Of Steel and Roses: Silver-Haired Loli on a Rampage Chapter 1: My name is Pavel

- "My na is Pavel Ivanovich Sokolov."

Hiss— — Hiss— —

Two streams of thick, black liquid slid silently from the custom spray canisters.

Pavel, piloting his ch, walked backward with elegant, noiseless steps down the red-carpeted corridor of the officers' dormitory, evenly coating every inch of the floor and carpet with the black paint.

- "Alright, this is my na now. Just a few months ago, I was living in a modern tropolis. I might have been a corporate drone, maybe a freelancer... Hmm... My mory is a bit fuzzy, but I rember having health insurance, weekends off, and a PS5."

Pavel had reached a lavishly decorated door, likely belonging to a lieutenant-grade officer.

He didn't bother picking the lock this ti, instead pouring the remaining half-can of fuel directly onto the door.

- "I lived in the villa district in the northeast of the city... or maybe an apartnt complex? Whatever."

In the shadows at the end of the corridor, his subordinate, Grigori, was trembling while clutching a heavy machine gun.

Watching their captain splash oil under the enemy's nose like a ghost gave him the feeling that he had drunk too much industrial alcohol today.

Pavel finished his task, turned around, tilted his head slightly, and made a'shush' gesture with his index finger held up to his helt.

Then, he pointed downstairs, signaling a retreat.

- "I should still be unmarried. I don't smoke cheap cigarettes, and I only taste alcohol lightly. I go to sleep at eleven every night, ensuring eight hours of sufficient rest."

Pavel did a final check of the oil slick on the floor. The black liquid shimred with a sickening, rainbow-like sheen under the moonlight, stretching deep into the darkness of the corridor.

He nodded in satisfaction, and under Grigori's complex gaze, he pulled a box of matches from the tool pouch at his waist.

It was a high-quality, windproof, and stably burning matchbox he had lifted from an enemy.

- "Before bed, I usually drink a glass of hot milk and do twenty minutes of muscle relaxation exercises. I welco the next morning without fatigue or stress, just like an infant, and my health check results also show I am very healthy."

Sssshhh— —

A small cluster of orange fla suddenly ignited in the darkness.

Pavel pinched the burning match but didn't imdiately throw it away; instead, he watched it burn as if admiring a piece of art.

The firelight reflected off the cold exterior of the ch. Behind the helt were a pair of eyes so calm they were chilling.

- "This is my attitude toward life. I don't dwell on victory or annoyance, nor do I create enemies that keep awake at night. I just want to live a peaceful life."

He released his fingers.

The match traced a graceful arc and landed on the viscous pool of oil at his feet.

Whoosh— — BOOM!!!

There was no massive explosion, only an inhaling sound as if coming from the depths of hell. The ghostly blue fla expanded wildly the mont it touched the oil surface, surging along the oil slick like a greedy serpent of fire, moving at the fastest speed of its life toward the depths of the corridor.

In an instant, the previously cold hallway transford into a steel refining furnace.

"Retreat."

Pavel's voice ca through the ch's amplifier, carrying a chanical indifference.

He turned, gave a push to his still-dazed subordinate, and the two chs imdiately charged toward the main door downstairs.

This ti, they no longer concealed the sound of their footsteps; the heavy clang of steel boots made the shaky staircase groan with creaks.

- "But ah— —"

Almost the mont they rushed out the main door, a heart-wrenching scream echoed from the second floor.

That sound didn't seem like sothing a human could make; it was more like a skinned beast struggling in its death throes.

"Fire! It's on fire!"

"Water! Get water quickly!"

"No! Soone set the fire!"

"Damn it! The stairs have burned away!"

"Cough, cough, cough— —! My eyes!"

Pavel stood on the snow outside the apartnt building and slamd the heavy oak door shut with his backhand.

Bang!

The dull sound of the door closing temporarily muffled the screams from inside.

But it wasn't enough.

Pavel pulled a thick iron chain, originally used for towing artillery, from the mounting point on the back of his ch.

With practiced movents, he threaded the chain through the door's ornate bronze handle—once, twice, three tis.

- "But in this world, there are always so impolite barbarians."

The people inside the door began to slam against it frantically.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

The force of the impact, carrying the despair of the dying, made the entire door tremble.

"Damn it, soone's outside! Open the door! I beg you!"

"I am a Viscount of Victoriana! Let out! I have money!"

"Cough, cough, cough— — Damn Usar beasts!"

Pavel remained deaf to their pleas.

Under Grigori's gaze, he pulled the chain tight, tied a dead knot, then picked up a broken steel pipe from the ground. Using the terrifying brute force of the ch's hydraulic arm, he twisted the pipe directly into the shape of a pretzel, jamming it into the gap of the chain, completely welding the door shut.

- «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» "Look at these people, bandits from the Victorian Empire. Rude, greedy, and without any bottom line."

- "Now, they are the annoyances obstructing my sleep, and thus, they are my enemies."

- "I must take care of them so I can sleep soundly tonight!"

After finishing everything, Pavel took two steps back in satisfaction, as if admiring a newly completed oil painting.

At this mont, the second-floor windows had already been breached by the raging fire. Thick black smoke mixed with sparks shot straight into the sky, tearing a bloody red wound in the darkest sky before dawn.

"Damn it, it's Usar scum!"

"Setting a fire and locking the door! You sons of bitches are so insidious!"

"If you have the guts, fight us head-on! What kind of hero hides outside!"

"It must be that bastard nad Pavel! I know you! You despicable— — Aaaahhhh!"

Those voices changed from cries for "Help" to vicious curses, finally fading into weak screams, leaving only the crackling sound of fire consuming wood.

Grigori stood aside, holding his precious heavy machine gun, swallowed, and the voice transmitted through his helt carried a hint of trembling: "Boss... what were you muttering about just now?"

Pavel turned, his back to the building that had turned into a torch.

The firelight cast a long, distorted shadow on the back of his ch, resembling the spread black wings of a demon.

"Nothing, Grigori."

"I was just lanting why a good person like , who is pure-hearted and longs for peace, soone who would feel heartbroken even stepping on an ant..."

"...is always forced to do things like this?"

Rumble— —

Behind him, the roof of the apartnt building collapsed with a roar amidst the raging flas. A huge air blast mixed with sparks swept over, making the rain tarp on Pavel's ch flap wildly.

Against this hellish backdrop, Pavel let out a soft sigh.