Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 271: A Friend of Justice (7)

Dragon Raja 3

“You don’t like them, do you?” A small notebook appeared in front of him.

“Who would like these things? Do you?” Lu Mingfei rasped. “They’re killing people!”

“I don’t care whether I like them or not. But if you don’t like them, Sakura, then I’ll kill them,” Erii wrote.

She put the notebook away in her sleeve and, with an expressionless face, unsheathed her long blade. Erii rarely showed emotion, but her blankness was different from Chu Zihang’s. Chu Zihang’s demeanor was sharp and solitary, while Erii’s conveyed a complete indifference to everything.

The air around them started to vibrate strangely. Erii didn’t make a sound, but it felt as if a giant outside the building was reciting ancient verses. Heavy waves of sound crashed against the walls of the building. Circular white spots began to form on the earthquake-resistant glass curtain wall, which was now cracking. The vibration was so intense it was as though meteors were raining down, smashing against the outer walls one after another! The ground trembled, tables and chairs shook and slid out of place. The Death Servitors abandoned the filing cabinet and cowered on the floor, trembling. They were creatures meant to have forgotten all fear and pain, but at that moment, they remembered the overwhelming oppression of a “higher power”!

Lu Mingfei couldn’t tell whether it was an earthquake or the effect of Erii’s Yanling… Was all this really necessary? he thought. Yanling can be simple and effective, too, you know! It doesn’t have to feel like the heavens and earth are shifting every time!

In Erii’s golden eyes, it was as though the tide was rising in a vast sea. When the last trace of crimson in her pupils was submerged, she swung her blade in a simple, horizontal slash through the air. There was no formal swordsmanship to it—it was just a casual cut. The sound and tremors vanished. The floor was suddenly as silent as… death. Paper, pens, trash bins, computers, phones—even massive objects like photocopiers—floated into the air, and after a second, they all shattered into pieces. Sharp fragments, along with splinters of air, spread out like a tornado sweeping through the corridor. Wherever it touched, the black blood of the Death Servitors splattered like ink. The result was different from before, but the command remained the same: anything under her control that had received her death order perished.

Erii sheathed her blade. It looked as though the area around them had been bombed.

Lu Mingfei ran to the filing cabinet and pulled open the door. The girl in a uniform was curled up in the corner, her eyes vacant, unable even to cry. Fortunately, the metal cabinet had shielded her from the sharp flying fragments. One of the Death Servitors’ claws had cut her shoulder, but it wasn’t a fatal injury. Lu Mingfei rummaged around and found a first aid kit, tossing it to her. When he turned back, Erii had already shattered the glass curtain wall. She stepped onto the maintenance elevator, exposed to the stormy wind, and sniffed the night air, staring dazedly at the vast city, glowing with lights.

Meanwhile, Caesar put on soundproof headphones and sunglasses, pointing the barrel of his Gatling gun downward, giving a thumbs-up to Chu Zihang and Chisei.

The Death Servitors moved swiftly among the steel beams, leaving deep gouges on the metal with their claws. They knew their prey was nearby, and the more they failed to find it, the more agitated they became. Several Death Servitors had surrounded an elevator car. The elevator had stopped because it had severed one of the Death Servitors’ snake-like tails while moving at high speed, and the computer system had detected a malfunction. The Death Servitors perched on top of the car, working together to tear apart the metal, like a group of starving people ripping open a tin can. The one whose tail had been cut off wasn’t dead—it clawed its way up the metal, struggling to reach the bloody feast, unwilling to miss out. Inside the elevator, a woman’s hopeless cries echoed.

“It really is hell!” Chisei unsheathed Kumogiri and made a small cut on his wrist, letting a thin stream of blood drip into the elevator shaft.

A drop of blood landed on the forehead of one of the Death Servitors. It had nearly torn open the metal can of fresh meat, but it paused, sniffing the air greedily, as if blessed with divine nectar. It extended its tongue to lick the blood on its forehead, but its tongue hadn’t mutated enough to reach. Frustrated, it let out a cry like a wailing infant. More blood dripped onto its face, and its cries turned into ones of ecstasy. But that joy only lasted a few seconds before the other Death Servitors pounced, tearing at its face, desperate to share in the taste of the blood. The Servitor, now faceless, fell into the depths of the elevator shaft, replaced by another as the horde of Death Servitors below fought and bit each other to lick the warm stream of blood, like demons starved for centuries.

“Oh! If Death Servitors had a menu, your blood would be the gourmet delicacy, like white truffles!” Caesar remarked admiringly.

“I don’t know why either, but to Death Servitors, my blood is indeed the most tempting food,” Chisei said quietly. “Maybe it’s because all demons long to devour those who stand above them. They’ve suffered too long in hell.”

“Suffering?” Caesar was momentarily stunned.

“Start shooting,” Chisei said softly. “Death will end all suffering.”

In the depths of the elevator shaft, the Death Servitors were frenzied, climbing upward. Those attacking the elevator car abandoned their nearly secured meal, scrambling to ascend toward the mural hall, where they sensed a feast awaited. The main course? Chisei’s blood.

The Gatling gun roared to life, and in just the instant of pulling the trigger, dozens of brass casings dropped into the elevator shaft. The leading Death Servitor took a direct hit to its face, its head obliterated by the barrage, and as it fell, dozens more bullets hit its body.

The meter-long muzzle flame was like a torch blasting downward, and the gunfire was so intense that it felt like being inside an electrical storm. If it weren’t for the soundproof headphones and sunglasses, Caesar’s ears and eyes would have been damaged.

Chu Zihang’s Sten submachine gun and Chisei’s Thompson submachine gun joined the barrage, creating a metal storm that suppressed the Death Servitors’ joy. The ones at the front were hit, but aside from the one whose head was destroyed, most were only injured. Their snake-like bodies were incredibly tough; bullets sparked off their scales, and those that did penetrate lodged in their hard bones. Dozens of mouths opened wide, letting out sharp cries toward Caesar and the others above.

Caesar knew those cries were actually roars of rage. Unlike Death Servitors, the Death Servitors still retained some sense of pain, but instead of making them retreat, the pain only ignited their ferocity.

Caesar maintained tight control over the Gatling gun, pouring down a storm of bullets. This was a weapon that had changed eras, and with improvements, it now had a maximum rate of fire of 10,000 rounds per minute. Concerned about overheating, Caesar fired in bursts, but even with Chu Zihang and Chisei’s submachine guns added in, the bullet storm was so thick that bullets began to collide mid-air. The Death Servitors, showing a remnant of animal-like intelligence, soon learned to hide under the steel beams to avoid the barrage and climb up during gaps in the gunfire.

“We’re not killing enough! We’re just buying time!” Caesar shouted during a brief pause to reload, his voice barely audible over the deafening roar of the guns.