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墨書 Inktalez
Uncertain about the purpose of this building, which seemed to have been specially modified, Freyr walked through its interior feeling extremely frustrated. The glass panels around him continuously reflected the situation inside the rooms.
Suddenly, he spotted a familiar figure in a well-known room, connected to an oxygen tube. The person appeared to be in a deep sleep, but Freyr knew that the gas flowing through the tube was undoubtedly beneficial—most likely pure oxygen.
The individual lying on the hospital bed was wrapped like a mummy, with only their head exposed. It looked even more tragic than he had imagined. The room where Relock was located resembled the partition of his family villa, a very comfortable space that had originally been intended as a quarantine area for goods. Later, after Relock became a subordinate, this room was granted to him for permanent residence. Normally, anyone other than the butler had to rent a place outside to stay.
However, Relock was a very special person. After moving in, he managed to keep the room tidy. Eventually, he settled in comfortably; due to his father's influence, although he was allowed to live here, it was required that he maintain cleanliness, which led him to develop that habit.
At present, although the layout resembled that of his villa, it appeared absurd from the outside. Freyr attempted to knock on the glass to alert the person inside of his presence.
In reality, he had been overly optimistic; the person inside still seemed to be asleep. When they finally woke up with their muddled consciousness from that period, they would surely realize they were truly in the young master's home. Unclear about what was happening or what these people intended to do with them, suddenly, the lights in the corridor turned red and began flashing. The blaring alarm caused immense distress among those in the narrow passage; it felt as if their heads might explode.
Before long, noises began emanating from the ground. He couldn't tell if they had discovered his escape or if it was merely coincidental, but a large number of footsteps were converging toward him.
These individuals were quite peculiar; they were dressed entirely in black armor and carried firearms and shields that looked remarkably advanced. The weapons were unlike anything he had ever seen before, and each suit of armor bore a distinctive chevron insignia.
He didn't remember every detail clearly, but he recognized that emblem—it belonged to a shadow unit known as Black Armored within the Human Alliance's Vanguard Army. This unit consisted of young humans armed with high technology and abundant resources; they were indeed powerful but contributed nothing on the battlefield itself. They only obeyed commands from the Executive Government of the Human Alliance and were managed by a special entity within Noah's Sanctuary. The military was merely a representation of their jurisdiction.
In combat, it was primarily those soldiers who played significant roles; however, above them were these shadow units composed of numerous ambitious youths gathered together as embodiments of justice for humanity's status. In reality, they rarely made appearances; if any discordant voices arose, they would act as shadow forces to eliminate various forms of rebellion. Now that these individuals had been mobilized, one had to wonder whether it was a good or bad sign.
This wasn't their time to intervene yet—were they truly just? Or could there be evil lurking within themselves? That seemed impossible too. Regardless, they would certainly not heed his call or obey commands; they were solely dedicated to following orders as Special Forces.
Even their faces were uniformly expressionless like icebergs; they moved with an uncanny robotic precision reminiscent of puppets or machines. Perhaps it was due to their black armor that they appeared so orderly. Soldiers from the Black Armored unit emerged at both ends of the narrow passageway ahead and behind him.
Not firing a shot was likely meant to capture him alive; it wouldn't be long before his space would be gradually occupied.
With so many people around, it was impossible for him to take them all down at close range in one go, and he couldn't afford to injure them either, which made things even more difficult. Having made up his mind, he decided to force his way through.
Sure enough, after they discovered his trail, the Black Armored Troop moved in unison, maintaining the same pace. They weren't rushing; perhaps they didn't want to disrupt their formation. It seemed there was truly no opportunity to break in.
Freyr frowned as he began to warm up. His key target still hurt a bit, but he could manage. "If you don't step aside, I'll come through anyway. You know what we're capable of as hunters; the consequences will be severe." He then tested his jumping ability.
Once he fully released his speed, his momentum surged.
"Here goes!" he shouted, completely immersed in the moment.
The troops immediately pressed forward. Even though they anticipated being hit in the next moment, he dodged at lightning speed. He leaped up and ran across the shoulders of the people below him.
To him, a second felt like a tenth of a second, so to others, it seemed as if he had suddenly vanished and then reappeared on the other side. They couldn't comprehend how he did it, but he had certainly endured a lot of hardship to get there.
This must be what they called a special case of ability evolution. On the other side of the Virtual Screen, three middle-aged men were drinking water and smoking, laughing heartily. One of them had an angry expression on his face, clearly someone who had lost a bet. He slammed his hand on the table and exclaimed, "It's strange; these people are usually so lazy and undisciplined because you spoiled them. Not being able to catch even one is pathetic."
"Did you see his speed? He was incredibly fast! I think he covered ten meters in just one second. Maybe that’s possible on flat ground, but those people formed a wall; achieving that under such conditions is truly impressive. I really want to absorb him into our ranks; with him around, we could have a promising leader for the Black Armored Troop in the future. His ability must be something called Time's Bond—an enhancement of speed. So if there's someone with a slowing Ability present, all his advantages would vanish. Sometimes being slow can also be an impressive gift; what do you think?" The silent middle-aged man offered his assessment before glancing at the other two men beside him, whose expressions varied.
"Hey, is your guy Aran? You want that slowpoke—the one who takes forever to speak—to confront this guy? Aren't you just asking for trouble?" said the man with a flushed face beside him as he fell back onto the ground in disbelief.
"Indeed? That could be considered an ability that seems useless in ordinary people's eyes. But I've had him focus on training; now he can dodge bullets barehanded. This time might as well be an attempt; let him try it out. If it doesn't work out, we can continue with other training later. It's not like there's anything at stake—just give it a shot," replied the serious middle-aged man.
"Alright, call him over. I remember his name is Aran, right? Let him come in." After a while, there was a commotion at the door, and a young man who appeared to be somewhat overweight walked into the room. Everyone turned to him with puzzled expressions.
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