Chapter 37: A Hail of Bullets

Gunfire provided fleeting illumination in the tunnel's darkness.

The light cast Phaga's ghostly shadow. One moment he was on the ground, clawing through a comrade's armor. The next, he was pressed against the train wall, suddenly diving down to pin someone to the floor. A sweep of his claw sliced through a throat, blood gushing forth.

He was like an utterly elusive shadow, flickering in and out of existence, bullets seemingly veering around him.

The battered loudspeaker, shot down, was trampled underfoot. The windows began letting in drafts. Shell casings occasionally tapped onto the roof. Even his comrades bore numerous bullet marks.

And yet Phaga alone—untouched, not a single bullet found its mark.

The fake officers aboard the train could only watch helplessly as he appeared and vanished without a trace, ending lives with the swiftness of a whirlwind.

The bodies of all the fake officers lay strewn like a path. Phaga stepped over the pools of blood, his gaze fixed on the last survivor.

The last survivor clutched his chest, terror etched across his face. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor.

He pushed himself up with his hands, but the viscous sensation spreading from his palms sent a chill down his spine, making him recoil uncontrollably. Even when his head slammed into the seat, he dared not cry out. Clutching the seat as if it were a lifeline, he clung to it desperately, as if this could somehow grant him a shred of safety.

“Don't come any closer! Don't come closer!”

Phaga advanced step by step, the survivor wailing in utter collapse.

Phaga narrowed his eyes, suddenly crouching down. He grabbed the survivor's hair, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“How many more carriages behind us?”

The survivor's eyes were hollow and vacant, gasping for breath. Phaga's crimson stare left him no choice but to answer: “One more... car.”

“Thank you.”

Phaga let go, then backhanded the survivor across the face. His head snapped sideways, body crumpling limp into a pool of blood.

In the last glimpse of his life, he saw the monster that had killed him slowly rise to its feet and pull open the door to the final car.

“The monster’s here—open fire!”

The moment Phaga pulled open the door, dozens of cold, black muzzles locked onto him. At once, the barrels erupted in fire—an endless torrent of bullets.

Though the men aboard the train weren't genuine Officers, but rather undercover agents sent by Vision Industry, they weren't fools. With such commotion in the front cars, how could they remain indifferent?

Thus, the moment Phaga entered, he received a grand welcome!

“The men in the front cars are all dead! If you don’t want to die, reload fast and shoot like hell! Even if you’ve only got a pistol, fire it like a machine gun!”

Clearly, this carriage had elected its own leader.

Under his command, all firepower erupted, determined to take down Phaga at any cost!

“Those out of ammo, get down and reload! Don't block the men behind you!” the leader roared fiercely, his voice strained and hoarse despite the hail of bullets.

Suddenly, one of the men shouted, “Boss! That monster's holding up some weird umbrella!”

“What about the umbrella? Can it block Ether Bullets?”

The leader's eyes widened in fury as he glared at the man. Only when the man's face twisted in hurt did he realize something was wrong. He whipped his head around to look toward Phaga.

An open umbrella blocked the entire train door, deflecting countless incoming bullets. Yet not a single hole marred its surface.

An umbrella that tough?

The leader couldn't help but wonder. But soon, his keen senses detected something else amiss. That strange sound... was it wind?

How could there be wind noise inside a train?

The tunnel was pitch-black. He squinted, scrutinizing every detail until a faint clue emerged. The door... was open? Not the connecting door between carriages, but the door leading outside had been opened!

A chill gripped the leader's heart as a mad thought surged through his mind.

Suddenly understanding, he shrieked, “Duck down!”

The others froze, bewildered by their leader's intent.

But the leader had already thrown himself to the floor, frantically yelling, “Quick, get down! Get down! Are you deaf? Get down, damn it!”

Confused, the others exchanged glances before slowly lowering themselves to the floor.

It's over!

The leader closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight.

Whoosh~~~
Bang!

A thunderous roar erupted as a gaping hole suddenly tore through the train roof.

Phaga descended from the sky, flapping his wings, one hand gripping a rifle seized from the fake Officer.

“Fire!”

Ratatatatatat!~~

Blinding flashes erupted from the train's midsection as bullets spat fire from the barrels. With every passing second, more than one figure collapsed, their wails and screams instantly filling the entire carriage!

The leader, already crouched beneath the seats, clenched his eyes shut in agony, not daring to utter a sound.

Half a minute passed...

Phaga glanced at the smoking muzzle, then surveyed the carriage littered with fallen bodies. His eyes narrowed as he picked up a pistol and slowly walked toward the front of the car, reaching for his earpiece.

“Hey, Phaethon, Phaga here.”

“Ah, Phaga! You've already taken care of it? That fast!”

“Yeah, done... Why's it so noisy over there?”

“Oh, we just caught a shorty!”

“Shorty?”

...

Somewhere in the hollow, Eous sat on a steel beam, dangling his two stubby legs. While communicating with Phaga, he instinctively turned his head to look at the shorty on the ground.

Phaga recognized this man—he'd seen him several times on TV lately.

Charles Perlman, CEO of Vision Industry!

Accustomed to a life of privilege, Perlman hadn't noticed anyone sneaking up on him. Even his bodyguards hadn't detected a thing. He only saw the sky suddenly darken. By the time he snapped back to reality, he was already bound.

Perlman, bound by ropes, strained to lift his head, about to speak.

Suddenly, a girl with pink, wavy hair smashed a briefcase into his skull, snarling, “Hand over the train's explosive controller!”

Had Phaga been present, he would have instantly recognized her as Nicole, the leader of the Cunning Hares.

A girl with a big heart—though not always the brightest.

It seemed not only Phaethon was in the Dead End Hollow, but also the Cunning Hares.

“Hey, Boss, ease up a bit! If he passes out, all our work's for nothing!”

Perlman remained silent. Just as Nicole, enraged and humiliated, was about to swing the suitcase down again, a towering robot instantly stepped in front of Nicole. Its rigid mechanical frame absorbed the blow meant for Perlman.

“Billy?”

Nicole froze, her eyes softening with concern upon seeing Billy as the shield. Then she roared, “Why didn't you just hold me back?! Why did you take the hit?! Do you have any idea how expensive your repairs are?!”

“Ugh!!! Boss Nicole's losing it, Anby! You gotta think of something!”

Billy kept blocking Nicole's swinging fists, but this wasn't sustainable. He quickly turned to the white-haired girl in green armor for help.

Anby glanced over but quickly looked away, her words sparse: “Billy provoked Nicole himself.”

“Waaah!!! How is this my fault?! Anby, you always take Nicole’s side!”

“Billy did it to himself.”

“Ah, help me!”

“Hehehe~ The Cunning Hares aren’t what I pictured. How’d they manage to take down Miguel Silver?”

Nekomata watched the two squabbling figures and the third standing by, unable to suppress an awkward smile as she sat down beside Eous.

Thinking that Miguel Silver—the one who raised her—had been taken out by this lot made her stomach turn.

“Huh? Miguel Silver? Didn't he fall into the Hollow and get corrupted into Ethereal?”

Eous scratched his head, while even Belle, dozens of miles away, seemed puzzled.

Could I have remembered it wrong?