The red beam of light was fired once again.
Reever stood there, unmoving, watching the attack rush toward him. If he still had human nerves, if his body could still react the way it once did, he was certain he would have laughed. The beam struck him head-on, the glow washing over his armor, dispersing harmlessly into the air. There was no heat, no pressure, no pain. Nothing at all.
Chillie saw it, and frustration twisted his face.
He clenched his jaw and raised his voice. "Shoot him. All of you. Don't stop."
The players obeyed instantly. Bullets rained toward Reever in waves, the sound sharp and continuous. Metal met metal as the rounds bounced off his armor, scattering across the ground. Sparks flashed briefly before dying out. Reever walked forward, unhurried, his steps steady, as if he were strolling through empty streets instead of a battlefield.
He felt nothing. No fear. No urgency.
"Time to haunt them for a bit," he thought.
The camouflage mode activated.
One moment he was there, walking straight toward them. The next, he vanished.
Chillie's eyes widened. His breathing grew uneven as he scanned the area. "The f**k," he cursed under his breath.
Panic spread quickly. The controlled players hesitated, some of them firing blindly, others turning in confusion. Chillie's grip over them weakened, just enough. Bullets began flying in the wrong directions. One man screamed as he was hit by friendly fire. Another stumbled backward, shouting.
Reever moved through the chaos like a ghost.
Invisible, silent, untouched.
He appeared behind Chillie without a sound. One hand closed around the glowing red assault weapon. With a sharp pull, he tore it from Chillie's grasp. Before Chillie could even react, the weapon vanished as well, swallowed by invisibility.
Chillie staggered back, his face draining of color. "No. No no no."
"Ooh come on, Bot 067," Conner's voice came through calmly. "Let me flex a bit. Don't take my kills. You wanted to see the skill, right?"
A whisper answered him from just behind his ear. "You'll flex next time. Doing it with people this weak means nothing. Let me handle this. You can take care of the next assaulters."
Conner clicked his tongue but didn't argue.
Reever pulled a smoke bomb from his storage and tossed it lightly toward the center of the crowd.
The effect was immediate.
White smoke exploded outward, thick and suffocating, swallowing the hallway in seconds. Vision dropped to nothing. Coughing echoed from within the cloud. Shouts followed, confused and afraid.
Conner stood untouched at the edge of it, his shield holding firm. The smoke never reached him.
"Strong," Reever thought as he watched from within the haze. Even he noted the difference. This smoke was far denser than the ones he had used before.
"Time to drop them like flies."
Gunfire echoed again. This time, only one sound mattered.
One shot.
One life.
Reever moved slowly, methodically. He did not rush. He did not waste bullets. He aimed for heads, starting with the weakest. Each shot ended with a body dissolving into white light. Blue chests dropped to the ground where players vanished, clattering softly against concrete.
Chillie could not see. He could only hear.
Shots. Screams. Silence.
He knew it was over.
Turning, he ran.
He didn't get far.
His foot caught on something unseen, and he fell hard to the ground, breath knocked from his lungs.
"Where are you going?" a voice whispered behind him. "Why not join us in the fun?"
Chillie's body shook. He turned his head just enough to speak. "No. No no no. Let me go. I'll follow you. I swear. I'll be your subordinate. I'll give you everything. Weapons. Skills. Anything. Just let me live. Let me rank up."
The whisper came again, cold and steady. "You're strong. Worth keeping. But your begging disgusts me."
Conner watched from the edge of the smoke. His eyes followed the scene carefully. He felt a strange pull in his chest. A flicker of pity. Only a flicker.
Given the chance, he knew he would still strike without hesitation.
"Bot 067 is strong," he thought. "I made the right choice following him."
Reever ended the camouflage.
He appeared in front of Chillie, the red assault weapon floating in the air between them, now visible once more. Chillie stared at it in horror, his own weapon aimed at him, unmanned.
"Goodbye," Reever said calmly. "You did give me a good weapon."
The muzzle pointed downward.
Chillie squeezed his eyes shut. "So this is it," he thought. "I provoked monsters."
The weapon fired.
The red beam tore through his right leg.
He screamed.
The beam fired again. Then again. Then again.
By the time it stopped, all four of Chillie's limbs were ruined. Blood pooled beneath him. His voice cracked into raw, broken sounds as he reached desperately for a recovery potion that had spilled onto the ground.
Reever stepped closer.
"You asked to live so you could rank up," he said. "I'm not a bad guy. I want the best for everyone. So I'll leave you alive."
Chillie looked up at him, eyes red with pain and hatred.
"We don't have much time," Reever continued. "If you want revenge, survive."
He turned and walked away.
"You're a devil," Conner said quietly when Reever reached him. "You should've just killed him."
Reever didn't slow down. "Blame fate for messing with us."
He motioned forward.
And the two of them continued on.