Volume 2 Chapter 64: They Call Me the Butcher of the Sands!
Near the small town of Minos, close to Columbia.
Small countries caught between major powers had no room to resist. Aside from the three core mobile city-states, most towns lacked any form of real defense or governance.
So, when a group of Columbia's secret police entered the town and sealed off several streets, not a single person dared to step up and stop them.
"How long has Ms. Ho'olheyak been inside?"
"Five minutes."
"Break in!"
"But—"
"No buts. Our time is precious. If she can't capture the target, then we'll handle it ourselves!"
Three Columbian casters gripped a shared staff, channeling their Originium Arts to seal off the entire hotel building, leaving only one passage open for entry and exit.
In Terra, any caster with excellent Originium Arts Adaptation was a valuable strategic asset.
One caster with excellent adaptability could destroy a building.
Three casters could wipe out an entire street.
A squad made entirely of casters working together was essentially a moving natural disaster.
With the help of a special staff developed in Columbia, the three highly adaptable Originium casters combined their powers, exerting a force far greater than any single caster could achieve alone.
As two teams of soldiers equipped with Columbia's new standard-issue powered exoskeleton armor entered the hotel, even Charles, the director of the Trimounts branch of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Arts Units and Originium — who was commanding the operation — started to wonder if he had overreacted.
Outside the hotel, three more squads of armored soldiers and a team of elite agents from the bureau had the place surrounded, which made the number of Columbian soldiers over a hundred people in total.
If Charles hadn't already greased the wheels with the town's authorities, the local guards probably would have thought they were coordinating an assault army instead of making an arrest.
For a town with a population of less than twenty thousand, just a hundred well-equipped Columbian soldiers could easily dominate the entire area once they moved in.
But in the very next second—
BOOM—!
The stone wall sealing the hotel exploded from a single punch, and a crocodile man appeared atop the four-story building.
"Columbia's secret police? I heard you were looking for me. Mind telling me what crime I've committed?"
Garde stood at the gap in the wall, looking down at the secret police with an amused expression.
He counted the number of agents below him, ten, twenty, thirty, forty— even counting the snipers hiding in the shadows, it wasn't more than two hundred people.
That's it?
Garde felt insulted. They were seriously underestimating him.
"Rhine Lab is conducting illegal biological research. We would like you, Mr. Garde, to hand over the creature and cooperate with our investigation," said Charles, director of the Trimounts branch of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Arts Units and Originium, with a straight face.
In truth, the reason they were after Garde wasn't this at all, but they didn't want him to know their real intentions.
"Cooperate with an investigation? Doesn't look like that's what you're aiming for," Garde replied, unimpressed.
He was a little speechless, so Columbia really was after the Seaborn?
They went through all this trouble just to take two little creatures away?
Does Columbia even deserve that?
Garde shook his head. "I can't hand it over. You have no idea how dangerous it is. Maybe you've never heard of Seaborn, but the threat they pose is far beyond your imagination. I've already sent it back to the Iberian coast, to where it belongs."
Garde didn't mind lying when necessary.
Especially considering that the little Seaborn's appearance had completely changed since leaving Trimounts. Even that old goat Parvis might not be able to recognize it anymore.
'The Iberian coast?'
Hearing this, Charles froze for a moment.
Wasn't the creature Garde took supposed to be from the Foehn Hotlands?
But there was no time to dwell on that—
Although at first their goal was the Oripathy medicine that Garde had brought out from the Foehn Hotlands, now their objective had shifted: they needed to control Garde and confirm whether he had leaked any information about the Foehn Hotlands' ruins to outsiders.
For this reason, after locating Garde, Charles even requested armored battalion support from the nearest Columbian border forces.
They had to bring Garde under control!
"No matter what, Mr. Garde, we hope you'll cooperate with us," Charles said smoothly.
"We guarantee that you won't suffer any harm during the process."
As the director of the Trimounts branch of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Arts Units and Originium, Charles could spin lies effortlessly. Once they had Garde under their control, what happened to him afterward would be entirely up to them.
Looking at the uniformed Elafian man below him, wearing a long coat and maintaining a polite appearance despite his unmistakably commanding tone, Garde narrowed his eyes.
"And what if I refuse?"
The middle-aged man, with antlers sprouting from his head, sighed.
"Then I'm afraid..."
He raised his hand and immediately, over twenty secret police agents and more than a hundred armored soldiers aimed their weapons at Garde.
"Our methods might get a little rough."
Charles tapped lightly on his earpiece, signaling that when it came time to act, the agents need not worry about Garde's survival.
After all, dead men tell no tales.
"Heh."
Standing at the broken wall of the hotel, Garde chuckled.
"That line—"
His legs bent, the cracked wall crumbling further under the pressure. Using the downward force to propel himself upward, Garde leapt from the building.
"Take him down!"
The moment Garde moved, Charles shouted the order.
But he was simply too fast!
Even though the surveillance footage from Trimounts City had already shown Garde's astonishing speed, Charles hadn't expected it to be this overwhelming.
Logically, with a body that massive, Garde should not have been able to move so quickly.
But reality was brutally different.
Even though they had deliberately kept a distance to prepare for Garde's speed, at a hundred meters apart—
Was it one second? Two seconds?
All Charles saw was a black blur rushing toward him.
"Shield units!"
Charles roared. Immediately, four heavily armored soldiers broke ranks, raising their thick riot shields and positioning themselves in Garde's path.
For a moment, Charles thought he might have a chance to breathe.
Bang!
Garde, charging down from a height, crashed into two of the shield soldiers at full speed, like a sports car going two hundred miles per hour slamming into them.
The two heavy-armored soldiers only heard a sharp "crack" as their exoskeletons, which were meant to assist in holding the shields, fractured.
Then another chilling "snap"—their arm bones breaking under the impact.
Yet they gritted their teeth and held their shields firm, gripping the now-warped metal with all their might.
That stubborn resistance saved their lives.
Because that half-second of delay allowed two more heavy-armored soldiers to step up, taking over the defense.
One pair!
Two pairs!
Three pairs!
It wasn't until three pairs of fully armored soldiers had sacrificed their ability to fight that Garde's movement speed finally slowed.
"Scatter! Everyone scatter!"
Charles, his face pale with fear, shouted.
He had never expected that just a single clash would render three pairs of elite armored soldiers completely incapacitated.
He absolutely could not allow Garde to break into the main force.
It would be no different from a tiger rampaging through a flock of sheep.
"Trohi!"
"Boss?"
"Get him!"
Hearing his superior's voice, the Forte man who had previously crossed paths with Garde could only grit his teeth and lead his men charging toward him.
At that moment, he deeply regretted not having called in sick before departure, pretending he had already been injured by Garde.
Whoosh! Whoosh!
As the Forte man and his group charged, snipers hidden in the shadows also fired dark arrows at Garde.
Since their commanding officer had already given the order—life or death, it didn't matter—they didn't need to hold back.
Although Garde was incredibly fast, the moment he had been stalled by the heavy-armored soldiers was enough for a skilled sniper to fire multiple shots.
Not to mention, the soldiers wearing powered exoskeletons were no pushovers either.
To capture Garde, Charles had brought only the very best from the Bureau, even by the standards of Blacksteel Worldwide, these soldiers would be considered at least A-grade employees.
"Hit!"
The Forte man clearly saw it: the arrows struck Garde directly.
Garde wasn't even wearing armor—being hit by those heavy crossbow bolts, even if it didn't kill him—
A massive hand suddenly shot out from the smoke, grabbed the Forte man's face like a bowling ball, and smashed him away.
It was a perfect reenactment of what had happened over half a month ago in Trimounts City.
As the explosion's smoke cleared, the Forte man saw Garde walking out, completely unharmed.
How is that possible!?
That was the last thought he had before he blacked out.
Without bothering with these weaklings who couldn't even take a casual hit, Garde pushed through the enemies blocking his way and walked directly toward Charles.
The soldiers had scattered too much, leaving Charles with no safe place to hide or command from.
He had never imagined that a defensive line made of more than a dozen elite soldiers could be so easily shattered by Garde.
Closer!
He's getting closer!
"Those words of yours—"
Garde now stood right in front of Charles, a feral grin spreading across his face.
"I'll return them to you, word for word!"
But just as Garde was about to strike Charles, Ho'olheyak blocked his way, using her weapon, something between a staff and a spear.
"This is enough."
Finally catching up from behind, Ho'olheyak flashed a seductive smile.
"Mr. Garde, how about stopping here? Considering I was once your teacher, please, let's not escalate this. I'm sure there's been some misunderstanding."
"Stop?"
Garde reached out and grabbed the staff in Ho'olheyak's hands.
She intended to dodge, but for some reason, her Originium Arts failed her.
Grabbing the staff, Garde gave Ho'olheyak no room to resist, and smashed her into a nearby building.
Boom!
From within the collapsing structure, Ho'olheyak painfully pushed herself up—But just as she lifted her head, Garde's face was already right in front of her.
"Ms. Ho'olheyak, even if you want to play the peacemaker—"
Garde leaned in even closer, and now that he could skillfully use his Ascension Powers, his tongue had become much more agile.
He gave Ho'olheyak's face a deliberate, mocking lick.
"Using the title of 'teacher'... just isn't enough."
This move was pure revenge for Ho'olheyak's earlier provocations.
Who would have thought Garde had smashed her into a house just to mess with her?
"GARDE!!"
Ho'olheyak trembled with fury.
The wrecked parts of the house suddenly exploded outward under her Originium Arts, all flying toward Garde like deadly shrapnel.
She hadn't blocked Garde out of concern for Charles personally.
She was worried Garde would act too impulsively and kill Charles.
Charles, after all, was the director of the Trimounts branch of the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Arts Units and Originium.
If he were to die randomly in a small town in Minos, it would be a huge slap in the face to the Columbian government.
Who could have known that Garde would be so heartless and ungrateful?
"Ms. Ho'olheyak, are you alright?"
Charles' voice came from a distance.
Ho'olheyak's face darkened. Was she supposed to be alright?
The reason she had saved Charles was partly to prevent Garde from worsening relations with Columbia even further, and partly to clear herself of any suspicion from before.
However, when Ho'olheyak tried to stand up, she realized her legs were trembling slightly.
That lick from Garde had stirred up some very unpleasant memories.
Ho'olheyak gritted her teeth.
The distance had been far too close!
Outside, thanks to Ho'olheyak's interference, the agents of Columbian Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Arts Units and Originium managed to regroup.
But Charles no longer held out any hope of capturing Garde.
What kind of monster was this Adakrys man?
Charles had already considered himself to be overestimating Garde.
Nearly two hundred elite Columbian soldiers had been deployed in the operation.
He simply couldn't imagine anyone escaping such a tight and all-encompassing net.
And yet, Garde hadn't even tried to escape.
He had smashed right through the encirclement head-on!
If Ho'olheyak hadn't stalled him for even that brief moment earlier, Charles figured his own head would already be separated from his body by now.
"Communications officer, immediately contact General Bernard of the Border Forces," Charles took a deep breath.
"Tell him I need artillery support from the fast battleship!"
He couldn't believe—refused to believe—that anything could survive against a warship, the pinnacle of Columbian technology.
"B-but, Director, we're on Minos territory!"
"Do as I say!" Charles snapped coldly.
"As long as we retreat fast enough, the Minosians won't dare make a fuss."
Between nations, weakness is a sin.
They could always find a thousand excuses for a battleship "accidentally" crossing borders.
Charles only knew one thing:
They could not let Garde escape!
Then, from the ruins of the building, through the storm Ho'olheyak had stirred up, the crocodile man stepped out onto the street completely unscathed, and looked toward Charles from a distance.
"Columbians," the Adakrys's bloodthirsty, low voice rang out.
"Do you know what people called me in Sargon?"
"They called me... the Butcher of the Sands."
Yet, the Adakrys didn't immediately attack the surrounding Columbian soldiers.
"I think I just heard you say you called in support from a fast battleship?"
"Columbians," the Adakrys showed a wildly arrogant grin.
"I'll be waiting for your fast battleship."
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