Caesar looked back and saw everyone in Group B staring blankly at their chests before they fell to the ground. Blood was gushing out from everyone’s chest. All 46 people in Group B, except Caesar Gattuso, were shot at the moment the music ended, in the short time before the sound waves from this side reached the opposite wall and reflected back. Almost everyone was shot through the chest, and the sound of 45 weapons falling to the ground seemed to be the same.
A student from Group B was aiming at the top floor railing, but he lost his balance and fell headfirst. A figure flashed out from among the eleven opponents, caught the ball in mid-air, and put it back on the ground.
Twelve people formed a circle around Caesar, smoke was coming out of the muzzles of eleven submachine guns, and Jiude Mai shrugged in boredom.
“Hey! How can you change the ending of the music without permission?” Caesar sighed.
“Just like when I watch movies, I never like sad endings,” Jiude Mai spread her hands, “I’m not bullying you, I said it starts when the music ends.”
“Frigga bullets? Is that what you load in your magazines?” Caesar looked back at his companions who were shot. Although it was realistic, this was the typical appearance of a Frigga bullet hitting someone. It was not fatal, but the person would immediately fall into coma.
“What do you think we are? Shooting madmen?” Jiude Mai said indifferently, “We never cause unnecessary trouble.”
“Why don’t you shoot me too?”
“I want to ask you something. No one has ever discovered me after I released the Dark Light. How did you discover it?”
“You are too curious. You will regret it. Shoot me and you will know immediately.” Caesar spread his hands like eagle wings. “Cassell Academy, Caesar Gattuso. According to your Japanese saying, I am here.”
“What grade are you in?” Jiude Mai suddenly asked.
“Third grade.”
“Oh, I’m from the Department of Music at the University of Tokyo, Mai Jude. I received the mayor’s scholarship and it’s been two years since I graduated. I’m here.” Mai Jude’s crimson brows fluttered. “You’re the only one left in the third year, so don’t pretend to be cool. The words ‘I think I’m cool’ are already written on your face. If you admit defeat now and call me ‘senior sister’, I’ll let you go.”
Caesar was a little amused and confused. This beautiful Japanese girl was really out of line sometimes.
“I’ll be cooler in a while.” Caesar gathered his thoughts and a faint smile returned to his face.
“Interesting, third grade.” After a moment’s silence, Mai clapped his hands, and the eleven companions slowly evacuated ten meters away from Caesar and occupied advantageous cover.
“This time it’s easier. I have a coin,” Mai said, holding a 25-cent coin in her hand. “When the coin falls to the ground, everyone shoot.”
“That’s fair.” Caesar nodded. “You won’t participate?”
“Not yet. You will face eleven guns and eleven bullet trajectories surrounding you in an instant. They will be enough to leave you no room to move. And how many bullets do you have?”
“Standard Desert Eagle, 7 rounds of 0.5-inch AE bullets per magazine, a total of 14 rounds, enough.”
The coin fell and was hidden by the back of the oak chair.
“Damn it!” The same thought emerged in the minds of the 11 elites, and they lost 0.03 seconds.
“Ding”, the back of the chair fell on the hard ground, in front of Caesar, and the sound was as sharp as a reed being plucked.
13 strong heartbeats, determining the positions of the other 11 people except Jude Mai and himself.
Caesar leapt onto the table, holding his guns with both hands, his eyelids lowered. In the instant he jumped, he had already fired. Two bullets left the barrels simultaneously, removing two targets. Before the bullets even reached their mark, he had already dismissed these two targets in his mind.
Ten guns turned towards him and fired. Debris from chairs and tables flew everywhere.
Caesar jumped into the air from the tabletop. In that instant, while suspended, he fired two more times with each hand—approaching the physical limit of these guns.
Four more targets were erased in his mind, leaving six.
Caesar landed back on the table, six guns pointed at him, with no room left to evade. The five barrels sliced through the air, targeting Caesar—a barrage from which there was no escape.
Suddenly, the entire hall went dark, all the lights extinguished. Before the afterimage could fade, Caesar had disappeared.
“My turn,” Caesar said in the darkness.
In the darkness, six hearts beat faster.
The muzzle flashes of the Desert Eagles briefly illuminated Caesar’s sharp profile each time, making him appear as if he stood amid the fires of hell.
The lights came back on, and Caesar stood in the same spot, his hands lowered, with faint trails of smoke rising from the barrels of his Desert Eagles.
A double defeat.
Gunshots still echoed in the hall as a lone applause sounded.
“Impressive. You surprised me,” Mai said, clapping.
Caesar removed the magazines from his guns and unloaded the last bullets. Two left in the left hand, one in the right.
“Desert Eagle, standard seven-round magazine, 0.5-inch caliber AE rounds. I used eleven rounds to take out your eleven people.” Caesar tossed the three bullets onto the table. “You altered the ending of the music without permission; otherwise, you would’ve lost.”
“It wasn’t intentional; this piece is just too sad. I’ve never liked sad endings,” Mai spread her hands, “It’s too early to decide who wins or loses—I haven’t fired.”
Both sides were only knocked unconscious—coincidentally, they both used the tranquilizing Frigg bullets.
The two teams walked through the Hall of the Heroes, maintaining a steady distance of several steps, their eyes fixed on each other’s guns. If not for the four guns in their hands, the atmosphere between them could almost be described as harmonious.
“I get it,” Mai said. “Your Yanling is ‘Kamaitachi,’ no wonder you’re so confident. You had already ordered the system to turn off the lights, and in the darkness, ‘Kamaitachi’ is practically invincible.”
Yanling: Kamaitachi, Sequence No. 59.
Kamaitachi is a wind spirit from Japanese mythology—three brothers who hide in the wind and create vacuum-like slashes to wound passersby. The Yanling of the same name allows the user to control the wind within a certain domain, as if the wind has been enslaved to capture all sounds and deliver them. Even in complete darkness, the user can rely on the wind as their eyes, giving them full control of the battlefield.
“Well said. It seems you’re not in a rush to break into the underground level,” Caesar said.
“You’ve already said it—I still have other comrades. Right now, all the Execution Bureau elites are outside. The students with the greatest combat potential are you and Chu Zihang, and your bloodlines would be a significant hindrance to us. My task is to buy time, and I’ll leave everything else to that girl who never comes back empty-handed.”
“May I ask, what does ‘three-no’s girl’ mean?”
“It means no figure, no looks, and no enthusiasm. She’s my opposite,” Mai said “An absolute deadpan girl”.
“Well then, facing a beautiful opponent like you, I guess I’m luckier than Chu Zihang,” Caesar said lightly.
“Shall we see who draws faster?”
“Sure.”
“In the dark?” Mai sneered. “I’ll give you a head start; darkness is your territory—let’s fight on your turf.”
“Alright,” Caesar said.
“Give me a moment.” Mai put her Glock on a nearby table and took out two silver hair clasps from a concealed pocket.
She casually tidied her long sideburns, which she had deliberately grown long—two feet in length, black as pitch, like the women in ancient Japanese ukiyo-e. These long sideburns paired with her sporty high ponytail made her stand out.
“You really are a gentleman—what a pity to kill you.” Sakatoku Mai clasped a silver hair clip at the end of each of her sideburns, each decorated with beautiful butterfly patterns.
“My family upbringing has taught me to always be patient when waiting for a lady to finish grooming herself,” Caesar said.