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Chapter 278: Mantlescramble Battle (Thirteen)
Chapter 278 Mantlescramble Battle (Thirteen)
Clap—clap—clap—
Suddenly, rhythmic clapping echoed from over ten meters away.
Shiva wiped the weariness from his face and turned toward the sound.
A muscular man strode into view. He wore military pants, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and a dark jacket.
"Seven Kill", Shiva said directly, recognizing his opponent. Clearly, they'd crossed paths before.
Seven Kill stopped clapping. "Combat was impressive, but I personally dislike all your flashy skills", he said with a grin. "Men should settle things with fists."
"You're one strange guy", Shiva replied. "Since you were already here... why didn't you intervene or ambush me while I was fighting Wu Si Can Xuan? You might’ve taken us both out by now."
"Hehe..." Seven Kill chuckled. "I’m a one-on-one purist." He cracked his neck and fingers, mimicking the stance of a martial artist ready to unleash a legendary technique.
"I’ve never heard of that philosophy." As Shiva spoke, he discreetly consumed a vitality value supplement, restoring his health to full.
"It’s simple", Seven Kill explained. "Whether watching or participating, I demand combat be one-on-one. Think of it like sports—two top experts giving their all until only one remains standing." He clenched his fists. "That way... the winner is undeniably the stronger one."
"Hmph... Victory is always debatable. But I’ll play along. For instance, I just finished fighting Wu Si Can Xuan and took heavy damage."
"Hahahahaha!" Seven Kill laughed heartily. "Cut the excuses. Your stamina’s still overflowing, and I saw you refill your vitality value over ten seconds ago. Besides, I’m not in much better shape. I faced that girl ‘caibupainenotafraid’ earlier. Thought she’d be an easy target, but nowadays girls fight fiercer than men. I nearly died because of one small mistake."
"That’s what makes Terrifying Paradise interesting", Shiva remarked. "You noticed Zhao Ying Wang got taken out, right?" He paused grimly. "And not by you, me, or Wu Si Can Xuan."
"Yeah, shocking. I lost to him once. That Blood Golem of his was a nightmare." Seven Kill’s tone shifted. "Still, I don’t think she killed him. The girl’s not strong enough."
"So... you’re suggesting Mad Bu Jue did it? A mere level 8 player?" Shiva tested.
"Come to think of it, I’ve heard that ID somewhere..." Seven Kill scratched his head. "Can’t place when." He shrugged. "But we shouldn’t assume Zhao Ying Wang was killed by a player. This city’s full of dangerous characters, right?"
"True." Shiva fell silent for two seconds before replying. "Stone Golems attract attention. Maybe he drew the police or superheroes who killed him in this scenario world."
"Enough analysis. You said earlier to Wu Si Can Xuan—this kind of speculation’s pointless", Seven Kill said. "To win this game, just follow one rule: kill every other player."
"Fine, one-on-one purist. I’ll oblige."
Their words ended. The next second, both drew swords and bows, combat erupting instantly.
After their exchange, Shiva and Seven Kill reached an unspoken understanding—this battle might decide the winner of this kill game mode early. In their eyes, the remaining two players posed no threat.
As they prepared to clash, an unexpected interruption occurred.
A shadow suddenly lunged between them, voice low and gravelly. "You... are the so-called ‘super-criminals from another world,’ I presume?"
Shiva and Seven Kill didn’t recognize the newcomer, but both instinctively leapt backward, creating over ten meters of distance. Two combat-hardened warriors, reacting to danger with primal reflexes.
The intruder wore a black-gray bodysuit, a hooded cloak with a crimson cross emblem, and wielded twin swords. His boots and belt completed the medieval crusader aesthetic.
"Who are you?" Shiva demanded.
The figure turned toward Shiva, revealing a white mask beneath his hood. The lower half bore a red-winged pattern, concealing his mouth and nose.
"That’s what I should ask you", the masked figure replied, voice still low.
...
Centuries ago, the Saint Emmeram Order joined the Knights Templar.
A select group of knights participated in the Crusades before breaking from the Church.
They formed a secret organization, hiding in Sweden, and forged a vengeful angel to guard the Lord’s Proverb.
This guardian, known as Azrael, the Death Angel.
Over time, the Death Angel’s identity and image evolved continuously.
The figure before Shiva and Seven Kill was Michel Washington Rane. A former college football linebacker, then Marine, now a Gotham City police officer.
Setting aside his tragic backstory of losing his entire family under mysterious circumstances, Rane had participated in a secret military-police collaboration project.
The project aimed to train potential Batman substitutes in case of injury. Rane was one of three finalists, but the program was abandoned after the other candidates went insane.
But Rane’s story didn’t end there. Now clad in the Mourning Armor, wielding "Original Sin" (a blade wreathed in red flame) in his right hand and "Redemption" (a blade wreathed in blue flame) in his left, he became the new Death Angel, fighting alongside the Net of Gods in Gotham’s shadows.
...
"Judging by your tone, you’re some vigilante. What’s it to you if we fight here?" Seven Kill said, clearly annoyed at being interrupted before his duel.
Death Angel shifted his gaze to Seven Kill. From his white mask radiated a suffocating aura of killing intent. This invisible pressure alone hinted at the scenario world’s superheroes’ terrifying power.
"Weren’t you the one drilling holes in East District Street?" Death Angel countered. "Because of your little ‘sparring match,’ an innocent taxi driver and a couple died instantly. Many others were injured in the resulting crashes."
Shiva’s heart leapt with joy. This Npc might eliminate Seven Kill without him risking anything. He called out, "Looks like he’s after you. I’ll leave you to it!"
"I don’t think so", another voice interrupted.
Shiva whirled around, finding two figures behind him. Though not a shut-in, he recognized them instantly. The long-haired, blue-black bodysuited man was Nightwing. Beside him, the purple-armored Huntress, her thighs exposed. The speaker was Nightwing—Dick Grayson.
"I don’t recall harming Gotham’s citizens", Shiva replied quickly. "You have no reason to target me."
"Perhaps", Nightwing said. "But hours ago, an interdimensional visitor calling himself ‘Anonymous’ stormed a bank. He killed three robbers and three officers, then scattered millions in cash across the streets. Before fleeing, he taunted the police—six otherworldly criminals would soon plunge Gotham into chaos." He paused. "Staff, I’d like to hear your thoughts on this."
"Shiva replied, 'I know nothing about this... That otherworld traveler you mentioned has nothing to do with me.'" As he listened to the other's account, Shiva gradually realized the truth of the matter. In his mind, he muttered, Could it be that Mad Bu Jue set us up...?
"Is that so?" the Huntress challenged, clearly unconvinced. "Then explain the Stone Disc on your back."
Nightwing interjected before Shiva could respond, "Sir, in my opinion, your powers pose a ten-point danger to both yourself and others. If you truly mean no harm, I suggest you disarm and explain the situation clearly."
"What are we waiting for? Shiva", Seven Kill scoffed, "let's just take these three down first and settle things elsewhere." Though he spoke boldly, the Death Angel's intimidating presence made Seven Kill hesitate to act rashly. He needed to gauge Shiva's reaction first.
This reckless fool... Shiva inwardly groaned. You want to get yourself killed, fine, but don't drag me down with you. Seven Kill's nonchalant remark would surely provoke hostility from the Npcs.
As expected, Nightwing and the Huntress immediately shifted into defensive stances, their hands resting on their throwing weapons.
"I surrender", Shiva declared, slowly raising his hands as his psionic weapon retracted and dissipated. "I was only defending myself in combat." He glanced at Seven Kill. "The other five were madmen and killers. I had no choice."
Seven Kill instantly realized he'd been sold out. As a straightforward man, he couldn't fake surrender. For him, it was either genuine surrender or continued resistance.
"Tch... You're too scared to confront them yourself but want to play both sides?" Seven Kill spat angrily. "Well played!"
Before the words finished echoing, he stomped the ground, kicking up a wall of dust. Using the momentum, he bolted in the opposite direction.
"Think you can run?" the Death Angel's deep voice rumbled again.
The Death Angel had already anticipated Seven Kill's escape attempt. In a flash, he intercepted the fleeing figure with even greater speed.
So fast! Seven Kill's heart pounded. He'd believed his physical techniques surpassed ordinary players in the game, and his skills could rival even "superpowers." He'd dismissed these Batman-story heroes as irrelevant. But now he realized his mistake - this was the DC Universe, where even non-powered heroes were extraordinary comic book characters.
Take Batman, for instance. The man routinely jumped from three- or four-story buildings unscathed, all thanks to his Mantle's slow-fall function.
Or consider Tim Drake, the fifth Robin. A bullet to the chest barely slowed him down, and within hours he was back to his usual antics. Alfred's nonchalant explanation? "Your Kevlar suit saved you, though you did lose a lot of blood and suffered severe lung contusions. Fortunately, my stitching skills are impeccable."
In this universe, hero suits were practically bulletproof. Even fatal injuries only kept them down for half an hour before they returned to battle, often stronger than before.
Unfortunately, ordinary people and background characters didn't share these advantages.
Players who mistook these heroes or super-criminals for mere costumed commoners were gravely mistaken.
"The divine is a just judge", the Death Angel intoned, his preacher persona emerging as he quoted scripture, "who pours out wrath upon evildoers day after day. Those who refuse to repent will find their sword sharpened, their bow strung, and their vengeance prepared..." Twin blades burning with red and blue flames extended from either side of his body. His melee combat skills were flawless - even when surrounded by Shadow Syndicate assassins, none had ever bested him.
Seven Kill hadn't even exchanged blows with this opponent yet, but sweat already soaked his clothes. His martial arts proficiency had reached B-rank long ago, enhanced by numerous active and passive skills. In close combat, he'd give himself a 50% chance against Shiva, the second-ranked player. But now, under the Death Angel's oppressive presence, he couldn't even muster the courage to fight back.
Experienced fighters like Seven Kill always visualized potential outcomes before attacking. But against the Death Angel, every scenario playing out in his mind ended with him being dismembered by flame-wreathed blades within two moves.
"Wait!" Seeing his opponent prepare to strike, Seven Kill quickly raised his hands. "I surrender too... You wouldn't just kill us, would you? Heroes?"
...
Night fell over Gotham City, and with it came an uneasy stillness.
Above Gotham Police Station, Commissioner Gordon stood on the tower. The shattered Bat-Signal projected three glowing letters - Rid - across the darkened sky, as if declaring something to the city.
Gordon always wore a brown trench coat over a shirt and tie. Standing against the wind, his hair remained perfectly in place, his sharp eyes visible through his glasses.
A young man in red bodysuit, black Mantle, and eye mask approached. "Good news - Nightwing's team captured two of them and are bringing them to the station." He paused. "The bad news? Four remain at large. But Net of Gods will track them down soon."
"For me, there's no good or bad news anymore", Gordon replied. "Three families lost fathers, husbands, sons today. With these new super-criminals emerging at such a sensitive time, who knows what's coming next..."
"Tim Drake, the Third Robin, responded, "Whatever happens, Net of Gods can handle it."
"Son, I'm glad you have confidence", Gordon sighed. "We can't deny Net of Gods has prevented Gotham's collapse. But now the city's like a crumbling dike - every time we patch one hole, three more appear. The flood is just a matter of time." He looked at Tim. "Nightwing knows it. We know it. The criminals hiding in the shadows know it too. They're ready to destroy this fragile paper city."
"We won't let that happen", Tim said passionately. "Batman will return." He knew deep down that either he or Dick would eventually don that Mantle.
"Speaking of which, son", Gordon changed the subject, "I have a possible clue about those otherworld travelers. This evening, the station received a tip about Professor Victor Fries' hideout."
"Freeze?" Tim's expression shifted. "Where?"
"In a factory owned by 'Northern Pure Land' enterprise. But that's not important anymore", Gordon explained. "About half an hour ago, the place was leveled by a massive explosion. We're still investigating the cause, but my gut says it's directly connected to those 'otherworld travelers.' You might want to check the ruins..."
Gordon turned to face Tim as he spoke, but only saw empty air. The commissioner lit a cigarette, exhaling a bitter laugh. He couldn't help recalling another man who always vanished at the end of conversations. Unfortunately, that old friend was gone forever...
(End of Chapter)
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