Chapter 16: Do Not Look Up

Bang, bang, bang...

Robin fired eight more shots. Six of them found their mark, while two missed. Those two misses filled Robin with intense frustration. But as he went to raise his weapon again, a wave of dizziness washed over his brain.

[Warning! Warning!]
[Host is overdrawing mental energy.]
[Awakening transcendent traits is the beginning of transcending oneself, but please act within your limits.]
[Awakening without caution, the system sheds two tears.]

Seeing that Robin had not landed every shot, Matthew let out a sigh of relief. From this perspective, he seemed slightly less monstrous. For some reason, the Robin from moments ago had given him a feeling like the Grim Reaper himself. Top-tier snipers miss shots too; that was normal—that was how it should be. Matthew didn't even notice that if he were the one firing, hitting a single shot would be a miracle. Firing from a high-speed vehicle at a moving target in the distance was essentially a game of chance.

"Out of ammo." Robin handed the gun to Matthew.

*So, I am awakening a transcendent trait? That female voice, the gun in my dream—are they all connected to my ability?*

Only then did Matthew realize he had made a rookie mistake. He had been so busy marveling at Robin's divine skill that he had forgotten to prepare spare magazines! Fortunately, his reaction was quick; he immediately handed Robin a fresh weapon while taking the empty one to reload.

...

On a nearby rooftop, a soldier kept his head low, hiding in the shadows, not daring to show his face. Just then, several other soldiers arrived on the roof with their rifles. Seeing the two dead soldiers and the one cowering in the corner, the squad leader was incensed.

Bang!

The squad leader kicked the hiding soldier over and roared, "What are you doing? Playing ostrich? If so, you should at least stick your backside in the air!"

"No, you can't... you can't lift your head..." the soldier’s lips were pale, his face twisted in terror. "If you show your head, you die!"

"To hell with 'you'll die'!"

The squad leader clutched his rifle and strode to the edge of the roof. "Where is the enemy?"

Bang!

A gunshot rang out, the bullet tearing through the air.

Thud!

The squad leader collapsed limply to the ground. His rifle slipped from his hands, clattering against the roof with a dull thud. To the very end, he never even saw where the enemy was. The remaining soldiers hurriedly crouched down. They finally understood why showing their heads was a death sentence. This unit lacked the fanaticism to kill the enemy at any cost; they valued their own lives. In their eyes, for a few thousand a month, why risk everything?

...

After firing that shot, the scenery outside became blurred to Robin. His hand, which had been steady as a mountain, began to tremble and twitch uncontrollably. In warfare, it is not always necessary to kill every enemy; sometimes, effective deterrence is enough to keep the enemy from showing their face. Initially, Robin’s marksmanship was so precise that countless soldiers dared not even look in his direction. Unfortunately, Robin had now completely burned out.

His body swayed, no longer able to hold itself up, and he collapsed backward. It was as if that last shot had been his swan song.

"Oh no..."

The young nurse had been so consumed by grief that she hadn't been listening to the two men arguing. Only now did she realize something was wrong with Robin. She hurriedly caught him before he hit the floor.

"What's happening?" Matthew was horrified to see Robin suddenly collapse. A moment ago, he had been fine—standing straighter than a telephone pole, his hand steadier than a micro-engraver. Matthew tried to step forward but found himself feeling dizzy as well. He shook his head, his vision blurring.

"He must have been poisoned at the hospital. That grenade contained toxic gas..." The nurse helped Robin sit down. "His mental energy is rapidly depleting; he can't hold on any longer."

"Damn it, I forgot about that!" Matthew slapped his own forehead. It was clear he had been poisoned as well, failing to notice Robin’s condition earlier. He pulled a bottle of medicine from his coat, shook out a few pills, swallowed one himself, and handed two to the nurse. "Why didn't you remind me? You're the one with medical training!"

"I, I..." The nurse took the pills and lowered her head, scolded into silence.

"I'll deal with you later!" Matthew glared at her. Even if Meli, who had just died, was her mentor, this was unacceptable. If the mission had been any more complex, her poor judgment could have cost them all their lives. It was clear the nurse wasn't very professional and lacked sufficient training. Bringing someone like her along showed just how desperate Matthew had been to rescue Robin—he had even tapped into the reserves.

"Get ready to jump from the vehicle," Matthew exhaled. "He’s done enough. The rest is up to us." He patted the frame connecting to the driver's cabin with a sense of reluctance.

"Lost quite a few of them, and we've slipped out of sight for now, but escaping entirely..." the driver's voice was heavy.

"Follow the original plan. We must survive, understand?" Matthew said sternly. "I’ll buy you a drink when we get back."

"Deal!" the driver laughed. "I’m going to drink you into poverty!"

...

The commander in charge of city patrols was numb. Someone had caused a scene at St. Peter's Hospital; he didn't know the extent of the losses, nor did he know who the enemies were. An ambulance had driven out, and though they had tracked its route, two of their observers had been headshot. The men on the roof were supposed to be watching, but what happened? An entire platoon—a whole platoon—was pinned down by a single sniper, not daring to show their faces! Even if this platoon was of questionable quality, it didn't change the fact that the commander viewed them as idiots.

"Trash! All of you are trash!" The commander roared in the command center. "If you don't capture the troublemakers today, none of you are sleeping!"

"Who was in charge of the night watch? If you can't catch them, I'll have you executed!"

"C-Commander..." the adjutant said awkwardly. "The person in charge of the night watch is your brother-in-law..."

"If he can't catch them, I'll execute his sister, too!" The commander threw a stack of files into the adjutant's face. Rank meant everything, and the commander clearly held absolute authority over his regiment. The adjutant lowered his head, seething but daring not to speak.

"Report..."

Just then, a communications soldier ran to the door.

"Speak!" The commander looked at him with a glimmer of expectation.

"We have confirmed three fake male orderlies, one fake nurse, and eight gunmen killed," the soldier reported. "The ambulance was intercepted. Preliminary assessment indicates it was a modified vehicle; the tires and chassis were specially reinforced with a large amount of ballistic-grade material. The driver tried to abandon the vehicle and flee into an alleyway. We searched the area, and the moment we cornered him, he committed suicide by taking poison."

"The others in the vehicle are nowhere to be found..."

"How many escaped in total?" the commander pressed.

"Two men and one woman vanished from the vehicle; one of the men was wearing a patient's gown. There was another pair—a man and a woman—who escaped to the back of the hospital. When we surrounded them, the man used a psychic-type ability to tear a hole in our line, allowing the woman to escape. We have captured the psychic transcendent alive."

The commander let out a sigh of relief. At least he had something to report.