Puchi—
It wasn't the sound of a bullet tearing through flesh, but the sound of a blade stabbing into a body.
Just after giving Harumura Makoto a reply and preparing to launch her ability at him, the leader of Deadlock suddenly felt a strip of snow-white steel burst out through the crimson knight's uniform at his chest.
Around the blade, bright red blood streamed from the wound.
"Wha… why?"
The Deadlock leader turned his head stiffly, like a rusted machine.
On the hilt, he saw the familiar insignia of Deadlock—and beneath a damaged helmet, half of a familiar face.
But when he saw that the exposed eye had completely transformed into a starry pupil, he understood everything.
"I see… so that's how it is. Looks like we really underestimated an esper."
Thud—
Another body fell to the ground. From that point on, there wasn't a single Deadlock member still standing.
"Looks like when you said earlier you could handle it yourself, you weren't just bluffing."
Letting go of Shokuhou Misaki's waist, Harumura Makoto spoke without holding back his praise.
That earlier scene had been perfectly clear to him.
He had seen every detail.
And to think—he had assumed she'd be so petty as to put her own safety aside out of spite. But it turned out she had prepared a contingency.
She wasn't the type to lose her head and forget everything in the heat of the moment.
"Hah… hah…"
Freed from his grip, Shokuhou Misaki gasped for breath, her delicate face tinged with a lovely blush.
Whether that was from exertion or from the embarrassment of having been held by Makoto just now was hard to say.
"It was… still a little… forced…"
As if standing upright was even more tiring, she bent halfway over, resting her hands on her knees, speaking between breaths:
"Their helmets really do block mental penetration. And besides, the explosion damage was so severe that his consciousness had almost completely faded. Forcing such a faint awareness back and controlling it… My computation… was already running at full capacity."
From the very start, that first member who had rushed at Makoto hadn't actually been finished off by him.
In reality, he had merely shot the miniature jet pack on the man's back.
The small device exploded, leaving the man near death. That was when Misaki noticed her chance.
A living person moving at high speed was too difficult for her to precisely control.
A corpse was useless—no matter how she manipulated the fluids in a dead brain, it would accomplish nothing; she wasn't some corpse-herding sorcerer.
So that first, heavily wounded man lying on the ground was the perfect choice.
While Makoto was conversing with the Deadlock leader, she had already taken control of the man, keeping him still and waiting for the right moment.
So no—there was no way she would recklessly throw herself into danger purely out of spite.
First, she let the man beside her leave, knowing that these thugs would have to pass her position to reach her.
And by her calculations, the likelihood that the leader himself would make a move was extremely high.
When that happened, she could have her controlled pawn launch a surprise attack, and seize that fleeting moment to take control of the leader.
Once that step was done, whether they counterattacked immediately or withdrew entirely, she would have options.
Putting herself in danger was acceptable—backing herself into a dead end was not.
She simply hadn't expected the man beside her to respond in such a way—so much so that she still couldn't calm her shaken feelings.
"All right, so what now?"
Makoto spread his hands and frowned slightly at the wreckage before them.
"Indeed… it is a bit troublesome. There are… a few too many bodies."
After a short while, Misaki seemed to have recovered some strength.
But her arms were crossed in front of her chest, giving no sign of the difficulty her words implied.
At first, Harumura's attacks had been somewhat restrained.
But later, to prevent the aftershocks from the small jet packs' explosions from interfering with his grappling-hook movement, his shots had all been aimed at lethal points—
The heart. The brain. The throat.
Three places that would kill instantly—and every single one of his bullets had gone straight for them.
So the death count was quite high.
And if it were just ordinary deaths, that wouldn't matter much—skill-out armed gangs in Academy City lost members every day, and the city never cared about failed experiment trash.
But Deadlock was different—it included many high-level espers among its members.
That was the real problem.
"Still, for you, this doesn't seem like much of a problem."
Indeed—for most people, this would be a headache, but for Academy City's strongest mental-type esper, it was nothing.
And anything hidden behind the scenes could be conveniently erased by Shokuhou Misaki.
"Mm. But for tonight, I'll take you back first. After all, we don't know exactly how many members these guys have. And any traitor targeting you might not give up so easily."
Following the principle of seeing things through to the end, Makoto wasn't about to let someone with Misaki's ridiculously low stamina walk home alone.
If something happened on the way, all his efforts tonight would be wasted.
"Mm!"
Misaki nodded happily, a single strand of hair on her head swaying like a little antenna.
She had originally planned to dispose of the bodies immediately—after all, if she delayed and someone passed by, she'd have to waste energy erasing memories and such, which was a hassle.
But now she had no intention of dealing with it personally.
A little trouble was fine—she'd just call someone to handle it later.
Rumble—
At that moment, a bolt of lightning split across the night sky above Academy City, as if tearing apart the dark curtain overhead.
For an instant, the whole world lit up like daylight.
The oppressive heat from earlier vanished, swept away by a sudden strong wind.
"Looks like we'd better get moving a little faster."