After disposing of Turner, Charles glared furiously at the assembled X-mercenaries. His anger blazed. Without hesitation, he charged at another ability wielder—Rice. Eliminating those with powers was, after all, his assigned duty. Having dealt with White, Rice naturally became his next target.
His sunglasses had long since displayed Rice's vital data: Level Three, Fire-Type Evolutionary.
Rice let out a thunderous roar, "Open fire!"
All the X-mercenaries with weapons trained on Charles instinctively squeezed their triggers.
Bang bang bang!
Ratatatatata!
Dudududu!
Gunfire erupted in chaotic harmony as the mercenaries unleashed a storm of bullets without reservation. Glinting rounds streaked through the air, pelting Charles's body.
Fragments of stone burst from his frame, and his military uniform was rapidly reduced to tatters.
Yet Charles pressed forward, reaching Rice. With his only remaining arm, he hurled a vicious punch toward Rice's cheek.
Rice swiftly ducked, narrowly dodging the blow, then pivoted behind Charles in one fluid motion.
Once the fight turned into close-quarters combat, the mercenaries ceased their gunfire, fearful that a stray bullet might strike their leader.
Rice seized Charles from behind, lifted him with a sudden surge of force, and slammed him brutally into the ground. Then, locking both arms around Charles's remaining fist and clamping his legs around his opponent's neck, he trapped Charles in a classic jiu-jitsu chokehold.
This maneuver stunned not only Charles but the other mercenaries as well. For the first time, they realized that their leader wasn't merely a showy wielder of supernatural powers—he had formidable combat skills of his own.
Rice tightened his grip on Charles's wrist, his legs cinching down like iron bands on his throat. "You bastard—do you surrender or not?!"
Charles's neck had long since petrified into stone, rendering the chokehold largely ineffective. He was momentarily immobilized, but not subdued. Struggling furiously, he roared, "Surrender? Never! Kill me if you can! Otherwise, when I get up, I swear I'll smash your jaw to dust!"
A cold light glinted in Rice's eyes. "You refuse? Then it's time I show you my true power." With that, two blazing tongues of fire erupted from his hands.
Charles froze. He could feel the searing heat radiating from Rice's palms.
The fire that Rice conjured was hot enough to melt steel. Even Charles, encased in stone, could not withstand it.
His gaze fell on his arm, which had begun to glow a dangerous crimson. A sense of dread clawed at him.
"Turner! Fetch that barrel of water!" Rice barked.
Turner, who had just staggered to his feet, suddenly grasped Rice's intent. Clutching his wounded arm, he stumbled toward the back of the jeep and returned with a barrel of water, placing it by Rice's side.
Rice chuckled darkly and addressed Charles. "Tell me, Special Envoy—what do you suppose will happen if I pour this water over your blazing arm?"
Charles frowned. He knew all too well: douse a red-hot stone with cold water, and it shatters. His arm would crumble to rubble.
"No… don't… don't pour it…"
Rice sneered. "Scared now, are we? What about the brothers you maimed? How do we settle that score?"
Panting, Charles responded, "I'll pay you."
"How much?"
"Fifty thousand Federation coins."
Rice laughed derisively. "Are you joking, Envoy? Fifty thousand for all our pain and blood? You think this is a game? Two hundred thousand—or I reduce your arm to gravel."
"Two hundred?! I—I don't have that kind of money!"
"Whether you have it or not is irrelevant to me. The only thing I care about is: will you pay? If you do, I'll let you go. If not, I'll snap your arm. You've got thirty seconds to decide." Then, turning to Turner, he added, "Be ready. The moment I say pour, you pour. Got it?"
Turner grinned wickedly and said, "Loud and clear. I'm ready."
Crushed beneath the pressure, Charles finally broke. "Fine! I'll pay the two hundred thousand—but you have to release me first!"
"Hmph. Two hundred thousand. Not a coin less."
"I know… I know. Just let go of me first."
Rice slowly released him and rose, arms folded, watching as Charles scrambled to his feet in disheveled humiliation.
One of the X-mercenaries handed Rice a cigar. A flick of his finger summoned a small flame.
Breathing heavily, Rice held the cigar to the fire from his fingertip. Once its distinctive aroma wafted to his nose, he clamped the cigar between his teeth and took a deep draw, all the while eyeing Charles.
Charles's right arm now glowed with a deep crimson hue. The sleeve had been incinerated, revealing corded, stone-bound muscle beneath.
Still puffing on his cigar, Rice looked down on the Level Four ability user and asked coolly, "So—when will I see my money?"
"I told you—I don't have it," Charles snapped—and suddenly lunged for the jeep.
"You bastard!" Rice cursed, charging after him. He aimed to bring Charles down again and break his arm, but Charles was already beside the jeep. In two quick steps, he yanked open the door and jumped in.
Twin fireballs flared in Rice's hands as he snarled, cigar clenched between his teeth. "Trying to run?!"
He hurled the flames at the vehicle.
But Charles hadn't fled.
From the glove compartment on the passenger side, he pulled out a vial of liquid and drank it in one gulp.
Then, leaping from the opposite side of the jeep, he rolled across the ground, clutching himself and groaning in evident agony.
Rice picked up the empty vial Charles had cast aside. His eyes narrowed as he read the label:
"Elixir of Power."
Let me know if you'd like to continue this story or translate another chapter.