Smooth sailing.
Those two words described Thomas Platinaberg's life.
Born into an affluent household, he was allowed to live without restrictions.
He attended higher education, then emerged victorious in bold business
ventures, resulting in the acquisition of vast fortune and influence. He'd been
selected for the Academy City General Board in his midthirties, an exceptionally
young age, excluding Aleister. It was a trophy to cap his travels and career.
He had never failed at anything, nor would he walk any path in the future but
success—he never had a doubt about that. He'd never spoken of it to anybody,
but he considered gaining the title of chairperson and gaining control over all of
Academy City a simple task. These weren't his ambitions saying so. He thought
it was just the natural course of things. If he kept doing his best, the rest would
fall into place on its own.
Indeed.
He probably hadn't even dreamed of this. His front door had opened, and a
moment later a shotgun muzzle was pressed to his chest and its trigger was
pulled, sending him flying five meters backward.
"…"
Bang!! Accelerator watched with icy eyes as the young upstart flew into the
air and slammed into the floor without bouncing. He'd at least seemed to be
aware that he was under constant threat; Thomas was wearing a bulletproof
jacket underneath his clothes. It had prevented his body from separating into
an upper half and a lower half, but his rib cage, without a doubt, had been
shattered. The man's body trembled with convulsions as well. He was
completely unconscious.
Accelerator felt somehow relieved.
It had probably begun when he launched the attack on the windowless
building. It was no longer taboo who he made into an enemy. Now he
understood what that shit doctor told him. Limit yourself to one goal. He was
absolutely right. He should have rescued Last Order even if he made her into his
enemy. If he was already willing to go so far, why should he have to hesitate
against other people?
Why hadn't he thought of doing this in the first place?
He had to grin, mocking himself for how psychological blind spots had formed
without his realizing.
"Piece of shit."
Without a thought to his soaking-wet clothes, he made his way into the
house, rubbing deep black stains into the extravagant carpets. Despite how
much consideration went into each item inside it, the estate itself was
extremely small. It looked more like a cottage than a Western-style house. Each
piece of furniture was the price of a small house.
He glanced around the rooms to see several men and women—
housekeepers, by the looks of it—sleeping on the beds, sofas, and floors.
Maybe that was the reason the upstart prick had answered the door in person.
Spotting an office, Accelerator walked in and went over to the big ebony desk
within. It looked like an antique…but flipping a switch raised a part of the
polished desk, revealing an LCD monitor and keyboard. The movement made no
noise; its utility was similar to the black-suits' luxury cars.
It had several key locks, but it didn't take long for Accelerator to get through
them. It didn't use any biometric authentication such as fingerprint or retina
scanning. The man had probably done it that way so that someone couldn't get
in by cutting off his wrist or head and using it. And that was, in fact, exactly
what Accelerator had been planning to do.
On the thirty-inch display was a mountain of data no ordinary person would
ever see.
It contained several documents summarizing political activity in Academy City.
The bias in what data existed here probably meant politics was the man's field
of study. The data looked meaningless, but skimming over them revealed some
possibly important information there. Still, who knew how many days it would
take to comb through every file one by one?
As Accelerator examined them, growing ever more impatient, he finally
arrived at the data he needed.
"…Here it is."
Information regarding the Hound Dogs.
It said that Academy City was currently under attack by an unknown threat,
and to eliminate it, they needed to recover Last Order quickly. It was almost like
a joke—they were actually playing at being saviors of the city.
What a load of bullshit…, he said to himself.
If they were thinking in such an "upright" way, then the first thing they should
have done was become shields themselves. Bringing a tiny little brat so much
suffering, then asking to be praised? You've gotta be kidding me.
"This is…," he said as he stopped breathing, looking further into the data.
Apparently, to oppose the threat to the city, the guys on the General Board
were trying to overwrite Last Order with a virus. That meant they couldn't have
her die—at least not until that "threat" was gone.
Maybe it wasn't over yet. Maybe he could get something back from all this.
Accelerator typed on the keyboard, very slightly trembling in expectation.
Unfortunately, it didn't say exactly how they'd use Last Order and how they'd
"eliminate the threat." It didn't touch upon details about either the threat or
the virus, of course. It clearly lacked information. The file was just a strategic
suggestion (though in practical terms, a written order), saying only what had
been suggested. Any further data might exist only in Aleister's head.
The code name for the strategic direction document, however…
"ANGEL"?
It was the English word angel. It called to mind the giant feathers that had
somehow appeared in one part of Academy City—and the one who said he was
going to stop it.
Was Accelerator not the only one fighting in the darkness?
"…"
Whatever the case, he didn't have time to pay attention to that. Last Order
was his top priority.
Accelerator had already gotten rid of the virus someone tried to write into
Last Order's head on August 31. But that was only because he had information
about the virus already and because he had been at full strength. In this
situation, that didn't seem doable.
Above all, he didn't have enough battery power. He could activate ability
usage mode for only another two minutes at most. He couldn't heal her like
this.
No, I don't need to use my power to heal shit. Kihara would be using a
Testament program to mess with the brat's brain. That's fine with me. The
original script for the virus should be in his hands anyway.
After writing the virus to her, Kihara might destroy the Testament device…but
Accelerator decided that wasn't very probable. If something happened to go
wrong during the process, he wouldn't be able to redo it. Kihara would have
some kind of insurance for that.
Which means I still gotta do the same thing.
The keyboard's keys clacked under his fingers.
Hah, bull's-eye!!
He immediately found where the Hound Dogs were standing by.
Just gotta kill Kihara and wrest the brat away. Ha-ha, now that I know what
I'm gonna do, I really wanna do it!!
The residence contained several hunting rifles.
He searched out one with bullets whose shape matched his shotgun, then
loaded up and left.