Swart swore he didn't do it on purpose.
It was...
An instinctive reaction.
Including the moment he shut his eyes as the butcher knife came down—it was also instinctive.
Then, the sheriff felt a sudden tightness at the back of his collar as he was yanked backward. Before he could react, a gunshot rang out beside his ear—
Bang!
The heat grazed his cheek, leaving his ears ringing.
When the sheriff opened his eyes again, the "golden finger" he had chosen was lying on the ground, shot through the forehead.
"Th-Thank you," the sheriff stammered his thanks.
Goethe, however, ignored him. He walked straight over to the "golden finger" and fired three more shots into the man's chest and face before picking up the meat hook and butcher knife from his hands.
As he touched the meat hook, text appeared before his eyes—
**[Sharp Meat Hook (Bloody Honor)]:** *This is a butcher's meat hook, recently forged and well-maintained, with an exceptionally sharp edge. However, it is now tainted with blood that should not be there. When using it, you will need special techniques; otherwise, it's no better than a dagger.*
**[Gained Bloody Honor!]**
…
At last, this time wasn't a total loss.
"Another card up my sleeve!"
Seeing the number of *[Bloody Honor]* increase to 2, Goethe felt a slight relief in his heart.
Without lifting his head, he then addressed Swart.
"Call the men!"
Soon, a fully armed team of twelve patrolmen who had been lying in wait outside Guta Street rushed in. Following Goethe's signal, Swart ordered the team to surround 13 Guta Street.
What followed was a barrage of gunfire and explosives.
The twelve-man team split into two groups. One group of ten handled the shooting—five fired while the other five reloaded, continuously sweeping through 13 Guta Street—covering every angle. Goethe wasn't about to repeat the mistakes of Delber and his gang.
So, the two remaining grenadiers stepped up.
They ignited bundles of explosives and threw them into 13 Guta Street through the broken windows.
Boom! Boom, boom!
Amid the deafening explosions, 13 Guta Street was reduced to rubble.
"Stay alert!"
Swart shouted loudly, fanning the dust in front of him with his hand.
Goethe, on the other hand, had already covered his nose and mouth with a handkerchief, standing to the side with his twin pistols drawn, vigilantly watching the surroundings.
A few seconds later, the dust settled.
Five of the rifle-armed patrolmen moved cautiously toward 13 Guta Street, while the remaining five spread out, aiming at the area.
"Sheriff, we've found something!"
Soon, the five who had entered discovered something.
It was bodies.
Three bodies were dragged out from the rubble.
One had died from gunshot wounds, while the other two had been blown apart, clearly killed by the explosions.
Standing outside 13 Guta Street, Goethe carefully inspected the corpses.
None of them were familiar.
But they were confirmed dead.
That was enough for Goethe.
"Search the basement,"
Goethe ordered, and Swart immediately complied.
In less than a minute, the entrance to the basement was found.
It was a flat wooden board with an iron handle on the outside, located near what appeared to be the kitchen area.
Swart looked at Goethe, seeking guidance.
He wasn't going down there.
If Goethe insisted he go down, he would... send his subordinates instead.
As for any dangers they might face?
He didn't care.
As long as he was safe.
And Goethe?
Naturally, he wasn't going down there either.
Goethe was never one to recklessly enter unfamiliar, potentially hostile territory.
However, he was quite good at forcing others to leave their stronghold.
"Find wood and bundles of dry hay. Light them up and blow the smoke down there," Goethe ordered.
Immediately, Swart's men sprang into action.
These patrolmen weren't foolish. They could tell there was considerable danger down below.
If they didn't have to go down, all the better.
Thus, they were highly motivated.
Bundles of dry hay and wood were piled at the entrance to the basement, and then set alight.
Thick smoke was blown into the basement by two bellows.
Before long, coughing could be heard from below.
Hearing the coughs, Goethe remained expressionless, calmly saying,
"Keep going."
The patrolmen worked even harder.
However, they maintained their vigilance.
Meanwhile, Swart discreetly moved closer to the flames, trying to get his crotch near the fire.
Was he roasting his pants?
No!
He was inspecting the hiding place of the criminals up close, so he could respond immediately if anything went wrong.
Swart firmly believed this.
So, he remained calm and composed.
Time ticked by.
When two more bundles of hay were brought in, the person in the basement finally couldn't bear it any longer—
Bang!
The barricade in the basement was broken open, and a figure darted out.
Bang, bang, bang!
The alert patrol officers immediately opened fire.
At least two bullets hit the figure, causing them to fall heavily to the ground.
However, despite being shot twice, the figure rolled over and stood up.
Amidst the smoke and flames, the figure's face was pitch black, their hair like straw, but their eyes gleamed with a terrifying crimson. Every patrol officer who saw those crimson eyes felt a shiver down their spine, their trigger fingers involuntarily slowing down.
Especially Swart, whose legs were trembling.
The sheriff, upon seeing that crimson, felt as if a butcher's knife was placed against his neck, the overwhelming scent of blood assaulting his nostrils, filling him with unbearable fear and dread, making him want to scream.
Fortunately, at the critical moment, the sheriff tightly covered his mouth.
But...
The pants that had just dried from the heat of the flames were wet again.
Everyone was paralyzed with fear.
But not Goethe.
The smell of blood?
A butcher's knife?
During his time abroad trying to make a living, he had seen much worse.
This?
Child's play.
Bang, bang, bang!
Both guns fired repeatedly.
The crimson-eyed figure was forced to retreat step by step.
The figure clearly hadn't expected such an assault, just as he hadn't expected Goethe to launch an attack so quickly. Therefore, at such close range, none of the twelve bullets in Goethe's revolvers missed, each one striking the figure.
With every hit, the figure took a step back.
With every shot, Goethe took a step forward to maintain his aim.
After twelve shots, the two were standing in the middle of the street.
The figure glared at Goethe, their body swaying.
Finally, they collapsed and did not rise again.
Goethe cautiously stepped back and waved to the recovering patrol officers.
"Aim and shoot.
Try to hit the vital spots," Goethe instructed.
In the next moment—
Bang, bang, bang!
Amidst the continuous gunfire, the mysterious figure hidden in the basement was reduced to a mangled mess.
Especially after two bundles of dynamite exploded, there was no doubt the figure was dead.
Goethe, squinting slightly, looked at the remains that could no longer be called a corpse and remained on high alert. After signaling to Swart to have the scene guarded, he began reloading his guns while looking toward the basement.
"You two, go to the front. You two, go to the back. Keep everyone away."
"You, go to the station and call for reinforcements."
"And you, start clearing the debris."
"The remaining two, go down and check it out."
Without needing Goethe's orders, Swart skillfully arranged everything.
Everyone did their jobs, including Swart.
The gunfire and explosions had already drawn the attention of the entire Guta Street.
And the reporters were surely on their way.
Knowing this, Swart immediately drenched himself with the water from the carriage's flask.
Just as Swart had soaked himself, two patrol officers who had just entered the basement came running up, wailing in terror.
Both were pale, shouting in horror, "There's… there's…"
(End of Chapter)