The firefight raged on, the sound of gunfire punctuating the air like the ticking of some hellish clock. Each shot reverberated through the dilapidated garage, bouncing off the walls and twisted metal that surrounded the battlefield. The air was thick with smoke, the acrid scent of burning oil mixing with the stench of gunpowder and blood.
Cobra stood at a distance, watching the chaos unfold with a mixture of astonishment and fury. This wasn't the way it was supposed to unfold, not by a long shot. He had accounted for every possible variable, or so he thought. Yet, here he was, watching the carefully laid groundwork of his operation go up in physical and metaphorical flames.
Cobra prided himself on understanding people. In his line of work, that skill was often the difference between survival and annihilation. He'd always drawn a clear distinction between those who created weapons and those who wielded them.
Designing a gun was an art of precision, patience, and engineering. Firing one in the heat of combat, on the other hand, required instincts, reflexes, and a willingness to kill. They were separate skill sets, or at least, that's what he'd always believed.
Take Mr. Nobody, for example. The quiet man was a textbook creator, not a killer. Cobra had pegged him as the type to avoid confrontation, a guy who preferred to let his machines speak for him.
Always hunched over a workbench, fine-tuning gears and calibrating scopes, Mr. Nobody never gave the impression of someone capable of violence. He was a craftsman, not a soldier. Cobra had banked on that distinction, confident that when the bullets started flying, Mr. Nobody would freeze or falter, overwhelmed by the sheer chaos of the battlefield.
But here he was, witnessing something extraordinary.
Mr. Nobody was moving through the garage like a phantom, his movements fluid, his aim precise. Half of Cobra's men had already been taken down, and all in such a short amount of time. It didn't make sense. This quiet, unassuming kid, barely old enough to grow a small beard, was outmaneuvering seasoned thugs, dodging bullets like it was second nature. And what's worse, it wasn't just about speed or strength; it was something else entirely.
Cobra's mind raced. Unless one was one of those freakish 2nd-tier cultivators, dodging a bullet was impossible, no matter how fast you moved. He'd seen cultivators fight before, even had some on his payroll, but they couldn't pull off anything close to what he was witnessing. So how was Mr. Nobody doing it?
The answer, of course, was far simpler than Cobra could ever have guessed. Rion wasn't dodging bullets by sheer speed or some supernatural ability; he was using his intellect. Every movement, every sidestep and counterattack, was part of a strategy built on anticipation.
Rion had long since honed his instincts for danger, developing a sixth sense for when an opponent was about to pull the trigger. All it took was reading the subtle shifts in their posture, the twitch of a finger, the narrowing of their eyes.
He knew exactly when and where the bullets would fly, and all he had to do was not be there.
Thanks to his training in the [Lesser Focus] and brief activations of the [Combat Frenzy II] technique, Rion had developed a unique form of hyper-awareness, a mental state that allowed him to filter out distractions and focus on what truly mattered. His emotions, his fears, they were secondary, filed away in some distant corner of his mind.
What remained was pure clarity that only improved his memory and crafting speed, but also made it easier for him to force himself into a state of calm and process everything in his surroundings with almost mechanical precision.
It wasn't about being faster than a bullet. It was about being smarter than the person firing it.
Still, even with this heightened focus, Rion couldn't dodge everything. That's where his bulletproof vest came into play. Made from a composite material that could absorb significant impact, it had saved his life more than once already. He didn't need to be perfect, just good enough to avoid anything fatal. The rest, his vest could handle.
Cobra's expression darkened as he finally understood the gravity of the situation. "That fucking bastard tricked me."
For weeks now, Cobra had been plotting to rid himself of Mr. Nobody, believing that the nerd would be easy prey once things got physical. But now, watching Rion dismantle his operation piece by piece, Cobra realized just how wrong he'd been. He'd underestimated the kid, let his appearance, a young, seemingly delicate figure, lull him into a false sense of security.
They had to get rid of him quickly before the local enforcement agencies arrived, as they had most likely been alerted by the sounds of gunshot. Time was of the essence; they couldn't afford to be caught in the act.
If they acted swiftly, he could exploit his connections within the local enforcement agencies to cover up the entire ordeal. With his influence, he could easily sweep the incident under the rug, ensuring the incident vanished without a trace.
"Fucking ruined my business," he muttered under his breath as he saw the state the garage was currently in, his voice dripping with anger, "I'll make him regret ever being born."
As more henchmen were converging on their location, he felt a small boost in confidence.
"No matter how powerful you are, this is still my territory. Get him! We can't let him escape!"
Around him, more of his henchmen began to regroup, their weapons trained on the wreckage where Rion had taken cover. A hailstorm of bullets rained down on the twisted metal of the car Rion was hiding behind, the clinking sound of impacts drowning out even his ragged breaths. He could feel the pressure mounting, the odds slowly tipping against him as more and more henchmen flooded the area.
Just gotta last a few seconds more.
His mind raced as he took stock of the situation. If there was any good news about the situation, it was that the agents from earlier were probably already on their way. He just had to last long enough for them to arrive.
With a steely glint in his eyes, he quickly formulated a plan. It was risky, but then again, everything about today had been one giant risk. Drawing on every ounce of his training, he prepared to make his next move.
Suddenly, the henchmen, their attention fixated on the barricaded Mr. Nobody, saw something fly through the air. Panic set in as they hurriedly dispersed and ducked, anticipating another explosion. A few moments later, they realized it was just a stone that had been thrown.
But it was too late.
With a flicker of movement that seemed to defy the laws of physics, Rion danced through the maze of wreckage, evading the disoriented henchmen with effortless grace. His footsteps were like whispers on the wind as he closed the distance between himself and his targets.
The henchmen, who had fallen for Rion's trick, were unable to react in time as they struggled to regain their footing amidst the chaos. Their shouts of frustration echoed through the alleyway, drowned out by the roar of flames and the thunder of gunfire. But Rion paid them no mind, his focus locked on his target.
As he neared the heart of the fray, Rion's instincts kicked into overdrive. With a lightning-fast motion, he disarmed a henchman who had activated his qi with a well-placed kick, sending the gun in his hand clattering to the ground. Before his opponent could react, Rion seized the opportunity, delivering a swift blow that sent him sprawling to the pavement.
Then with a gravity defying spin, he soared through the air, and in the split-second of descent, he steadied the gray magnetic gun once more, its muzzle glowing with a faint azure light as he zeroed in on his next target.
There, standing near the edge of the battlefield, was one of Cobra's top enforcers. A hulking figure with a thick scar running down his face, the man looked like a walking tank, every inch of him radiating raw power. But that didn't matter to Rion. With unwavering resolve, he firmly targeted the man and squeezed the trigger.
«Whizz!»
The familiar sound of the magnetic handgun rang out, buried by the other louder sounds.
The bullet pierced through, leaving a long trajectory in the air, and accurately moved towards the targeted henchman.
The glow from the mid-day sun cast an eerie light on his terror-stricken face. With little time to react, the bullet hurtled towards him aimed directly for his right eye socket.
Although the henchman's crisis response was not weak and he instinctively tried to dodge the instant the muzzle flashed, it was still hopeless as the bullet hit his forehead, leaving a gaping hole the size of a finger.
The other henchmen, caught off guard by Rion's sudden onslaught, hurriedly picked themselves up. But that proved to be pointless as in a blur of motion, he unleashed a relentless barrage of shots from his magnetic pistols, each round finding its mark with deadly precision.
With calculated precision, Rion incapacitated six more henchmen in rapid succession, exploiting their unbalanced positions and turning their own confusion against them. The henchmen cried out in pain as they were cut down one by one, their bodies falling like puppets with their strings cut.
«Bang!»
«Bang!»
The sound of gunfire reverberated through the air, punctuated by the occasional clang of bullets striking metal or the shatter of glass. Despite the henchmen's desperate attempts to retaliate, their bullets wildly missed their elusive target, as Rion moved with the fluidity of water, effortlessly dodging most of their shots. Each movement was deliberate and calculated, as if choreographed by some unseen hand guiding his actions.
However, his arsenal was dwindling, and the remaining henchmen were regrouping, closing in with grim determination. Despite being injured and bleeding heavily, he continued forward, almost out of energy. Exhaustion was taking its toll, making it hard for him to stay awake. He had to use all his strength and concentration just to keep his eyes from closing. Luckily, he had enough time to expertly maneuver through the wreckage of cars and hide behind another car frame before they arrived.
However he had no other cards left to play. He had run out of bullets and to prevent himself from getting shot, he hadn't stopped to pick up the weapons of the thugs he had killed.
It couldn't be helped! As all Rion had to work with were limited funds, it was a testament to his ingenuity and prowess that he had managed to last this long.
The remaining henchmen however were unaware that he had run out of bullets and advanced cautiously, fueled by a mix of fear and aggression. Their leader, Cobra, watched with a malevolent glint in his eyes, eager to exact revenge for the havoc wrought upon his operation.
Rion's limbs were shaking uncontrollably, and he couldn't even see properly due to the blood blurring his vision.
Damn it! What is taking those guys so long?
«Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang!»
All of a sudden, an answer to his desperate hopes emerged. The staccato bursts of multiple submachine guns echoed from the side of the battlefield. The thugs began dropping in numbers as their screams filled the air.
The agents were entering the fray! Even though they were all holding weapons, Cobra's inexperienced thugs didn't have a chance against the agents who had gone through superior training. If they fought, they would just die a meaningless death.
"Cease fire! Drop your weapons and surrender!" the man at the front roared out as the thugs were overwhelmed.
Noticing the way they were dressed and their superior skill, Cobra immediately inferred that these weren't any run of the mill thugs.
"How?"
He then remembered Rion's words from earlier and was scared shitless.
Oh my God. He wasn't bluffing earlier...
Sensing the hopelessness of the situation, he immediately kneeled down and raised his hands in the air, prompting the rest of his henchmen to so the same.
Rion on the other hand sat down and took a moment to catch his breath, his mind buzzing with adrenaline. He looked at his wounds and saw that he was bleeding from several places. He looked at the garage and saw that it was on fire and collapsing, littered with bodies and debris.
He had done it. He had escaped Cobra's trap. He had survived.
But he was not free.