Fortunately, this was a deserted district—there were no residents nearby, or the security guards and Discipline Committee members would have swarmed in at the slightest disturbance.
Standing atop the streetlamp, Haramura Makoto crossed his arms and coldly surveyed the two girls below.
"So, you two thought you could just walk away?"
"Seems they really don't intend to let us go, Junko," Flanda said, returning beside Junko Hanakaze and joining the standoff.
"Should I call Mugino?" Junko adopted a fighting stance unknown to any style, her gaze fixed on Makoto.
"No need," Flanda replied. "After all, his marksmanship only restrains me. You, Junko, are his true nemesis."
Indeed, Flanda had tried to flee alone earlier—no need to risk conflict with Makoto. But now that he had pursued them, surrender was not an option.
"No problem," Junko replied confidently. "Even if the missile's path was strange, it can't pierce my nitriding armor."
Yet her confidence stemmed from her ability: she had once shattered a barrage of heavy machine-gun fire by charging straight through with her power.
"But once again, we're stuck doing this unpaid boredom."
With that, Flanda tossed her spare anti-armor missile warheads into the air.
"Pop, pop, pop—"
Six warheads spat fiery tails and arced outward, forming a double-chevron formation that sealed off every retreat route.
"No mercy, eh?"
"But at least I can explain it to Freyja later."
Though most would be in a dire dead end, Makoto only smiled.
He had drawn his pistol at some point.
"Boom, boom, boom—"
Gunfire rang out. Each bullet struck a warhead with pinpoint precision.
"Boom, boom, boom—"
An astonishing series of explosions followed, each blast wave roaring outward like a hurricane.
"What the—pistol bullets blew up anti-armor missiles?"
Flanda cried in disbelief.
"No surprise," Makoto said. "Despite their sturdy casings, anti-armor warheads have trigger mechanisms at the tip for detonation. You knew that, right?"
A fierce wind spun dust into a haze around them.
"Knowing why makes it even more astonishing."
Flanda's figure blurred slightly at the distance—no clear read on her expression.
"I targeted irregular paths, six moving targets, each only a few millimeters wide."
"How could anyone do that?"
"But I can."
He raised his pistol again. Muzzle flashes bloomed at his side.
"Bang!"
Amid the gunshot, a sharp footfall echoed.
Junko Hanakaze sprang forward at lightning speed like an arrow loosed. Her eyes remained locked on Makoto as she raced toward him.
Makoto had already verified Junko's status through his sources: Level 4 with nitriding armor.
As the name implied, the ability automatically formed an ultra-hard armor several centimeters thick around her, like a suit of living armor. Even close-range sniper rifle rounds couldn't penetrate it.
This armor also augmented her striking power: she could condense the nitrogen into a hardened fist, delivering devastating blows.
Most importantly, Junko's armor was always active—triggered subconsciously even if she was unaware of incoming attacks.
"Phew—"
In the blink of an eye, Junko leapt from the lamp, using her momentum to swing her armored fist at Makoto's face.
Through his skin, Makoto felt the air pressure of her nitrogen-charged wind.
Whoosh!
That was the sound of her armored punch striking the air, not his face. With a single backward step, he leapt from the streetlamp, just half a meter out of range.
Junko's punch hit only emptiness—her armored fist impact resonated through the wind.
She pressed on with a flurry of blows:
"Boom, boom, boom—"
Her petite fists cloaked in armor sent gusts of wind with every strike.
"Boom, boom, boom—"
The same muffled cracks echoed as before.
Makoto danced around her, nimble as a butterfly among flowers, evading every punch with elegant ease.
"What's wrong? You looked so confident earlier, but if you just dodge without counterattacking, you'll never beat me."
Junko Hanakaze knew full well that her armor only granted defense and added impact. In speed, she was no different from any ordinary girl—at best slightly stronger from her covert training.
"If I land a hit, you're as good as dead."