"The Dead End Hollow collapsed! What's going on?"
In the end, the little kitty never got her bluefin tuna. While she waited, the secretary suddenly noticed something strange. Staring at the Hollow shrinking before her eyes, her eyes widened in panic, her voice trembling on the verge of breaking.
Was the Hollow shrinking a good thing?
Normally, yes!
Who wouldn't rejoice at a new stretch of land suddenly appearing?
Think of how many public works projects could be started, how many people and businesses could thrive!
But for Vision Industry right now, this was nothing to celebrate.
"You... killed the Dead End Butcher!"
The secretary clenched her teeth so hard the words squeezed out between them. Her eyes reddened as she glared at Nekomata, unblinking.
In theory, killing about three thousand Ethereal could cause the Hollow to contract like this. But to make it happen in such a short time? That could only mean official intervention.
Yet if the authorities had acted, how could Vision Industry not know?
That left only one possibility: a team had infiltrated the Hollow in secret and slain the Dead End Butcher on the very same day Vision Industry decided to blow up Canvas Street.
They must have planted someone outside just to stall for time.
Canvas Street's secret had been discovered.
The secretary's pupils widened as the realization crashed over her.
Suddenly, a Vision Industry employee disguised as an Officer rushed up to her, whispering urgently, "Something's wrong! We've lost contact with the explosives train!"
"What did you say?!"
The secretary spun around and grabbed him by the collar. Her once-elegant face twisted in horror as the crushing truth sank in, her breath coming ragged and hot.
"They're gone! Do you want me to repeat myself?!"
The employee shouted back, nearly unhinged, his voice on the verge of collapse. "We're about to be exposed! Do you want me to announce it to everyone?!"
"There's no exposure! None!"
The secretary wrenched free and spun toward Nekomata, who had already begun edging backward, clearly ready to bolt.
"What about my bluefin tuna, meow?"
Nekomata crouched low, hind legs tensed to flee.
The secretary didn't answer. She shouted instead: "Open fire!"
At her command, every Vision Industry worker disguised as an Officer unleashed a storm of bullets. A hundred guns roared as one, tongues of flame tearing across the ground, chasing Nekomata like snapping jaws!
"Meow~ Even if you won't buy me tuna, I've still got Perlman! Don't you care if he dies?!"
Bullets chased Nekomata as he darted and leapt frantically, drawing the twin blades from his knees to parry. Even so, he was nearly clipped more than once.
Forget it, forget it. Can't beat them. Time to run.
The mission was already complete anyway.
"Hmph! Even if he dies, it doesn't matter!"
The secretary raised her arm and barked, "All units, enter Dead End Hollow! Target: Canvas Street!"
At once, the employees surged forward with their weapons, charging toward Canvas Street.
The secretary kicked off her heels, abandoning her poise as she strode after the main group.
"Wait, what are you doing?"
An employee grabbed her arm, fear shining in his eyes beneath the visor. His voice trembled. "You don't mean to—"
"What else?! Wait for the Officers to arrive?!"
She flung his hand aside, furious. "What choice do we have but to destroy the evidence? Tell me, what else?!"
She cast one last glance at Perlman, riddled with bullets on the ground, and turned away coldly. "Call an ambulance for that little runt. Maybe he'll survive."
The employee stood alone, silent.
Then, suddenly, a flash of white light cut across him, so bright it made him squint.
Instinctively, he raised a hand to shield his eyes, turning—only to be slammed face-first to the ground, his arms twisted behind his back and locked in silver handcuffs.
"You're under arrest, sir."
Those were the last words he heard before being shoved into a police car.
...
"Is this... Canvas Street?"
The secretary, flanked by employees, lifted her trembling head—only to find three colossal machines closing in on all sides.
An excavator loomed directly in front of them. Its LCD screen glared with contempt, and its massive bucket hovered overhead, threatening to drop at any second.
Moments later, a Vision Industry worker disguised as an Officer was dragged forward—the very leader Phaga had captured alive.
The one escorting him was a black-haired girl in goggles. She patted the machine beside her affectionately.
"Relax, the kids are tame. Even though we're competitors, we don't stoop to the kind of petty scheming your company does."
The captured leader raised his voice. "Brothers, surrender! We've already lost. It's not worth throwing your lives away for Vision Industry! We're just grunts—if we surrender now, they won't sentence us to death!"
At those words, hesitation rippled through the employees. Those who had been ready to fight suddenly faltered.
The secretary realized what was happening, but there was nothing she could do. Grinding her teeth, she spat, "Belobog Heavy Industries! Grace! You bastards!"
The moment she spoke, the three machines stirred, parts clattering and shifting as they locked onto her. The ground trembled under their weight like an earthquake.
"Now, now, no need to get worked up. It was just an insult... Sorry, but the kids don't like it when you curse at me. If you're angry, try to let it go. Otherwise, I can't promise I'll keep them calm"
Grace stroked the tracks of the machine beside her as if soothing a child.
But to the secretary, it was nothing but open mockery.
She stepped forward, voice sharp. "You—"
Her words were cut off by a thunderous crash.
She turned to see a Bear-Thiren in a white shirt stepping forward, slamming an iron stake—easily weighing hundreds of kilos—into the ground with such force that the earth shook.
The Bear-Thiren squinted at her. His deep voice rumbled: "Quiet down, ma'am. Belobog Heavy Industries values courtesy, but we do the rough work too."
Watching his sandbag-sized fists clench, the secretary dared not speak again. She shut her mouth quickly.
"Ben, why waste time being polite? Just smash them already! If you won't, I will!"
A sharp, fiery voice rang out. From behind Ben stepped a small figure with flaming red hair and a single eyepatch.
At a glance, she looked like a grade-schooler.
But the two iron hammers in her hands told another story.
"Koleda, calm yourself. No need for us to dirty our hands. Better to wait for the Officers."
Ben turned his gaze toward Canvas Street, his voice low. "Besides, the friend who invited us here wouldn't want us fighting so close by."
They were far too close to Canvas Street...
...
Inside Canvas Street.
Phaga lay across a balcony railing, gazing into the distance.
Without turning, he asked the figure in the shadows, "Why bring Belobog Heavy Industries here?"
"Because Belobog and Vision Industry are competitors. When a rival stumbles, of course they'll come celebrate."
A girlish snort came from the shadows, followed by the crisp tap of leather shoes against the ground.
Moments later, a soft chest emerged into the light, followed by the white collar draped over her shoulders.
The girl stood with her hands on her hips, sucking on a lollipop, her eyes flicking over Phaga's body with an unreadable gaze.
After a pause, she finally asked, "You're not hurt, are you?"
"Just scratches... small ones."
Phaga's eyes darted away, refusing to meet Ellen's.
"If they were really small, you wouldn't sound like that."
Ellen knew him too well. She rushed forward, tugging open his shirt in one motion.
Phaga, weakened, couldn't resist. His shirt came loose, and Ellen's eyes widened.
His back, normally as pale as his face, was torn open—flesh ragged, blood dark and seeping.
Ellen reached out to touch it, but her hand recoiled at the last instant, as if shocked. Her voice trembled. "Your wings...?"
"I blew them off... but they'll grow back in time."
Phaga turned his head aside, as if it were nothing.