Finger on the trigger, emotions suppressed, the man pulled. Wiping blood splattered on his goggles with his glove, he aimed the muzzle at the head of a woman clutching her skull, cowering. Glancing at his HHPC to confirm she wasn’t on the capture list, he fired without hesitation.

  A sharp gunshot, splattering brain matter, a blooming red flower of blood… The soles of his boots soaked in the crimson pool. Surveying the subdued crowd before him, the man noticed the undercity security force commander among them, his name listed on the HHPC’s capture roster.

  Clad only in a white bathrobe, the commander trembled, casting pleading glances at his pacing subordinates. But no one shielded him; their stoic execution of duty was a model of security force discipline. The man, casting a pitying glance at his former superior, shifted his gaze to a colleague who’d tried to carry Hydro de Benzene’s sins back home.

  No one dared resist the armed soldiers. Even those whose minds were ravaged by drugs, burned to the core by endless desire, knew resistance was futile against overwhelming force. Unarmed civilians stood no chance against soldiers wielding weapons. Acknowledging this with a grudging respect for his comrades, the man’s gaze slid to the Crucible of Carnal Desire’s members watching from a distance.

  Brandishing shoddy assault rifles, their intense killing intent promised instant death to any threat. Gas masks, filled with drugs 24/7, covered their faces, their unfocused eyes burning with desire—an abnormality in the man’s view. If he aimed at them, ejecting even a single spent casing, they’d engage in combat without hesitation, just like the soldiers. A bloodbath—either they’d be wiped out or their enemies would perish. Imagining the carnage, the man sighed deeply, tapping the shoulder of a young soldier whose fingers trembled.

  “Don’t tense up too much. If we stay quiet, they won’t act,” he said.

  “…”

  “If you’re nervous, keep the safety on. Hate killing? I’ll do it for you.”

  “Sir…” the young soldier began.

  “Hm?”

  “Don’t you… feel anything? Killing your boss, your comrades—no resistance at all?”

  “Idiot. If I hesitated over that, I wouldn’t have signed up for undercity duty. I’d have requested a transfer ages ago.”

  “Then why—”

  “Money.”

  “…”

  “The pay’s good down here. That’s it.”

  “Really…?”

  What did the young soldier see through the black-tinted lenses of his gas mask? Pity for the people pinned to the floor, hands on their heads?

  Checking each person against the list, the man shot a pleading colleague whose name wasn’t listed. Turning to the resigned commander, he raised his gun.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “…You’re going to kill me?” the commander asked.

  “If your name’s not on the list.”

  “Repaying kindness with betrayal?”

  “It’s my job.”

  “…Have you no blood, no tears? I have a family—a young daughter, a wife!”

  “Enviable, having the leisure for affairs despite a family. No misunderstanding—I cut that stuff out when I took this post. And good news: your name’s on the list. You’ll have a nice chat with the mid-level city magistrate.”

  Ignoring the commander’s curses, the man turned to another colleague, head bowed, and aimed.

  “…Gonna kill me?” the colleague asked.

  “If your name’s not on the list.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s my job. You used to kill happily too, didn’t you? Me, I just did it because it was my duty.”

  “…No way.”

  “…”

  “No! I don’t want to die! Please, help me! I won’t mess around here anymore—talk to the new commander—”

  A short gunshot echoed. The colleague, shot through the head, convulsed like a dying fish before going still. Marking the non-capture list on his HHPC, the man’s clouded eyes moved to the next target.

  Killing for money, following orders—that was a soldier’s life. Pull the trigger, bathe in blood, and suppress the self to treat it as work. The hand holding the gun needed no emotions. Shelve ethics and dilemmas, act without humanity. Convince yourself you’re not human but a soldier—lie to yourself to survive.

  Pulling the trigger emotionlessly, his legs stained red, the man glanced at the young soldier covering his goggles, exasperated. If you can’t detach your ego, can’t kill your emotions, quit being a soldier. Toss aside petty pride, return to the mid-level city, find another job. No need to drive yourself into a corner for this work.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “…”

  “Take a break. The rest of us will handle it.”

  “…I’m fine.”

  “…Want me to be blunt?”

  “…”

  “You’re a liability. If you can’t kill, can’t stand blood, don’t be a soldier. You’ll see worse sights ahead. Covering your eyes, mouth, or nose won’t help. I told you before—quit or go back to the mid-level city. I even talked to the commander for you.”

  “…”

  Clenching his fists, the young soldier disengaged his gun’s safety, passing the man with deep breaths. Before him, naked men and women cowered on the floor.

  Frantically searching the capture list on his HHPC, the soldier prayed not to stain his hands with blood, not to bear indelible guilt. Sweat dripped from his forehead, stinging his eyes, his heartbeat racing with ragged breaths.

  “—!” He gasped, his brain rejecting a name and face not on the list. The woman’s pleading eyes met his, madness stirring in the shadows, summoning killing intent. “Idiot,” the man’s voice whispered in his ear as a gunshot rang out.

  “…”

  “When this operation’s over, go back to the mid-level city. Soldiering… isn’t for softies like you.”

  “…Yes, sir.”

  Sighing deeply, the man patted the soldier’s shoulder, noticing an incoming call on his HHPC from the secondary team.

  “Task 1, respond.”

  “Task 1 here, Nitro 1, go ahead.”

  “Operation complete. The illegal plant’s already destroyed.”

  “Understood. We’ll withdraw with the captives. Status of the priority protection target?”

  “No issues.”

  With the team sent to destroy the illegal plant pulling out, it was time to withdraw. The man glanced at the new commander, nodded slightly, and urged the captives to stand. Enduring the leering gazes of the Crucible’s members, he prodded the former commander’s back with his gun.

  “…Think you’re a stray dog turned pet?” the former commander sneered.

  “…”

  “We’re just… no, you’re just fated to be used and killed by those above. Was it wrong to seek some pleasure before that? Huh? We—”

  “You’re wrong,” the man cut in.

  “…”

  “Even strays and pets have pride, even if it’s built on lies. Me? I kill for my family. Not for selfish greed like you.”

  “…Is that so?”

  “Yeah.”

  The man’s low voice silenced the former commander, forcing him to face the hypocrisy of his own excuses. But perhaps those excuses were just a way to ignore the guilt he carried. Living by lies, stringing together justifications—that was the path he’d chosen, a one-way ticket to hell.

  Glancing at the elevator, the man spotted a familiar figure—a sturdy young man in black armor, gray hair flowing, carrying a silver-haired girl on his back. Waving briefly, the man left Hydro de Benzene behind.