Arknightcraft Modpack
Chapter 503: Why Does It Feel Like We're the Bad Guys?
The convoy barreling toward them was clearly coming for the three of them.
Steven was absolutely certain of that.
After all, they were the only ones strolling leisurely along this road. They had even gone out of their way to pick a remote side path. No matter how you looked at it, there was no way a bunch of guys driving black SUVs would just happen to have business with them.
And the red dots on his minimap didn't lie.
Which meant one thing—the visitors were not friendly.
"This has to be because of you, right?" Steven glanced at the blue-haired girl beside him, who had already wordlessly taken out her two rather peculiar staves and gone on guard. "She and I just got to Lungmen for the first time. Don't tell me you expect us to have formed a grudge with these guys through sheer telepathy?"
No wonder Kal'tsit had specifically asked him to come. He knew it wouldn't be that simple. What he didn't know was what kind of secret this girl was carrying—serious enough that someone would set up an ambush before they even entered the city.
"And what's the point of saying that now?" Mostima replied coolly, as if she had already predicted exactly what he would complain about. "Besides, even Doctor Kal'tsit said it's confidential. I can't just tell you. Otherwise you'll start accusing me of speaking in riddles like her."
She had preemptively cut off his usual grumbling.
But right now, the priority wasn't banter—it was the rapidly approaching convoy. If things escalated into a fight, there would be no time left for casual chatter.
Fortunately, Mostima didn't sense any particularly strong Originium Arts from them. In other words, this was likely just a group of expendable pawns sent to probe them. Hardly worthy of being called true enemies.
"Then what? Planning to have a chat with these obviously hostile guys?" Mostima frowned as the vehicles drew closer. "Or are you taking this chance to ditch me, ship off your 'burden,' and go enjoy some alone time with your little girlfriend?"
They were already near Lungmen's territory. Any incident this close to the city would inevitably cause trouble. The other side clearly knew that—and had chosen this spot to make a move just to irritate her.
"I did consider it," Steven said lazily. "But unfortunately, I'm still someone who keeps his promises. If I've agreed to something, I'll see it through. So relax."
He didn't even look remotely interested in personally dealing with what was obviously just a pack of slightly trained street thugs. Instead, he casually pulled a wooden bow—enhanced with Power V—from his inventory and handed it to the Kuranta girl who had been watching the whole situation with a popcorn-eating spectator expression.
"Don't just stand there gawking. The convoy's yours. A big boss like me can't just act whenever, you know."
He gestured toward the approaching vehicles, clasped his hands behind his head, and adopted the leisurely posture of an inspecting superior who had absolutely no intention of lifting a finger.
"Kill them, or just stop them from advancing?" Centaurea asked calmly.
She drew the wooden bow in one smooth motion. There was no arrow nocked, no visible preparation, yet in the next instant, an arrow materialized out of thin air upon the bowstring.
She aimed at the incoming convoy.
"Go ahead and wipe them out," Steven said casually. "They don't look like good people anyway."
The red dots on the minimap were already proof enough.
Steven didn't believe for a second that people marked in hostile red would be open to friendly negotiation. At best, it would be a string of pointless threats and profanity.
With Steven's approval, Centaurea had no more reservations. Killing, to her, had long ago become no more remarkable than eating or drinking. And if Steven could already determine they weren't good people, then there was even less reason to hesitate.
Her drawn bowstring snapped forward.
The arrow left the string with a sound that resembled a missile launch more than traditional archery. In the next instant—so fast that its trajectory couldn't even be seen—the lead SUV in the charging convoy exploded as if it had taken a direct hit from a rocket launcher.
Flames bloomed.
Metal twisted.
The vehicle was torn apart mid-charge.
"Hold on," Mostima blurted out, staring in disbelief. "Are they the bad guys, or are you two the bad guys? You didn't even try to figure out what was going on before opening fire! What are you, some kind of terrorist power couple?"
She had honestly thought they were joking.
After all, she'd run missions with Rhodes Island before. Their operators were usually reasonable—avoiding unnecessary conflict whenever possible. Even elite operators rarely initiated attacks unless absolutely necessary.
But Steven?
He cut people down like harvesting wheat. No hesitation. No pause.
What kind of reincarnated extremist was this guy?
And now that the lead vehicle had demonstrated a textbook example of "car destroyed, occupants gone," Mostima could no longer pretend this was exaggeration. They weren't joking.
Did human lives really mean that little to them?
"They're obviously bad guys. What's there to debate?" Steven shrugged. "Why exactly, I can't really explain. Just assume I can tell whether someone has malicious intent toward me."
He knew full well that if this discussion continued, it would spiral into messy debates about morality and human nature. So he simply passed it off as a "special ability."
Technically, he wasn't lying.
"…That's a bit—"
"—Do you want to handle it your way?" Steven interrupted, lazily watching the cloud up above the sky. "See if talking first would end differently? I'm just saving our time. I've got shopping to do this afternoon—need to pick up some local specialties as gifts."
"…No need," Mostima said stiffly.
While she had been arguing with Steven, Centaurea had already finished the job.
One arrow per vehicle.
Clean. Efficient. Ruthless.
The convoy hadn't even managed to reach them before turning into a line of blazing wreckage, reduced to twisted metal and roaring flames.
"Relax," Centaurea said softly, stretching her shoulders as if she'd just completed light exercise. "I can vouch for him. I shot the vehicles, yes, but my arrows don't explode like that. The cars were carrying volatile materials to begin with."
She yawned faintly.
"Think about it. A group transporting explosives while charging straight at us, what kind of good people would they be?"
It had been the first time she'd picked up a weapon since leaving the Armorless Union.
Physically, she felt no strain—perhaps because the bow had come from Steven.
But mentally…
There was still a trace of fatigue.
Even so, knowing that she had shown Steven what she was capable of—had, in some small way, eliminated potential threat to him—thought brought her a quiet sense of comfort.
In a way… This counted as her protecting him, didn't it?
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M