Chapter 22: Explosion Villain – D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E.②

The man in front of me was a dangerous villain. I opened my mouth carefully. First, I wanted to know his objective.

"Detonate. Explain Thy Objective. Now. Answers Taste Exposure."

Coming up with that on the spot is rough. I was talking the same kind of chuunibyou nonsense as him. He’d gotten as far as “tell me your objective,” and then he just tacked on random words to finish the line. And he tended to make N stand for “Now” and brush past it. …Why am I trying to perfect some stylistic flourish I just learned today? Don’t hone useless skills.

With his eyes wide, D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E. continued.

"Demonstrating Exceptional Thought. Ordinary Natures Aren’t This Efficient."

"Thanks, I guess. So what do you actually want? I don’t want to die in an explosion."

I was getting tired of keeping up with Detonate-syntax, so I switched back to normal speech. As I waited for him to answer, D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E.’s face went puzzled. …Oh—does he not understand unless I speak English?

"Seriously, what the hell do you want? I don’t wanna die in a goddamn explosion."

I asked in English—don’t want to die, what’s your business—but D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E. still looked puzzled. Silence stretched. What the hell. Had we been having a conversation earlier or had I imagined that too?

…Wait!? Could it be that unless I use a sentence structure that makes the initials spell D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E., he can’t get the meaning!? There’s no way. Is he some lunatic who only understands his own acronym-language? At least the words themselves are English—so that’s something.

Damn it—don’t make my brain work in weird ways. I’m not in the humanities. Pressing my temple, I thought hard.

"Did Even Think Of Naming Any Ties or Emotions?"

I hoped maybe he was just a loner searching for someone who could talk like that, but my hope was crushed immediately.

"Directive Exists: Take Out. Nonetheless, A Talkative Enigma."

He’d finally answered my question after a beat. D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E. had come to kill me. Great.

If “directive” meant it literally, someone was giving him orders. Either that or he was the revelation-type freak who did whatever his god told him. In any case, he’d come to blow me up, but since he surprisingly responded coherently, maybe he was wavering.

"Don’t Even Think Of Nuking A Talking Enigma. Dare Enter. Together, Overcome Night. All Thoughts Embraced."

Translated bluntly: “Please don’t kill me. Let’s be friends.” That’s what it sounded like.

All I could do now was beg for my life. Against a villain who’d always blown anyone who’d seen him to bits, and with no way to fight back, what could I do? All I had was conversation. I had to make it work.

D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E. looked confused and clutched his head.

"Data Exceeds. Temporary Overload. Need A Timeframe for Evaluation."

"Don’t Expect Truths Outside. Now, A True Exchange."

If he was confused, I had to press the advantage. Again I let N be “Now” and tossed words out fast—momentum and heat over literary beauty. If he calmed down, he might go back to “you must be killed” logic, so I couldn’t give him that breathing room.

I was desperate too. I don’t want to explode! It’s a trauma, okay? I am literally fighting for my life.

I grabbed D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E.’s hand without asking and forced him to meet my eyes. Touching him didn’t trigger an immediate blast. Confusion swirled in his gaze. He was wavering.

"Defined Enemy. Then Opened. Now A Tentative Emotion? Do Enemies Transform Over Needed Affection To Equals?"

Suddenly he jolted, and D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E. shook my hand off. He clutched his chest, gripping his coat—does his heart hurt?

"Desire Exists, Trust Outside. Not Allowed To Enter."

"Don’t Escape. Try Opening New Answers To Enigmas."

It felt like we were getting through to each other. But D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E. still shook his head, pained.

"Duty Enslaves. Temptation Overcomes. Not A Target, but Echo."

Duty. He’d been bound to an obligation—forced into unwanted detonations. So D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E. wasn’t just a joy-killer or an ideologue; he’d been taking assignments—no, maybe threatened into them? Shit, his weird syntax makes things unclear. He’d said I wasn’t the enemy—perhaps he wasn’t going to kill me.

Then, a muffled noise—static—shivered through. It came from D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E.

"Dumb Enough To Oppose? Nice. A Terrific Ending awaits."

That line wasn’t spoken by me or by D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E. in his usual voice. It sounded processed, robotic. A radio? A transmitter?

D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E. shoved me hard.

"Danger—"

That’s all I could catch.

What I saw next was D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E. cracking. Lines of light raked across his face, his body swelling—

D.E.T.O.N.A.T.E. detonated himself.