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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Arsène Lupin (3)
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"What the hell? He's not with Sejanus?"
Seamus's thoughts were in a knot as he watched Kratos bashing in the soldiers' heads one by one.
He'd been so sure the man was one of Sejanus's lackeys.
But looking at the situation now, that was clearly not the case.
One of Sejanus's spies, killing his own soldiers?
And the soldiers were treating him as an enemy, too.
"Block him! Use your shields!"
*CRASH—!*
"Aargh—! The shield is shattering!"
"Then don't block, just dodge!"
None of this made any sense.
*'This man. Who in the world is he?'*
Besides, this wasn't the face he knew. So was the face he *thought* he knew Kratos's real one?
Then again, the name Kratos wasn't real to begin with, was it?
He couldn't be sure of anything.
The tunnel he'd used to get in was already blocked. The only way out was through the mansion.
The enemy of my enemy is my friend, as they say. Now was the time to cooperate.
"Watch your backs!"
Seamus put his specialty to use, ambushing the soldiers from behind.
A man of monstrous strength shattered their shields from the front, while an assassin struck from the rear. They were caught between a rock and a hard place.
"Damn it! Everyone, fall back! Retreat to the entrance!"
Seizing the opportunity, Kratos slammed his fist into the basement wall.
*BOOM—!*
A single punch sent cracks spiderwebbing across the wall.
*BOOM—!*
Another punch snapped a load-bearing pillar in two.
The commotion outside grew louder as tremors, like a localized earthquake, began to spread.
Knights would be swarming the place any second. But he couldn't stop now.
He had, after all, promised to make this their tomb.
Kratos vaulted over his enemies, bounded up the stairs to the ground floor, and smashed his fist against the door.
"Aaargh—!"
The iron-reinforced wooden door exploded into splinters.
"Get back! Get back! Buy some time!"
"The knights will be here soon!"
Was it luck? Or was there another reason?
The master of the house seemed to be away; only soldiers were rushing in, milling about in confusion.
All the while, the grand mansion was steadily crumbling around them.
"You've all crossed the line. Every last one of you here is an accomplice."
The soldiers had come down to the basement without hesitation at the first sound of trouble.
That meant they knew exactly what was going on down here.
If it had been a secret, access would have been strictly forbidden.
The elegant, three-story mansion with its white walls was already losing its shape.
One punch tore a hole in a wall; the next shattered a pillar, causing it to buckle and collapse.
*'In the end, all you have to do is destroy a building from the bottom up.'*
Since he'd started the demolition in the basement, the entire structure had begun to shake precariously.
Clouds of dust billowed up, obscuring their vision, and Seamus took the opportunity to strike at the soldiers' backs.
*RUUUMBLE—*
The mansion groaned and swayed, threatening to collapse at any moment.
"Move! Get out of the way!"
Knights, the elite forces, began to emerge from the piles of debris.
*'Time to go.'*
Seamus decided it was time to leave. Knights were no easy opponents.
And there was more than one of them.
*WHOOSH—*
Something flew past his eyes.
"Holy hell!"
"Look out!"
"What kind of monster is he?!"
It was a piece of the building's rubble. He could hardly believe his eyes—a man throwing a chunk of debris that size with his bare hands as if it were a ball.
*WHOOSH—!*
Fragments of the mansion flew through the air with astonishing ease.
*'What kind of brute is he?'*
Each projectile was a man-sized boulder, preventing the knights from getting any closer.
They were deflecting the projectiles, but the deflected pieces inevitably struck the soldiers nearby, causing casualties.
***
His hands were numb.
*'Damn, that hurts.'*
His knuckles were bloody from punching his way through the building.
But the deep-seated rage in his chest had not subsided.
Right. This wasn't Earth. It was a world where killing was taken far more lightly.
Battles and wars that would be front-page news across the globe on Earth were commonplace here.
And as if that weren't enough, it was a world teeming with all manner of monsters, demons, magic, and aura—all of them threats to human survival.
But even in a world like this, there were lines that should never be crossed.
Back when he was building the Empire, the threats he'd focused on most were the demons and the monsters of the north.
But now, an inspector appointed by the state was sacrificing its citizens for black magic in a basement?
It was all the proof he needed to see just how rotten the Empire had become.
The Empire was rotten to its very core.
Torturing the very people they were meant to rule, draining their blood and offering them as sacrifices for black magic—that was the proof.
If the roots are rotten, there's no way the trunk, branches, and fruit can be healthy.
The knights, their shields coated in mana, slowly closed the distance.
*'Time to make my exit.'*
He wasn't strong enough to take on knights yet. A single one, maybe, but not a group.
He was furious, but he assessed the situation with a cool head.
He'd learned his lesson from the battle in Rzhev.
A cool head, swift actions, a burning heart.
At least five knights were in front of him, with more likely on the way.
"Regular soldiers, block the gates! Don't let anyone in from the outside!"
The building was shaking precariously, but it hadn't collapsed completely.
His goal was to bring the building down anyway. No need to fight them.
He pulled small spheres from his inventory and tossed them at the charging knights.
*Pshhhh—*
Oh, they still work. I figured they might have broken after being buried for so long.
"We don't know what that is! Hold your breath!"
They were just smoke bombs. Very thick ones, at that.
As the knights hesitated, he slipped onto the first floor of the mansion.
It was heavily damaged and cracked, but what he could see of the mansion's first floor was, in a word, opulent.
It was adorned with all kinds of precious materials, and the paintings and ceramics on the walls looked expensive even at a glance.
"What a fucking joke."
*BOOM—!*
Down in the basement, they were torturing citizens, draining their blood, and using them as sacrifices for black magic.
*BOOM—!*
And up here, he was living in this elegant mansion, pretending to be some kind of noble gentleman.
*BOOM—!*
Suddenly, Overwatch came to mind. Specifically, Wrecking Ball.
Of course, Wrecking Ball is piloted by a hamster and I'm not, but we're both smashing things, right? Heh heh.
"Run! Run away! Get back!"
Kratos became a human Wrecking Ball, demolishing every pillar that supported the building.
"Aaargh—! It's collapsing! Move! Get out of the way!"
With a deafening roar, the building began to slowly crumble.
"Hey, we need to get out of here, now. Those Grammaton bastards are here. If they catch us, we're done for."
The assassin spoke through the thick dust of the collapsing building, his brow deeply furrowed.
"What? Weren't you trying to kill me?"
"I was. But not anymore. We can talk later. First, we run. Reinforcements will be here any second."
It was time to leave anyway. Besides, he had been helping him since they were in the basement.
Teaming up, at least until they escaped, didn't seem like a bad idea.
But first, there was something he had to do.
He grabbed a handful of calling cards from his pocket and scattered them everywhere.
Let the whole world know of Arsène Lupin's return.
"Was this the spot?"
Having located the spot where he'd started digging his tunnel, Kratos took a breath and punched through the mansion wall.
"That... that brute."
Seamus climbed through the broken wall and followed Kratos.
"There's a hole in the wall near the south gate. We can slip out through there without being seen."
Kratos made a quick stop at his home to grab the weapon from Rzhev, then followed Seamus toward the south gate.
*WEEEEEE—*
An alarm blared, and the once-bustling street fell deathly silent.
The citizens on the street vanished into their homes, bolting their doors, and the air filled with the echoing footsteps of soldiers.
"You. Who in the world are you?"
"Me?"
Good question. Who *was* he? He didn't know the original name of this body.
The 'him' from Earth was the real him, he supposed.
But could he really call the person he was before possessing this body 'himself'?
Kratos was just a name from a mercenary tag he'd found. A damn lucky find, at that.
"Nobody."
"Nobody? Is that your name? That's an unusual one. What region is it from?"
"It's not a name. It means it's a secret."
"Is that so? Then I'll just call you Kratos. We need to talk once we get out of here. I have a lot of questions. You saved my life, so you owe me that much, right?"
Seamus nodded, sticking close to Kratos's side. He had to at least figure out who this man was, so he'd have something to report to his captain.
"Suit yourself."
He was starving.
***
When they reached the southern wall where the hole was supposed to be.
"Just as I thought. You came this way."
Standing before the opening was a man, striking a pose and holding a cigarette, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Hah... Grammaton, from Central Intelligence..."
Ha, so this time it's the CIA mixed with *Equilibrium*. Seriously, past me... The coat's design, the epaulets, the suit—it was all just as he'd designed it.
What the hell was his past self thinking, creating all this?
It was times like these he was truly grateful for his amnesia.
"Are you going to come quietly?"
"Are you nuts? Would *you* come quietly?"
Seamus drew his blades and took a fighting stance. The odds were stacked against them.
"Two masterminds behind the terror attack. It was certainly worth coming here alone."
"What are you talking about? Do you plan to fight with your mouth?"
The man was at least a low-level Sword Expert. Maybe even intermediate.
"Well, in that case... I'll just have to take you in pieces."
The man's sword began to glow with aura.
"Dammit. Sword ki."
He had to correct himself. This agent was on the verge of the intermediate level.
No wonder he'd come here alone so confidently.
"So you're the star of today's little show. I'll have to make you take full responsibility for daring to destroy the mansion of the Northern Inspector General, Lord Marcus Sejanus."
"...So he's just another one of power's lapdogs."
Kratos burst out laughing in disbelief. The intelligence agency he had founded to be neutral had become a lapdog for the powerful.
*THUD—*
He slammed his weapon onto the ground.
A low-level Expert. He wondered how he'd fare against one.
He was very curious to find out.
"I'll take the front."
"Then I'll strike from the rear."
The axe-hammer swung in a wide arc.
The man didn't meet the blow head-on, instead leaping back and parrying Seamus's blades with his sword.
"Such strength. You'd make a fine test subject."
"Nonsense. Why don't you experiment on yourself? He's fast."
He was fast. Too fast for him.
But that didn't mean he was out of options.
Even if it relied on a bit of luck.
One hit. All he needed was one clean hit. It was his only path to victory.
After all, this body's strength was the ultimate wild card.
Seamus wielded a blade in each hand, unleashing a flurry of swift strikes.
If his right blade was blocked, he'd strike with his left. Then the right again.
Kratos, too, flipped his weapon so the hammer head faced down, swinging it horizontally to strike at the man's openings.
"Such crude movements won't hit me."
"It will eventually."
Damn it. The man was an agility build. He was so good at dodging that it was infuriating.
Seamus was managing to keep him busy, but he wasn't landing any meaningful blows.
The clash of steel on steel rang out.
Kratos kept up the pressure, just enough to disrupt the agent's rhythm, all while memorizing his movements.
How he moved, how he defended, how he attacked.
Every one of the man's movements registered, storing itself in his mind.
"Right. Left. Left again."
The man's movements definitely had a pattern.
To be precise, Seamus's repetitive attack patterns were creating one.
"Hey! You have a plan, right? If we stay here any longer, reinforcements will show up!"
"Just keep him busy."
He leaned forward, poised to spring at any moment.
It didn't matter if his swing was weaker than usual.
One hit. He just needed to land one.
His fist wasn't just some mercenary's punch.
It was a blow from the Heracles Clan!
Kratos's hammer swung, creating a blast of wind.
"That won't work!"
"Oh, I think it will."
Mid-swing, he let go of the weapon.
"Urk—! Such power...!"
The weapon flew through the air, hurtling toward the agent.
The man, thinking it was too late to dodge, raised his sword to block, but the force behind the weapon was immense.
It wasn't just the force of the throw; the weapon itself was brutally heavy, forged from a solid piece of black iron.
Just as he twisted his body to parry the weapon—
"Told you it would work."
Kratos, who had been charging right behind it, threw a punch with all his strength.
*SQUELCH—*
That wasn't the sound of a fist hitting flesh.
It was the sound of the fist that could demolish buildings piercing straight through the man's chest.
The fist punched through his solar plexus and straight out his back.
"For... His Majesty, the Emperor."
The man choked on his disbelief, and his head slumped forward.
"Huh?"
He was stunned. He hadn't expected this. He thought he'd break a few ribs, at most. But to punch straight through?
Was this the power of 101 Strength?!
"Insane. What kind of strength is that?"
He'd won. It was a victory born of tricks and luck, but a victory nonetheless. He'd killed the agent.
Kratos recalled the moment the agent's movements had become imprinted in his mind, allowing him to predict what came next.
It was a strange sensation, one he'd never felt before.
"Huh...? Am I a genius?"
It was a talent he never knew he had.
And then there were the orange particles of light pouring out of the man's body...?
"Huh? Why are particles of light coming out of him?!"