Chapter 68: You Even Brought a Gun?!
"Argh—!"
The shrill scream was abruptly choked off. A silver dinner fork, driven with inhuman force, plunged deep into the man's throat, severing his vocal cords and bursting clean through the back of his neck.
The Butler remained utterly expressionless. His arm rose again, a mechanical, precise motion, and then slammed down.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Once, twice, three times… The stubbly man's head was smashed repeatedly against the hard wooden tabletop. A sickening crunch echoed with each impact. He thrashed violently at first, legs kicking wildly under the table and hands clawing at empty air. But soon, his struggles weakened, twitching into a faint tremor before he went completely limp, a puppet with its strings cut.
When the Butler finally released his grip, the dining room was plunged into a deathly silence, broken only by the soft, rhythmic drip… drip… of blood soaking into the plush carpet below.
The man's head was an unrecognizable ruin. It was a mangled mess of flesh and bone, perforated by the tines of the fork and shattered by the impacts against the table. A grotesque mixture of red and white—blood and brain matter—oozed from the wounds, pooling on the fine china plate before him.
The Butler calmly produced a pink, neatly folded handkerchief from his breast pocket. He carefully wiped his hands, his composure as placid and undisturbed as if he had just swatted a fly.
Witnessing the entire gruesome display, the male college student felt his legs turn to water, and he nearly collapsed to the floor. The fork in his own hand trembled uncontrollably. A cold sweat beaded on his brow as the realization struck him: if he had been just a little quicker, a little more insistent on snatching that seat, it would be his corpse sprawled across the table.
"Honored guests," the Butler announced, his voice smooth as silk. He gave a slight bow, and if one listened closely, they could detect a surprising, chilling undercurrent of pleasure in his tone. "I do apologize for making you all witness such an unpleasant scene. However, the Master has always disliked others occupying his seat."
A silence as thick and heavy as a shroud fell over the dining room. No one responded. No one dared to even move their chopsticks.
Before this, Haruto had acted with such brazen nonchalance, and with no casualties since their arrival, the other players had unknowingly let their guard down. They had started to believe this instance was surprisingly simple, approaching it with the casual mindset of a game.
It wasn't until this very moment, with the Butler personally tearing that illusion to shreds, that they understood. It wasn't that the Butler was weak, nor was the instance easy—it was simply that Haruto's strength was on a plane of existence entirely separate from their own.
The air was as stagnant and heavy as iron.
And yet, cutting through the suffocating tension was the crisp clink-clink of chopsticks against a porcelain bowl. It was Kaguya. Not only did she seem to feel no discomfort, she was actually eating with great relish.
'Wait a second,'the others thought, their gazes complicated.'Does she not know what fear is?'
That man's blood and brain matter had splattered across the table, some of it undoubtedly mixing with the food. For any normal person, even one with a strong stomach, witnessing such a scene should have provoked nausea at the very least, if not outright terror.
Their eyes flickered towards Haruto. They saw that he, too, wore a look of disgust, his brow furrowed as if he couldn't possibly swallow another bite. A collective, silent sigh of relief went through the group. Thank God. At least this one was normal.
"You guys eat up," Haruto said, his voice casual. "I brought some snacks, so we're heading back first." He stood, pulling Yotsuya Miko up with him.
Seeing this, Kaguya promptly set down her chopsticks, patted Lin Xuelao's shoulder, and signaled for her to leave as well.
The expressions on the remaining players' faces became a colorful, chaotic mess.
To refuse the Butler's food and declare they were going back to eat their own snacks, right in front of him? Wasn't that a direct, resounding slap to his face?
The Butler remained standing, motionless, but the players didn't dare make a move. They had already come to a crystal-clear understanding of the chasm in power between themselves and Haruto's group.
As for Xie Lin and the others who had been with them from the start, it went without saying. They had seen Haruto and Kaguya in action with their own eyes. The Butler's current wretched state was a direct result of their handiwork. To them, those two weren't humans; they were human-shaped Tyrannosaurs. Or more accurately, human-shaped anomalies. Two strikes had left the Butler dazed; three had shut him down completely.
Back in the relative safety of their room, Haruto reached into a Gap and poured a mountain of snacks onto the floor—potato chips, popcorn, cola, and various sodas tumbled out in a colorful cascade. He had everything. Ever since the near-starvation of the last instance, he had developed a habit of hoarding food.
Clank.
Amidst the rustling of plastic bags, a dull, heavy thud echoed as something landed in the pile of snacks.
A silvery metal frame, cold and hard to the touch—it was a handgun.
The moment they registered what it was, the room fell silent. Everyone froze.
"Wrong item," Haruto said, his expression unchanged as he casually tossed the gun back into the Gap.
"B-Brother Haruto… was that a real gun?" Yotsuya Miko couldn't help but ask in a hushed, trembling voice. The others stared, their eyes wide with disbelief.
"What else would it be? Why would I carry a fake one? To put on a play with Kaguya?" Haruto shot her a look. "Though, if we really had to act, we could probably do it with a real gun, too."
Kaguya looked on, indifferent, but the expressions on Yotsuya Miko and Lin Xuelao's faces were a complex mix of shock and awe.
"If we have guns, doesn't that mean we're invincible?" Miko whispered.
"Don't be so naive." Haruto shook his head. "A handgun like this is only useful against other players, at best. Take the Butler, for example…"
He didn't finish his sentence. Instead, he suddenly clenched his fist and slammed it into the nearby wall. With a muffled thump, his fist punched straight through the solid plaster and wood as if it were made of tofu.
"Understand?"
Yotsuya Miko and Lin Xuelao nodded blankly.
The power in that single punch was far beyond the scope of a normal human. And yet, Haruto's earlier blows had only managed to daze the Butler for a few moments.
Their gazes simultaneously shifted to Kaguya. If even Haruto couldn't suppress the Butler with pure physical strength, then Kaguya—who had nearly beaten the Butler to death with a single swing of her club—was an even bigger monster.
A cheat. A pure, unadulterated cheater.
Noticing their stares, Kaguya simply shrugged, a picture of indifference.
Haruto's voice cut in again. "And don't think we're the only ones with guns. That guy who was trying to scam the newcomers at the start had one tucked into his waistband. You just didn't notice."
Yotsuya Miko and Lin Xuelao's expressions tightened. A handgun might be useless against the Butler, but against players like them, it was a lethal threat.
"Where did you get this gun? Kourindou?" Kaguya asked lazily, having eaten and drunk her fill and now lounging on the bed.
Haruto shook his head.
"You didn't steal it from the outside world, did you?"
"Steal? Why would I steal?" Haruto rolled his eyes at her. "I can just get the Kappas to make one, can't I?"
Hearing this, Kaguya nodded in realization. "That makes sense. It's perfectly normal for the Kappas to make things like this. My internet cable came from them, too. And you seem to be on good terms with everyone on Youkai Mountain."
Haruto reached into the Gap again, pulling out another handgun and some ammunition. He handed a gun each to Yotsuya Miko and Lin Xuelao and began patiently teaching them how to use them.
"What about mine?" Seeing that everyone else got one but her, Kaguya immediately started clamoring in dissatisfaction.
"What use do you have for this thing?"
"It's cool."
"..." Haruto sighed, a long-suffering sound, and reached back into the Gap to retrieve the last handgun. "Fine, fine. This last one is for you."
Kaguya had only been teasing, not actually expecting him to have another one hidden away.
This gun was clearly different from the other two. Not only was the craftsmanship far more exquisite, but the character for 'Haru' (晴) was elegantly engraved on the slide. It was also designed to fire bullets propelled by demonic power or other forms of energy; it was clearly Haruto's personal sidearm.
After fiddling with it for a moment, Kaguya's fondness for it grew.
"Since you're being so sensible," she said, a rare glimmer of approval in her eyes, "if there's anything you want, just say the word. I have plenty of treasures. You can pick any one you like."
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