Corin still took off that outrageously flashy outfit.
Joking aside, he could already imagine the spectacular scene of parading through the streets in that suit, being surrounded and mobbed by every girl in sight.
Maybe being a celebrity would not be bad?
But Corin had not the slightest liking for that hypocritical vanity fair.
He abandoned the idea in an instant.
The old tailor's craft was no joke. The crimson suit was practically a work of art, and paired with the silver patterned mask it elevated his whole style several times over.
He would save it for missions that required a concealed identity.
Better to stay low key most of the time.
———
[Afganistan, Kunar Province]
Under Obadiah's arrangement, Corin had arrived at the place where Tony was showing off the Jericho missile.
Seeing the distant mountains leveled by missiles, Corin thought missiles were best kept far away.
At that moment the phone rang. Obadiah's angry voice came through.
["These untrustworthy scum, they imprisoned Tony, what difference is that from protecting him?"]
["Damn it!"]
["Why not just kill him?"]
["Mr. Cockroach, I beg you to go to their armed base immediately and kill Tony! Better yet, wipe out those damned terrorists from the Ten Rings too!"]
He hung up.
'So the plot has already developed to this point?'
Plenty of people had designs on Tony Stark.
'The Ten Rings idiots still think they could threaten Tony into building Jericho missiles for them?'
Even if Corin did nothing, Tony would sort them out.
He had planned to move after Tony was kidnapped, thinking he might have to wait a few days out in this godforsaken place.
Now it seemed the timing was perfect.
He calmly put on the crimson suit, donned the mask, and, following Obadiah's rough directions, took off like a dustless shadow.
The driver beside him watched the mysterious asian young man change as if into another person, his aura so dazzling he could not stare.
"Beach boy! How can someone be this handsome?"
While he was still bitterly jealous of Corin's looks, a gust of wind whipped up a sandstorm and hit them.
"Cough! Cough!"
When the sand settled, the driver stood stunned.
"WHAT THE F*CK?? Where-Where did he go?"
———
This was Corin's first full sprint after raising Physical Enhancement level 1 to five stacks.
The air pressure he generated formed a whirlwind behind him, whipped sand into a trailing cloak that stretched out like his golden mantle.
After nearly two hours of running, he felt his speed only increasing. Of course not as fast as the Flash, but this was Corin using two legs across the desert.
A little over 100 km/h might not be much elsewhere, but achieved on foot in the desert without a Flash talent, it counted as high.
When a modest valley came into view, Corin's mouth curved.
"Finally found it."
Obadiah had only given him a rough bearing. Thanks to his exceptional stamina and vision, almost two hours of searching brought him here.
Corin saw scattered grunts inside and outside the valley, weapons and ammo carelessly piled to one side, all stamped with varying sizes of the "Stark Industries" logo.
"Not only did they kidnap Stark using weapons made by Stark, they want to threaten Stark to make weapons for them, how absurd."
Tony Stark probably thought the same.
Stopping about three kilometers out, Corin paused.
The crimson suit flared like a rose blooming in the barren desert, conspicuous as ever, but the Ten Rings men lacked his long-distance sight and sensed nothing.
Scanning the valley with his ultra long-range vision, Corin slowly drew a throwing knife.
He wanted to test the knife's power.
Now was the time.
When his pupil shifted and locked onto a position, Corin moved.
No big motion, he raised his hand and threw. A motion as casual as brushing dust from his shoulder.
But the titanium throwing knife flashed away at a speed beyond reason.
Only after nearly a kilometer did a deafening explosion sound.
Corin squinted to watch. The knife vanished into the valley, it had hit nothing.
Four power. He had done it on purpose.
From far off he saw the knife detonate a small arms cache. A large number of terrorists streamed out of the temporary base, roaring and firing blindly but finding no target.
Corin threw another knife.
This time he used six power.
The knife left his hand with a supersonic sonic boom that tousled his hair.
By the time the rolling sand hit the valley, no gunshots could be heard.
Before the Ten Rings thugs could react, a cold flash tore through them. It passed through bodies, shredded organs, and blew torsos apart.
Those hit directly by the knives were pierced and then further destroyed by the follow-up force, the body exploding in place and scattering fragments everywhere.
Those not struck were still blown over and stunned by the subsequent storm.
The valley's terrain funneled them into a single path.
Many were lucky to be cut down by the knives. After a single sweep, the ground was still littered with severed limbs.
These terrorists used to lust after the red and white spray of a skull blown apart by a bullet. Today the explosion came from bodies.
Those killed at once were lucky.
Survivors rolled half a torso along the ground, screaming and waiting for death.
The uninjured gaped at the sky in confusion. They had no idea what had happened.
Bombing? But there were no planes.
Even if there were, they would have heard the engines.
What on earth was that?
———
Thud! Thud!
The sand began to settle.
Footsteps echoed in the valley.
The terrorists had lost the courage to face an unknown enemy. Their hearts drummed louder than their actions.
Corin strolled into the valley. The effect of that one knife had exceeded his expectations.
Who would have thought a single throwing knife could produce the effect of a cannon.
"Tsk! Tsk! Truly grim!"
Looking at the hellish scene around him, Corin, in his crimson suit and silver mask, muttered and yet smiled with a faint wickedness.
He looked every bit a noble envoy from hell.
The bandits finally saw their enemy clearly.
No long guns, no full armor, not a crowd, just one person.
Only one person.
Wearing a garish crimson suit.
Wearing a mask.
'But so handsome! Damn it!'
Seeing the enemy was only one person without heavy weapons, the thugs instantly forgot their earlier fear.
'Pretty face, flashy look, what use is that?'
"Kill the pretty guy!"
The AK47s in their hands were the truth of this world.
Their brains, driven mad by blood, violence, and jealousy, finally broke.
They raised their weapons, screamed and fired at Corin.
RATATATA!
Corin flashed out of sight.
He did not want to ruin the tailor's masterpiece. If the crimson suit and mask could avoid bullet damage, better to minimize the abuse.
While dodging, playing cards shot from his hand.
Within a hundred meters, the force sent the card straight through a thug's skull.
Screams rose to a new crescendo.
The slaughter had begun.