Ch. 88
I commandeer a merc’s light armored vehicle and raid its first-aid kit.
First, the shrapnel. I dig it out before it can tear my wounds open every time I move.
Disinfect. Staunch the bleeding. Stitch.
Repeat for the rifle wound. Cool the burns with mineral water.
That’ll have to do.
I take the vehicle and drive. Last stop: the Hill District.
It’s a residential sprawl on a gentle, redeveloped slope, still clinging to its natural beauty. The suburbs, far from the city's heart.
It’s 5:00 a.m.
I reach Beniyama Grand Shrine, headquarters of the Hidden Flame. A flight of two hundred and twenty-five stone steps cuts up the slope.
I pass under a series of torii gates and step onto the inner grounds.
Supposedly a venerable shrine, five hundred years old. Judging by the size and number of its halls, it's prosperous enough.
Still, it looks modest compared to the phantom shrine Ashbrand showed me just hours ago.
“Well, now. A worshipper, so early in the morning,” a man with a placid face says as I step onto the grounds.
He’s sprinkling water from a bucket with a ladle. A Shinto priest.
“You’re quite devout,” he says.
“Sprinkling water?”
“That I am.”
“A little early in the year for that, isn’t it?”
He says nothing.
“I’m more concerned about the six-centimeter gap in the worship hall’s lattice door,” I say. “And the glint of a scope behind it.”
The second I say it, black veins bulge on the priest’s neck.
He pulls a dagger from the folds of his hakama and lunges.
“Go to hell, Exorcist!”
Alek’s Shotgun is already in my hand. I fire.
The blast punches a hole clean through his chest and throws him backward.
“What kind of priest are you—”
A high-velocity round cracks past my cheek, sharp enough to draw blood.
My Sensing Force gave me just enough warning to jerk my head aside.
The path from the top of the steps to this hall is a forty-five-meter straight line.
A perfect sniper’s alley. Just where I’d set up.
Even in this state, dodging a shot that obvious is easy enough.
This shrine is a deathtrap.
* * *
The defensive plan for Beniyama Grand Shrine was devised by Beta Squad, mercenaries trained under Retsu Shido.
Knowing with near certainty that Ikaku Akamuro would attack, setting up an ambush along the limited routes of approach was the logical next step. Thus, the mercenary captain chose the spot at the top of the 225 steps as the first chokepoint.
First, they’d plant a “priest” there under some pretext, with a sniper positioned in the worship hall.
The priest would wait for the right moment, then give the signal when Ikaku Akamuro arrived. Then the sniper would take the shot.
“It's 45.4 meters from the top of the stairs to the worship hall. A skilled sniper can't miss the shot. That said, the hit rate will go to shit if the target's moving.
We just need three seconds. Stop his movement. That’s what the priest is for. Just make some small talk. That’ll be enough.
Ikaku Akamuro is an exorcist from the Akai clan. He must have received some religious education. He won’t just gun down a priest without absolute confirmation.”
The plan was put into action.
The mercenary captain himself would be the sniper.
There’s a risk the scope’s lens could reflect light. I’ll keep the lens cover on until the moment I fire.
Once the priest starts talking and distracts him, his attention won’t be on the scope.
After all, he’ll have a suspicious priest right in front of him. His focus will be on determining if the man is an enemy or a civilian.
Ikaku Akamuro came up the stairs. Empty-handed. At a glance, he carried no weapons.
Bucket and ladle in hand, the priest spoke to him.
The mercenary captain, waiting in a prone position, removed the cover from his scope. He secured his line of sight through the six-centimeter gap in the worship hall’s lattice door.
Just as I suspected. He’s completely battered. Even the healing effect of Ichor has its limits. You can only count on it once or twice a day, and then you can’t use it for several days. He must have already used up his miracles.
The mercenary captain held his breath, minimizing his body’s sway.
He took aim... and the priest lunged at Ikaku.
Ikaku responded with a quickdraw, shooting the priest dead.
What the hell is he doing?!
Things had unfolded faster than the mercenary captain had imagined.
He’d only had two seconds to aim.
But for a veteran, it was enough.
I can hit him…
He had his target acquired. He fired.
In the same instant, Ikaku moved with startling agility, accelerating sharply with a movement that seemed to originate above his knees.
It was clearly an intentional dodge.
The mercenary captain’s eyes went wide behind the scope.
What... the...?! The muzzle velocity of a 5.56x45mm round is 2.7 times the speed of sound! He dodged it?! Don’t tell me he knew the shot was comi—
The mercenary captain reeled in shock.
Ikaku, relieved that the bullet had followed the exact trajectory he’d predicted, reached for a grenade on his hip. He threw it as he recovered from his evasive maneuver—a little souvenir from the shooting range armory.
The mercenary captain could only let out a confused, “Huh?”
He was already shaken by the dodged bullet, but to think Ikaku would throw a grenade from this distance, and high into the air, at that.
What was he thinking? It was incomprehensible.
0.7 seconds later, comprehension dawned.
The misshapen metal sphere he’d thrown sailed as if drawn by a magnet toward the six-centimeter gap in the worship hall’s lattice door.
It threaded the opening perfectly and disappeared inside the hall.
That was from forty-five meters. A perfect pitch from a cannon of an arm.