Mythology Rebooted
Chapter 192 - 115: All Fear Comes from Insufficient Firepower

Chapter 192: Chapter 115: All Fear Comes from Insufficient Firepower

The attack came so suddenly that Wayne had seven or eight guns pointed at him simultaneously, with crossfire no less, that he slammed on the accelerator in terror, wrapping himself in the Death Knight’s Vest System.

Bullets whizzed and flames exploded; Wayne stepped out of the car, his heart still pounding with fright.

His eyes gleaming with malice, he looked toward the assassins and spotted the Death Knight. The assembled crowd must have prepared themselves for their imminent demise.

Zzt!

Two sedans, one after the other, raced to the scene, slamming to a stop ten meters away. The drivers, following the Death Knight, each wore an expression of utter horror.

They held their pistols, unsure whether to shoot or not.

"So it was me they were after..."

Wayne murmured, raising his hands and spreading a tentacle-like Death Essence.

The sound of gunfire erupted, and the scene descended into chaos.

The gray tendrils covered a vast area, enveloping both sedans and entangling the assassins on either side of the road. Any flesh it touched immediately dissolved into bone.

The slower runners were ’fortunate’ to witness their peers turn into skeletons mid-sprint, before they too succumbed to the same fate.

The skeletons maintained their charging momentum, falling forward with inertia and disintegrating into dust upon hitting the ground.

Wayne stood in the center, bullets striking his body with no effect whatsoever.

The Death Knight’s Vest System might have lost much, but it was incredibly useful. The mere fact of an Immortal Body rendered most magic ineffective.

As for conventional weapons, ordinary firearms were no different than firesticks before the Death Knight. A wave of his hand turned the components to rot, scraps fit for the garbage.

Wayne took care of the assassins on both sides and, wielding the Death Essence, extinguished the flames of his wrecked car.

He was a sentimental man; the car was a relic of Sidney, having served him for a month and ten days, ferrying Chris to and from school multiple times. It had its shares of hardship and should not be sacrificed in vain—someone had to answer for this.

Wayne turned and walked towards the two sedans wrapped in Death Essence, black mist rising ominously about him as he approached the two drivers.

The assassins were frightened out of their wits.

All fear stemmed from insufficient firepower, and small pistols hardly gave them any sense of security.

One of them pushed open the car door, disregarding the horrific erosive power of death, and pulled the trigger toward the advancing armored skeleton.

The bullet left the chamber, entered the dense gray mist, and withered away before it could even touch Wayne’s body. It clinked harmlessly off the black Armor, failing to leave even a mark.

Under the killer’s desperate gaze, Wayne reached out and took hold of his face, lifting him high into the air, "Who was it, who sent you?"

The assassin kicked wildly in the air, trying to say something. Unable to speak, he could only make whining pleas.

"Not bad, you’ve got grit. I’m beginning to like you."

Wayne turned to the other sedan as the gray mist in his palm dispersed, reducing the assassin he was holding from flesh and blood to a dried mummy, which then crumbled to dust and blew away in the wind.

The overwhelming strength drove the last assassin’s will to fight to despair. He pushed open the car door, threw away his pistol, and began to cry and beg Wayne for another chance.

Wayne ignored him and kicked the assassin forcefully, causing him to crash into the car.

He gave the assassin a chance; who gave the Death Knight a chance? Life comes but once; if one chose the assassin’s path, they must have the courage to face Death squarely.

"Look into my eyes and tell me, who sent you?"

"If I tell you, will you let me go?" The killer instinctively looked up, locking eyes with the Death Knight at close range, his face turning whiter than bone from fear.

"Of course, I promise to spare your life."

"It’s our boss, I don’t know who he is, I only know he’s very resourceful. He provides weapons and recruited us to serve him. It’s been two years, and I’ve never seen him..."

The killer rambled on incoherently, spewing a great deal of nonsense.

Wayne picked up on a few key pieces of intelligence; a small assassin organization had a financier and a boss, the boss had them lie in ambush on the highway, roughly described his features, and provided a license plate number.

"I’ve told you everything."

The trembling killer looked toward Wayne, who, by his promise, should now let him go.

"You can go."

Grateful for the pardon, the assassin thanked him profusely, glanced at the trees beside the road, and dashed into the mist.

After just two steps, his skeleton collapsed into the dust.

"What’s the rush? I haven’t even let you go yet!"

Wayne dispelled the Death Knight Vest System and with it, the Death Essence that had filled the area. Everyone could see that he hadn’t gone back on his word and was willing to let the other go. It was the killer who had run too fast, right into the embrace of the Goddess of Death.

"You think you can just rush into the Goddess’s embrace? I wouldn’t dare do more than cling to her thighs."

Wayne picked up a fallen pistol, looked around, removed the license plate from his wrecked car, and jumped into one of the tailended sedans, heading towards Jianhe City.

Not many knew he was returning to Lundan; Philark was definitely out of the equation, so Darcy from the Naturalism Church’s stronghold or Ottilia with a motive.

The former aspired to ascend the hierarchy, the latter irate at a playboy who hit and ran.

Wayne nodded continuously, tossing these speculations into the trash, as Bishop Keith’s face flashed before his eyes: "Too suspicious."

Keith had been off his game today, which Wayne hadn’t given much thought to then.

But all said and done, Keith was a leader of a grand cathedral. Devil’s minions and the like, any relic picked from the storehouse could ensure more than adequate self-protection.

Now, it seemed overwhelmingly likely that he had been compromised.

"You’re clergy, and if you can’t beat the Devil, that’s fine, but to be outmatched by even the Devil’s minions..."