"Belle, can you drive?"
"Yes!" Belle answered without hesitation.
Fenric walked over to the roadside, spotted a car, and without a second thought, smashed the window with his fist before unlocking the door.
"Go. Start it."
Belle slid into the driver's seat, removed the steering lock, located the ignition wires, and started the car. Her movements were smooth and practiced—clearly, she had learned these skills before.
Fenric gave a satisfied nod, then unfolded a map and pointed at a marked location.
"Head here. A private airport."
Salt Lake City had no major airports—only a private airfield filled with local tycoons' private jets and a few small charter planes.
Fenric, already aware of the plot of this world, knew that the Ark was built in Tibet within the Homing Valley in China. Since they were currently in the United States, they would need to fly there.
His plan was simple: hijack a small plane, fly it to the nearest large airport, and then board a proper aircraft to Tibet.
(Note: Small planes can't cover long distances!)
The car engine roared to life.
Belle drove quickly, following Fenric's directions without question.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Fenric flipped open the vanity mirror. In the reflection, he saw the image the system had given him: a young man in his twenties, with black hair and black eyes—much like Belle—and features that bore three points of resemblance to his original face. Fenric was pleased with his new look.
Airports, whether large or small, were always located in remote areas due to the space needed for runways and the noise of aircraft engines disturbing residents.
After an hour and a half, they finally arrived.
"Get out. Follow me," Fenric ordered.
Belle stepped out and followed without hesitation.
Two security guards, both tall men with dark skin, blocked their path.
"This is private property. No entry without a pass."
Fenric smiled.
"A pass? I've got one."
"Then show it to us."
"Sure."
Bang! Bang!
In the blink of an eye, Fenric struck both guards with a pair of lightning-fast punches. Neither had time to react before collapsing, unconscious.
"This is my pass," Fenric said calmly.
Belle's expression didn't change. As someone who had seen Samsara players do far worse in dungeons, Fenric sparing their lives already seemed merciful.
The two of them walked into the private airfield without further trouble.
What caught Fenric's eye, however, was the scene unfolding nearby: the male protagonist of the original story was helping a wealthy man's two spoiled sons board a private jet. The man was a struggling science fiction novelist whose books sold poorly, forcing him to work as the rich man's driver just to survive.
The two fat sons mocked the novelist on their way up, arrogantly declaring that he would die without a ticket. Fenric simply smiled and followed them aboard.
Belle, under the influence of her trust in Shura, remained silent and obedient.
"Oh! Sir! This is a private jet—you can't just board!" the flight attendant protested.
Fenric's response was a sharp slap that instantly silenced him.
Once inside, Fenric drew the black blade, Shusui, and pressed it against the rich man's neck.
"Ah!"
The women and children on board screamed in panic.
The rich man, however, stayed calm.
"Hey, buddy! Could you move the sword a little farther away? I'll cooperate with whatever you need!"
"Good. I just want a ride. Where are you headed?" Fenric asked, though he already knew that wealthy individuals with evacuation tickets were bound for a large airport, where they'd transfer to a flight bound for Tibet in China.
"To Los Angeles Airport," the rich man replied truthfully.
"Perfect. Just take me there, and I won't trouble you further," Fenric said with a smile as he sheathed his blade.
"No problem," the rich man agreed readily, but he secretly gestured to his bodyguards.
The two guards exchanged a glance, stepped back, and then quickly drew their pistols, aiming at Fenric.
"Don't move!"
"Hands where we can see them!"
Fenric remained seated, unbothered. He even poured himself a glass of whiskey and took a slow sip, completely unfazed by the guns pointed at him.
"Damn it! I told you to raise your hands!" one guard barked angrily.
The rich man shoved his sons into the rear cabin, his voice cold.
"Kill him!"
The bodyguards obeyed, firing without hesitation.
Bang!
A bullet shot straight toward Fenric.
Belle instinctively tensed, ready to dodge, but her faith in Fenric made her stay put.
And then—a phenomenon that defied all logic occurred.
The bullet stopped mid-air, hovering just inches from Fenric's forehead as though frozen in time. The impossible sight left everyone in the cabin petrified.
Only Belle remained calm—she had already witnessed Fenric's power in the previous dungeon.
"Oh my God…" one bodyguard gasped, his face pale, convinced he was dealing with something inhuman.
With a flick of Fenric's wrist, the bullet reversed its path, shooting back and piercing the guard's forehead.
Puff!
Blood spurted as the man collapsed.
Fenric's gaze shifted to the rich man, who was now trembling, his face ashen. The second bodyguard still aimed his gun but no longer had the courage to fire.
"I told you—I just want a ride," Fenric said coldly. "Mr. Rich Man, can we leave now?"
The terrified rich man jolted and shouted toward the cockpit,
"Captain! Take off—now! Hurry!!"