Is there anyone in Kivotos I can win against? In response to such a question, Kenji judged himself objectively.
Even if I shoot a gun, swing my fists, and use a knife.
On this goddamn huge continent, there isn't a single person I can defeat. Not to mention the students with halos; even the steel-heads and beast-heads are impossible to subdue with physical force. No matter how much they lacked halos, the residents of this place were born capable of treating bullets and shells as 'nothing much'.
Therefore, Kenji was the absolute weakling here. Whether that could be compensated for was unknown, but he wasn't just sitting idly by. With a minimum of willpower and effort, he sought to supplement his lacking combat abilities.
Get seriously injured if shot? Then I just have to not get hit.
They don't get hurt even when shot? I just need to be able to inflict a minimal amount of damage.
The blade won't cut even if I swing a knife? A feint is enough.
He mastered movement through effort that tore his muscles. His proficiency with firearms was also improved through repetitive practice.
But even so, a question hung like a fog in a corner of his mind.
'Will doing all this even increase my chances of survival?'
That question disappeared cleanly around the time he got used to the simulation room.
Fortunately.
He had talent.
*
Flames erupted from the muzzles of the guns. Even before seeing the flames, Kenji hid behind a large car.
-Thwack! The car door was riddled with bullets. A lead slug grazed past his ear. It was a close call, but Kenji, with an expressionless face, checked the enemies' positions in the side-view mirror.
Two on the right. Three on the left. Five visible for now. The other five must be standing in a place not reflected in the mirror.
Kenji cooled his head and relied on his senses.
-Puncture.
Using his knife, he made a hole in the car's front tire. The body of the car tilted slightly to the side due to the rapidly escaping air. A slope was created. Kenji rested the muzzle of his gun on it and aligned his sights.
-Bang!
He fired. The bullet flew and pierced the neck of one robot. But it didn't fall. The durability of these things, even if they weren't Kivotos students, was on par with ordinary citizens. A mere bullet to the neck wouldn't kill them.
But it was enough to make it falter.
Without panicking, Kenji immediately confirmed the gun muzzles turning towards him. His rapidly moving eyes scanned their positions. They were slightly closer than when he had seen them in the mirror. He slid across the ground and rushed towards the one that had taken a lead slug to the neck.
In the meantime, the enemies placed their fingers on their triggers.
Dodging a bullet after seeing it is impossible. So Kenji entrusted his body to his senses.
The places where the muzzles were aimed.
Shoulder, head, solar plexus, and thigh.
The moment he perceived it, he twisted his body.
-Fwip-fwip-fwip!
The bullets that had lost their targets slammed into the ground. But he hadn't dodged them all perfectly. A trail of blood followed the trajectory of a bullet that had grazed his thigh. At the same time, a voice echoed through his in-ear monitor.
-Pain sensation has been blocked.
"Disable it."
Kenji spat out, hiding behind cover.
-Warning. The user's durability is critically low. Disabling pain sensation is not recommended.
"Shut up and do it."
-Confirmed. Re-enabling pain sensation.
As the voice disappeared, a searing pain was felt in his thigh. He wasn't actually injured, but because the simulation manipulated his nerves to match the wound, the pain was not much different from what he would feel in reality. Blood poured from the wound, which throbbed like a beating heart.
Kenji grit his teeth and endured the pain. To survive in this fucked-up world, he had to get used to pain. And this was a much weaker pain than having a hole in his stomach, wasn't it? This much was bearable. He let out a low laugh and spat on the ground.
-Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
A hail of bullets poured onto the cover that protected Kenji. Cracks began to form on the marble cover. It was about to break. Kenji struck the cracked part of the cover with the butt of his pistol. The crumbling cover kicked up a cloud of dust.
-...Chk.
Their vision was obscured. The robots swiveled their single eyes to locate Kenji's position beyond the dust cloud. Amidst the beeping sounds, a noise like something stepping in mud echoed. Their gazes shifted towards it.
But Kenji wasn't there. On the water-soaked mud, there was only a fist-sized stone.
A feint. A common strategy, but an effective one.
The moment Kenji confirmed their gazes had shifted, he burst through the dust cloud. His target was still the one with the bullet in its neck. The robot, seeing Kenji rushing towards it, immediately raised its gun.
Too late. Its rigidly programmed metal brain made the judgment.
Instead of pulling the trigger, the robot swung the butt of its rifle as if to split Kenji's head open. Kenji barely dodged the attack, then used the knife in his left hand to sever the wrist joint of the hand holding the gun. The blade sank about halfway into the artificial joint made of fiber.
It was enough. Kenji kicked away the gun the robot had dropped due to its severed wrist and grabbed its forearm, twisting it. The joint lock, which worked regardless of the difference in strength, completely sealed the robot's arm. He then dislocated its shoulder joint.
A dangling arm. Kenji grabbed that arm and moved behind the robot. The dislocated joint creaked with a cracking sound. It was an injury that would have caused excruciating pain to a human, but the robot, generated by a hologram, didn't let out a single scream.
A fact that didn't matter.
Kenji used the incapacitated robot as a shield.
-P-p-p-p-p-p-p-pak!
The incoming bullets hammered into the robot's body. The moment the firing stopped, Kenji raised his pistol and put one bullet in its Achilles tendon, three in its back, and five in its ear.
The robot's body crumbled from the damage that exceeded its limit. The light in the hole on its face went out. Kenji confirmed this and twisted the corner of his mouth upwards.
"One."
Beyond the shoulder of the robot he had used as a shield, nine approaching lights. Kenji stared at them and reloaded.
There were still nine left.
*
Clack, clack.
The sound of dress shoes filled the corridor. The red light from the ceiling cast a ghastly glow on the hallway. At a glance, it was not a normal corridor, but the man paid it no mind. He walked towards the door at the end of the hall, his single eye gleaming.
Tap.
When he tapped the door with his finger, the massive door slid open to the side. The man straightened his slightly crooked tie and stepped inside.
"You're late."
A round table was in the room. A woman occupying one of the chairs spoke. The man glanced at her briefly, then bowed his head politely.
"My apologies, Madame. The matter with the Decagrammaton did not go smoothly, which caused my delay."
"I'm not blaming you, of course. But... it's a little much to be the last to arrive when you're the one who called the meeting. Please don't let it happen again."
"I'll take it to heart."
The man said, then approached an empty chair at the round table and stood.
There were five chairs in total. The number had recently increased from three to four, and a short while ago, another was added, making it five. Of the five chairs, only one was vacant.
"Why have you summoned us, O nameless one."
A two-headed man dressed like an orchestra conductor asked. The man looked at him and put his hands in his pockets.
"Mm."
Maestro, with two heads, each bearing an eye and a mouth. The headless man, Decalcomania, and the photograph he held, Golconde. The red-skinned Madame Beatrice, draped in a gorgeous dress. Beings from outside Kivotos, just like himself.
The man in black scanned them, then habitually pulled down his gloves and opened his mouth.
"The reason I have called you all here is because I have found someone to join us."
"Is that so!"
Decalcomania exclaimed. Beatrice glanced at him with her numerous eyes, then covered her mouth with a fan and said.
"Someone to join us. Are you referring to that outsider you mentioned before?"
"Indeed."
"You said you were only observing, but it seems you've met him in person."
"Yes. I received quite a scathing review. He was not a pleasant individual. However, I am certain he is a talent we desperately need."
-Creeak.
Maestro's neck turned. He stared at the man in black with the eye on one of his heads and spoke.
"You observed him, and you met him. We have no information about him. And yet you're proceeding with this on your own? You, who sought everyone's opinion when we accepted Beatrice?"
"I apologize for that, but my will is firm. No matter what it takes, we must recruit him into our Gematria."
"What if he is a ruffian who insults art? A person who blasphemes my imitation, my mimesis? What meaning could such a person have?"
"A negative assumption."
Golconde, who had remained silent, spoke up.
"I think differently. O nameless one. He, as you know, Maestro, values contracts. A contract signifies a determined fact, and at the same time, it possesses an unchangeable eternity."
"Indeed!"
"Therefore, originality. That is, to you who visually confirm others and directly understand their existence to grant them meaning, his intentions may be misinterpreted. It is understandable from both sides."
"...Golconde. Are you saying you will accept his will?"
"I will neither accept nor reject it. I am the mediator. I always maintain neutrality. However, I believe we can at least hear him out."
The body of Decalcomania, holding Golconde, turned towards the man in black.
"O nameless one. Is there a reason to recruit this outsider you have observed and encountered into our 'Gematria'?"
"He is an ordinary being."
"In that case—"
"At least. He himself will think so."
Beatrice, who had opened her lips to refute the man in black, narrowed her eyes as she saw his stretched, smiling lips.
"The meaning of that is...?"
"An outsider to Kivotos. In other words, we all possess peculiar powers. But he has no such thing. His appearance is also not much different from the students of Kivotos."
"Then does that mean he has a halo?"
"No, Maestro. He does not possess Mysticism. To be more specific, Mysticism rejects him."
"Hoh..."
Maestro let out a sound of admiration.
An alien being. An irregular. In other words, it meant he possessed originality.
"The Mysticism of Kivotos exists for the students. But that does not mean that those who are not students cannot receive the benefits of Mysticism. While it may not be to the extent of the students who possess Mysticism directly, the beings walking the streets are also undeniably enjoying the benefits of Mysticism."
Maestro said, his joints creaking as he twisted them.
"We too possess that benefit, albeit faintly. But are you saying that this outsider does not receive the benefit that the residents of this place, and even we, enjoy?"
"That is correct."
"How strange... very interesting. What meaning could such a being have?"
"He may think he has no special abilities, but that is a lie. In exchange for being rejected by Mysticism, he possesses an outstanding affinity for its inversion."
Stop.
Maestro's movements ceased. Beatrice's eyes also widened, and Golconde let out a low laugh.
"What that means is..."
"Terror."
The man in black intoned.
"He responds to Terror."