Chapter 244: The Everywhere Experts
"—Who the hell are you?"
Sikorsky's eyes widened as he stared at the soldier who had seemingly
materialized from the masonry.
The man looked to be in his mid-thirties, his frame lean and corded with
functional muscle. He had short black hair, a bit of stubble, and a
military-issue headband tied around his brow. Behind him, the "wall" he had
emerged from was actually a meticulously painted piece of fabric, designed to
blend perfectly with the corridor's lighting and texture.
It was a masterclass in camouflage.
"Save the questions for someone who cares," the soldier said, rubbing his chin.
He offered a sharp, dangerous grin. "To an escaped death row convict, I'm just
the guy who's going to put you back in the ground."
As he spoke, the soldier began to toy with his tactical knife, flipping it
between his hands and spinning it in a series of fluid, silver blurs.
Sikorsky tracked the movements. Professional. The man wasn't just a thug; his
grip on the blade was relaxed yet ready, his posture balanced. He moved with the
practiced ease of a man who had killed with cold steel a thousand times before.
"Done with your tactical assessment?" the soldier asked, noting the blood on
Sikorsky's face and his missing teeth. He let out a dry whistle. "Heh. Looks
like the 'Heavy Hitters' got to you first. You're already a wreck."
He turned his gaze toward Ren Shiroki, who had just rounded the corner. "So...
this is the one the Captain's Sensei mentioned."
Ren stepped forward, coiling his muscles for a strike on Sikorsky, but the
soldier's blade cut through the air between them, stopping Ren in his tracks.
"Hold on, Ren-kun! The Russian is already looking to bolt. Why don't you let a
professional have some fun?"
The soldier spun the knife into a reverse grip, his body coiling into a low CQC
stance.
"..."
Ohma Tokita, Ren, and even the spectators watching the tactical feed outside
could tell: this man was a Battlefield Expert. His power level far exceeded the
syndicate hitmen littering the floors. He was a specialist in the art of the
kill.
He was a member of the Gaia Squad.
"I didn't come all this way just to cull small fry," the soldier mused, his aura
turning cold and sharp. The scent of gunpowder seemed to emanate from his very
pores. "Catching a 'Big Fish' is much more satisfying."
Ren cracked his neck and walked over to Ohma's side, settling in to watch. As
the soldier noted, Sikorsky was currently in "Flight" mode. Chasing a retreating
enemy who was already broken wasn't particularly fulfilling; watching an expert
dismantle him was a much better use of time.
Looking at the carnage on the previous floors, Ren realized that most of the
IDEAL and Worm units hadn't been beaten by martial arts—they had been
systematically "erased" by the Gaia Squad.
"Um..."
A voice drifted from the shadows. Kazuo Yamashita, who had been hiding behind a
heavy equipment cart with Ohma, finally found the courage to poke his head out.
"I... I guess having more allies is a good thing, right?" Kazuo, drenched in
cold sweat, scooted between Ren and Ohma. He peered at the knife-wielding
soldier. "He's... he's one of the good guys, right?"
Ren smiled. "Yeah. They're active-duty Special Forces."
Kazuo let out a massive sigh of relief. "Thank god. You and Ohma-san can finally
take a breather."
Ren: "..." Ohma: "..."
Seeing their lack of response, Kazuo's eye twitched. He forced a shaky laugh. "I
mean... you guys want to take a breather, right? Please say yes."
While the three spoke, Sikorsky was recalculating.
He could see the soldier before him was no amateur. He was a threat far greater
than any mercenary in the building. But compared to facing Ren Shiroki head-on
right now, tangling with a knife specialist seemed like the lesser of two evils.
It might even buy him time to find an escape route.
I'll take the soldier!
Decided, Sikorsky lunged forward, his right knuckle-fist firing toward the man's
face.
Zip!
But mid-swing, a cold shiver raced down Sikorsky's spine. His instincts screamed
at him to abort. He killed his momentum and retracted the punch, stumbling over
his own feet.
As he looked up, he saw the soldier hadn't flinched. He had simply tilted his
blade, waiting for Sikorsky's fist to impale itself on the steel.
"Cautious, aren't you, Blondie?" The soldier smirked. "Another inch and I would
have relieved you of your fingers."
Before Sikorsky could reset, the soldier launched a low-level kick, forcing the
Russian to sidestep. He found himself pinned against a wall, his maneuvering
space rapidly shrinking.
SHINK! SHINK!
The tactical blade danced through the air, leaving jagged scores in the
wallpaper and opening shallow cuts on Sikorsky's arms. The speed was
suffocating.
"You won't find any room to breathe around me!"
The soldier pressed the assault. Sikorsky felt like his very vitals were being
tracked by a heat-seeking sensor.
I can't stay here!!
Sikorsky snarled, ignoring the stinging cuts. He leaped laterally, vaulting off
the wall and snatching the support frame of an overhead ventilation duct.
Whoosh!
He performed a mid-air rotation to clear the soldier's reach, landing several
meters ahead and sprinting toward the floor's central lounge. In a wide-open
space, he could use his superior mobility to evade the knife!
That was the plan. But as he ran past a closet door—BANG!
A heavy combat boot shattered the wooden door from the inside. The impact,
backed by a massive frame, caught Sikorsky square in the ribs.
"GUUGH!"
Sikorsky was launched across the hall, slamming into the opposite wall. He
retched blood, looking up to see a hulking giant of a man in the same military
attire as the knife specialist.
"Hello. I'm Kuraishi," the giant said with a friendly, terrifying nod. He
charged forward, intending to pin the Russian against the wall.
Sikorsky reacted with a desperate, high-velocity kick that caught Kuraishi on
the arm. The force of the blow was enough to make the giant pause, giving
Sikorsky a window to scramble free and continue his sprint toward the lounge.
Zip-zip-zip!
After a few more paces, he ran straight into a "Babyface" soldier wearing a
tactical bandana. The youth looked smaller than the others.
The Babyface soldier looked at the bloodied Russian, his expression appearing
slightly nervous. "You've taken heavy damage, yet you can still kick
Kuraishi-san? Incredible..."
"GET OUT OF MY WAY, BRAT!"
Sikorsky didn't have time for compliments. He charged right through the youth,
shouldering him aside with a heavy THUD.
He reached the central lounge and saw the night sky through the windows.
Sikorsky finally let out a breath of relief.
But it only lasted a heartbeat.
CRACK-SHASH!
The plush upholstery of a designer sofa nearby suddenly bulged and tore open. A
soldier emerged from inside the couch, blocking Sikorsky's path to the window.
"No jumping out the window tonight, little gecko~!" the soldier chirped,
vaulting over the armrest.
Sikorsky spun on his heel, aiming for the other exit. But a massive porcelain
vase nearby shattered, and another soldier stepped out from the shards,
delivering a front-kick that sent Sikorsky reeling back.
"Ungh—!"
Sikorsky staggered, his body feeling like it was about to fall apart. He looked
up to see two soldiers. They wore slightly different gear, but their faces were
identical. The Twins.
"Heh. A warzone only feels real when there's nowhere left to run," they said in
unison.
The Twins moved in tandem with the Knife Expert, Kuraishi, and the Babyface
soldier. They had Sikorsky completely surrounded in the lounge.
The Gaia Squad—All Five Assembled.
As top-tier specialists, simple killing was beneath them. They intended to
complete the mission perfectly: the capture and extraction of the death row
convict for the MPD.
"Haha!"
The Knife Expert put his hands on his hips, looking at the gasping, broken
Russian. "That went smoother than expected! I guess being tenderized by the kids
really worked in our favor. Lucky us!"
The expert turned his gaze toward Ren Shiroki, who had just entered the room.
"Oho, Shiroki-san. Thanks for the assist. Cornering this one would have been a
pain without you."
He offered Ren a firm handshake. "We heard from Motobe-sensei that you took down
Speck. Word is it was a hell of a show."
Ren nodded with a smile, pulling a business card from his pocket.
But then, the soldier's tone shifted. "By the way... our Captain, Gaia, is quite
looking forward to meeting you too—"
Hearing this, Kazuo Yamashita swallowed hard. He could feel the atmosphere
shift. The friendly handshake was suddenly saturated with a soaring, competitive
battle intent.
Ren handed the card to the expert. "Have you boys heard of the Soul Combat Hub?"
The soldier let out a jagged, predatory laugh. "Nice name. Sounds more dangerous
than the Amazon rainforest!"
The two laughed together, but Kazuo could feel the air turning into a
pressurized cage. The conversation was drifting toward a "Test of Hands."
At that moment, another figure strolled into the lounge.
"Heh. This looks like a party!"
Ohma Tokita walked in, hands in his pockets. He scanned the room, his eyes
lingering on the soldiers.
"The Deity of the Earth, Gaia—I've heard the legends of the 'Super Soldier.' Is
he not here?"
Ohma's lips curled into a smirk as he looked at the squad. "If you want to trade
blows, I'm game. You or your Captain—it doesn't matter to me."
Ohma pointed a thumb at himself. "I'm a hell of a lot more fun than that Russian
wreck over there!"
The members of the Gaia Squad paused. They exchanged a look before breaking into
a collective, dismissive laugh.
"You aren't ready for that level yet, Seaweed-kun," the Knife Expert said,
waving Ohma off with a patronizing sigh. "Against Captain Gaia? You've got zero
chance of winning."
Ohma: "..."
Veins throbbed on Ohma's forehead. His pupils turned into pinpricks of rage, and
his teeth ground together with a sound like crushing gravel.
"What... did you... just say...?!"
The Ashura was officially triggered.
(End of Chapter)
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