As the heavy iron gate crashed to the ground, a confident smile appeared on Himeko's lips.
She had already sensed it while rushing here.
Her stamina felt the same as before. And now, after that kick, Himeko was certain of one thing.
She still possessed the body that had been enhanced by the Key of Inspiration, and for some unknown reason, the effects of the Theory of a Thousand Stars were still active on her.
The Himeko of this moment was confident enough to take on an un-enhanced Kaslana in close combat.
Who says I'm not at the peak of human potential now?
And as for "desperate times call for desperate measures," what Himeko needed now was far more than a simple communicator.
Her list of needs included, but was not limited to: a communicator capable of international calls, weapons to fight the Honkai Beasts and zombies that would appear after the Great Eruption, and a large sum of cash she could use before the Eruption.
And this place, an underground speakeasy, a gathering spot for criminals of all kinds, had everything she could want.
Himeko felt no psychological burden about taking on these outlaws, who dared to carry firearms even in the Chinese mainland. If you walk into the gray, or even black, world, you must be prepared to be devoured at any moment.
Himeko herself had never been to a place like this, but she had heard stories about it from Shu and the others. She never thought it would come in handy like this...
See? It pays to remember things.
The sound of the iron gate falling caught the attention of everyone in the small bar. The boisterous crowd fell silent in an instant, all eyes fixed on the entrance.
A few men near the door took their hands off their glasses and playing cards and moved them to the weapons they carried.
Daggers, for instance. Or pistols.
To make such a ruckus right from the start, the newcomer was definitely no pushover.
But no one entered. As the crowd stared at the doorway, more and more people grew wary, putting down what they were doing and cautiously taking up their weapons.
Even the bartender behind the counter put down the bottle of base liquor in his hand and reached under the counter, gripping a powerful shotgun.
He was sure that if he raised this gun and fired a single shot at the door, the person outside would be turned into a sieve.
But the moment that gun went off, this bar would be finished. Every single person here would be dragged away by the enraged Sapphire City government to enjoy some military-grade electrotherapy when the surveillance cameras mysteriously lost power.
So, even though they could have fired first to gain the upper hand, everyone held back, not daring to make a move.
Until a cheerful female voice rang out in the silent bar.
"It's been a long time since I've been to a bar." A fiery-red figure had, at some point, taken a seat at the counter. She tapped the glass countertop lightly with a finger painted with red nail polish, making a crisp sound.
"First, get me a communicator. Then, two hundred thousand in cash. And finally, mix me a Red Siren."
Are you listening to yourself?
Are those even the words of a sane person?
The wary crowd was stunned by this bizarrely logical demand. As they turned their heads, they realized that no one should have been speaking at that moment.
After a series of scraping and mechanical sounds, the red figure on the barstool moved faster than any of them could draw their weapons.
After a flurry of thwacks and crashes, Himeko was holding a guy's head, having just smashed it into the glass countertop. She then returned to her original seat, twirling a classic Desert Eagle in her hand, and raised an eyebrow at the dumbfounded bartender.
"Well? My drink, my money, and my communicator—aren't they ready yet?" Himeko smiled, removing her hand from the back of the guy's head, who was now "paying his respects to the ground with his forehead," and tapped the half-shattered counter again.
The bartender, who was already gripping the shotgun, gulped hard. His pupils trembled as he looked at the red-haired woman, whose only sign of exertion was slightly messy hair.
The gun should have been his greatest source of confidence. In a small, enclosed space like this bar, a shotgun was known as the great equalizer.
But when his gaze traveled past Himeko to see what was behind her, the gun in his hand suddenly felt scorching hot.
The entire bar was littered with people, lying in disarray. These usually unruly thugs had lost all their dignity and were piled up like garbage.
Some were not seriously injured and were still on the floor, groaning and clutching where they'd been hit. Others had entered a peaceful slumber.
What was most terrifying was that, apart from their noses and mouths, there were no traces of blood on them. All the attacks they had suffered were blunt force trauma from fists and feet.
And with just fists and feet, she had taken down the entire bar without a single shot being fired!
Of course, there were other reasons. For instance, at the very beginning, the ones with guns were still worried about the Sapphire City government, giving Himeko the opportunity to take out a batch of them who had already aimed their guns at her.
By the time the rest realized Himeko's combat prowess was far beyond their imagination, they no longer had a chance to fire.
Or rather—they no longer had the heart to fire.
Even in those few short seconds, everyone could see that this red-haired woman had no intention of taking lives. Every move was aimed at disarming and subduing. Compared to a desperate outlaw, Himeko felt more like a strictly trained soldier.
And for a soldier to appear in the Chinese mainland... there was simply no need to open fire.
If you shoot, you might not kill this Super Saiyan, but if you shoot, you're guaranteed to die in this bar. Firing a gun here was just giving someone else a reason to kill you.
So why shoot? Just take a punch.
These were the ones who could still groan. Those who knew when to yield were the wise.
The reason these people could "knowingly break the law" in Sapphire City, which was under the jurisdiction of the Chinese mainland, was because they were the hired muscle of various factions. There was always someone above them, which had worn down what little pitiful self-esteem they had.
So why shoot? Taking this punch was just going through the motions. If Himeko wanted, they could have just laid on the ground and started groaning from the start.
But that was only part of the reason. The real reason was that the combat prowess Himeko displayed was simply too astounding.
Clean, decisive, able to take down a person with a single grappling move. If the person who had accomplished this terrifying feat had white hair, blue eyes, and a slightly foolish air, it would have been almost acceptable.
But this woman had fiery red hair and amber eyes, her entire being radiating a blazing, heroic aura like a burning rose.
This wasn't a Kaslana. So, the source of this combat strength had to be carefully considered.
The bartender withdrew his gaze. The smile on Himeko's face sent a chill down his spine. After mentally cursing his rotten luck, he decisively put down the shotgun—now just a fire poker in his hands—and turned to grab a brand-new communicator and a box of cash, pushing them onto the counter.
The communicator was a disposable burner, hard to trace and meant to be thrown away after use.
The cash was for payments. All transactions here were done in cash. Those so-called foreign accounts were convenient, but only if you were abroad.
Laundering money through those accounts would incur at least a 30% loss, whereas Sapphire City's thriving economy could cover up any cash flow under ten million.
And then there was the weapon. The Desert Eagle Himeko was twirling in her hand might or might not have the safety on. Just putting a finger on the trigger was enough to earn the scorn of any gun enthusiast, but the way Himeko was spinning it was simply terrifying.
He was afraid the gun would suddenly go off and randomly pop open the head of some lucky spectator.
But the bartender still steeled himself and served Himeko the Red Siren, hoping that this woman, who clearly just wanted to get things done quickly, would leave after finishing her drink.
After getting the communicator as she wished, Himeko only glanced at the drink before focusing on the device.
After confirming it didn't support video calls, Himeko snorted in disdain.
Still, Himeko was confident she could persuade her other self. Even without her face, her little secrets... Ahem, sorry, other me. Just enjoy this backstab from the future.
After typing in the number, Himeko picked up the drink that had been mixed right under her nose, downed it in one go as if savoring it, then picked up the case of money with an unchanged expression, tucked the gun into her waistband, and turned to leave without any hesitation.
She didn't even have the urge to warn the people here to leave. If she really wanted to save them, the best way wasn't to warn them, but to report them to the local police department.
When the Great Eruption came, the detention center was actually one of the safest places to be.
After leaving the alley, Himeko didn't call herself immediately. She first found a hotel and booked a room to establish a base. Only after composing herself did Himeko dial her own phone number.
A busy tone sounded, paused after about half a minute, and then a familiar yet strange voice came from the other end of the communicator.
"Hello?"
The voice sounded steady, but it couldn't hide the underlying laziness and resentment. Himeko, who had been wearing a serious expression, almost broke character.
She could even picture the "her" on the other end of the line, slouched by the bed, eyes blurry, trying to sound serious and composed.
The key point was that Himeko could perfectly imagine how she would inwardly complain about someone calling her at five in the morning.
Can't you have some self-respect?
It was only at this moment that Himeko understood why Theresa always looked at her with an expression of "disappointed in your lack of ambition."
She really wanted to say the same thing to herself.
She was a young and promising genius quasi-doctoral student, a major who had fought her way out of the battlefield, and a senior teacher specially hired by Chiba Academy. How could she be this alcohol-loving, listless person?!
At the very least... at the very least, she should have the image of Mr. Siegfried, right?
Thus, when Himeko spoke, a hint of resentment had involuntarily crept into her voice as well.
"Murata Himeko, female, ID number... 19870611..., home address..., current residence..., height..., weight..." Himeko started, coldly hitting the still-drowsy other her with a wave of "doxxing shock."
After reciting a full minute of personal information, including bank card numbers and PINs, both ends of the line fell silent.
Himeko wore a cold smile, quietly waiting for a response from her other self.
About another minute passed. Judging from the rustling sounds, her other self had probably gone through her wallet to carefully check the card numbers.
Then, the response Himeko had been waiting for came.
"Have I offended you in some way?" a terrified voice asked, making Himeko unsure whether to feel proud or ashamed.
Have I really become so complacent in this era of peace? Is this the only reaction to being doxxed to this extent?
"You haven't offended me, and you won't offend anyone in the future. You've always done a great job." Himeko deliberately sighed, her words dripping with theatricality. "But... it's not enough. Far from enough."
"What?" The voice on the other end was still confused, clearly unable to keep up with the leap in logic.
What kind of sane person goes from doxxing someone one second to speaking in riddles the next?
Talking like this makes it easy for people to misunderstand and think they've been dragged into some kind of strange incident...
This "misunderstanding" was exactly what Himeko was aiming for. Only she knew herself best, and besides, there was less than six months of difference between them.
She knew this line of talk would easily make herself think of "supernatural events," and what she needed to do now was to present this supernatural world to her other "self."
"Murata Himeko, do you believe the world will end?" After the preamble, Himeko got straight to the point.
"Everything will collapse overnight. Order will cease to exist, life will become fragile, and from then on, you can only live as a fugitive, barely surviving under the protection of others... Do you believe in such a future?"
Another silence. But this time, the other Himeko had finally "booted up" and caught up with "her" train of thought.
"So, you're trying to say that there will be a sudden catastrophe in the future, one that will destroy all existing order, and I'll survive it, but only by relying on someone else's protection?"
Someone else, huh... If Shu heard that, he'd probably be upset for a while.
"Heh... What you're saying has no logic. If it's just based on that information about me, I wouldn't believe a single word..."
"You have two romance novels hidden under your pillow..."
"Wait a second, I believe you." A hint of anxiety appeared in the voice on the other end. She hastily interrupted herself before asking with a headache.
"Who are you? How do you even know that? You can't be Theresa, pulling a prank on me, can you?"
That Theresa is probably fast asleep right now, right?
The same thought occurred to both of them simultaneously. Then, this Himeko gave her answer.
"I am you. Six months from now. Can you understand that?"
"...What? Are you kidding me?" The volume on the other end suddenly increased. It was clear the other Himeko was wide awake now.
"I'm not kidding. I really am you from six months in the future. Or do you need more proof?" Himeko chuckled, unable to resist teasing herself.