Rebuild World: Volume 2 Part 2 E-Book

Nahuse

• Herausgeber: J-Novel Club
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Rebuild World
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Seitenzahl: 499

Beschreibung

Akira has only spent two days exterminating the heavily armored scorpions hiding out in the underground tunnels, and he’s already had more close calls than he bargained for. And try as he might, his bad luck’s about to get worse. A chance encounter soon proves that the biggest threat in the tunnels aren’t monstrous bugs but other humans. Now a gang of cyborg relic thieves have him in their crosshairs, and his fellow hunters may not take his side. With his lines of communication cut off, and forced to fight new enemies and old allies, Akira is outclassed, outgunned, and out of options. How will the young relic hunter stop a threat that can pursue him from beyond the grave? As Akira fights for survival, the scheming ghosts of the Old World look on...

Leseprobe

Chapter 50: Intruders Underground

Kugamayama City’s Department of Long-Term Strategy was determined to end the Yarata scorpion infestation beneath the Kuzusuhara Town Ruins. The DLS had recruited Akira by name to assist with the extermination. Roped into a weeklong contract, the young hunter had only narrowly survived swarm attacks on his first and second days in the underground districts.

Scorpions hadn’t been his only surprise: a dispute with Shiori, a woman who hunted in a maid outfit, had nearly turned deadly, while Elena’s and Sara’s skill had astonished him during their patrol together. Yet he had come through it all more or less unscathed. Now, at the dawn of the third day, Akira headed back to the tunnels, hoping against hope that, for once, nothing would go wrong—and ignoring his own instincts, which said otherwise.

His first day on the job had seen Akira assigned to the security team, his second day to the recon team. Day three found him working security again, but not guarding a checkpoint. His current job was to install a new type of illumination. These lights, which doubled as basic relays and scanners, would not only improve communications in areas that had already been secured, but also enable headquarters to rapidly detect and respond to any changes in the terrain.

The system served as a countermeasure against certain difficulties that had recently cropped up: scorpions tunneling new routes to assault checkpoints in areas that had already been cleared, or disguising themselves as walls of rubble to convince scouts that cave-ins had blocked passages. Akira had gotten mixed up in both incidents, and he’d overcome them only by taking advantage of a certain clause in his contract—the one that obligated his client to cover his ammo costs—and burning through heaps of costly proprietary cartridges with his CWH anti-materiel rifle.

The new lighting would do much to restore people’s trust in the safety of the secured areas and the reliability of their maps. Yet the tunnels were extensive, and most of the lights already in place lacked any additional features. Replacing them all would take time. So the order had come down to start with the lights around headquarters and work outward from there.

At the moment, Akira was trudging through brightly lit tunnels with a group of other hunters, swapping out each light they came to for one of the higher-end models kept in the hand truck they lugged with them.

Hey, Alpha, he said while he worked. I’ve been thinking: Why didn’t they just put up these better lights in the first place?

Alpha analyzed the question, weighed her options, and computed that satisfying Akira mattered more than accuracy. It takes a lot of lights to cover all these tunnels. They probably went with lower-end models to save money.

Oh, I can see that.

They tried to be cheap, and it ended up costing them extra. It’s a simple mistake—try not to repeat it, Alpha added, with a knowing smile.

Akira responded with a taunting grin of his own. You don’t have to tell me twice, but I’ll be depending on you to help me out with that.

Of course! You can count on me! Alpha beamed confidently. Akira had accepted her explanation without question and responded just as she’d predicted. Slowly but steadily, she was learning how his mind worked.

Akira’s group continued replacing lights until there were no more of the new models in their hand truck. Then they turned back, reloaded it, and began again. The hunters took turns pulling the truck, installing lights, or standing guard. Nothing too complicated, but they had to work in teams: the city was taking the recent scorpion attacks seriously and wanted its contractors to be ready to defend themselves. But more importantly, surprisingly valuable relics—discovered deep in the underground districts—had piqued the city’s interest. In addition to exterminating the scorpions, the hired hunters were now tasked with retrieving this cache—which hopefully would justify the cost of installing the expensive new lighting.

As the day wore on, however, Akira found himself working alone. The rest of his team had finished their minimum shifts and gone home. Akira considered returning to base with them. But when he called headquarters, an operator told him to keep working—they would send reinforcements right away. Reflecting, Akira decided that he might as well keep at it. They’d only asked him to wait in a well-lit area that had already been cleared, not in the uncharted darkness.

So for a while, he continued on by himself. But by the time he had replaced most of the new lights on his hand truck with old models, his new crew still hadn’t arrived.

They’re sure taking their sweet time, he grumbled, managing to look suspicious, annoyed, and a little nervous all at the same time. He had been promised immediate reinforcements. Did their failure to appear presage something unpleasant in his future? He couldn’t help but wonder.

Try to be patient, Alpha responded, cheerful and soothing. I’m keeping a lookout, so don’t worry about monsters getting the drop on you. And look on the bright side: this slow, safe solo task counts toward your work hours. You’re in luck today.

I guess, Akira reluctantly admitted. He noticed Alpha wearing the smile she always did when they were out of danger. Perhaps, he reflected, after two days of hectic action, it wasn’t too bad working a shift so uneventful that it seemed downright dull.

But just as he mustered a grin of his own, Alpha’s expression hardened. Keep your guard up, just in case.

What’s wrong? Akira asked, instantly serious and alert. Alpha’s smile hadn’t faltered while he’d been fighting unsuspecting scorpions in the dark the day before. Her changed appearance now might mean he was already in more danger than he’d faced on his expedition with Elena’s team.

There’s a suspicious person over there, and they’re armed. Alpha pointed down the corridor.

That’s gotta be a hunter, Akira argued, bemused. Nothing weird about running into another one down here, and there’s nothing suspicious about a hunter carrying weapons.

Your work terminals identify each other at close range, Alpha explained earnestly. It helps you to locate anyone who needs rescue and to avoid friendly fire.

I know that. So what?

This person isn’t broadcasting their coordinates. That means their work terminal is broken, they turned it off, or they never had one in the first place. What odds would you give that it’s just a simple malfunction?

The hunters’ work terminals had to be built tough for the wasteland. And even if one did break in combat with monsters, the hunter carrying it was unlikely to keep prowling the tunnels without noticing the loss. If that wasn’t the case here, Akira finally realized, he was dealing with someone who didn’t want their location known.

Alarmed, he focused on the suspicious newcomer, and Alpha augmented his vision with an enlarged view. The other person was walking alone and didn’t seem to have noticed Akira at this distance.

Akira hesitated briefly, then called headquarters. “This is Twenty-Seven. Come in, HQ.”

“This is HQ. We’ve already dispatched your new team. Just sit tight a little longer. HQ out.”

“Wait, it’s not about that. I’ve spotted someone who looks like a hunter, but I can’t exchange coordinates with them. What should I do?”

“Are you sure?”

“You think I’m making this up to kill time? You don’t have to believe me, but I’ll leave whoever it is alone unless you tell me what to do,” Akira replied acidly. He could have gotten away with not reporting the potentially dangerous stranger—if not for Alpha, he wouldn’t even have noticed them. But he was on the security team, and he wanted to do his job right. If headquarters didn’t believe his report, that was on them—he’d done his part.

“Okay, okay,” the operator said, convinced by Akira’s tone. The scanners in the new lights hadn’t detected anyone, but they didn’t offer enough coverage yet for the operator to trust them over a man on the ground. “Their terminal might be broken. Go check, and let them call us on yours if it is.”

“And if it’s not broken?”

“Bring them to HQ if you can. If they resist, you’re authorized to take suitable measures. We won’t complain about the results. Work with your reinforcements to bring the situation under control. Contact us if anything changes. Over.”

“Roger that. Twenty-Seven out.” Akira ended the call and heaved a sigh.

Don’t hesitate to kill if you need to, Alpha cautioned. You have permission.

I figured as much. Akira scowled. He supposed that HQ must have considered a malfunctioning terminal to be a real possibility, since it had been their first suggestion. But they also thought he might have to fight for his life, or they wouldn’t have given those orders so matter-of-factly. Deciding that it was still too soon to point a weapon at the stranger, he kept his AAH assault rifle—loaded with powerful overpressure ammunition—lowered but ready, prepared to raise and fire at a moment’s notice.

Alpha, if anything happens, I’m counting on your support.

Sure thing. Leave it to me! Alpha smiled, as spirited as ever.

Reassured, Akira took a deep breath, steeled himself, and shouted, “Hey, heads up! I’m not picking up your terminal! Is it broken?!”

His voice echoed through the tunnels, down to where the man was making his way through a passage farther in. The stranger gave a start. He looked around for a few moments, trying to find the source of the shout. At last, he spotted Akira, then looked from the boy to his terminal and back several times. Then he smiled, waved, pointed repeatedly to his terminal, and beckoned Akira closer.

He was behaving exactly like a hunter with a broken terminal—as if, alerted to the presence of another hunter by Akira’s shout, he had wondered why the boy hadn’t simply called him on his terminal, then realized that it wasn’t working and waved Akira closer so that he could contact headquarters. Nothing about him seemed suspicious. Nevertheless, Akira warily kept his distance. Suspecting a trap, he waited to see what the man would do next.

The man gave him a confused look, then stopped beckoning and walked toward him. Akira figured he was being paranoid, but he couldn’t be too careful. He slowly trained his rifle on the man when the stranger got too close for his liking.

The man appeared to flinch and stopped in his tracks for a moment. He raised his hands slightly and shook his head from side to side. Then, despite the rifle pointed at him, he resumed his approach gingerly, like he was testing how Akira would react.

Akira relaxed. The man seemed harmless, and Alpha had issued no warnings, so he lowered his rifle again. The stranger’s expression softened in relief, and he slowly lowered his hands as he kept advancing. He had already closed most of the distance between them.

Once the man reached a pillar in the center of the large room they both occupied, he smiled, held up his terminal, and pointed to it again. Akira stared at the device, and the man held it higher, as if trying to show him something. Without realizing it, Akira followed the terminal with his gaze, completely losing track of the man’s other arm. He dropped his guard and relaxed his grip on his rifle, letting it droop until it hung limply at his side.

Bang! The man whipped out a pistol with his free hand, and a shot rang out, faster than Akira could react.

The first shot grazed Akira’s cheek. The second struck the work terminal strapped to his left arm. The third hit the rubble beside him, smashing it with greater force than any normal handgun bullet. Every shot had been aimed straight at Akira, and they’d caught him too flat-footed to even think of dodging.

But Alpha had seized control of his suit, forcing him to take evasive action and narrowly avoiding the pistol fire. At the same time, she brought his right arm up to counterattack. The AAH spat a long burst of overpressure ammo.

Too late! The man had already ducked behind the nearby pillar, out of Akira’s line of fire. And while the boy’s powerful bullets could penetrate steel plates with ease, Old World construction was too tough for them. They ricocheted first off the pillar, then off the walls and floor, scattering around the room.

While Akira’s right hand fired his rifle, the rest of his body also kept moving without his input. It swiftly dove into the rubble of an almost completely demolished storefront and took cover behind a fragment of ruined wall.

The man’s arm appeared from behind the pillar and resumed firing.

Akira’s rifle sight sent video to Alpha via its link to his scanner. Extrapolating from the information it provided, she determined that they had no chance of hitting the man. Yet she still kept firing, burning through ammo to limit the man’s options and buy Akira time to come to his senses.

Akira! Snap out of it!

After several telepathic yells, Akira finally jerked back to reality. His face contorted as his head cleared and he felt pain—Alpha hadn’t been gentle with him. Even so, this agony was the smallest price he could have paid to escape death. If Alpha had taken it slow to spare him some pain, a bullet between the eyes would have blown the contents of his skull out the back of his head.

Akira gritted his teeth to stop the pain from dazing him again, while his rattled mind tried to make sense of the situation. How had he landed in this mess? All he could remember was that he had an enemy out there, and that he’d done a pathetic job of fighting back. While Alpha had moved him out of harm’s way, he had stared vacantly into the muzzle of his enemy’s gun, too stupefied to act in a world that seemed to move at a crawl. All of his alertness had done him no good, and a self-reproving scowl crossed Akira’s face.

Then, his back against the rubble, he faced forward and locked eyes with Alpha. What’s going on?

Alpha flashed him a relieved grin. It’s good to have you back, Akira. Are you all right?

Yeah, he replied, his expression thick with regret and remorse. Sorry. I couldn’t move.

Don’t let it bother you. Supporting you through times like that is part of my job, remember? Alpha’s gentle smile seemed to say that it was no big deal.

Yeah, you’re right. Akira roused himself with a forced grin. Resolve was his job, his burden—and getting discouraged would only make him more of a liability.

Alpha gave a satisfied nod and began to explain. Their enemy, it turned out, was quite savvy. He understood the difference between fighting monsters and fighting fellow humans, and both his gear and his skills seemed adapted for the latter. His handgun allowed him to draw and fire nearly instantly with the minimum firepower necessary to kill. And despite their counterattack, the man was uninjured. He’d probably even planned the time and place of his assault so that he could immediately dive for cover if it failed. Finally, Akira’s work terminal was broken, shattered when Alpha used it to shield him from one of his enemy’s bullets—and the man might even have aimed for it deliberately once his target had dodged the first shot.

Akira realized that his enemy had taken no chances, even when trying to kill a kid like him. A lot of people had assaulted him in the past, but they had all looked down on him to some degree, and their arrogance had often saved his life. But not this one. Despite his obviously greater skill, he had stayed on his guard and even lulled Akira into a false sense of security. His performance had been perfectly natural, betraying no hint of hostility.

He’d refused to underestimate Akira, and in that sense, he was completely unlike any adversary the boy had ever faced.

Akira’s face twisted, and not just with pain. Now I know where I stand. Do you think I can take him?

Of course, Alpha replied. He looked grim, but she met his gaze, her face fearless and decisive. His luck ran out the moment his ambush failed.

That’s good to hear. Akira chuckled, his spirits buoyed. Will my body hold up? I ache all over.

You’ll be fine. Take a recovery capsule now—one of the pricey ones.

You’re sure a cheap one won’t cut it?

Sure it will, if you don’t mind tearing your limbs clean off.

Pricey it is, then, Akira quipped. He felt composed enough to banter again, even though the subject was no laughing matter.

To win this fight, he would need to push his suit-enhanced body so far past its limits that only medicine from the ruins could hold it together. He was down to the last of his Old World capsules, but saving them wouldn’t help him if he died. So he gulped one down and felt his pain vanish as its effects spread through him. Then he popped another dose into his mouth and held it there without swallowing.

All right, then—it’s time to strike back, Alpha declared. Are you ready, Akira?

Yeah. That’s my end of our deal.

He would kill his enemy and survive. He had done it often before, and he would probably do it often again. Nothing made this time any different, he told himself—not even an expert opponent. And so, stifling his useless stress and fear with pure resolve, he shrugged off his backpack for ease of movement and waited for Alpha’s signal.

Get ready, Alpha said. Three, two, one...

Grim and determined, Akira released his AAH and hefted his CWH instead. He knew what its cartridges could do—any hit from them could kill.

Zero!

Akira sprang out from behind the rubble.

◆

Yajima could hardly believe that his perfectly timed sneak attack had failed. Nevertheless, he calmly assessed the boy’s skill from his hiding place behind the pillar.

He was definitely off his guard. No one could fake that look on his face. I took him by surprise, and I was as quick on the draw as always.

Once again, Yajima looked for a flaw in his tactics and found none. Even the best scanner was no protection against someone its user failed to recognize as a threat. Yajima had seen the boy’s rifle, and he knew that his calculated response had lulled his target into a false sense of security. He should have been able to kill Akira before the boy suspected his trick. And even if the kid had noticed, it should have been too late for him to do anything about it.

But he dodged. His reflexes are off the charts! Is he on speed stims? The high-end kind that you can only buy with coron? Or does he have neural augments?

Numerous drugs derived from Old World relics were bought and sold throughout the East. Their effects ranged from temporary bursts of strength or concentration to curing fatigue and healing wounds. And, in the case of speed stims, they could speed up the user’s mental processes, allowing them to experience the world in slow motion. Some potent Old World speed stims even made it possible for their users to follow a bullet’s trajectory with the naked eye.

In shoot-outs with powerful weapons, death was usually instantaneous for friend and foe alike. A moment’s delay in action or judgment could prove fatal. Many hunters took speed stims to stretch out that vital moment and seize the initiative. Yet, while the drugs conferred massive advantages, they were also known for severe side effects. These were less of a concern with expensive stims, which were designed and manufactured with the user’s safety in mind, but overdosing—or resorting to cheaper alternatives—carried a risk of brain death.

But for those Easterners willing to alter their own brains in search of greater mental processing power, there lay another possibility: neural augments. These came in a variety of forms: nanomachine injections to enhance neurotransmitters, mechanical implants to improve brain function, and more. These procedures yielded impressive results—when they succeeded. But any change to the brain naturally carried considerable risks, and these augments exacted a toll on the user’s body and mind, in addition to the hefty medical bills.

The steep costs made both speed stims and neural augments a last resort, usually reserved for combat—or moments when conflict seemed imminent. It seemed impossible that anyone could even think of using either when caught completely off guard. Yet now Yajima wondered if he was fighting an exception to that rule. (And strictly speaking, he wasn’t wrong: Akira was an Old Domain User, so his brain was augmented in the broadest sense of the term, the only reason he could benefit from Alpha’s support.)

Either way, what’s someone who constantly overclocks his brain doing here? Or was that his base reaction speed? No, it can’t be—the only hunters in this area should be the pushovers stuck installing lights. There’s no way one of them could dodge my— Suddenly, Yajima’s expression hardened, a new possibility flitting across his mind. Could he be a municipal agent? Did the city get wind of our plan and send a veteran operative, placed in a cyborg body that looks like a kid? Maybe I’m overthinking this, but he’s still bad news. I’d better make this quick.

Yajima contacted his accomplices via a transmitter installed in his head. The device kept their conversation inaudible to anyone nearby. It’s me. What’s your situation? Has the tunnel reached the surface yet?

We ain’t even started, came the equally soundless reply. You told us to wait until the relics were almost here.

Yajima clicked his tongue. Change of plans. Get that hole open and transport the relics ASAP. And send Kain and Nelia to join me.

Hey now, what’ve you gotten yourself into?

Our plan may have leaked to the city. I ran into a guy who dodged my quick draw, and I can’t figure out what he’s doing here. Worst-case scenario, the city has agents mixed in with the security guards, and they’re onto us.

City agents?! What the hell?! I ain’t taking on Kugamayama! You said we’d be in the clear!

Shut up! We picked a fight with the city the moment we started swiping relics it’d staked a claim to. We’ll be fine as long as we kill this guy now and clear out, capisce? So get to work. Having delivered his terse order, Yajima cut off the call.

He and his accomplices were relic thieves. Some of their allies had already infiltrated the recon team, rounding up valuable finds under the pretense of exploration. The whole haul would undoubtedly sell for a fortune. Of course, they couldn’t just carry their loot out through the normal exit—headquarters was in the way. So they had opted to gather relics in one place underground and then look for another way out. And all had gone according to plan—until the city’s hunters had started installing the new, multipurpose lights. This network of cameras and motion sensors would hamper the thieves’ ability to move relics through the tunnels, let alone smuggle them outside. And if anyone uncovered their hidden stash, suspicion would immediately fall on Yajima and his crew, who had been working security and recon nearby. So they needed to hide their work while the old lights were still in place, wrapping up their task before the new devices could be linked into a powerful surveillance network.

Reluctantly, Yajima had called an end to the relic hunt and ordered his people to make a new route to the surface themselves. Then he had left them to transport the haul while he patrolled the tunnels, monitoring the situation and guarding their hidden relics. He had disabled his work terminal to prevent the people at headquarters from tracking him—this might have aroused their suspicions, but not enough for them to act immediately.

He had also taken pains to avoid other hunters’ notice, although he didn’t actually try to hide or do anything else drastic enough to invite awkward questions if he was discovered. Even so, he should have been safe—his body was equipped with enough camouflage to slip past most scanners.

But Alpha was no ordinary scout, and her scan had penetrated his cover.

So, although more rattled than he had let on when Akira called out, Yajima had pretended to be harmless and looked about for whoever had spotted him. To his eyes, the boy had seemed like any other rookie hunter—probably a member of Druncam or some other syndicate that had finagled him a job in the scorpion extermination. Relieved, Yajima had concluded that this kid had probably only noticed him by sheer luck. If he killed the young hunter before the boy could make a report, Yajima could buy the time he needed. Such was his train of thought, all of which passed in a moment’s snap judgment. He had immediately acted on it.

Which had landed him in his present dilemma.

◆

As soon as Akira cleared the rubble, he trained his CWH on Yajima. With Alpha’s support, he could clearly perceive the man on the other side of the pillar. His aim was steady, even though the pillar still blocked his line of fire.

He pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Recoil slammed Akira back as the cartridge blasted into the pillar at close range. The bullet struck with a crash, boring a hole at the impact point, and the sturdy column buckled and cracked around it. But the projectile still stopped short of its target—it would take more than that to pierce rugged Old World construction.

Not that Akira had expected it to, of course. He focused on his next shot, waiting for his opponent to break from cover—the man would have felt the deep impact against his back. But would he flee right or left? Most people would have had to bet on a fifty-fifty chance, with a wrong answer leaving them open to a counterattack. Akira, however, could see exactly what Yajima was doing. Moreover, there was a world of difference between his proprietary cartridges and the man’s pistol bullets: Akira didn’t need headshots to kill. So he waited, ready to put a bullet through the man’s chest—a larger target—when he fled from cover.

But Yajima stayed put, shouting, “Wait! Don’t shoot! I’m sorry! I pegged you for an enemy, but I was wrong! It’s complicated!”

Akira frowned, perplexed—not because he believed a word of it, but because he couldn’t understand why anyone would tell such an obvious lie.

“Let’s talk!” Yajima continued, desperation in his voice. “We can work this out! I’m on the recon team, but another hunter broke my terminal so I can’t call HQ! Call them for me! That’ll clear up this misunderstanding!”

Not bothering to answer, Akira pulled the trigger again. Another devastating projectile struck the exact same spot. It still failed to penetrate, but the cracks in the pillar spread and widened.

It sure is tough, he remarked. That’s an Old World ruin for you.

But it won’t hold out much longer, Alpha gleefully responded. Keep it up!

Akira nodded and fired yet again. If Yajima wouldn’t come out, then he would keep targeting the weak point he’d made in the pillar until one of his shots broke through and killed the man. If his enemy panicked and dove out of hiding, he would strike then. And if the man tried to get out of the line of fire by shifting position behind the pillar, he would blast the column apart and his target with it. Akira would take no chances. He had the man dead to rights, he told himself as he held his rifle steady and let loose another round. The proprietary bullet struck its target with another thunderous crash, leaving the pillar closer than ever to its breaking point.

◆

Behind his crumbling shield, Yajima continued to analyze his situation with perfect calm.

He ignores my shouts and keeps attacking. No demand for surrender, no trying to capture me. Maybe he’s not a municipal agent, then?

A city operative would have tried to take Yajima alive for questioning. They were too professional to just kill a target and leave it at that, unlike his opponent. So maybe he was up against an ordinary hunter after all.

I don’t see him trying to contact HQ either. Is his work terminal broken? Or is he so pissed off he forgot to report in? But which is it? Is he just mad? No, there’s nothing frenzied about these shots. In which case, I must have managed to take out his terminal earlier. Yajima’s grin broadened with one less concern to worry about.

This pillar won’t last much longer. I guess he’s using some kind of anti-materiel warhead. CWH proprietary ammo, maybe? Why is a grunt who’s putting up lights carrying something like that around? He considered the question briefly, then dismissed it as unimportant. Oh well. All that matters is that I know he’s lugging a huge gun around. Still... Yajima sneered. Okay, okay. Things aren’t looking too bad. As long as I kill him here, HQ will take a while to figure out what happened. I’ve got nothing to worry about.

The pillar he had his back against shuddered. It could only withstand one more shot, Yajima realized. The one after that would blow it apart and hit him. He smiled, savoring his predicament, and raised his pistol to eye level. Then Akira’s next bullet hit, and behind the now precarious pillar, Yajima sprang into action.

◆

Akira noticed Yajima’s movement. Assuming that the man had finally given up on the crumbling pillar, he prepared to shoot the moment his enemy broke cover.

But instead, Yajima spun in place, driving a savage roundhouse kick into the side of the pillar. The column, already on its last legs after Akira’s barrage, disintegrated into a cloud of airborne debris under the coup de grâce.

Akira instinctively jerked aside to avoid the chunks of masonry hurtling toward him, his face frozen in shock. Then he glimpsed Yajima taking aim at him through the flying debris.

Yajima saw the boy’s CWH and grinned to himself, his guess confirmed. The rifle’s barrel couldn’t keep up with his movements—it was as heavy as its ammunition was powerful. The powered suit made it possible to steady and aim the bulky weapon with precision, but moving it still took time. Yajima couldn’t shrug off a shot from a rifle that could put a dent in the pillar, but neither could his opponent fire quickly and accurately at a fast-moving target while dodging debris. He felt certain that the recoil-intensive proprietary ammo would never hit him, and he was right.

Yajima knew he’d won. Mildly accelerating his mental processes, he tried to align his weapon with Akira’s head. A surprising number of hunters went without headgear, offering targets against which even a pistol bullet could be lethal. His smile deepened—this would be business as usual.

With a start, he realized that while the anti-materiel rifle wasn’t pointed his way, it also wasn’t in his target’s grip—the CWH was about to enter free fall. Instead, though Akira was clearly surprised, his hands had shifted to his AAH.

Both hunters fired at each other through the screen of airborne debris. When the echoes of gunshots faded and the bits of pillar finished clattering to the floor, silence returned to the chamber.

◆

After his shoot-out with Yajima, Akira somehow managed to take cover behind some nearby rubble. Alpha’s forced maneuvers had hurt him like crazy, but most of the agony was already ebbing away, courtesy of a recovery capsule. She’d done everything without any say from him, although he had at least managed to follow and comprehend what was happening.

He’d dropped his CWH, quickly switched to his assault rifle, and opened fire—all while dodging his enemy’s bullets and chunks of masonry. Then he’d caught the CWH in his free hand and retreated to his present hiding spot. He had escaped death, at least for the present.

He let out a sigh of relief, although his expression remained grim. Well, Alpha?

He’s still kicking, unfortunately, she replied. We weren’t able to fire effectively because the debris cloud got in the way. We still got a few shots in, but they don’t seem to have done much damage—he must have pretty good body armor.

So he can shrug off overpressure ammo? Akira scowled, displeased that his enemy outclassed him in gear as well as skill. He must be tough, then—those cartridges pack enough punch to kill Yarata scorpions. Does that mean shooting him with an AAH is a waste of time?

Well, we did manage to wreck his spare gun.

Meaning his firepower took a big hit?

It’s hard to say, since his main weapon seems to be that pistol.

Akira exhaled. Alpha, I know I’ve asked this before, but I can win this, right?

Of course you can! We had no trouble fighting off his surprise attack just now, remember?

I guess so, Akira answered slowly. He gave a wry grin, reflecting that he and Alpha must have different standards for what qualified as “trouble.”

Don’t worry, Alpha reassured him. Nothing left in this room can stand up to multiple CWH proprietary cartridges. So let’s overwhelm him with firepower!

On it! Akira tightened his grip on the anti-materiel rifle once more.

◆

On the far side of a different heap of rubble, Yajima scowled. Twice now, his target had surprised him by dodging an attack he’d felt certain would kill.

It happened again! I definitely caught him off guard, but he reacted without a moment’s delay. How can he pull off such a split-second response with that stunned look on his face? He couldn’t be doing the same thing I am...could he?

A jolt against Yajima’s back cut his speculation short. Akira was bombarding his cover again, and although he’d hidden behind the densest rubble available, it couldn’t match the pillar’s durability. Stealthily, he slipped away before the powerful rifle could penetrate his makeshift barricade. But Akira’s next shot also flew straight at Yajima, despite the obstacles hiding him from sight.

His aim’s too good! He must be using a high-end scanner. But what’s a hunter with one of those doing around here? And with proprietary ammo? Even if the city did send him, who brings a CWH to fight human targets? There’s better gear for the job. Then Yajima’s puzzlement gave way to grim severity as another possibility crossed his mind. Don’t tell me he expected to need this level of anti-materiel firepower?! That means he’s even onto them!

Yajima hesitated. “I didn’t want to use this, since it’s not exactly subtle,” he muttered. “Still, I guess I’ve got no choice.” He made up his mind to use his last resort. The tactic risked broadcasting his group’s presence and putting headquarters on alert, but they’d still have an easier time slipping under the radar with Akira dead.

◆

Akira spotted something flying out from behind Yajima’s rubble barrier and immediately shot it down, taking it for a grenade. It exploded, spewing white smoke and swiftly blanketing the whole area in dense fog.

Taken aback, Akira still aimed at Yajima the moment he saw the man spring from cover. Despite the concealing smoke, it should have been an easy shot, as his rifle sight was linked to his scanner. Yet just as he was about to pull the trigger, Yajima’s red-highlighted figure blurred and vanished from his display. At the same time, the video feed from his sight lapsed into static.

Though startled, he still pulled the trigger, but his shot merely carved a path through the drifting smoke until it collided with a wall.

Bullets flew at Akira out of the cloud. The gunfire was mostly meant to limit his movements, and he avoided injury by quickly ducking behind debris. Even so, he looked grim.

Alpha, what just happened? he demanded. My sight freaked out!

It’s suffering the effects of jamming smoke, Alpha replied. That thing he threw must have been a smoke grenade.

Jamming smoke, a byproduct of attempts to analyze the colorless fog, contained particles that impaired sensors and communications. The accuracy of Akira’s scanner had dropped sharply, causing his rifle sight to malfunction. The smoke had been developed to combat monsters with scouting capabilities, but the popularity of scanners had led to its use in battles between humans as well.

Jamming smoke is useless against Yarata scorpions down here, Alpha added. They don’t have ranged weaponry, and they attack in great numbers. So a smoke screen would only make it easier to lose track of a swarm and get overrun. He must have brought that grenade with other hunters in mind.

Akira pulled a face. Ugh! We did pretty good against all those scorpions the last two days, but now this one guy is turning out to be a real hassle. I guess fighting people really is different from hunting monsters.

Naturally, Alpha agreed, with a shrewd smile. How do you think humans have survived with so many monsters roaming the wasteland?

Akira considered, then flashed a rueful grin. I guess you have a point. Now that he was a full-fledged hunter with the gear and suit to prove it, he had almost come to see monsters as the only threats he faced—until this mess had come along to remind him how dangerous his fellow humans could be.

Akira’s new insight made sense, however: the human race’s tenacity and cunning kept it alive in the monster-infested East—and when humans fought, they turned those advantages on each other.

Chapter 51: Turnabout

After the jamming smoke thwarted his shot at Yajima, Akira waited to see what his enemy would do next. Before long, several more objects, akin to the first, flew from behind the smoke-shrouded rubble. His CWH couldn’t fire fast enough to intercept all of them.

His AAH did just fine, though.

One object exploded on contact with his bullets—an impact-sensitive hand grenade. The rest were jamming smoke grenades, which released their contents as soon as his shots destroyed their shells. Propelled by the gust from the explosion, the smoke rapidly spread to cover a much wider area.

Thanks to Alpha retuning the settings on his scanner, Akira had at last regained some ability to monitor his surroundings via its display. But this fresh wave of smoke put an end to that. The cloud now blanketed the whole chamber and beyond, and his sensors showed nothing but static over that entire area. Akira pushed his visor up onto his forehead—checking its display was a waste of time. The smoke was thinning as it spread, but he could still barely make out anything more than ten meters away.

I’m guessing he can’t see me in this either, Alpha, he said. Do you think he’s planning to run away before the smoke clears? If so, Akira was in luck. Although he felt a little conflicted about letting his enemy escape, he wouldn’t have dreamed of trying to hunt the man down.

Alpha, however, quashed his naive optimism. Jamming smoke can be tuned to minimize interference with specific tracking methods. If he calibrated his grenades to work with his scanner, he should be able to detect you almost as well as before.

So he can see me, but I can’t see him? That’s a handy trick! said Akira sarcastically as he thought back to the time he’d rescued Elena and Sara. He’d been able to pick off the attackers with ease, while they were left groping for his position in the colorless fog. Now he found himself in their shoes. He wouldn’t be able to spot his enemy escaping, but if he tried to run, the man would notice and attack him from behind.

Don’t worry, Alpha reassured him, grinning smugly. We’ll just wait for him to get overconfident, then crush him.

Akira wondered what she was planning. Still, he couldn’t think of any way out himself, and he’d made up his mind to trust her. Looking determined, he replied, I don’t know what you’ve got in mind, but I’m counting on you!

You won’t regret it!

Alpha gave him her usual confident grin, and Akira listened attentively to her instructions, his eyes fixed on her face, as he switched back to his anti-materiel rifle.

◆

As the white jamming smoke cleared, sporadic bursts of gunfire rang out amid the scenery that was slowly emerging from the haze. Large chunks of rubble shattered under direct hits from the CWH’s proprietary ammo. But although Yajima lurked behind one such obstacle, he remained completely unfazed.

So, he’s not going to run, the man mused. That’ll make it easy to finish him off. It would be even easier if he made a break for it so I could shoot him in the back, but I guess that’s too much to hope for.

Yajima smiled complacently, even as another chunk of rubble disintegrated beside him. His scanner kept him apprised of everything Akira did, and the boy’s firing stance indicated that the thief had little to worry about for now.

Keeping low to the ground, he crept behind another bit of cover. His jamming smoke had completely disabled his enemy’s scanner—why else would the boy fire indiscriminately at potential hiding spots? Even so, he took care never to enter Akira’s field of view as he skulked through the thinning smoke, lest the boy find him by accident.

He slipped around the chamber in a wide arc until at last he was in position to shoot Akira from behind. Viewing his target’s defenseless back on his scanner’s display, Yajima felt that now he need only strike the next time Akira wasted a shot, and victory would be his.

Then he changed his mind.

Calm down. I had him dead to rights twice already, and both times he turned the tables on me. Next time, I won’t take any chances—I’ll strike once the time is ripe. The smoke will last. I can’t rush this if I want to make certain he dies.

Feigning harmlessness to get close enough for a short-range quick draw was a skill practically useless against hardy monsters—but highly effective against people. Yajima took pride in how he had honed his technique and successfully taken down many targets with it. So he felt all the more desire to eliminate the person who had defeated it. Yes, he’d called for backup in case Akira turned out to be a municipal agent, and yes, he could have fled to join his collaborators. But he had stayed to fight it out instead—at a subconscious level, he longed to kill the boy personally, to soothe his injured ego. So he took the utmost care, determined not to miss his next shot.

At the same time, he felt driven by a growing impatience. He told himself he just wanted to finish things up before headquarters caught on and dispatched a search party. In truth, however, anxiety gripped him over the possibility that his team would arrive before he got his kill, depriving him of his chance to prove his superior skill. He would have to strike, he decided, as soon as Akira turned to fire in the opposite direction again.

Just to be safe, he reloaded his pistol with armor-piercing overpressure cartridges. Not even a cyborg cranium, armored like a tank, could protect Akira against these. The knowledge calmed him as he concentrated on his target’s movements. Yajima wanted his bullet to hit Akira right after the boy fired his CWH. But waiting until Akira pulled the trigger would be too slow for his liking. Yajima determined to launch his sneak attack just as the boy settled into his firing stance and focused his whole attention forward. He couldn’t afford to miss even the slightest twitch from his target.

So just as Akira shifted position, preparing to absorb the recoil from his next shot, Yajima sprang out of hiding and sprinted toward the boy. Akira’s rifle was pointed in the other direction. In his mind’s eye, Yajima had already finished lining up his shot. He didn’t need to adjust his aim after getting in position—thanks to his long experience and intensive training, he had no difficulty keeping his pistol pointing exactly where he wanted it to. And even if he missed, as he had on his two previous attempts, he was close enough to dart in and kill his target in melee combat. He wouldn’t give the boy time to fire his CWH again or to switch to his assault rifle.

Yajima felt certain of his victory.

His right arm flew off, still clutching his pistol.

Akira had swung the CWH behind him with one hand, firing without even turning to look. The devastating projectile pulverized Yajima’s weapon and the hand that held it. Then it bored a straight line through his arm, shattering his wrist, elbow, and shoulder. Slivers of shredded machinery scattered all around him.

The impact flung Yajima backward onto the floor, electronics poking out where his missing arm used to meet his body. “Impossible,” he stammered, his face a mask of astonishment. The shot had seriously damaged his body—even the parts it hadn’t blown clean off—but it was the mental shock that paralyzed him. He felt no pain, but confusion left him rooted to the spot, unable to grasp just what had happened.

◆

As far as Yajima could tell, his target had been tracking him with a powerful scanner but had lost sight of him in the jamming smoke. And sure enough, Yajima had in fact completely eluded Akira.

Alpha, however, had always known exactly where to find him.

She had never needed a scanner to scout the Kuzusuhara Town Ruins. Even underground, she could locate threats with greater precision than any ordinary sensor. And she had also applied her own superior analysis to Akira’s scanner data, eliminating most of the jamming’s impact on his equipment. Moreover, Yajima’s smoke was tuned to allow a single specific tracking method—and Alpha had figured out which one, dramatically reducing the smoke’s effects. Without knowing the smoke’s composition ahead of time, performing this sort of analysis in such a short time would have been impossible for most people—but not for Alpha’s colossal computing power. In her hands, even Akira’s five senses could function as a scanner, since she detected and analyzed anything he perceived, including data that his brain normally filtered out as noise.

Thus, Alpha had almost completely neutralized Yajima’s jamming smoke, tracking every move he made behind Akira’s back. And she’d deliberately withheld that information from Akira, leading Yajima to believe he was undetected until an instant before the shot. If Akira had shown even the slightest hint of watching for an attack from behind, Yajima would never have attempted one.

Both hunters had been dancing in the palm of her hand all along.

Akira lowered his CWH, his face contorting in agony. The gun’s recoil could shove his whole body backward even when he gripped it firmly in both hands. Firing it one-handed had been faster—and he’d needed to be fast—but he felt like his arm had been crushed. He fought to keep his body upright while he gulped down all of the recovery capsules stashed in his mouth. The effects of the healing nanomachines didn’t spread evenly throughout his body—he could, albeit barely, sense them concentrating in his arm, prioritizing the most serious damage. Yet he noted uneasily that the limb felt numb and he had difficulty moving it.

Nevertheless, he looked down at Yajima and said, So...did we beat him?

Define “beat,” Alpha replied. He can’t attack us without his handgun or an arm to hold it, and he’ll have a hard time darting around after the beating his body took. So I think we can safely consider him out of action. But if you can’t relax until he’s dead, shoot him in the head and finish him off.

You shot his arm on purpose, right? he asked, puzzled. Why didn’t you shoot him in the head? Sharpshooting while spinning around with a rifle was beyond Akira’s skill. All he’d done was try to keep up with his suit as Alpha took aim. Did you want to capture him alive, or was it just an accident?

Neither—I did it for safety. He’s a cyborg, as you can probably see, and he could have been a remote-controlled puppet. They don’t always die when you blow their heads off, so I prioritized disarming him.

Like powered suits, Alpha explained, most cybernetic bodies incorporated some form of central control system. This core could be stored in the torso rather than the head. In some cases, each body part had its own control unit. Such bodies could continue attacking even after losing their head and brain. Some cyborg bodies relocated the brain itself to the torso, exploiting the assumption that the organ was always found in the head. Others placed it in a small, durable life-support unit that could be separated from the main body, which was treated as a remote-controlled puppet. In any case, decapitation wasn’t necessarily fatal to cyborgs. Hence Alpha’s decision to go for the weapon instead.

When Akira heard this, he took another look at Yajima. Despite having his arm torn off, the man wasn’t bleeding, and the metal fragments of his missing limb were indistinguishable from those of his pistol. He obviously wasn’t flesh and blood. Yet his body looked so true to life that Akira would never have noticed otherwise.

How did you figure out he might be a cyborg? he asked.

There were a number of clues, but the biggest giveaway was how good he was at lying without speaking, Alpha replied. Remember how well he fooled you the first time he shot at you? You would have died if I hadn’t forced you to dodge.

I really appreciate it.

You’re welcome!

They chuckled, and Akira returned to the matter at hand. So, what’s deception have to do with it?

It just so happens that I can more or less tell if someone is lying, based on slight changes in their facial expression, gestures, tone of voice—that sort of thing.

Akira looked impressed, then suspicious. Hang on. If that’s true, how come you didn’t warn me before he started shooting?

Because he fooled me too.

Akira didn’t know what to make of that, and his expression let it show. But you just said you can tell when people lie, right?

His face didn’t give any tells, even though he was lying. In other words, he can completely disconnect his face from his thoughts. And that’s only possible for cyborgs and androids, who have total control of their facial muscles. I suspect he recorded natural expressions that he made in the past and replayed them.

Everything finally clicked for Akira, and he nodded.

Now, Akira, the medicine you took should have done its job by now, Alpha continued. It’s time to stop resting and decide what to do with him.

Good idea. Akira started to approach Yajima and felt a twinge of pain. He’d given the recovery capsules plenty of time to work their way through his body, but his injuries still weren’t fully healed.

◆

Yajima’s central nervous system was just about the only part of his body he’d been born with. The rest he had swapped for synthetic components, both biological and mechanical. An ordinary human would need to don a powered suit to match his strength, and he was highly resilient—losing an arm was barely a scratch to him. His finely tuned cyborg body even spared him from the searing pain that would have paralyzed a flesh-and-blood human. All he felt from the stump where his pulverized arm had been was a minor ache, a mere warning signal. (Shutting down his pain receptors completely would have caused problems.)

Nevertheless, Yajima lay on the floor and clutched at his shoulder, his face contorted to simulate unbearable agony. Beneath the facade, meanwhile, he analyzed what was happening around him and racked his brain for a way to turn it to his advantage. When he sensed Akira approaching, rather than finishing him off from a distance, he decided that his helpless act must be working. So he kept up his fake groans of pain.

Yajima’s wounds weren’t actually so serious, of course. He was down an arm, and his torso couldn’t deliver peak performance after eating Akira’s bullet, but his cyborg body was still strong enough to kill any ordinary hunter. His injuries, however, made further combat with Akira risky, and trying to run would only get him shot in the back. And while he had already called his accomplices, he had no idea when they would arrive. He estimated that Akira could blow his head off before they could make a difference, anyway.

With a start, he realized he was out of options. But despite his terrified act, he went on calmly probing for an opportunity.

What now? he mused. Should I play for time first?

Yajima wasn’t even close to giving up.

◆

Akira stopped before he got too close to Yajima, holding his CWH ready in case the man suddenly leaped up to attack him. His adversary outclassed him, and he had no intention of letting his guard down until the man was dead.

Yajima didn’t get up, but he did hold his remaining left hand feebly out toward Akira, pleading, “Stop! You win! Just don’t shoot!”

“Why’d you attack me?” Akira demanded.

“L-Like I said, it was a misunderstanding. Please, hear me out. I know we can clear this up if you’ll only listen,” Yajima said brokenly, the perfect picture of a beaten man begging for his life.

His terror-stricken look, frail voice, and trembling hand didn’t strike Akira as an act. Still, the boy wanted to be sure, and Alpha claimed that she could spot a liar. So he asked her, Do you think he’s telling the truth, or is he faking it all?

First, let me remind you that it’s difficult to know for certain with a full-body cyborg, Alpha replied. He genuinely doesn’t want you to shoot him, but the blubbering is fake. He really does want you to listen to him, but he’s lying about trying to clear up a misunderstanding. Either he hopes to trick you or he’s playing for time.

“Playing for time, huh? How long do you need to save your neck?” Akira asked, with evident suspicion.

“You think I’m stalling?!” Yajima cried, shaking his head frantically. “No! I swear I’m not! Honest!”

He’s lying, Alpha announced with alacrity.

Akira believed her, but he still had to decide what to do with Yajima. Confident in the knowledge that he held the man’s life in his hands, he took the time to think carefully. And his commitment to his professional duties swayed his choice.

The operator said to bring him to HQ if I could, so let’s do that, he proposed. I bet they can learn a lot from this guy if we keep him alive.

In that case, blast off his other arm and his legs, just to be safe, Alpha said.

I guess you’ve got a point, Akira admitted reluctantly. How would people look at him when he showed up at headquarters dragging a sobbing, limbless man by the hair? The mental image gave him pause, but he reminded himself that his safety was more important than appearances.

Akira started to center Yajima’s left leg in his rifle’s sight. Just then, a bolt of pain shot through his right arm, and he froze, grimacing.

Ow! Wh-What’s going on, Alpha? he demanded. The pain hasn’t gone away. Are the capsules not working?

It looks like you didn’t take enough, Alpha replied. Firing a CWH proprietary cartridge one-handed must have caused a little too much recoil for your suit to handle.

Why’d you do it, then?

Partly because it was the fastest way to counterattack and partly because of the stance I had you take to put your enemy off his guard. Other reasons include—

Okay, I get it, Akira interrupted, sensing a tedious lecture incoming. Basically, you had a good reason, right?

Exactly. Now take another dose of recovery capsules. And use the good stuff—you shouldn’t make do with cheap medicine if you’re in that much pain.

Just to be safe, Akira backtracked a few steps before swallowing the capsules. Damn it! Those were the last ones I had, he grumbled, scowling even as he felt the medicine going to work. I should’ve put a clause in my contract about medical expenses, not just ammo costs.

Well, it’s too late to change now. But as I’ve warned you before, Akira, this means you’ll be in much greater danger when circumstances force you to take risks. Be extra careful.

I understand. Once again, Akira trained his CWH on Yajima’s left leg.

◆

Yajima’s mind continued to work calmly under the mask of panicked fear he wore.

He must realize I’m stalling, because he won’t listen to a word I say, he thought, observing Akira. At least he’s not planning to kill me on the spot. Still, if he gets me back to HQ, I’ll be done for. And it looks like he wants to scrap my remaining limbs before he lugs me there. He’s not taking any chances.

He could accept the loss of his limbs. The problem was finding a way out of his predicament. Talking probably wouldn’t help, since his adversary refused to listen, and nothing he said was likely to go down much better with the city officials at headquarters. He had no hope of turning the tables on his own, and his wary opponent seemed unlikely to screw up badly enough to level the playing field.

What now? Even if Nelia and Kain get here, this guy is so cautious he’ll probably finish me off before he takes them on. And I can’t contact them because of the jamming smoke. Maybe if I wait until we get clear of the affected area...

Should he try to get in touch with his accomplices and have them approach in the guise of harmless strangers? Should he hope they would run into other hunters on the way? In any case, he needed someone else to shake up the situation.

And someone did.

“Stop, stop! Are you out of your mind?!”

A girl hunter and a woman (the latter dressed like a maid, of all things!) rushed toward him from the direction of the cry.

Akira instinctively turned to look and frowned when he saw Reina and Shiori. Anyone could see that he didn’t welcome their arrival.

Are they my backup for putting up lights? he asked.

It looks like it, Alpha replied. I wish they’d gotten here a little sooner, while you were still fighting.

You said it.

In Akira’s disgruntled expression, Yajima spied his chance. They know each other, but they’re not his friends—at least, not good enough friends to take everything at his word, he speculated. Does he think explaining this situation will be a hassle? Is he afraid they won’t believe him?

With a smirk in his heart and terror on his face, Yajima screamed, “Help! He’s gonna kill me!”

Akira, Reina, and Shiori all turned to him. The man’s cybernetic face, which had fooled even Alpha at first, made him look every bit the bewildered victim of a sudden assault.

◆