The Exterminator threw himself into a desperate roll, narrowly evading the shot. He hurled the rat in his hand like a grenade, diving behind a stone pillar as he snarled, "F—k, Cross! I'm the one who taught you that trick, and you're using it on me?"
"You bastard!"
Cross showed no mercy. With a sharp flick of his wrist, he executed a perfect curve shot. The bullet traced a lethal arc through the air, whipping around the pillar and piercing The Exterminator's skull. The man didn't even have time to scream before he slumped over, dead.
Suddenly, gunfire erupted from behind. The Gunsmith emerged, his eyes burning with fury as he squeezed the trigger repeatedly.
Whether it was instinct or a premonition of danger, Cross lunged forward into a roll, the bullet grazing the air where his head had been a second before. He came up shooting.
The Gunsmith was no novice; he moved in a constant, fluid strafe, trading fire with Cross. Their bullets collided in mid-air with rhythmic metallic sparks, a deadly dance of lead and precision.
In the heart of the Mill, Shiranui Hayate stepped into a massive study. The room was grand, its walls lined with towering bookshelves containing thousands of ancient volumes.
Without warning, Sloan and three elite assassins emerged from behind different shelves, flanking him from four directions. They raised their weapons in unison, their intent clear: total execution.
BANG!
Four bullets screamed toward Hayate simultaneously.
In a display of agility that defied physics, Hayate twisted in mid-air. His body contorted at an impossible angle, the lead humming past his clothes by mere millimeters. Before the assassins could even register his movement, Hayate's hands blurred.
Four shuriken hissed through the air.
Three of the assassins collapsed instantly, the steel buried in their throats. Sloan, however, survived—though at a price. A shuriken tore through his palm, pinning his hand to a shelf and forcing him to drop his weapon with a howl of agony.
Hayate landed lightly, his gaze sweeping the room. "Sloan?"
Sloan clutched his bleeding hand, trying to maintain a facade of calm despite the trembling in his voice. "Hayate... listen to me. Whatever Cross is paying you, I will double it. No, triple it! Just help me eliminate him."
Hayate looked at Sloan, a trace of mockery playing on his lips. "Sloan, you can't afford my price."
"Besides... once you're dead, the entire assets of this Textile Mill belong to me anyway."
Hayate wasn't joking. Beyond the Wax Bath and the Loom of Fate, Sloan had nothing left to offer.
Cold sweat broke out on Sloan's forehead as he realized Cross had offered the Brotherhood's very foundation as the bounty. He scrambled for another leverage point.
"Hayate! If you let me live, I will cancel the bounty on your Agency immediately. Think about it!"
Seeing Hayate's indifference, Sloan's voice became shrill. "If I die, that contract stays open on the Continental! Thousands of hitmen will descend upon your people like a plague of locusts. You will never be able to trust a soul again. You might survive, but can the others?"
Hayate didn't let him finish. He stepped forward and drove his boot into Sloan's chest, pinning him to the floor.
"Sloan, you should have canceled that bounty to buy yourself a quick death. Now, you're just wasting my time."
Sloan didn't flinch. Instead, he grew eerily calm, staring up at Hayate. "If you kill me, the five of you will carry those marks until the day you die or the bounty is claimed. You might not fear the shadows, but what about your subordinates? Can they live forever under the shadow of assassination?"
Hayate's eyes narrowed. He put his full weight into his foot, a sickening crunch echoing through the study as he crushed Sloan's chest, ending the man's life instantly.
"Shiranui Hayate does not take threats from the likes of you. If you think a few bottom-feeding hitmen can force my hand, you've grossly underestimated me."
With a casual kick, he sent Sloan's corpse sliding across the floor toward the entrance.
Cross walked in moments later, clutching a bloody wound on his arm. He had finished The Gunsmith, but the toll of the night was visible on his face. He looked at the dead Sloan, then at Hayate—who didn't have a single scratch on his clothes.
Cross's pupils dilated. This man... he is a monster.
"Hayate... is the bounty handled?"
Hayate didn't answer immediately. The silence was his response. He simply asked, "Is there anyone left alive in the Mill?"
"They're all dead," Cross replied, not pressing the issue of the bounty.
Hayate nodded. "Take me to this 'Loom of Fate' I've heard so much about."
Cross gave him a long, searching look but didn't refuse. He led Hayate into a vast, cavernous workshop. It was largely empty, save for a single, ancient weaving machine that hummed with a strange, rhythmic energy.
"This is it," Cross said, his voice tinged with complex emotions. "The Brotherhood's Loom of Fate."
Hayate approached the machine, circling it slowly. He even peered behind it, half-expecting to find a hidden network cable as some of the jokes from his past life—back when he was Feng Yi—had suggested.
There were no wires. Just ancient wood and thread. He reached out, his palm lightly brushing the frame of the machine.
Suddenly, the system in his mind—the one that had remained stubbornly "un-toppable"—flashed with a violent surge of energy.
[NOTIFICATION: SPECIAL ENERGY DETECTED.]
[TOP-UP AVAILABLE. WOULD YOU LIKE TO PROCEED?]
A genuine smile broke across Hayate's face. The Loom of Fate was no ordinary relic; it possessed enough mystical energy to fuel the system.
Top-up, he commanded mentally.
In the next heartbeat, the Loom seemed to have its very soul ripped out. The wood turned grey and brittle instantly. A machine that had stood for a millennium without a scratch suddenly eroded as if centuries had passed in a second, crumbling into a pile of fine ash before Cross's eyes.
Cross stood paralyzed, his jaw dropping. He couldn't comprehend how a holy relic of the Brotherhood could turn to dust at a mere touch.
"The Loom... like the Brotherhood itself," Cross murmured, his voice hollow. "Once the faith was betrayed, it simply chose to rot."
Hayate ignored him, his focus entirely on the interface in his mind.
[TOP-UP SUCCESSFUL!]
On the system display, his gold coin count began to spin frantically: 100... 500... 1000...
The counter finally settled at 1730.
He had gained 1680 gold coins from the Loom. More importantly, his status bar shifted: VIP 0 had finally become VIP 1.
Hayate didn't linger on the screen. He closed the interface, knowing he could study the new features later. He turned back to Cross, his aura more composed than ever.
The Brotherhood was gone. The real game was just beginning.