Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 395: Sakura’s Fall (2)

Dragon Raja 3

“Hold on. Crow and Yasha will find a way,” Chisei said, loosening his tie.

All the floor-to-ceiling windows shattered at the same moment, and the Death Servitors lunged through the shards of glass, their bony wings snapping open like the sculptures of ancient evil gods.

In the distance, the sound of a clock rang out—midnight. The chimes were chilling, and Tokyo, amidst the downpour, seemed to transform into a ghostly medieval city. The ancient bronze bells of the churches roared, and demons laughed maniacally in the shadows.

Chisei eyed the Death Servitors’ weapons. They no longer had hands, replaced by curved metal blades with serrated edges. Even the legendary demons would likely kneel for a final prayer if they encountered such creatures.

“To the underground garage. I parked my car there,” Chisei said.

“My car is there too,” Tachibana replied, though his condition didn’t seem well. Dragon blood granted him a healing ability similar to that of Osho, but while his wounds healed quickly, he became extremely weak in the process.

The Death Servitors shrieked and dove down, like a collapsing mountain of black clouds overhead.

Chisei swung Dōjigiri in a straight line. The immense pressure instantly subdued the Death Servitors ahead. It flapped its bony wings in an attempt to dodge, but it was too late. Dōjigiri gleamed with a clear light, and the Death Servitor’s wing, along with half its body, split open. Even in such a state, the Death Servitor’s life force didn’t dissipate. The metal blade attached to its wrist slashed toward the ground, grazing Chisei’s shoulder. He sustained an injury but made no sound, merely rotating Dōjigiri casually, the sound of metal striking metal ringing in the air. Sparks flew as Dōjigiri clashed against the Death Servitor’s body, each strike piercing its scales and muscles, hitting bone. The Death Servitor’s bones were as tough as steel.

The Death Servitor collapsed to the ground like a toppling statue of an evil god.

Tachibana launched his attack at the same time, holding the Crescent Spear horizontally and thrusting it earnestly towards the Death Servitor ahead. The Death Servitor crossed its metallic blades to block, but Tachibana charged forward with force, using the spear to push the Death Servitor back.

Sakura also sprang into action. The Death Servitor was covered in hard scales, and her blade, being too thin, was now ineffective. Fortunately, she was still a skilled swordswoman.

Chisei drew a gold-embellished Colt revolver from his coat. This large-caliber handgun, named “Western Watch,” could shatter the skull of a charging buffalo with one shot, and the sound it made when fired was like a thunderclap. The bullet drilled into a Death Servitor’s skull and exploded. The mercury was heated by the gunpowder, releasing a cloud of white mercury vapor. Though the Death Servitors were unafraid of death, they instinctively dodged the mercury. Those splashed with mercury immediately cut off the contaminated parts of their bodies with their metallic blades to prevent the white mercury spots from spreading.

Both of the metallic blades snapped simultaneously. The Death Servitor, forced back by Tachibana, lost its defense, and after the Crescent Spear cut through the blades, it pierced directly through the Death Servitor’s chest, pinning it to a pillar.

Chisei pulled a dark red dagger from his waist and tossed it to Tachibana. That blade, called “Raikiri,” was the sword once carried by the famous general, Tachibana Dōsetsu. With two strikes, Tachibana sliced off the Death Servitor’s bone wings, then horizontally slashed its throat.

More Death Servitors were climbing over the railings, their scales glinting faintly. Along with the dragon-shaped Death Servitors, there were also snake-shaped ones, all converging on the watchtower.

At this moment, fear and horror were meaningless; swinging the blade faster was what mattered. Tachibana swung the Crescent Spear in wide arcs, forcing back the approaching Death Servitors, while Chisei continued slashing with his sword and picking off targets with precise gunfire. Bullets shattered inside the Death Servitors, leaving mercury spots directly on their bones.

A gust of wind came from above as a massive shadow descended from the sky. The helicopter had finally arrived. The elites from the Execution Bureau were firing from the landing gear, and the concentrated fire suppressed the horde of Death Servitors. The leader’s life was in grave danger, and the Yamata no Orochi didn’t care if tomorrow’s headlines would read “Fierce Gunfight on Top of Tokyo Tower.” The heavy M134 Gatling machine guns fired without restraint, unleashing a torrent of bullets. This was probably Crow’s arrangement, as Yasha, with his limited mental capacity, would likely react by charging up the iron ladder, holding a submachine gun in one hand and swinging a bat with the other. This was also Chisei’s reasoning—the path downward was blocked, and their only escape was through the sky. Therefore, he focused on eliminating the dragon-shaped Death Servitors first, clearing any threats to the helicopter.

The helicopter slowly approached the watchtower, and the Execution Bureau’s plan was clear: they would use a barrage of bullets to clear the way, allowing the three of them to jump directly onto the helicopter.

“Follow me!” Chisei bent down to pick up another long sword and began to spin, utilizing both “Whirling Blade Flow” and “Reverse Whirling Blade Flow” from the Mikage Shinmei School with two swords. As the emperor’s blood burned, no Death Servitor could approach him.

The Execution Bureau fighters were inspired by the leader’s fierce courage, and the Gatling guns roared even louder, driving the Death Servitor horde to both sides, clearing a path for Chisei and the others.

The helicopter lowered a hanging ladder, inching closer to the watchtower. The subordinates frantically waved, urging Chisei to hurry and jump onboard.

A dark shadow shot out from the watchtower like an arrow, biting into the ladder. The officers on the landing gear were stunned—they hadn’t expected the ferocious beasts to display such intelligence. Although they seemed suppressed by the barrage of bullets, they had been waiting for the right opportunity.

These creatures were willing to trade their lives for blood. A second shadow lunged from the watchtower as the officers fired at the Death Servitor clinging to the ladder. The second Death Servitor bit onto the tail of the first. The first one, riddled with bullets, did not release its grip. Its disfigured face seemed to wear a maniacal grin, and more and more Death Servitors began biting onto its tail, climbing upward by hooking their metallic blades into its body. One by one, dark shadows swarmed into the cockpit. The officers’ guns were still roaring, but it was already too late. They couldn’t drive away the predators, and the cabin became their feasting ground.

Chisei silently watched the helicopter move away from the watchtower like a wounded eagle seeking a place to heal. But it hadn’t flown far before it lost balance and plummeted toward the plaza.

The helicopter hit the ground, erupting in towering flames. The blazing wreckage rolled to a stop in front of Yasha and Crow. Yasha, gripping two guns, furiously charged forward, spraying bullets at the still-breathing Death Servitors in the cabin, cursing with the vilest words imaginable.

They had failed. Losing a helicopter didn’t matter, and losing a few elite fighters didn’t matter either. But how long would it take for the next helicopter to arrive? With every passing second, Chisei’s chances of survival diminished.

Chisei couldn’t wait for the next helicopter, and Tachibana’s body clearly couldn’t hold out until then.

The display above the elevator suddenly changed, meaning the elevator was rising. It would soon reach the special watchtower.

But Chisei felt no joy. Someone had summoned the elevator from below, which is why it had descended. But who could be down there? Only Death Servitors were below.

The idea of Death Servitors riding an elevator to the battlefield was absurd, yet it was likely the truth. The elevator’s first trip to the special watchtower brought weapons; its second trip would bring death.

“Listen to me,” Chisei said, replacing his magazine and standing back-to-back with Sakura, both of them defending each other.

“I’m listening.”

“We can’t wait for the new helicopter. Our only way out is to take the elevator down to the underground garage.”

“Understood.”

“The elevator is probably packed with Death Servitors, but it’s our only path.”

“Yes.”

“When the elevator doors open, I’ll suppress the Death Servitors and open a path to the elevator. That path will only be open for a few seconds. You take Mr. Masamune to the elevator, don’t worry about me, just go.”

“That’s not something I should do,” Sakura unexpectedly gave a negative response. In Chisei’s memory, she had never given a negative response before.

“Obedience is a virtue for girls,” Chisei said.

Death Servitors continued to pour in through the shattered floor-to-ceiling windows. The storm raged, and the ground was littered with bullet casings, some still flickering with small flames, like the three of their lives, ready to be extinguished at any moment.

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