Most of the items in the Supply System were ordinary supplies—things like compressed rations, firearms, RC bullets, bandages—but two stood out glaringly from the rest.
[S-RANK SPEAR-TYPE QUINQUE | 500 POINTS]
[SPEARMANSHIP · SECRET TECHNIQUE | 1000 POINTS]
Unlike the other items, which had detailed descriptions, these two had only their names and point costs.
The Quinque was in an unused state, and Lancer had no idea exactly what it might be. As for the so-called "Secret Technique," it appeared merely as a glowing sphere.
Previously, since he'd never had enough points, Lancer simply ignored these options. Now, however, having saved up sufficient points, he felt his heart begin to itch with temptation.
The spear "Kamishiro 1/4" in his hands was undeniably his greatest trump card. Without it, his combat power would be halved at the very least—demonstrating just how powerful an S-rated Quinque could be. Yet, considering a Quinque's greatest advantage lay in RC cells effective against Ghouls, and given that he would leave this world in roughly a month… he found himself leaning more toward the mysterious "Secret Technique."
However, recalling his attribute screen's ever-unchanging "Luck E," he began hesitating again. But on second thought—perhaps E-Rank Luck wasn't as cursed as he'd imagined?
True, he'd ended up hospitalized multiple times over the past four months, yet wasn't he still alive and kicking now? Aside from occasionally running into random Ghouls during missions or encountering unforeseen enemies, nothing excessively terrible had happened. In fact, hadn't these encounters actually contributed to strengthening him? Perhaps it was more a matter of balance between good and bad?
At this moment, Lancer had clearly fallen victim to a strange mental bias—the survivor's fallacy.
In his view, the fact he'd survived until now meant his luck must have been pretty decent. In reality, though, the reason he was still alive had less to do with luck, and far more to do with his own strength and meticulous preparations. Still, at this instant, all he cared about was making a gamble on this enticing mystery technique. Everything else… didn't matter so much. Probably.
Just as Lancer's face twisted through various emotions and he finally steeled himself, Madou Akira raised her head and shot him a glance, then quickly lowered it again to focus on the documents in her hands.
As a newly minted Rank 2 Investigator, freshly graduated from her internship, Madou Akira had been somewhat hopeful about her assignment. Unfortunately, she'd ended up being informed by her father that she'd serve as Lancer's assistant, leaving her more than a little dissatisfied.
It wasn't that she doubted Lancer's capabilities, nor that she cared overly about the rumors regarding his eccentricities. As Madou Akira—daughter of Madou Kureo—she knew the CCG was filled with far stranger and more twisted Investigators. No, the reason for her unhappiness was simply that Lancer couldn't satisfy her personal "goals."
What was Lancer's reputation within the CCG?
Two words: utterly insane.
Normally, Investigators who landed in the hospital would rarely return to combat—considering their opponents were Ghouls, most of the injured ended up losing limbs or worse. But Lancer? Four months on the job, hospitalized four times already (not counting his initial injury before officially joining the CCG).
First, he'd been gravely wounded fighting "Binge Eater," and according to medical staff, he'd hovered at death's door from severe blood loss. Yet soon after leaving the hospital, he'd immediately gone after Binge Eater again—admittedly, her death hadn't solely been his accomplishment but more a product of her own extraordinarily bad luck. Still, without Lancer's interference, she never would have been crushed beneath falling pianos or safes.
Then came the second incident, when he'd discovered a Ghoul restaurant and fought dozens of Ghouls single-handedly, slaughtering over ten before being rescued. She'd personally witnessed the scene when medical units arrived. Although many saw Lancer's bloodied figure as "captivating," Madou Akira—always analytical—didn't find such recklessness appealing. She couldn't predict his next move at all, making cooperation utterly nightmarish.
Lastly, there was yesterday's operation. According to post-operation statistics, Lancer had killed more Ghouls than most Senior Investigators, even surpassing Hirako-san—but once again, he'd ended up carried off the field on a stretcher…
Honestly, Madou Akira couldn't understand why her father thought so highly of this man. Nothing but reckless charges, again and again. And now he was lying in bed making bizarre facial expressions—was he planning a comedy skit for the CCG's New Year party or something?
Lancer, oblivious to Madou Akira's misunderstanding about his changing expressions, wasn't exactly in a state to care. After finally purchasing the "Supplies," he now fully understood what he'd obtained.
[SECRET TECHNIQUE · MURLOC TRIPLE THRUST]
When he first saw the name of this technique, his heart instantly sank. Still, with a "since I already bought it, might as well check" mindset, he looked closer, his expression growing even stranger:
[SECRET TECHNIQUE · MURLOC TRIPLE THRUST | E ]
AS ONE OF THE WEAKEST RACES ON AZEROTH, MURLOCS SUFFERED CONSTANT OPPRESSION FROM OTHER RACES. AFTER COUNTLESS SACRIFICES, THEY DEVELOPED THIS SECRET TECHNIQUE TO RESIST.
[EFFECT]:
① INFUSE MANA INTO ATTACKS, GRANTING WATER ATTRIBUTE DAMAGE AND SUPPRESSING ENEMY REGENERATION.
② AGAINST ENEMIES WITH HIGHER STRENGTH OR LUCK, THE TECHNIQUE GAINS ARMOR-PIERCING.
[COST | 30% STAMINA]
What to say… the effect was undeniably excellent, and the stamina cost wasn't high. Compared to the suicidal "Last-Resort Strike" he'd inexplicably invented himself, this skill was far superior. Yet, for some reason, the mental image in his head wasn't of fearsome Murlocs, but rather of a salted fish holding a bamboo stick and yelling "Salted Fish Thrust!"
He felt mentally exhausted… seriously.
Lancer collapsed back onto the hospital bed, thoroughly convinced he was now turning into an actual salted fish himself.
No way! How can I let myself become a salted fish?!
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?"
Madou Akira, who'd been calmly sitting on watch duty, had absolutely not expected Lancer to suddenly leap out of bed. She quickly tried to stop him, but Lancer grabbed his briefcase and headed straight for the door—right as Madou Kureo walked in, similarly carrying a briefcase.
"Lancer? What's going on?"
"Uh… Nothing much, just felt like if I lay in bed any longer, my body would rust. I was thinking of doing some rehab training at the practice range."
Faced with Madou Kureo's questioning, Lancer honestly didn't know how to answer. He certainly couldn't tell the other man that he was about to transform into a salted fish if he lay around any longer and desperately needed exercise. Besides sounding completely ridiculous, Madou-san probably wouldn't even understand what he meant.
"Oh? Well, hold off for a bit. First, come with me to the conference room. Although your intelligence report was already handed in, it seems the Bureau Chief himself wants to ask you a few questions…"
The Bureau Chief?
Lancer's expression instantly became complex. He wasn't a traditionally recruited Investigator, so he'd never even met the top leader of the CCG. Last time when he'd received his medal, it was Kuroiwa Iwao at headquarters who'd given it to him. Was he finally going to meet the elusive Bureau Chief?
Truth be told, Lancer felt a little excited.
"Then let's hurry up."
Perhaps it was eagerness to finally meet the Bureau Chief… or perhaps he simply didn't want to get caught by the person chasing him from behind.
Madou Kureo watched as Lancer hurried off ahead, glanced at his daughter closely following behind, and helplessly shook his head.
---
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