Karl was blown away by the explosion—
But he wasn't dead.
A point-blank detonation that even an ACPA would struggle to survive—
Yet Karl was still alive?
Why?
Because the ACPA took most of the blast.
The grenades had been wrapped in the monowire, hanging from the ACPA's arms—
And when Karl's severed hands opened, the grenades fell into its chest.
The explosion went off in front of the ACPA, where only its helt could shield it.
anwhile, Karl had plenty of cover.
First, the ACPA's steel-plated arms, thicker than his entire body, blocked most of the blast.
And second—
That Gatling cannon the ACPA had been holding?
That thing had a massive barrel, a chunky body—
The perfect shield.
With such solid cover, and the fact that he had already dropped low to the ground—
Karl had no reason to die.
...But dying wasn't the sa as being fine.
"Goddamn, that hurts."
Lying amidst the rubble, surrounded by shattered chandeliers and debris, Karl felt like a slab of butchered at.
Every nerve in his body scread.
"It hurts like hell... but it won't let die. What kind of cruel joke is this?"
Karl shifted slightly—
And imdiately realized—
He could barely move.
'Shit... I still need to get her out of here.'
How was he supposed to carry her now?
Make her lean on his back?
Would she even have the strength to hold on with those injuries?
How much ti was left?
Maybe four minutes?
Four minutes...
Gritting his teeth, Karl forced his mangled arms to prop himself up into a sitting position.
Four seconds of rest.
Then another four.
He just needed to stand up.
One—
"Crack!"
Two—
"Clang."
Three—
"Crunch."
Four—
A hand erged from the rubble.
A shattered, bloodied arm, hanging by a re thread of muscle—
Barely attached.
"Oh, for fuck's sake."
Karl watched helplessly as the pile of debris shifted—
The ACPA shoved aside the broken concrete, its cockpit cracked open, electrical sparks flickering everywhere.
Yet despite its battered state—
The pilot still stood.
"Can't you just stay dead?"
Karl tried to reach for his Kenshin, only to rember—
He had no hands.
"I should be asking you that."
For the first ti, the ACPA pilot spoke.
His face, half-destroyed, grinned—
A victorious smile.
Compared to Karl, who could barely move, he could still control his ACPA.
That gap in mobility—
Was the deciding factor.
No matter how ugly this battle had been—
No matter how close he had co to death—
None of it mattered.
He won.
"So... this is what victory really feels like."
The ACPA stomped forward, step by thunderous step—
Not toyingly slow, like before—
But genuinely sluggish, due to damage.
But speed didn't matter anymore.
Karl couldn't move.
All the pilot had to do was walk up—
And finish this.
The simplest execution—
A single punch.
A tal fist to his torso—
And Karl's upper body would be gone.
Was there any way out?
Karl searched his mind—
But deep down, he already knew.
This ti, he really was dead.
Eight-year-old , staring at raindrops on the car window, betting on which one would win the race—
And then a gust of wind ca and wiped them all away.
Maybe, even back then, I already knew—
Shit rarely ever goes the way you want it to.
Regret.
Regret what?
Looks like... he wouldn't be able to get Brown, Oliver, and the others out safely.
This job... Maybe he really was going to die under the cherry blossoms.
Was there anything else?
Of course.
Karl suddenly rembered sothing important—so important that, the mont he thought of it, his spirit lifted a little.
I never even got to eat the pork I ordered.
Mrs. Wells, Oliver's sister, his father... If they heard we were dead, they'd be devastated, wouldn't they?
Maybe... people really do think about random things before they die.
But death doesn't wait.
Heavy footsteps stopped right in front of him.
"This is delightful. I don't think I'll ever forget you."
"You won't forget ?"
Karl grinned weakly.
"Then I'll head down first and check out the scenery. Maybe I'll beat your ass again when you get there."
"Sounds good. You better start learning how to pilot an ACPA, or I'll win again."
The ACPA pilot chuckled.
Then, without hesitation—
His fist ca crashing down.
At the edge of death, there was nothing left to say.
Karl should have closed his eyes and accepted it.
But he didn't.
Because he saw sothing.
Ti didn't slow down—
No, it was him.
He could see soone moving at high speed.
That figure—
That was a machine.
Another machine.
Sandevistan.
In this frozen mont, Karl saw a figure blitz across the battlefield at inhuman speed, closing in right next to him and the ACPA pilot.
Then, a tallic hand reached out.
In that mont, even a drop of blood falling wouldn't have disturbed the silence.
The ACPA pilot noticed.
His eyes slowly shifted, trying to see what was happening—
But in his damaged state, he wasn't fast enough.
A chanical hand wrapped around his exposed throat—
And then, with a casual squeeze and pull—
His head was gone.
Karl watched it all.
Watched the ACPA pilot's frozen look of shock—
That lingering smirk on his ruined face, still convinced that the fight was already over.
The sa smirk Karl had worn just monts ago.
'Sorry, looks like I got lucky this ti.'
Karl blinked—
A fountain of blood sprayed down on him.
'Go on ahead. I'll take my ti... then I'll beat your ass when I get there.'
The tallic killer who had just ripped off the pilot's head—
Turned to Karl.
No.
That man turned to Karl.
A pair of glowing red eyes.
There was no humanity in them.
Only cold, rciless killing intent.
"Kid, I'm taking over your job."
That was the last thing Karl heard—
Before he lost consciousness.
And Karl knew who he was.
In fact, every rcenary in the world knew who he was.
A legend.
Adam Smasher.
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