The leader of the Baraka shot to his feet, his chair toppling backward with a heavy crash. His eyes swept across the scene: six of his men, six seasoned fighters, reduced to scattered pieces across the floor.
What was that? He just sliced my men into a thousand pieces… with the broken handle of his hammer?
His veteran fighter's mind tried to analyze the impossible.
On the worn-out couch, Seraphina's eyelids fluttered open ever so slightly. One eye, sharp and fully conscious, observed the scene.
So… this was it?
On the roof, behind a dusty skylight, the ice clone remained perfectly still. Her cold perception recorded every detail, every movement, every potential weakness.
At the center of the room, Remedy kept his head lowered. Within his field of vision, a notification blinked insistently.
[DING! TARGETS ELIMINATED. DO YOU WISH TO "DEVOUR" THEM?]
His hands trembled slightly. The aftershock. The smell of blood. The reality of what he had just done.
The boss noticed the micro-tremor.
"Is this your first kill?"
Remedy exhaled slowly. No. Do not devour. He tightened his grip on the handle, his knuckles turning white.
Then a faint smile, almost imperceptible.
"For a human… yes."
Decisive. He regained control in a fraction of a second, erasing all hesitation.
"Oh?" The boss tilted his head, genuine interest in his eyes. "Very interesting."
He slowly leaned away from the back of his fallen chair, cracking his neck.
"But against me, you don't stand a chance."
Remedy instantly lowered into a combat stance, gripping the handle with both hands like a broken blade. His senses screamed.
"I'm ready."
The boss didn't rush him. He stayed there, almost relaxed.
"Tell me, why are you going this far for her? Is she someone precious to you?"
A fragment of memory crossed Remedy's mind. The black market. The negotiation. The one who extended her hand.
"I owe her a debt."
On the couch, the faintest movement touched the corners of Seraphina's lips. A smile, quickly suppressed.
"Yeah?" The boss suddenly crouched, his fingers digging into the concrete like clay.
He ripped up an entire slab of flooring and hurled it toward Remedy's face, blocking his vision.
Slice.
A sharp vertical motion. The slab split cleanly in two and slid past him, revealing…
Nothing.
The boss had vanished. Behind one of the halves, perhaps? Remedy extended his senses, but the two slabs created too many shadows, too many blind spots.
Then.
He pivoted on his heel, the handle drawing a perfect circle at waist height. A horizontal cut. The two slabs were cleanly severed.
Still nothing.
A gust of air behind him. Too late. A kick swept his legs out. Remedy fell backward, and as he dropped, he saw the boss already descending with a punch aimed at his face.
Slice!
The handle slashed forward. But the boss, anticipating it, had already leapt back, evading the invisible edge.
He landed, a frown forming.
A Tier 1 individual is not merely an enhanced human. His biology has been reorganized into a structure of superior density and efficiency.
But it doesn't matter.
The nanothread does not cut matter. It separates atomic bonds. Whether the collagen is denser, whether the bone crystals are more perfect… intermolecular spaces still exist. The thread slips between them, as thin as an atom, encouraging dislocation.
The boss doesn't know it yet. But a single clean strike would be enough to finish him.
The problem was landing it.
Remedy rose again, breathing hard, and resumed his guard.
How do I hit him?
The boss spread his hands. Heavy objects—metal blocks, reinforced crates, engine parts—materialized from his inventory and shot toward Remedy in chaotic rain.
He moved. Fluid. Efficient. Each projectile was sliced mid-air before reaching him. Debris crashed around him without touching him once.
It's not the weapon itself, the boss analyzed, eyes locked on every motion. It's him. He makes the weapon sharp. A spell? A skill?
The barrage stopped.
"You," he said, his voice suddenly calm. "Are you an enchanter?"
Remedy's eyes widened.
H–how?!
One second. A single second of broken focus.
The boss had already drawn a submachine gun.
CRACK-BRRRRT!
The burst tore through the air. But Remedy, snapping back, activated his Concept.
[DING! INJECTION OF "FEATHER_WEIGHT" SUCCESSFUL.]
The bullets froze mid-air in front of him, a floating cloud of metal.
"So you can stop them too," the boss observed, almost impressed.
Then he snapped his fingers.
An electric discharge erupted from the ground right beside Remedy. The mine, planted during the projectile chaos, triggered by a simple signal. The boss had deliberately drawn attention to the fake fight to mask its placement.
Lightning struck Remedy head-on. His muscles locked. His fingers tightened around the handle. Paralyzed.
He knows exactly how long the discharge lasts, Remedy realized.
The shock ended.
The boss was already there, his momentum-loaded kick crashing into Remedy's ribs. A wet crack echoed.
[Remedy — Health: 88% → 58%]
Pain exploded through his side. But his hand, acting on pure instinct, grabbed the boss's ankle. He would not let go. Not again.
With his other hand, he drove the handle toward the exposed throat.
The boss snapped his head back, the thread grazing his Adam's apple. But his arm—his arm wasn't as lucky.
The handle entered flesh like butter. No resistance. The forearm separated cleanly at mid-length before the boss, with surreal explosiveness, tore himself free in a backward flip.
Blood erupted in an arterial geyser.
In the same motion, the boss's remaining leg whipped upward in a rising kick that smashed into Remedy's jaw, forcing him to release his grip.
[Baraka Leader — Health: 100% → 80%]
[Remedy — Health: 58% → 48%]
I can't let him escape, Remedy's mind screamed. This is my only chance.
Through a growl of pain, he advanced. As the boss landed, unbalanced by the sudden loss of his arm, Remedy thrust the handle toward his chest.
The tip grazed the sternum. Began to penetrate.
But the boss, even amputated, even bleeding, still possessed Tier 1 reflexes. He threw himself backward, turning a potentially fatal strike into a deep but non-lethal gash.
[Baraka Leader — Health: 80% → 70%]
He pressed his remaining hand against his chest, his palm instantly stained red.
"Damn… I'm losing a lot of blood."
The two fighters stood a few meters apart, both panting. Sweat, blood, and dust mixed across the workshop floor.
I can't underestimate him anymore, the boss thought.
Then his eyes—his pupils—his entire face changed.
The red. That scarlet, almost liquid red that had flooded his men's eyes before their suicidal charge—now filled his own. His breathing turned rough, animalistic. Every trace of humanity vanished from his expression, replaced by pure, devouring hunger.
Damn… He took the drug too.
"Kid," the boss growled, his voice now primal, "it's over for you."
Chapter 28 — End.