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

Unconsciously, Asuka revealed her anger, an anger she had never felt before. Raphael's ideas now seemed somewhat naive and unrealistic, even making her feel a little pathetic.

Raphael looked at the birds and smiled quietly.

“The future cannot be achieved through mere wishful thinking,” she said. “I tried to extend an olive branch, but fate chose to turn in the other direction at that moment, as if reminding me of something.”

As the first-generation android undergoing trial operation, Raphael knew clearly that future humans would definitely crack the technology of the mind core. Although he couldn't achieve 100% complete replication, he could at least enable them to carry out fully autonomous production in a way that humans could understand.

By then, she would no longer be able to keep up with the times in terms of technology.

After all, the prototype is the weakest.

When the hardware couldn't keep up, Raphael thought that she would have to rely on tactics to make up for it, no matter what the cost, she had to fight for a chance of survival for herself and her two "sisters".

"Is it about to begin?" Asuka asked.

"Yes, I need to go early today. I still need to write a career path expectation for that old woman later."

"Huh?" Asuka covered her mouth and laughed, "Raphael is actually afraid of an ordinary teacher, he's hopeless."

"Alright, that concludes our heart-to-heart talk for today."

Raphael smoothly pulled the slide, pulled the trigger, released the firing pin—everything was incredibly smooth. She inserted the fully loaded magazine into the grip, chambered a round, disengaged the safety, then withdrew it and loaded another round into the magazine.

Now I'm heading out with full ammo.

The sound suppressor is easy to install; it just needs to be taken out of the bag first and then assembled.

It's a bit of a hassle, but nothing serious.

“I’m about to leave,” Inari said, carrying her handbag. “Asuka, keep a close eye on Rin.” She instructed.

Asuka gave Raphael a standard military salute, which was unusual for her. "Have a safe journey. Oh, by the way, that bag looks better on your back, but you can use it as a small shield if you hold it in your hand."

"I want you to take care of it!"

Book 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 115 A Successful Strike

Chaos was raging in the city late at night, keeping the police on night shifts busy. Raphael skillfully wiretapped the Kyoto police's radio channels.

Someone made a false police report at night, seemingly playing a relay race to fool the officers who came to verify the report. It was really despicable.

They clearly didn't have time to deal with the girl walking down the street. Furthermore, seeing the police officers so thoroughly fooled and exhausted, it's truly saddening for the residents of this city.

The citizens probably don't know just how incompetent the patrol officers responsible for city security are, unable to even catch a few physically fit young men.

This is probably the problem in peaceful countries; there's no instinct to draw a gun and shoot, which is quite thought-provoking.

If it were American police, they wouldn't bother chasing anyone; ignoring warnings would just result in their magazines being emptied. Shooting anyone they see is their style, no doubt about it.

Kyoto's trams are... well, let's just say they're a different story. After Raphael swiped his card, he stood on the platform, but the X-ray inspection equipment he had imagined was nowhere to be found.

The tram traveled south along the tracks; I think it was called the Keihan Line.

Regardless of the name of the line, she walked for about an hour after leaving the tram and arrived at the factory she was looking for.

Honestly, wandering around a relatively remote corner of the city late at night is very conspicuous. Raphael glanced at his school uniform and mentally deleted the phrase "uniforms are the best disguise."

Many people approached her, assuming she was a "golden girl" or, more bluntly, a girl seeking escort services. Raphael, despite her slightly youthful appearance, was still harassed by these individuals.

From every perspective, this experience was absolutely terrible.

In the United States, if she encountered such a situation, she would have already used her rights under the principle of non-compromise to kill the person who offended her on the spot. (Clear the missiles in one go.)

The box will never give any harasser a chance to rise from the dead.

She looked at the building in front of her, checked the architecture and the surrounding environment, and then rested for a while in the bushes by the roadside.

There's nothing unusual about it.

If we can trust the intelligence provided by those idiots at the CIA, this is the location of the mission target's activities, one of the cult's operational bases.

However, she couldn't see a single sentry. Even the most foolish gangsters had guards on duty, but there was no one around here.

In any case, the cult didn't assign anyone to guard the area. While Raphael's serious approach to this matter might have seemed a bit too much for them, they were essentially just ordinary street scum.

They only use seductive rhetoric to deceive the lost and dejected, then they leech off those pitiful creatures without restraint.

Even the small gangs that provide bicycles, dogs, and cats to help people find jobs are far more organized than them.

In Raphael's opinion, she might have to thank God.

The meat was practically offered to him; there was no reason not to eat it.

She emerged from the hidden bushes and quickly ran to the building's wall. It was still quiet there—she couldn't hear any conversation or footsteps.

However, there was indeed a smell of smoke, not the smell of cigarettes, but the natural smell of ordinary firewood being lit. This meant that there was a campfire burning nearby.

Moving to the nearest entrance, Raphael glanced inside, took the pistol out of his backpack, removed the muzzle guard threads, and installed a sound suppressor.

She took a deep breath, and the instant she turned on her tactical flashlight, she saw that it was empty.

From the first-floor landing, Raphael could already see the flat ground behind the factory. There was indeed a campfire burning there, with a metal pipe hanging above it, from which hung some kind of container, presumably indicating that some kind of cooking was taking place.

—Life in this cult is just too miserable.

Being this poor, and still participating in the anti-historical movement, they should just find a couple more rich fools and slowly squeeze them dry.

Raphael spotted a figure lingering near the container, occasionally stirring the contents with a spoon.

That's why there are no sentries—people need to eat, after all.

This seemed to be their hideout. By day, it was a bustling factory filled with the sounds of people and the clanging of metal, and by night, it was a gathering place for believers.

Now, the factory backyard, now blazing with bonfires, is being used as their outdoor canteen. Since it's surrounded by several factory buildings, they're unlikely to be discovered.

Raphael thought about it and realized that the cult's choice of location was actually quite clever.

She tried to count the people gathered together. There were seven in total, including a familiar face—her target for the night—Takashi Okita.

Judging from his bandaged arm, this is a distinctive feature of the recent photos in the CIA's target file.

If Raphael hadn't been injured, he might have hesitated a bit longer, but now that Mr. Okita had such an obvious distinguishing feature, what could he do?

It doesn't matter how he was injured; what matters is that he deserves to die.

Before long, the cook by the campfire tasted the stew, nodded approvingly, and called out to the waiting group:

"Bring your bowls over here!"

These words immediately elicited a response from those sitting or standing in the factory yard. They began to move towards the fire.

After receiving a bowl of stew, Takashi Okita didn't immediately begin wolfing it down. Instead, he turned and walked towards the small building in the northeast corner of the factory. It seemed he held a high position here and didn't need to eat with the ordinary believers.

Raphael left his current observation position and hid in a dark corner of the factory.

The destination was now clear, so he decided to take a detour to avoid the diners in the courtyard. Raphael made good use of the darkness as he moved quickly, overhearing a quiet conversation.

She stopped and looked around.

The voice drifted out from the open window on the right front, "Alright, don't worry! Let's hold on a little longer, hire a few more rich people, and then we'll get out of this predicament."

"So, you're saying our current predicament is insignificant? How are we going to explain this to the cult leader? Are you planning to pay him a visit in person?"

"That one..."

"Do you understand? You need to think more about how to get more people involved so we can make a profit."

Raphael released the safety from her pistol and, following the sound, slowly ascended the stairs. She moved carefully, trying not to make any noise.

Found him, Mr. Takashi Okita, and another seemingly harmless person who is definitely the one who said "make a quick buck".

Raphael calmly raised her pistol, and amidst Takashi Okita's bewildered, panicked, and frightened gaze, she pulled the trigger.

A 9mm subsonic bullet flew into the target's chest. The girl then adjusted her pistol and aimed it at another person inside the room, firing five more bullets in quick succession.

After confirming that they were knocked down, Raphael fired a shot into the head at each of the two men.

Volume 1: The World Before the Great War: Chapter 116 Successfully

Before leaving, the assassination attempt encountered a minor mishap at the last moment.

"who are you?"

The person lying in the messy corner of the factory suddenly opened their eyes, looking at the strange intruder dressed in a high school JK uniform with a puzzled expression, "Who let you come here?"

Raphael stopped and turned to look at him.

His eyes widened, and his right hand immediately groped under a mat. It was almost certain there was a pistol, or something similar, beneath him. Japan isn't a completely gun-free country; with the right connections and permits, private gun ownership is possible.

Where there is such a channel, there will inevitably be a black market for firearms and ammunition. With enough attention, even ordinary people can find these trading channels.

One target, two casualties? That's about it. If he takes it out right away and lets out a howl, she won't be able to run anywhere.

Raphael sighed. Wouldn't it be better to pretend she didn't see it? She raised her pistol and pulled the trigger.

The combination of subsonic bullets and a sound suppressor produced a truly remarkable effect; the mechanical sounds of the pistol became incredibly clear. It didn't eject the bullet completely silently, but rather produced a strange, peculiar sound.

The spent cartridge cases flew out of the ejection port, making a crisp metallic clanging sound in the silent factory.

He slammed back down, then tried to get up again, but Raphael gave him no more chances, raising the muzzle and firing three bullets in quick succession. From that distance, it was really difficult to miss, but the event happened so suddenly that she chose to strike first and empty the magazine in one go.

"Why bother."

Raphael left the factory space, aimed her pistol at the door, and carefully made her way back down the corridor to the small room she had come from. She didn't emerge from stealth mode until she was about two kilometers away from the mission location.

It takes a lot of effort to avoid lights and surveillance cameras.

When the believer found Takashi Okita, who had disappeared without a trace, she was almost suffocated.

The missionary and the protector both died in the factory office, and a thick, pungent smell of blood kept filling her nostrils. "Ah—!"

The sharp, piercing screams lingered in the factory's office building for a long time.

"what happened?"

"What happened?"

The followers slowly gathered together and nudged the mentally broken female follower, "Hey, Keiko, what's wrong?"

“They’re dead!” she said, pointing directly at the darkened office.

"What? How could this be? Who did it?"

"do not know."

"Should we call the police?" one of the believers suggested.

Once daybreak, it's normal life again; workers will come to work, and it's impossible to keep it a secret forever. A death has occurred, and not just one, but the Kyoto police system immediately went into overdrive.