Chapter 125 Business Competition?
When the poor mercenary squad was wiped out, they didn't even manage to exhaust Abel and Stock before they all perished.
While they were all highly experienced and well-equipped (some even excessively so, thanks to Fitzgerald's financial support), they were still somewhat outmatched by top-tier combat-type ability users.
Even overwhelming them with numbers is useless; Abel's "Magic Bullet Shooter" deals wide-area explosive damage and doesn't consume bullets while attacking.
Moreover, their numbers don't even meet the minimum standard for "suppression".
Fortunately, this group of people were cannon fodder that Fitzgerald had specifically hired to get involved in this mess. Even if they were all wiped out, the loss would be insignificant to Fitzgerald, and he wouldn't care at all.
Abel, carrying a gun and humming a tune, walked leisurely inside the White Whale. His relaxed demeanor made him look more like he was strolling along a forest path than inside an enemy stronghold.
Generally speaking, someone who can be so arrogant in an enemy stronghold will eventually meet one of two fates: either they become strong enough to continue being arrogant, or they get beaten to a pulp by the enemy.
Anyway, Abel is now very confident that he is the first type.
Abel continued swaggering forward with an air of nonchalance, the ordinary combat personnel in his path having been evacuated, so he was now exceptionally relaxed.
Since he didn't actually know the specific map inside the beluga whale, he was currently just wandering around aimlessly.
Just as he began to look down and count the cracks between the bricks on the ground, he suddenly caught a faint whooshing sound coming toward him.
Without hesitation, he flicked his gun in the direction of the sound of the gun whistling through the air and pulled the trigger. The bullet exploded in mid-air, stopping the objects that were attacking him.
Abel didn't even have time to glance at what was attacking him until he had finished the whole set of movements smoothly—a bunch of bright red letters floating in mid-air.
When he saw what was attacking, Abel immediately realized what was going on.
Oh, it's "scarlet letter".
As organizations with a long history and immense power in various senses, the Smiling Merchant Guild and the Group have a considerable amount of business cooperation, both overt and covert. However, these red characters were attacking him directly through the wall, so he couldn't see Hawthorne right now.
In addition, the fact that the red text can turn corners makes it impossible for Abel to directly pinpoint Hawthorne's location for an attack.
Simple, but very effective.
With that thought in mind, Abel's expression remained relatively relaxed. He pulled out his gun from his waist, twirled it, and began repeatedly pulling the trigger against the wall in front of him.
If you can't be sure, then just blow them all up!
Hearing the sound from behind the wall, Hawthorne instantly understood what had happened. After muttering a couple of complaints in his mind, blood gushed from the wound on his right wrist. Some of it passed through the wall and collided with Abel's magic bullet, while the rest sliced through the wall in front of him.
As the wall between him and Abel was about to be blown apart by the continuous explosions, the Red Letter also cut a small opening in front of him. Hawthorne rushed into the gap and moved his position while the Red Letter continued its attack.
Using the walls as cover, Hawthorne and Abel began their chase in this confined space.
Abel quickly noticed that Hawthorne was consciously avoiding his gaze, even risking being caught in the blast wave at close range rather than appearing in his sight.
Upon discovering this, Abel clicked his tongue in annoyance: He was hoping that the group wouldn't know about his special ability, so he could trick you.
Unfortunately, the group and the Smiling Merchant Guild have extensive experience fighting each other, and it's clear that the group is also aware of Abel's special ability.
It seems impossible to use special abilities to trick the opponent now, so we'll have to settle things on the front lines.
Amidst the explosions and flying red letters on the battlefield, Webber's hand kept pulling the trigger, his eyes frantically scanning the entire wall, searching for any possible opportunity.
Finally, just as he pulled the trigger for the sixth time, Hawthorne appeared in his line of sight.
Almost subconsciously, Abel's lips curled up slightly, revealing a smile.
This time, he didn't even aim; he just stared intently at Hawthorne, whose figure had inadvertently appeared, and pulled the trigger without thinking.
Hawthorne realized that Weber had spotted him, and his expression immediately changed as he dodged to hide behind some cover.
Unfortunately, Hawthorne was a step too slow.
Abel's bullet had already left the barrel, and it didn't appear particularly special in terms of its appearance. However, its trajectory was not a straight line.
Because Abel fired in haste, the muzzle was slightly upward. However, the bullet did not hit the ceiling in a straight line after it flew out, but instead made a strange turn, flying diagonally towards Hawthorne.
Hawthorne's face darkened, and more blood gushed from the wound on his wrist, forming red characters in mid-air as it hurtled towards the bullet.
The bullet, which was about to collide with the red text and perish together, suddenly made a turn in mid-air, nimbly weaving through the gaps between the intercepting red text, and resolutely flew towards Hawthorne's brow.
As the magic bullet was about to hit, Abel's smile became even more pronounced.
However, before Abel's smile could even reach his lips, a parasol suddenly appeared in front of Hawthorne. At the same time, the "Magic Bullet" suddenly slowed down and crashed helplessly into the parasol.
The magic bullet that pierced the parasol retained a tiny bit of its impact, lightly striking Hawthorne's brow. The slight tickling sensation made Hawthorne involuntarily furrow his brow.
Then, the bullet that struck Hawthorne's brow fell to the ground as if it had lost its momentum, making a crisp "clang".
Abel's eye began to twitch involuntarily.
Staying behind the obstacle, Hawthorne clutched his slashed right wrist, panting heavily as he looked to the side.
Having just successfully neutralized Abel's "magic bullet" using his special ability, Mitchell looked at Hawthorne and smiled like a proud peacock.
"You're really in a sorry state, Mr. Hawthorne—"
Hawthorne, who could normally banter with Mitchell for half an hour without repeating himself, was unusually silent this time.
On the other side, just as Abel was fretting that his "magic bullet that always hits" had once again been blocked without causing any damage (yes, once again), two more gunshots rang out behind him.
There shouldn't be any point of aim behind him...!
Abel suddenly remembered Mark Twain, who belonged to his group. His superpower could also deflect the trajectory of bullets—meaning he could attack from theoretically impossible angles.
However, Abel realized it a little too late. Given the speed of the bullet, he should have been hit by the time he heard the gunshot.
It's possible that using supernatural abilities to alter the bullet's trajectory would slow it down (like his seventh magic bullet). So, he hasn't been hit yet, but he doesn't have time to dodge.
However, Abel was not alarmed, because he was not alone in intruding here.
A dark shadow surged behind him, from which a pale-skinned figure emerged and deflected two bullets flying toward him with a flick of his wrist.
Stock held the bullet between two fingers and glanced at Abel behind him out of the corner of his eye: "You look quite pathetic, Webber."
The dialogue subtly overlapped with that of the opposing team's commentator.
Compared to the casual Abel, Stoke was dressed formally as if he were attending a banquet, yet he still showed no sign of the tension of being in enemy territory.
Abel, holding the gun, sighed: "It was an accident. I underestimated the group a bit."
Although the alliance is weaker in overall size compared to the Smiling Merchant Guild, this does not mean that the alliance's combat strength is necessarily lower than that of the Smiling Merchant Guild.
Besides, there are only two of them now, so it's meaningless to talk about the size of the combination or the chamber of commerce.
Now, when they meet on this "battlefield," their relationship has nothing to do with which faction they belong to; it is simply the most basic and primal thing—a fight to the death.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
