smashing the hard back of his skull into Shachiku's face. The crack of impact echoed in the air as Shachiku stumbled backward, clutching his face in pain. Not wasting a second, he raised his .50 cal aiming at Shachiku’s head. His finger squeezed the trigger, and with an explosive roar of gunfire, the bullet tore through the air.

In a desperate last effort to shield himself, Shachiku threw his briefcase up in front of him, as though it could protect him from the inevitable. His eyes were wide, filled with fear and regret.

The bullet collided with the briefcase, and the force sent a shockwave through it. The shot slammed into Shachiku, and his body lurched back with such force that the briefcase flew from his hands, landing beside him with a loud clatter.

Shachiku’s body collapsed, lifeless, the momentum of the bullet carrying him backward until his skull hit the floor with a sickening thud. A trickle of blood oozed from the corner of his mouth, his body sprawled, his eyes vacant and staring. His hand, still gripping the handle of the briefcase, twitched once—and then went still.

Akarui screamed in horror, his throat raw with the pain of seeing his friend, his ally, taken down.

“NO! You bastard! You fucking killed him!”

Conor whipped out his army knife, “Don't worry, you idiot! You're next!" 

 He plunged it straight into Akarui’s back, the cold steel piercing his heart. The twist was sharp and vicious, the blade cutting deep.

Akarui’s body jerked with shock, his breath escaping in a desperate gasp. His legs buckled, his body falling to the ground in a crumpled heap, lifeless. A pool of blood spread beneath him, dark and menacing, marking the end of another victim.

Conor stood over the fallen bodies, his chest heaving, blood splattered across his clothes, his face twisted in rage. He scanned the battlefield, his voice a guttural shouted, “For fuck’s sake, anyone else?! Come on! Are there anymore of you idiots left?! Huh?! Is that it?!”

There was no response. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of his heavy breaths and the distant echo of chaos in the background.

He stepped forward, his glaring eyes focused solely on Ichiban, his body bracing for the final confrontation.

“Well, looks like it’s finally just you and me!” Conor growled, his pistol still aimed at Ichiban’s heart.

But Ichiban turned her back on Conor, her movements slow. She knelt beside Shujinko, who was sprawled on the ground, clutching his bleeding stomach. Her voice was soft as she spoke.

  “Get up, Shujinko. You have to get up. I’ll keep him busy. You must get up! For everyone you love, for everyone you’ve lost—don’t let their sacrifices go to waste. You must throw the cure into the ocean. Save this world. You can make the difference. Go! You can do it. I believe in you."

Then she whispered in his ear, "Justice must win, remember?”

Her words struck a chord deep within Shujinko’s idealistic mind. Despite the pain, despite the fear, something inside him ignited—a spark of stupid, reckless courage. He pushed himself up, his legs trembling as he forced himself to stand. Blood dripped from his wounds, but he limped forward, clutching the vial tightly.

“I… I can’t disappoint everyone’s trust in me,” he muttered, “I won’t let them down. I won’t let the world down. Justice… justice will win!”

Conor, realizing what was happening, shouted in fury.

  “You shitty brat! Don’t you dare toss that into the ocean! You’ll kill us all, you goddamn fool!” 

He raised his gun, aiming at Shujinko’s back. But as he pull the trigger, Ichiban stepped into the line of fire, her arms spread wide.

BANG.

The first bullet hammered into her back, the impact forcing her to stagger forward. But she didn’t fall. 

Not yet!

 She had to shield Shujinko!

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG.

 More shots rang out, each one slamming into her with brutal force. Her body jerked with each impact, but she stayed on her feet for a moment longer, her eyes locked on Shujinko as he limped toward the ocean. Then, with a final, shuddering breath, she collapsed face-first onto the ground.

Conor’s gun clicked empty. He cursed under his breath, ejecting the spent magazine and fumbling to reload. 

“Oh no, no you don’t, you little shit! I’ll kill you before you can doom us all! You damn fool!”

But as he pulled the fresh magazine and slid it into his gun, something caught his eye. A short wire with a ring tied to it dangled from the gun. His eyes widened in horror as he realized what it was—the pin from one of his grenades.

Time seemed to slow as the realization hit him. The kid—Akarui, the one he’d called an idiot for tackling him earlier—hadn’t been trying to knock him down. No, he’d been setting a trap. Conor’s voice rose in a guttural roar. 

“Clever boy, Fuuuuuuuuuuuu—”

BOOM.