Chapter 35: Sixth Floor Clear

Raive had basically driven lots of people to their deaths, even his "allies," to the point that he wouldn’t find it weird if karma struck back at any time.

However, not once had he used his own hands for it.

But now, he was walking toward a battlefield on his own two feet, knowing full well the enemies weren’t monsters this time—they were humans, just like him.

Swish!

As if to solidify his resolve, Raive swung his blade once, testing it out.

The way it cut through the air, releasing a sharp sound. The weight settling into his palm, the cold press of the hilt. Sensations he still hadn’t gotten used to.

"Yep. I can do this." Raive nodded.

He walked over to the landing before the stairs and quickly caught the sound of loud footsteps echoing up from below. From the presence he could feel, a group of at least five was approaching fast.

However...

’So weak...?’

The presence he felt read more like a group of ordinary civilians than people who’d already used stat-up candies to boost themselves. But given how much time had passed, they should’ve consumed at least one. Unless...

"YOU! STOP RIGHT THERE!"

A few seconds later, they finally entered Raive’s vision.

A group acting like some sort of militia—or at least that was the only label he could put on them. Each of them carried improvised weapons: wooden stakes, a long-handled tree pruner, even a hatchet.

"Just seven?"

But even outnumbered, Raive stayed calm.

He didn’t even feel scared.

Tap.

"I SAID STOP!"

Tap. Tap.

Despite their warnings, Raive kept heading downstairs.

And when he reached the enemy’s range—

"Shit! KILL HIM!"

—they attacked at once.

The longer weapons stabbed forward, aiming for Raive’s vitals. Those with shorter reach braced for the counterattack that would come. However.

"Too slow."

Before they could even fully extend their weapons, he was already standing behind them, giving his sword a light flick to shake off the blood staining its edge.

"...Huh?"

Nobody saw what happened. They never even registered what hit them. But within the next second, the seven bodies had already scattered into a dozen pieces each.

They were dead in one move.

Raive kept walking, checking the room numbers to figure out where he stood. Numbers in the format of 14xxx.

"If this is the 14th floor, then the sixth floor is..."

Once he’d worked out his destination, he broke into a jog.

"You! STOP!"

"Intruder! Raise the alarm!"

"C-Call for backup, fast!"

Since he wasn’t bothering to hide, the ones guarding the path found him easily enough. They rushed to intercept—but it was futile.

None of them managed to slow him down, even for a moment.

By the time he reached the 10th floor, he’d already cut down over fifty armed militia. No mercy, whether they were old or young, women or men. Anyone standing in his path got cut down like wheat before a scythe.

Calling it a battle would be generous.

It was more of a massacre.

Everything was going smoothly, but Raive didn’t let his guard down.

After all, none of those he’d met so far had used any abilities. Attack-type abilities were rare, sure, but even non-attack ones could be turned into weapons somehow.

’No vision. Or more precisely—no leadership.’ Raive thought.

He pressed on, reaching the sixth floor at last.

But just as he was about to jump down the stairs, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. A sensation he knew well.

The scent of impending death!

"...!"

Raive grabbed the railing and stopped himself cold.

Only the soles of his boots peeked past the corner—but even that was enough.

BANG!

—a bullet punched clean through the heel.

Fast, and precise.

But more than that—’A fucking gun...!’

He’d half-expected this. Once Hazel had been cornered, there were only two real possibilities: the enemy had a stronger ability, or they had real firepower.

And judging by what had just happened, it was clearly the latter.

"Tsk!"

Raive clicked his tongue and pressed his back flat against the wall.

He was certain that the moment he leaned out, his head would gain a brand-new hole to breathe through. In short—he was stuck.

"..."

Or not.

Without a sound, keeping his presence as low as possible, he climbed back up to the seventh floor. He’d already cleared that level, so there was nothing left to worry about there.

With swift, careful steps, he moved to the spot directly above where the enemy should be.

To be sure, he stretched his senses downward, just to confirm.

Once he was certain—

SLASH! SLASH! SLASH! SLASH!

He cut four long lines around himself, carving a square straight through the floor.

With nothing left to hold its weight, the slab gave way and dropped, crashing down right into the middle of the enemy’s formation. ℴ

"SHIT!"

"AGH!"

"H-HELP!"

Cries rang out as the slab landed, kicking up a cloud of dust, blood, and gore.

Raive didn’t waste the moment.

The instant he landed, he moved fast, using the dust as cover.

He swung his sword, cutting down any survivors in reach. He moved so fast there wasn’t a single second for him to catch his breath.

After the sixteenth kill, he finally stopped, sword held forward, half-kneeling.

"GASP!"

And, at last, he took a deep breath.

As the dust cleared, he found everyone around him already dead.

All of them carried weapons of some kind, but roughly half had guns. Some carried revolvers, others shotguns, and the one flattened like a pancake beneath the rubble had a sniper rifle.

"..."

Raive briefly considered collecting them as loot, but there was no way he could carry it all.

So he settled for the few he could actually use—a handgun with five 9mm 20-round clips, and a sniper rifle with three 7.62mm NATO 10-round clips.

Once he’d finished looting, he pulled out his phone and redialed Hazel’s number.

A few rings passed before the other side picked up.

"I’ve cleared the sixth floor. You can come out now."

A moment of silence passed between them before—

Creaaaak...!

One of the doors down the hall slowly swung open.

A familiar face peeked out warily, scanning her surroundings. Raive, spotting her, just waved with a smile.

Hazel stood there, gripping her arm around what was clearly a gunshot wound.

She was injured, but still alive.

And everything considered, that was all that mattered.