The heavy machine gun in Leon's hands roared like a helicopter gunship.
Trees along the street were shredded and toppled in half. Utility poles splintered and snapped with sickening cracks. The sheer destructive power was overwhelming.
The soldiers who had been so loud a moment ago no longer dared to even poke their heads up.
"Where the hell did he get a gun like this?!" Brixton cursed under his breath, fury and disbelief in his eyes.
This was supposed to be just a run-down repair shop. Yet somehow, the place had firepower that rivaled military-grade helicopter cannons. It didn't make sense.
Leon smirked behind the weapon. This wasn't just any gun. He had spent ten million credits from the System to buy it.
Its features were absurd: devastating firepower, infinite ammunition, no overheating, no cooldown, and blistering rate of fire.
Best of all? Any car purchased through the System came with special integration ports. Install the weapon once, and he could fire from the front or rear of the Diomas Nilo at will.
For now, though, the soldiers had burrowed deep into cover. Leon knew pumping rounds into walls and steel was a waste of time.
So he shifted tactics.
"System—do you have an infinite-ammo handgun?"
The cold mechanical voice responded instantly:
"Yes. Five million credits. Infinite ammunition. Zero recoil. Perfect silencer. Assisted targeting."
It listed features like a salesman rattling off a dream weapon. In short, it erased every weakness a handgun had.
"Five million? Worth it." Leon didn't hesitate.
A silver pistol materialized at his feet, gleaming like polished chrome, reflecting the carnage around it. Sleek. Deadly. Perfect.
Leon scooped it up, one hand on the machine gun, the other gripping the new weapon as he descended toward the first floor.
"Activate the integration port," he commanded.
The Diomas Nilo obeyed, the hood splitting open slightly to reveal the mount. Leon slid the machine gun into place—it locked in automatically.
Outside, the enemy heard the roar die down. Thinking his firepower was gone, they stirred. Guns raised, they began to advance.
Too bad their aim was trash. Bullets sprayed wildly, not one grazing Leon. He crouched calmly behind the armored body of the Marauder. Its reinforced panels were bulletproof—no way ordinary rounds could penetrate it.
"Pathetic." Leon sneered.
The enemy's ammo wasn't infinite. After a minute of desperate firing, their rifles clicked empty. Some scrambled to reload, others peeked forward to assess the situation.
That was the gap Leon needed.
He surged out like lightning, pistol raised. One soldier hadn't even slammed his mag home before Leon's round drilled into his skull—blood spraying across the wall.
Another swung his rifle like a club, but Leon's foot shot out, snapping the weapon in half and sending the man flying into the air. He hit the ground with a crunch, chest caved in.
Leon moved like death incarnate, clearing one after another.
The third. The fourth. The fifth. The sixth.
Anyone who stood in front of him dropped in seconds.
Even the ones who'd managed to reload weren't fast enough. They barely got their barrels up before Leon's silver pistol spat death.
The entire squad—wiped out in less than a minute.
Brixton's pupils shrank. The "Black Superman," Eteon's ultimate weapon, found himself trembling. He was a cybernetic soldier, rebuilt from spine to skull, with reflex-enhancing AI. Yet even he knew—he couldn't do what Leon just did.
The speed, the accuracy… it was inhuman.
"Come out," Leon barked, leveling his gun at the SUV Brixton was crouched behind.
He knew Brixton was in there. But killing him wasn't so easy. Ordinary bullets might not land—the man's implant-assisted reflexes could calculate trajectories and force his body to dodge at the last instant.
Still, Leon wasn't worried.
Slowly, Brixton rose from behind cover. His face was twisted, fear mixed with defiance, eyes still sharp with a predator's glare. Then, without warning, he flicked his wrist—hurling his pistol as a distraction.
Leon instinctively tilted aside. In that instant, Brixton launched himself forward, propelling off the SUV with monstrous strength. His leg whipped out in a lethal kick.
But Leon was faster.
His pistol cracked.
The silver round slammed straight into Brixton's chest, the force blasting him backward. Even with his reinforced body, the impact drove him several steps in retreat. The kinetic energy wasn't normal—it felt at least twice as powerful as standard rounds.
"Too slow," Leon mocked, grinning.
His reflexes were measured at 300 points—beyond human. Brixton needed AI assistance. Leon needed nothing but raw instinct. The difference was clear.
"Looks like your fancy tech isn't as advanced as you think," Leon taunted. "And you thought I was just a damn mechanic? Wrong move."
He raised the pistol again, voice cold.
"Goodbye."
The silver gun barked one last time.
Brixton staggered, the shot slamming through him.
~~----------------------
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