And there was one more person as desperate as Bi...
“Ma’am, ugh!”
It was Roy himself.
He’d recognized a familiar face and called out without aning to.
“...Ma’am?”
The first Deacon of the Sixth Chaos and a deacon of the Salvation Church had only ever been called “ma’am” once in her life—by so annoying brat.
She’d forced him to take her business card and was certain he’d co back to the church the next day. No one would pocket a card with a tracking spell on it unless they were desperate.
But her prediction turned out hilariously wrong.
The “ma’am”–calling punk never showed up. A week went by, and she only heard news of him through an article.
[Star Hero’s Best Minute Is ‘One-Second Roy’]
It even said he was appearing on an “Awakeners” variety show. She’d spent nights unable to sleep, thinking she’d been toyed with by a kid... until now, in her own laboratory, those sa words fell from a researcher’s mouth.
“You little rat...!”
Though his face was entirely covered, she couldn’t forget those bright, alert eyes. The woman who’d recognized Roy shouted to the researchers.
“Seize him!”
The unexpected order left the other researchers bewildered.
“Deacon, that—he’s a new recruit—”
“Don’t argue, just grab him!”
The Deacon didn’t know how a rat like him had gotten in, but she was certain he must not be allowed to live.
Of course, Roy had no intention of going quietly.
“Oh? You’ll regret that if you co close.”
With a flicker, he summoned fla in his hand, threatening to hurl it.
“That’s hot.”
“Grab him!”
The researchers caught between the two were in a bind.
“Eek!”
“F-fires?”
“If you lose him, you’ll all end up as lab rats!”
Faced with that vicious threat, the researchers had no choice but to rush Roy. They assud the flas were small and that ten or so of them could overpower him.
They were spectacularly wrong. As they charged, Roy hurled the trash bin.
“Ah!”
“Ugh!”
The flaming bin ignited instantly, bursting into a massive fireball. It slamd onto the floor, bounced, and sent the researchers screaming to the sides—an impromptu parting of the Red Sea.
Roy dashed through the gap at full speed, smashing one of the cage locks completely in the process.
“Run!”
He shouted it to F17, though she might not have understood. He had his own survival to worry about.
Avoiding the bin, he passed the fallen Deacon and stopped before the security wall. If only the victim had known to point at the floor sensor, it would deactivate, but she was still trapped in the cage.
“Gaaaaah!”
The furious scream reverberated through the storage room. His devilish roar made Roy’s heart pound.
Growing desperate, Roy shot fla at the wall.
“Kwaaaang!”
The recoil shook the entire building. A huge hole blasted through the concrete, sending chunks raining down.
“If I want to live, I have to go up.”
But life never goes as planned. Dodging the falling debris, Roy slipped and tumbled down the stairs.
“Ugh...!”
Thunk! Thud! After a dizzying roll, he slamd into the third-floor wall—one that still had its security system active—and finally stopped.
“Oh god, I’m going to die.”
Clutching his pain, Roy groaned, then forced himself to look up. Footsteps and shouts were thundering down from above.
“Shit... I’m screwed.”
He never intended to make such a ruckus. With a light slap to his lips, he fought himself upright and staggered into the third-floor corridor, only to—
“Ack! Shit, you scared !”
“Eek!”
—co face-to-face with a white coat as soon as the security lifted.
“When—?”
There was no way the researcher upstairs had beaten him here, unless they could teleport. Yet the researcher looked even more startled.
“Who—who are you? And why are you wearing that coat...?”
Roy followed the researcher’s gaze to the na embroidered on his chest pocket: the na of Cultist 1.
“Then you must be Cultist 2?”
He must have been replacing Cultist 1, who’d dashed off to the church. Grabbing Cultist 2 by the shoulder, Roy demanded,
“What about the bodies?”
“Huh? Who are you to—”
“Have you moved the bodies?”
Roy barked, and Cultist 2 grudgingly stamred,
“Y-yes, I’ve moved them—”
Before he could finish, researchers poured down the stairs shouting,
“Hey, newbie! Grab him!”
“...What?”
Seeing his excited seniors, Cultist 2 froze in shock. While he hesitated, Roy seized a handcart and shoved the rushing researchers aside.
“Aah!”
“Ugh!”
The corridor erupted into chaos. With Cultist 2 gaping in disbelief, Roy sprinted toward the sanctuary. The door, wide open monts ago, now stood firmly shut.
“He’s inside.”
Certain he’d entered the sanctuary, Roy summoned all his remaining strength and erected a massive pillar of fla at the entrance.
“Vroooom!”
Better to practice once in real combat than a hundred tis in training. He felt that now—he finally had a handle on fla control. Just days ago he couldn’t even spark an ember, and now he wielded conflagrations.
The blaze, fueled by pre-spread oil, raced across the tal door like it was paper.
“Fire! Run!”
Alerted by Cultist 2’s warning, the researchers charging his way halted at the sight of the inferno. They—and the Deacon—stared in horror at the raging inferno engulfing the door.
“Heavens above!”
The Deacon’s face had gone deathly pale. That left only one option: run like hell to the nearest elevator.
They say even if the sky falls you’ll find a way out. Though boarding an elevator during a fire is insane, it was his only route up. Sticking out his tongue at the Cultists, Roy bolted for the elevator.
[B3]
Lucky for him, the car was parked on B3. Roy leapt inside, slamd the button for 5, and pounded the close-door switch.
“Hurry. Hurry.”
His urgency matched the blazing hallway. Just as the doors were about to close—
“Ka-WHAM!”
The steel doors crumpled, revealing literal hell. The heat brought down the chandelier in a fiery cascade, and bodies—unidentifiable victims—burned like kindling. But more striking than the flas was the living shadow: swirling black smoke.
“...!”
He felt its gaze and an overwhelming presence press down on him. In that mont, Roy knew: this was the Sixth Chaos.
[B2▲]
As the doors shut, the oppressive weight lifted. They closed agonizingly slow, but the floor indicator flicked rapidly.
Had he done the right thing? Anxiety gnawed at him—but worrying wouldn’t change things. Whatever had happened had happened, and now {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} all he could do was contain the damage.
Roy took a deep breath, steeling himself.
“Please get here on ti, Detention Bureau.”
He clenched and unclenched his fist, watching the panel count upward.
[4▲]
Just one more floor. But even Lucky Roy’s streak had to end sowhere.
Clang! One floor shy of the top, the elevator jolted to a halt and shook.
[For safety, the elevator has stopped. If the doors open, please exit.]
The Cultists must have hit the ergency stop—unless the Sixth Chaos really had done sothing to trigger it.
“This is insane.”
He was a rat trapped in a cage. Just as he thought he was dead at, light slipped in through the cracks as the doors parted just before 5.
“I’m alive...!”
The opening was barely tall enough for a child to slip through, but he’d take it. He jumped, grabbed the edge, and shoved his head through—sure that once his head was inside, everything else would follow.
Peek. When his head cleared, he saw the morgue refrigerators.
“Damn my luck.”
Tears welled in relief, but he forced them back. He still had to get his body out. Gritting his teeth, he extended an arm. It caught on the ledge, but he twisted and pulled himself up. Once his torso and waist cleared, sliding his legs out was easy.
“I’m out...!”
No sooner had he freed himself than—
Clang! The elevator plumted.
Kraaaash! The crash reverberated with a cloud of dust.
“Hic!”
Startled, Roy hiccupped. At least they spared his life; they only tried to kill him twice.
“Those bastards...?”
They should be charged with attempted murder and locked up forever. How dare they raid soone’s ho and turn it into a war zone!
Anyway, his top priority was escaping this Cultist den. The building was shaking dangerously.
But with guards on his tail, he couldn’t use normal exits...
Clatter—
He’d go out the window!
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