Chapter 279

Chapter 279

‘There's a younger and more superior brain here than mine.’

That was what Kinuan said while pointing at me.

‘The brain Kashura needs isn’t Kinuan’s—it’s mine.’

There were two reasons why Kashura persistently targeted me instead of Kinuan.

‘I'm younger.’

Even though I'm a mess from the overload, I'm still in better shape than Kinuan. And if Kashura, who is well-versed in brain structures, had his way, he’d find a way to preserve and use my brain.

‘And for combat purposes, I'm more suitable than Kinuan.’

What Kashura needed was the ‘combat ability of Akies Victima.’ He was demanding Akies combat techniques in the truest sense.

‘The combat techniques Kinuan can use… I can use them too.’

Moments like this always make me laugh at myself. I guess Kinuan really is my teacher.

At critical moments, I always thought of Kinuan and recalled what he had done. At every crossroad in my life, his words and actions became my guide.

…And today, once again, I follow Kinuan’s example.

‘Intuition—beyond that realm.’

Kinuan once destroyed the two-wheeler I was riding with a single pistol shot. It was an impossible display of marksmanship and prediction. A foresight that seemed to grasp and twist the causality of the physical world.

That single shot was the very essence of Akies combat techniques.

Bzzzt.

A sharp, tearing sound filled my ears. Reality seemed to slow down as if it were breaking.

‘Accelerate my thoughts even further.’

My brain stretched out reality, desperately clinging to time. If I were in good condition, it would have felt as though time had stopped entirely. But right now, the best I could manage was slowing it down.

‘Three shock rounds.’

I had to stop Kashura with just three shots. No—two now.

My finger had already pulled the first trigger. The gunshot rang out, muffled.

The shock round exploded against Kashura’s shoulder. He deployed the shield attached to his auxiliary arm, blocking the shot. His shield glowed bluish, dispersing the energy explosion.

The first shot had no effect at all, and Kashura didn’t hesitate as he pressed forward against Ilay.

‘I have to be several moves ahead. I need to pull time from within my consciousness and predict.’

Seeing the future—that was the realm of the supernatural. A soft, fleshy human brain physically predicting the future was impossible. To surpass physical phenomena, one needed to be guided by a transcendent force.

Unfortunately, I had no power to induce paranormal phenomena. Psychic abilities belonged to a world far beyond my reach.

Bzzzt, click.

My head throbbed. The time I had forcibly seized was now struggling to break free from my consciousness.  

Kinuan had also injected himself with drugs when he sniped my two-wheeler. That level of skill wasn't something he could achieve under normal conditions. That meant I, too, had to push myself to my very limits.  

‘I must not aim for Kashura in the present.’  

I had to see Kashura in the future. Inside my mind, countless afterimages of Kashura appeared. They were projections of the actions he would take one second from now.  

I had to choose one from the countless afterimages. Even worse, Kashura’s responses to my own interventions split into even more afterimages.  

The endlessly diverging afterimages filled me with despair. One second felt like an unfathomable future. Our possibilities were infinite.  

‘How is a human brain supposed to calculate all of this?’  

Ordinary soldiers or warriors would move within the scope of my predictions. Those who had not reached mastery relied on ‘reflexive’ and ‘mechanical’ actions and judgments to fight. In truth, their combat style lacked free will.  

But the elite could insert their judgment into the realm of reflex and reaction. They could wedge free will into the sliver of a moment.  

Kashura was the same. He was a superhuman capable of making countless choices even in an instant. Obvious predictions wouldn’t work on him.  

‘At this rate, predicting is impossible.’  

In the slowed-down physical world, I watched Kashura and Ilay clash. Their blades collided fiercely, bouncing off each other with the force of impact. I felt as if I could count every single spark flying from their swords.  

They must have also accelerated their cognition to extend their perception of time. The depth of their thought process was no different from mine, but their breadth was likely narrower.  

No—Kashura's breadth was probably similar to mine. He used multiple brains, allowing him to conduct simultaneous high-speed thought processing in a way similar to an Akies Victima user. However, because the connected brains had different performance levels, the speed of their thinking varied, making the efficiency suboptimal. Linked cognition like that always operated at the speed of the weakest brain.  

‘That’s why he needs a single brain trained as an Akies Victima.’  

The future I saw for Kashura stretched infinitely. I had to impose conditions, to restrict the possibilities somehow.  

‘Think in reverse.’  

I began eliminating the most probable futures first. The fundamental principle of our battle was to evade the opponent’s predictions.  

‘I have to trust in Mushir al-Kashura’s abilities.’

Let’s think—Kinuan had always believed in me. He prepared for the Storm Era, convinced that I would become the chaos that surpassed even the Emperor’s expectations.  

It was the same in our last battle. In the deception and confusion, Kinuan believed that I would be the one to overpower him. That was why he had brought Mushir al-Kashura to that place.  

To foresee, one must believe in the greatness of their adversary.  

Mushir al-Kashura. The one-man legion. The legendary mercenary.  

A man who might be the closest to taking humanity’s next step forward.  

I believed that he would dismantle every single one of my ‘efficient attacks.’  

And my belief anchored probability in place.  

One by one, Kashura’s afterimages vanished, their numbers rapidly dwindling. The Kashura I saw was now reduced to four possibilities, their forms becoming more distinct.  

At this moment, I was rejecting the mechanical intuition I had built through training.  

Through my honed combat instincts and logic, I knew that Kashura would never be in any of those projected positions.  

‘And that’s precisely why Kashura…’  

Because he was human, not a machine, he would choose the blind spot of probability.  

Bzzzt.  

Reality was resuming its flow.  

I had to pull the trigger soon. But there were still four afterimages left.  

My vision was turning red.  

The reason those afterimages still remained was because I lacked belief.  

Believe. Erase every ‘best’ and ‘optimal’ possibility that exists for me. Assume that all my attacks would be dismantled.  

Predict the predictions. Counter the counters. And when I reached the peak of the combat logic I had spent my entire life refining…  

‘I abandon higher-order rationality.’  

I relied on a judgment that was utterly simple and one-dimensional.  

All my life, I had believed that the world would never turn in my favor. I had survived by assuming the worst outcomes, throwing myself into the worst situations, and clawing my way back up.  

But just this once—I would discard that mindset. Just this once, I would believe that the best possible situation would unfold before me.  

A ‘best-case scenario dependent on luck’—something no elite fighter would ever rely on. We are taught that the world will never move in our favor. Only fools believe that situations will align perfectly for them without effort.  

But for now, I would become that fool.  

Erase all thought. Fire at what I see. Kashura’s back would be his weak spot, yet he would expose it to me as he moved.  

The futility of technique. The emptiness of thought. The illusion of probability.  

A golden circle of truth traced a perfect arc inside my mind.  

…The world turns and turns, only to return to its origin.

Only one afterimage of Kashura remained. That afterimage glowed in golden light.  

‘Two shots left out of three.’  

I wouldn’t need both.  

‘One shot is enough.’  

I spun around, gripping Ruina with only my left hand. Hiding the muzzle between the folds of my clothing, I pulled the trigger. It was an unstable shot, but… I wasn’t aiming for precision, and even a rough hit would do.  

At the same moment I fired, Kashura spun and withdrew. As he turned briefly, one of his weak points—the metal box—came into my view.  

‘I didn’t aim for the metal box. What I aimed for was…’  

I didn’t know what Ilay’s trump card was. But I believed he would ‘finish it.’  

I believed in Ilay, and I believed in Kashura. I threw myself into uncertainty, not trying to accomplish my goal with my ability alone.  

I pulled chance and luck to my side. I would bring down Kashura through coincidence and fate. I placed my faith in possibilities beyond my calculations.  

I aimed Ruina at Kashura’s leg. It was the most heavily armored part of his body—far from being a weak point. Even if the shock round hit, it wouldn’t cause any real damage.  

If Kashura had both feet planted on the ground, my shot would have been meaningless.  

‘Right now, one of his legs is slightly lifted. He never expected me to target his leg instead of the metal box…’  

Kashura was stepping back mid-spin, his foot momentarily lifted, disrupting one of his balance points.  

The shock round struck his left leg. A slow, blue explosion erupted.  

I had discarded every efficient attack and instead executed a move that was nearly useless.  

‘Ilay, if you’re hiding something—now is the time.’  

The shock round detonated against Kashura’s left leg with a thunderous boom. He staggered, losing his rhythm for the first time in this fight.  

…And for the first time, the battle was decided. In a duel between elites, such moments were common.  

Swish!  

Ilay’s longsword, Catastrophe, shifted at an incredible speed. Its segmented blade unraveled, joints spreading apart as it extended like a whip, tracing a complex trajectory.  

It was the hidden strike Ilay had never revealed, even when forced onto the defensive.  

The elongated Catastrophe severed Kashura’s head.  

Along with it, the tubes and cables connected to the metal box were torn apart, caught in the sweeping arc of the bladed whip.

The bladed whip twisted at an unnatural angle, coiling around Kashura’s arms and legs before contracting in an instant. His limbs were severed as if by a lie.  

The inner edges of Catastrophe, wrapped tightly around Kashura, glowed red for a moment—then a series of explosions erupted.  

KAAANG!  

Like a snake constricting its prey, Catastrophe coiled around Kashura’s body and detonated.  

His torso was torn apart, bursting as if struck by concentrated artillery fire.  

Kiiiiing!  

After unleashing its destructive force, Catastrophe reverted to its longsword form. But the blade was already in tatters, its joints stretched out, rendering it useless as a weapon.  

‘Powerful, but single-use.’  

It was a weapon into which an enormous amount of money had been poured for a one-time gimmick. Being from a prestigious family and favored by the Emperor, Ilay had the means to create such a uniquely designed weapon.  

‘Ilay’s personal weapon, Catastrophe.’  

Ilay had deliberately pushed for a close-quarters duel, using the durability of the hideout as an excuse. In truth, his strategy was to prevent Kashura from getting a proper sense of his mid-range and long-range combat abilities. It was a ploy to make the enemy lower their guard regarding distance, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.  

From the very start, Ilay had orchestrated the battle solely for this one attack. Even when he had chances to reveal Catastrophe’s true nature, he had restrained himself, waiting for absolute certainty.  

Shiiiii…  

Kashura’s armored cybernetic body lay before us, its head and limbs severed. His torso bore deep lacerations, as if crushed by a coiling serpent.  

Giiiing.  

Ilay and I locked eyes. He gave a slight nod.  

- Was that shot intentional? Or just luck?  

"Both. And don’t kill Kashura. I need to wake u—"  

I couldn’t finish my sentence. My consciousness was folding in on itself.  

I didn’t have the power to create supernatural phenomena. I couldn’t perform miracles that brought something from nothing.  

But I could weave chance and luck into inevitability, pulling it into reality. That was what it meant to be an Akies Victima.  

…Something clicked in my mind.  

God and man. Miracle and inevitability. Natural order and defiance of fate.  

Before a god, humans were weak. In a world without miracles, we had to rely on inevitability…  

Before my thoughts could come to a conclusion, my eyes shut.  

Ilay moved, reaching a hand toward me.  

Thump.  

The metal hand of a Legion caught me as I collapsed.  

I had experienced this before. Near the end of the Storm Era, Ilay had supported me just like this.  

…In many ways, I owed you a lot, Ilay.

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