"Holy hell, what a mess."
The advance team of cardmakers stared at the ruins that had once been an unfinished building. Russell's opening salvo had transformed concrete and rebar into modern art.
"Stop gawking and extract bodies before the bosses arrive," the lead cardmaker ordered, covering his nose.
The air reeked—ionized ozone mixing with the sweet-sick smell of flash-cooked meat.
"Smells kinda... appetizing," one cardmaker admitted, licking his lips.
Everyone else immediately stepped away from him.
Russell, emerging from shadows, paused mid-step. "Seriously? We have Hannibal wannabes now?"
Though if someone made a Hannibal Lecter card, the damage would exceed any TV show...
The cardmakers worked in tense silence. The new Vice President was terrifying when quiet.
Meanwhile, Mikoto tossed a coin idly, electricity crackling around her fingers.
Bodies were dragged out—each showing crude surgical modifications. Thirty-seven corpses with various animal parts grafted on. Pig heads, sheep hooves, crab claws. It looked more like BBQ prep than battlefield cleanup.
"CRACK!"
Mikoto's lightning struck one "corpse" being dragged. It screamed, foaming at the mouth before going silent.
"Seriously?" Russell rubbed his temples. "Nobody double-taps?"
The responsible cardmaker flushed crimson. "I apologize, President Russell!"
"I'm not angry about protocol. These Sect freaks can't hurt me. But YOUR life matters, doesn't it?"
Zayne materialized beside Russell. "Xiao Liu, submit a 10,000-word self-reflection report."
"Yes, Director!"
The survivor—a man with a massive crab claw replacing his right arm—was dragged forward. Between the foam and the claw, he resembled a Pokémon's Kingler.
That explains the appetizing smell. These modifications span the entire meat section.
"Wake him," Russell ordered.
Mikoto's controlled shock brought consciousness. The crab-man's eyes opened to dozens of hostile cardmakers.
"Don't kill me!" He raised his human hand and claw in surrender.
"Your Sect's plans. Personnel. Locations. Talk."
The creature's eyes darted, then he began crawling toward Russell on his knees.
A railgun shot grazed his ear, stopping him cold.
"Warning shot," Mikoto said pleasantly, electricity dancing between her fingers. "Next one won't miss."
The crab-man froze in existential dilemma—talk and betray the Sect, or stay silent and die immediately.
"Seems we're done here," Zayne whispered. "These things are brainwashed or bound."
The creature's face twisted. "The Sect will—"
The Federation coin punched through his skull before the sentence finished. Orange-red beam, instant death.
THUMP.
The headless body collapsed.
Luther stared at Mikoto with new respect. "So fast... struck before he could activate anything."
Not just a long-range artillery piece, he realized.
What he didn't know: to Mikoto's electromagnetic perception, all electronic and bioelectric activity was visible. Surprise was impossible.
Russell pondered projectile alternatives. "Federation coins are too soft. Need vibranium, or Uru metal like Thor's hammer..."
"Thor's Coin? Thunder Coin?"
SMACK!
Mikoto's hand connected with his arm, eyes murderous.
No weird puns!
Russell coughed. "Clean up. We're leaving."
"YES!"
But all three Gold-ranks suddenly turned toward the street's end.
"WHOOSH!"
Black iron sand erupted in a death-scythe arc from earth to sky—Mikoto's instant response.
Zayne's scholarly turtle companion launched water blades, bisecting buildings along the street.
BOOM!
Dust clouds billowed. Russell summoned all his Silver-rank cards while Fubuki cleared the air with wind.
Clap. Clap. Clap.
"You're champion Russell, correct?"
Accented Federal speech echoed down the street. A young man in crimson dragon robes approached, radiating arrogant curiosity.
"And you are?" Russell asked, though he'd already guessed.
Unification Sect member. Dragon robes. Foreign accent.
"Leigh? In imperial dress?"
Ballsy move.
In the past, such attire meant execution. But nowadays, with cards like [Mighty General Pig Guardian] and [Ten Thousand Life Emperor], the Federation royal family had given up on dignity. Their ancestors were comedy material.
But a Corian wearing dragon robes? That was declaration of intent.
"I'm Leigh-Xie." The youth smiled with practiced courtesy.
"Here for revenge?" Russell gestured at the corpses.
"This trash? Hardly worth my time. I heard you'd arrived, came to observe the champion."
He paused. "That earlier attack was yours?"
An orange-red beam answered him.
Leigh-Xie dodged with unnatural grace, patting his chest theatrically. "Close one! Can't you wait until I finish talking?"
Russell studied him. "Are you... a narcissist?"
Dead silence. Even stoic Zayne's mouth twitched.
Luther unexpectedly backed Russell. "His mannerisms ARE rather... theatrical."
Russell glanced at Luther, surprised by the support from his former underminer.
The Association cardmakers lost composure, laughter erupting.
Leigh-Xie's smile evaporated. "How... vulgar. I expected more from a champion."
"Hit a nerve?" Russell asked innocently. "We're professionals. We don't usually laugh."
"Unless we can't help it."
Leigh-Xie's face darkened completely. "Let's see if your strength matches your mouth."
A middle-aged man in similar robes materialized. Crushing pressure slammed down—several Bronze-ranks dropped to their knees.
An orange beam intercepted—pressure lifting as the coin froze mid-air before the man.
Leigh-Xie frowned. "The power's different..."
This shot far exceeded the first.
Beside Russell, Fubuki's fingers twitched subtly. She was creating a near-vacuum environment around the projectile, eliminating air resistance. The coin continued accelerating after firing.
CRACK.
Spider-web fractures spread across an invisible barrier.
The shield held—barely.
Leigh-Xie's mockery returned. "That's all?"
BOOM!
Another coin grazed his right ear, dissipating into distance.
"Oops. Missed." Mikoto's finger smoked, voice sweetly apologetic.
For her, railguns were basic attacks. With enough coins, she could fire indefinitely.
Ding.
Another coin flipped into position.
Leigh-Xie touched his cheek, feeling blood. His perfect face—marred.
"My God-given treasure! MY FACE!"
"I'll—"
BOOM!
The next shot passed through where his head had been. The middle-aged card had teleported them both away.
"Fled?" Mikoto tilted her head, disappointed.
After silence, Zayne spoke flatly. "The Sect's aesthetics pale before our Vice President's."
"...Indeed." Luther stared at Zayne. Since when do you kiss ass?
Russell ignored them, considering implications.
"Multiple Leighs in East-Haven?"
The Corian connection ran deeper than expected.
(End of Chapter)