Dear Heroes, I really am a Villain
Chapter 109: Comotion at The Fringe

Chapter 109: Comotion at The Fringe

The customers in the shop didn’t panic, this wasn’t their first rodeo with situations like this. This is the Fringe, after all.

They all stood up and calmly exited through another door in an orderly fashion. Only a few novices showed clear panic in their eyes, but after a few reassuring words or a pat on the back from veterans, they calmed down and followed the others out.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" the man in the Hawaiian shirt asked calmly.

"It’s none of your business! If you know what’s good for you, obediently get out like the rest of those sheep," Manifesto snapped.

Hearing the threat, the man in the Hawaiian shirt didn’t show any fear. Instead, he let out a long sigh, as if this situation was just another ordinary day at work.

"Sigh~ No, this is exactly our business," said the man in the Hawaiian shirt.

"What did you say?" Manifesto asked, startled by the reply.

Bang!

A gunshot rang out. With a swift flick of his wrist, the man in the Hawaiian shirt fired a shot at Manifesto.

Manifesto immediately summoned his blade of light. As the number two hero in the global hero rankings, blocking a bullet was an easy task for him.

But the moment the blade touched the bullet, the light cracked, then shattered.

Clank!

The bullet kept going, but the blade had delayed it just enough for Manifesto to dodge.

The shot missed, but the man in the Hawaiian shirt was already charging at him. Caught off guard as he dodged the bullet, Manifesto was unprepared.

Pow!

A fist flew at his face. Manifesto managed to raise his guard just in time, but the power behind the punch, combined with his off-balance stance, sent him crashing out of the broker shop.

As he stumbled outside, Manifesto found himself surrounded by more men in Hawaiian shirts.

These men were undoubtedly Ricardo’s brothers. They had been expanding their protection racket into the Fringe recently. Many shops and businesses actually preferred paying them.

Because they truly provided protection and even sought compensation on behalf of victims when something happened.

As a result, the people in the Fringe had come to welcome them. Even the local authorities often turned a blind eye, making their work easier.

After all, despite being a gang, they brought a sense of order to the lawless corners of the Fringe, which official patrols rarely reached.

"You must be new here," one of them said blandly as if he were reciting lines from a script.

"But causing trouble in a place we protect isn’t advisable. We’re willing to look the other way if you cover the property damage, medical expenses for WiredHead, his compensation, and our intervention fee."

He said it all with the tone of a man handling routine paperwork.

Manifesto let out a dangerous chuckle. He had never experienced this kind of arrogance from what he considered mere rabble. Yes, he had suffered setbacks before, but those had come at the hands of people with higher status than him.

Not from the hands of people he perceived as beneath him.

"What did you say again, you dipshit? You dare order me!? Manifesto!?"

With anger and arrogance clouding his judgment, he charged at one of Ricardo’s men, blade of light in hand, ready to strike.

But contrary to Manifesto’s expectations, that this group of thugs would panic under his assault, they instead calmly retreated and formed a formation around him. In unison, they drew their guns and opened fire.

Thanks to training from Maximilian, Ricardo’s men, while clearly inferior to Manifesto in raw power, were calm under pressure. Even under his assault, they didn’t panic. Instead, they coordinated efficiently and surrounded him.

Their guns were loaded with Forcefield-Piercing (FFP) Rounds, the bullets specifically designed to counter energy-based defenses. This forced Manifesto to increase his power output just to keep the bullets from breaking through his shields.

His EF granted him control over light. He could shape hardlight constructs into any form he desired, including weapons and barriers. But his ability, despite its versatility, fell under the force field category, and that was precisely what FFP rounds were made to counter.

He was effectively a sitting duck.

Many of his hardlight shields began to crack under the pressure, forcing him to expend even more stamina just to reinforce them.

And since he wasn’t wearing his hero suit, intentionally avoiding it to conceal his identity, he lacked both the additional protection and power amplification it provided.

At this moment, he was no different from a lion bullied by a pack of hyenas.

Manifesto was strong, there was no doubt about that, but with Maximilian’s training under their belt and the specialized ammunition, Ricardo’s men suppressed him to his limit.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Grrrr... these annoying pests!" Manifesto growled, doing everything he could to withstand the barrage.

One must understand—had it been anyone else under such a relentless onslaught of FFP rounds, they would’ve already collapsed from exhaustion and been beaten into submission.

"Enough!" Manifesto roared furiously.

He overloaded his energy output, reshaping his hardlight into hundreds of razor-sharp shards-like shrapnel, he blasted them outward in every direction.

Splurt! Pierced!

"Arghh!"

"Guhhh!"

The hardlight shrapnel flew at subsonic speed, tearing through the frontline men. Some were shredded to pieces, killed before they could even scream.

A few survived, but the shards embedded deep into their bodies, burning them from the inside out, leaving them to writhe in agonizing pain.

Fortunately, as the number two hero in the global rankings, Manifesto still had enough control over his power to avoid unnecessary collateral damage.

There were no innocent casualties.

Manifesto, feeling a bit exhausted, looked at Ricardo’s men with contempt before walking toward them.

He kicked and stomped on one of them to vent his frustration.

"Stop!"

A voice drew his attention; it was a military patrol, attracted by the explosions and the commotion on the commercial street in the Fringe.

Manifesto paused, turning to face the patrol.

"Put your hands in the air!"

The soldiers pointed their guns at him, but Manifesto didn’t comply. Instead, he glared at them.

"What kind of shitty day is this?" he grumbled. He’d been interrupted repeatedly, and nothing had gone his way.

Still, he was a hero, and the one who thrived under the UEC system. He wouldn’t do something as foolish as resisting the authorities. There was a much easier way to deal with them.

Manifesto took out his IHB ID and handed it to one of the soldiers.

The soldier examined the ID and instantly recognized the man before him, Manifesto, the renowned hero, dispatched to Arkadia to capture Nihilus.

The patrol then glanced at the injured men lying on the ground.

"Aren’t those... Ricardo’s men?" one soldier muttered. The patrol was familiar with them; they sometimes collaborated in maintaining order in the parts of the Fringe the military couldn’t regularly patrol.

"You know them? They tried to extort me! Serves them right!" Manifesto said with irritation. Of course, he wasn’t about to admit that he had caused the trouble and that Ricardo’s men had merely been doing their job.

What kind of idiot would confess wrongdoing to the authorities? If questioned, a hero was always in the right.

"Ricardo’s men tried to extort you?" the soldier asked, his tone clearly skeptical.

Manifesto noticed the doubt, but he didn’t care. These low-ranking soldiers couldn’t touch him even if they knew he was lying. Hell, even the governor of Arkadia or the fort commander couldn’t do anything to him.

"Call your boss. I want to talk to him," Manifesto demanded. Since he hadn’t gotten any clues from Strauss or the information broker, he decided to seize this opportunity to get information from the military.

He knew that the military leadership might know something and be willing to share it.

"Yes, Mr. Manifesto." The soldier nodded and called for an ambulance to take the injured to the hospital.

Seeing things finally going his way, Manifesto swaggered toward the military patrol car parked nearby, from the location where he had just decimated Ricardo’s men.

As for how those men had bullets capable of countering his powers?

He planned to ask the fort commander about that himself.

— Military District —

Within the fort commander’s office, Manifesto sat on the couch with his legs resting on the tea table, lounging as if he owned the place. As the number two hero in the world, his status, aside from Strauss, who held a special position as a UEC agent. His status was even higher than that of the fort commander.

Theodore, seated behind his desk, frowned as he glared at Manifesto, clearly displeased with the hero’s arrogant demeanor.

"Tell me, Fort Commander," Manifesto began.

"Do you know why those lowly thugs had bullets that can counter me? Is this some kind of conspiracy?" he asked, immediately throwing accusations at Theodore.

"What exactly are you trying to imply, Manifesto?" Theodore asked.

He was different from Strauss, he had a low tolerance for arrogant people and lacked the patience or wit to come up with clever comebacks like Strauss did.