There were nine men before Gabriel.
"I’ll only ask once," he said coldly, his blue eyes gleaming. "What is the purpose of this?"
"To send a message," one of them said. "You must be a butler of the Schneiders. You’re not the target, so if you just step aside, we’ll let you live."
"A message?" Gabriel tilted his head.
"If families like the Schneiders continue backing Dream Industries’ innovations, they’ll be dealt with. Surely you’ve seen it yourself. The way these corporations exploit the people. The city is drowning in smoke and debt while the privileged grow fat. The people are tired of being trampled on."
Gabriel’s gaze swept over the group. "So you’ve chosen rebellion."
"Rebellion?" the man spat. "Call it what you want. We’re just taking back what’s ours."
"...I see." Gabriel brushed invisible dust from his sleeve. "Then there’s nothing more to discuss."
The next moment, Gabriel’s gloves began to contort. The fabric unfurled into a mesh of metallic threads that crawled across his arm like living veins.
In a matter of seconds, the nanites solidified, forming a sleek conduit that pulsed with his mana.
Swiiish——
The baton in his hand lengthened as a blade of blue plasma flared. It was a saber. The nanite exosleeve tightened along his right arm, enhancing his strength and stabilizing his swing.
———!
The sound of rifles resounded. Plasma rounds seared through the air. Gabriel moved, dodging as his saber cut through some of the shots with a single swipe.
The fact that they had such weapons told him enough. Plasma rifles were restricted to military use. For these people to have them meant they were tied to the recent hijackings of shipments meant for the Capital’s armed divisions.
"Uh?" Gabriel’s eyes flicked downward.
In the midst of deflecting fire, he had been drawn just far enough off balance. A magic circle flared beneath his feet.
"Do it!" one of the men screamed.
Crackle——
Sparks of electricity snaked up Gabriel’s body, forcing him to jerk as his jaw tightened, wincing through the pain. A rain of plasma bullets screamed toward him in the next instant.
Yet Gabriel moved just as quickly, forcing mana through the bindings. A barrier intercepted the barrage. Each round burst against it and scattered into sparks that fizzled against the ground.
Gabriel’s glare cut across them. "Pathetic."
To the untrained eye, these attackers might have passed for professionals. But to Gabriel, an official Revenant Knight, they were nothing more than pretenders.
It was often said that a single Revenant Knight was worth more than a hundred tanks on the battlefield.
The outcome was inevitable.
In the next moment, screams echoed from the left, then the right, as Gabriel tore through them before they even had the chance to react.
"Ah—"
Boom——
One of the men suddenly detonated, a suicide bomber catching Gabriel completely off guard. The explosion hurled him backward, and his body crashed against the metal pipes. Heat seared across his skin as burn marks spread.
Yet to Gabriel, it was nothing more than a sting at the wrist. He forced himself upright with ease. But just as he prepared to move again, his instincts screamed.
He turned toward a glint from a high window.
"...!"
A sniper.
"Shit—"
And not just any sniper. The weapon’s outline was clearly a railgun.
But before he could react, the glint suddenly disappeared.
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed, then widened in shock as he caught sight of another figure.
"Young Master...?"
* * *
SIBYL had flagged eleven hostiles in total, one of them being Gabriel. Yet in front of the car, there were only nine of them. According to the radar, there was a rat sneaking out of sight.
"A sniper?"
It was the only explanation that made sense.
Julius trusted Gabriel’s ability. Handling nine opponents at once wouldn’t be an issue, and even a sniper should have been within his reach.
But if Gabriel subdued the others while the hidden gunman escaped, that would be a problem.
In an era where privacy was a privilege of the few and surveillance touched every corner of life, information was as dangerous as any weapon. Julius couldn’t risk letting the sniper report back.
With that in mind, Julius discreetly slipped from the car and followed SIBYL’s radar, guiding him toward his target.
Pausing at the entrance of the building, he whispered, "SIBYL, scan for surveillance triggers."
[Scanning...]
[No active alarms detected.]
[Minor Motion Sensors present on second floor.]
[Recommendation: Proceed with caution.]
Julius adjusted his grip on the saber and moved silently into the shadows of the stairwell
After another scan, SIBYL confirmed there were no trigger alarms on the second floor either.
Julius frowned. "They’re sloppy."
So these weren’t professionals after all. A real hit squad would have ensured every possible entry point was secured.
At the top of the stairs, he stopped before a closed door. Beyond it was where SIBYL’s radar had marked.
There were no sensors to detect his presence, but simply opening the door would alert the sniper immediately. He scanned the radar again, and sure enough, SIBYL highlighted a secondary access point, particularly, an open balcony.
Julius’s eyes flicked to the window along the hall. The glass was already ajar. He slid the window open further and stepped onto the ledge.
The wind brushed past his face as he maneuvered along the narrow stone rim.
"Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall..." Julius’s grip tightened against the cold wall.
The ledge curved toward the balcony SIBYL had marked. At last, he reached the balcony, landing both feet as silently as possible.
Inside, the sniper remained completely oblivious. His focus was glued to the scope of the railgun aimed at the street.
The weapon itself was a prohibited firearm, tightly regulated and restricted even from standard military personnel unless under the most extreme circumstances.
And even then, its use was never sanctioned against human targets.
That made the sight before Julius all the more alarming.
Julius crept forward. His hand reached out, ready to subdue the sniper. He needed information. So killing him outright would serve no purpose at the moment.
Swiiish——
The blue plasma tip of Julius’s saber halted just a breath away from the back of the sniper’s neck.
"Fingers off the trigger. And don’t move," Julius commanded.
The sniper froze, startled by Julius’s sudden appearance. A railgun was no ordinary firearm. It required a three-second charge at a minimum before it could fire, but its destructive power was beyond comparison to any handheld firearm.
That meant he could not simply pull the trigger. He had to wait for orders from his receiver before even thinking of firing. But now, that chance was gone.
"Which faction are you from?" Julius asked. "The Revolutionary Army? Or the Underworld?"
"...."
The sniper’s jaw tightened. Silence stretched between them.
Julius pressed the plasma blade closer, burning against his skin slightly.
"Answer me."
"...."
Julius’s eyes narrowed. "You know, I don’t need a confession. I only need a reason to end you. So make your choice, die with your secret, or speak and maybe keep your head a little longer."
[SIBYL]
[Elevated heart rate detected.]
[Microtremors in vocal cords.]
"The Neon Hand," the man finally spoke.
"The Neon Hand..."
Julius had no such memory of a group surfacing in the years to come. It was either a minor faction too insignificant to survive... or a lie.
"What’s your purpose?"
"To reclaim what was stolen from us," the sniper answered too quickly. "We fight against the old blood. Those families who hoard power, who tie their names to corporations like Dream Industries and bleed the people dry."
[Respiration: Irregular]
[Increased perspiration along temples.]
[Compliance probability: <40%.]
Julius narrowed his eyes. "Continue."
"We... we intend to strike at the pillars that hold this rotten world together... If the Schneiders fall, the rest will follow. That’s the message."
[Involuntary ocular darting detected.]
[Auditory stress markers elevated.]
[Microtremors detected in jawline.]
"So you believe the Schneiders are the foundation. That cutting us down will collapse the entire order?"
"...."
The sniper swallowed hard, saying nothing.
"I see."
———!
Julius pressed the saber forward. The blade seared through the man’s throat in a single motion.
From SIBYL’s scan, combined with his own years of experience using the system, the man was clearly lying.
"...!"
But instead of the hiss of burning flesh, there was only the sound of glass fracturing. Cracks spread across the sniper’s skin where the blade had pierced. The sniper scowled.
In that instant, Julius understood.
This man had never truly been in danger. His fear had not been of death, but of being discovered. Because once the cracks appeared, they would stay for a long while, marking him for what he really was.
No matter how hard he tried to conceal it, his daily life would be difficult.
"You’re... a Glassheart."
Glasshearts.
A race of humans said to be descendants of the miners who had been indirectly responsible for the great industrial magic revolution.
Oppressed by both the lowest of the low and the highest of the high, the Glasshearts were people with no place in the world.
Their curse was discernible. The tell-tale signs were the crystalline patterns that manifested across their skin.
With their natural affinity for raw mana, they were unmatched. It was said that a single Glassheart could destabilize an entire mana-tech system, making them a natural enemy to corporations in the industry.
The proof was right before Julius’s eyes.
"...."
The saber had barely affected him at all.