Eh? You want to try the humanoid girl's iron fist too?

Aibo gazed at Raphael, closed his eyes, and offered a prayer.

Raphael was ready, his left shoulder against the wall and his right hand holding an assault rifle.

"Huh?" The visitor clearly didn't expect to meet anyone here, his voice revealing his confusion.

The next second, he felt dizzy and a hollow, sand-colored columnar object appeared before his eyes.

"Don't move!" Raphael said.

"What the hell?" the kid roared.

Then he noticed what the object in front of him was, the weapon connected to the silencer, and the owner of the weapon.

He was just a kid, about sixteen or seventeen years old. Skinny and filthy.

His appearance is extremely deceptive; anyone who sees him would think he's harmless and just another idle person in most groups, but he tries to stand tall and be a person of integrity.

Everyone knows why.

An idiot like him will be kicked around like a ball his whole life—sent to buy beer, cigarettes, and girls.

Suddenly, he became the one giving orders, with friends backing him up to prevent his ugly face from being beaten to a pulp.

He must really enjoy this feeling, since he feels he was born to rule others.

Now, he's suddenly back to square one. He doesn't like this at all.

"What do you want to do?" the thug asked, still clinging to a sliver of hope.

Hmm, he should be a little more observant, shouldn't he? He didn't realize there was a nice wooden cutting board on the table opposite the door, made of thick pine, which was very comfortable to cut meat on.

It's a very useful tool on all levels, and it's also really awesome for hitting people.

So when the heavy chopping board hit his face, the thug finally stopped his babbling.

The guy choked, staring blankly at Aibo standing at the kitchen door, all the words he wanted to say stuck in his throat.

Raphael paused for a moment, then smiled sweetly and asked, "Did you give me permission to speak?"

She borrowed the manner of the Director of Human Resources at the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA), who always maintained a calm and pleasant tone.

He knows what he's doing. He sounds very polite, but it's hard to get the urge to argue with him.

The idiot wouldn't say anything, he just wiped the blood from his cracked lips. To him, speaking up would be the wise thing to do.

After all, those who know when to yield are the wise ones.

At this moment, Aibo picked up the iron bar on the table and tapped it twice in his hand.

This thing is clearly made of stainless steel; it's a solid block of iron.

If you hit him on the bridge with a stick, he'll be speechless forever.

Raphael glanced at the gunstock with a pained expression. This thing wasn't as hard as an iron bar or an anvil; it was best not to use it to hit people.

“If you say something I don’t like, I’ll fucking kick you in the knee. Then I’ll leave you here until your friends come running and find you bleeding all over the floor. Nod if you understand.”

The last sentence was shouted out by April at the top of his lungs. Raphael clicked his tongue, and after seeing the idiot tremble for a moment, he nodded.

"But April, isn't her transformation a bit too drastic?" Raphael asked.

"You know him?"

Book 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 52 Deterrence

"Yes, I know him."

April Keller didn't know why she did it either. She was terrified of her actions. Pulling a trigger or slitting a throat with a dagger might be easy in a movie, but what about in real life? April finally understood why people yelled to muster their courage.

Where are your companions?

"Not far, just in the Little Dog Duplex on West 26th Street."

"Apartment number?"

“Number 16.” Aibo knew that building. The floors facing the street used to be shops, but they were later converted into duplex apartments for young people. For a while, she really wanted to buy one there; number 16 should be on the 4th floor. The location was well chosen; the view was excellent.

"How many of you are there?" Raphael asked.

"Four."

"What happened to those guys you were with last time?"

“One of them—Bauer is still there. Henry is hiding at Anderson’s camp.”

Oh? These guys have an extra base? Raphael found "Camp Anderson" on the map. It was actually a subway dispatch center. The New York Emergency Management Agency had designated it as a refugee camp, but there were reports that it had stopped operating two weeks ago.

Clearly, these guys have breached the camp.

"Is your base the Anderson Refugee Camp? How many people are inside?"

Chattering and babbling on and on, this fool opened his mouth and blurted out everything he knew.

Raphael found it increasingly strange. How could this idiot have so much to say, and why was he raising his voice so loudly?

"Quiet down! Shut your stinking mouth!" April moved faster than Raphael, kicking him in the face.

"Wow!"

The sound grew louder.

Something was definitely wrong. Of course, he was terrified, and his nose was bleeding, and his face had bruises from being hit by a chopping board, as well as scratches from his boots.

But there's no reason for it to make such a loud noise.

Raphael kicked him in the chest, causing him to instantly lose consciousness and have a cardiac arrest. Then, he pulled Aibo behind him, retreated to a corner of the apartment, and prepared his XM5 assault rifle.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The battered wooden door, along with the table, was smashed open and slammed against the wall, causing a shower of plaster and dust to fall from above.

Two male figures appeared at the doorway.

boom!

The gunfire was really powerful. Raphael meant that the Ithaca M37 shotguns they were using made a really good sound and the fan-shaped effect of the bullets flying out was impressive.

The kitchen, which faced the door, was smashed to pieces. Glass shattered, and kitchen utensils and dishes were broken into pieces by lead pellets. The sound was very loud—probably the sound of gunpowder exploding.

Raphael decisively sidestepped, firing as he walked towards the door. The thug who broke through first suffered greatly; the 6.8mm bullet passed through his body before it even had a terrifying whistling sound.

Blood flowed from the unfortunate man's mouth, suggesting a severe blow to his stomach or esophagus. Another newcomer was shoved into the corridor by the impact of the bullet, then slumped against the wall. Shot in the shoulder, he could no longer fight; his thick right arm hung limply like a ribbon.

The third man roared, the sound almost deafening. He raised his rust-studded club and swung it down at Raphael's head.

At that moment, Aibo seemed completely paralyzed. She could only stare blankly; what else could she do in this situation?

Reflected in those half-dazed pupils was...

The small figure suddenly retreated, dodging the swing, as the soles of their shoes and the floor groaned together, causing the thick soles to sink slightly into the cracking ground.

The figure bent its legs, which were both beautiful and aggressive, and then leaped into the air.

"Gah, uh-oh!?"

The berserker involuntarily cried out in surprise at the immense pressure emanating from the sole of the shoe. Immediately afterward, Raphael hurled his blade.

The sharp knife appeared instantly at the other end of the corridor stairs, gleaming with a sharp light.

"?!"

The man in the distance, who looked like the leader and was holding a pistol, suddenly looked down and saw a strange handle on his chest.

"—!"

"Ughhhhhh!!!"

The thug, who had been stabbed without realizing it, screamed and staggered. He stood there blankly, his hands trembling, wanting to grasp the hilt of the knife that was embedded in his chest, but unable to make the next move.

"Is this really something a human could do?" Aibo and the thug thought at the same time.

Puff puff……

The pleasant sound of silenced gunfire echoed through the apartment as April watched Raphael swiftly and decisively execute everyone who had broken in.

That small figure, with its astonishing speed and power, finally came to a stop.

Aibo opened her mouth slightly, but said nothing.

Gradually, the sounds of the outside world returned to her ears, and the smoke and dust drifted away on the breeze. She was shocked, but it was worse for everyone else.

After all, in the blink of an eye, there were six more corpses in the corridor. The thugs who had been eager to try their luck inside were now frozen in place, completely losing any hope of escaping.

"What a nuisance," Raphael thought, "We've let them come and humiliate us."

The surviving thug had given up on himself; his mouth was trembling, a far cry from his earlier composure as he shouted, and then he began to cry loudly.

Of course, it wasn't his fault. He had already been hit in the face by a piece of wood, and bullets had grazed his head.

Anyone would be terrified.

"Get down on the ground!" she snapped, raising her eyebrows.

The guy instantly dropped to the ground, causing the floor to shake.

April noticed that the leg of the first man to fall was twitching violently, and turned to the prostrate fool, ordering, "Bring your good brother in."

The man looked up at Raphael, then nodded fearfully. He grabbed his companion's shoes and slowly dragged him into the house.

Good heavens, this guy's chest has already been torn apart by bullets. Even if you bring the world's best surgeons, they can only provide end-of-life care at best, not perform any special skills—he's beyond saving.

"Do you have a weapon?" Raphael asked the thug.

"I have a knife."

"Slit his throat, then throw the knife on the ground!"

Aibo silently watched the thugs. If someone ordered her to do this, she doubted she could do it. To slit a living person's throat with a knife, even if that person was already dying.

No, she thought, "I should be able to do it."

The thug slowly pulled out his switchblade and plunged it into his friend's neck. Even if the guy had any doubts, he didn't show them.

The knife clattered to the floor.

“Very good,” Raphael said, her delicate voice sounding like a death knell.

No matter how kind she acted, the thugs huddled together.