Herrscher of Reason's Arknights

Solana rolled her eyes at Dr. Haimer beside her, which, of course, changed some of Solana's thoughts.

I thought the doctor in front of me was just a pretty face, that's the impression most medical operators give, but she was a little different.

At least the outfit looks decent, so it's clear the other person does have experience in this area.

The exact amount is uncertain, but there will definitely be some.

However, the other party did not get angry, but continued to speak.

"Doctors always need to know more, and I also have some knowledge of stealth techniques."

ha?

Indeed, even Solana had to admit that Dr. Haimer didn't seem to be doing this for the first time; he was remarkably calm.

Are you really a doctor?

Of course, she didn't ask that question aloud, because she felt it was pointless.

"This is the place we're looking for."

The entire squad had other missions, so all the pairs were sent out, and the task of scouting ahead to the rendezvous point fell to Solana's group.

This is a small tavern. The entire Scar Market is located inside a mountainside structure resembling an air-raid shelter, with a canyon outside, making the lighting quite dim. This dim lighting also gives the place a sinister feel.

Pushing open the door, the entire bar was filled with a musty smell, and the old floorboards creaked and groaned from the weight of the floorboards.

The two arrived more than an hour before the transaction time to ensure safety.

It seemed the contact person hadn't arrived yet; the few customers sitting here were all in their own corners, eerily silent.

Why does it feel like we've been turned the tables on us?

Yes, the story begins with the two already in a bar.

"I just want to know the location of the 'fortress' because I hate situations where I need to use a sword."

The woman gently placed her thumb on the handguard and spoke calmly.

"You don't want to know, nobody wants to know about that place."

The man's hand was already on the trigger guard, ready to raise the shotgun at any moment and riddle the person in front of him with bullets.

Several other drinkers around them also reached into their pockets and touched the tip of the knife they were hiding.

The situation in the entire bar instantly became tense.

So what if he was a former pardoner? These mercenaries who live on the edge have no sense of fear. People who can learn to fear cannot be mercenaries.

No one is off-limits to killing, and no one is incapable of being killed.

The group of people slowly approached the woman, their expressions gloomy and menacing.

However, the woman only held the sword in one hand and remained seated on the platform.

"Tell me where the fortress is. I don't want to solve problems with violence; violence solves nothing."

It will only lead to regret.

However, no one was moved.

Humans are like that; they rush forward without thinking before they regret their decisions.

With a sigh, Shining's grey eyes gleamed eerily in the shadows beneath his hood.

No one could see her expression, but everyone present felt the threat posed by the other person's longsword.

Even though not a single blade protruded from the scabbard, the moment the woman grasped it, a chilling aura emanated from her.

It was as if the chill of death had been materialized and filled the entire space.

However, they outnumbered each other, and none of them retreated.

Everyone is so stubborn.

The room was tense, like a powder keg with only one spark to ignite it.

Suddenly, the man who owned the place, who also worked as a bartender and manager, raised the pistol!

The barrage of bullets from the double-barreled shotgun was enough to riddle the woman in front of him with holes; no matter how good her swordsmanship was, it would be useless.

Can a single sword, no matter how fast, outrun an entire iron curtain?!

He didn't want to be entangled by the past again; he had already escaped it.

What he now possesses—money, wealth, a brand new name, and a new life completely severed from the past—makes him absolutely unwilling to have any connection with it again.

Not even a tiny bit!

Therefore, he chose a slightly risky option.

Draw your gun.

Years ago, Carlisle was a renowned marksman in the army. Although he was not a Sarkaz, the short-barreled shotgun he obtained from the black market became his most lethal weapon through his relentless training.

The short barrel, without a stock, makes drawing the gun faster. The aiming notch on the muzzle has been smoothed out, so firing is entirely based on feel.

It's more threatening than a real pistol because this thing spews out an iron curtain of death!

Years later, his glory days are over and his youth has faded, but he is still confident that he can draw his gun faster than his opponent can draw his sword!

And that was indeed the case; the man's success was fleeting, and in the blink of an eye, he raised the gun and leveled it.

Then he pulled the trigger, without aiming or any preparation, simply raising his gun and firing as if by instinct.

The gushing iron curtain burst forth, yet the woman's longsword was still sheathed.

Is this the pardoner?

It doesn't seem like there's anything special about it.

My aim is actually pretty accurate.

However, in the eyes of sodium chloride, the man was already dead.

A corpse is confidently firing a gun.

The opponent's sword is not just a simple weapon.

The woman flicked the longsword away with her thumb, the blade barely protruding from the scabbard.

The next moment, a blinding light suddenly burst forth.

Like the morning sun, it washes away all the filth here.

No one saw the woman draw her sword; they only felt a burst of light before their eyes.

That sword was both a staff and a blade.

The Sarkaz are most adept at combining Originium Arts and magic, which is swordsmanship, dance, and Originium Arts.

It was as if the lines of dawn and dusk were unfolding and spreading in the small tavern, and when the light faded, the metal curtain had long since disappeared.

The short gun in the man's hand disappeared at a strange distance.

The barrel had completely disappeared, leaving only the grip in his hand.

The weapons on the diners' bodies were all shattered and broken, but the people themselves were unharmed.

The woman remained seated on the platform, holding her longsword, still in its sheath, in her arms.

She didn't even reach for the sword; she just sat there.

Everything before seemed as if it had never existed.

If the gun barrel hadn't been severed, the man wouldn't have been able to imagine that such a skill existed in the world.

Is this the power of a Pardoner?

Sweating profusely, the man believed that if it weren't for the other party's mercy, that longsword could easily have beheaded everyone present who had drawn their weapons.

The biting wind had disappeared, but the man could still feel its chill, a chill that seemed to almost extinguish the flame of his life.

so horrible.

"Now, tell me, where is the fortress?"

ps: Second update!

Chapter 131, Section 136 [The Shining]

"That guy... he's amazing. Who is he?"

Solana stared wide-eyed at everything that had just happened.

Even she couldn't see how the sword strike produced the light; she only saw the light, and everything that happened afterward was too fast.

It felt as if time had passed.

If she were to be the opponent, Solana felt she wouldn't be much better than the shop manager.

It's just a matter of how long the defeat will last.

"The Master of Pardons".

The doctor, arms crossed and leaning back in his chair, quietly uttered a somewhat familiar name.

"A pardoner?!"

Solana quickly turned around and stared at Dr. Haimer, who had given the answer.

She certainly knew the name, but she didn't know how strong this group of people really were.

Is this woman one of the pardoners?

A pardoner?!

Her Highness the Princess's number one enemy, Therese's personal bodyguard, actually...

So strong?

How can we fight like this? Even among the elite operators of Babel, few can compare to this level of swordsmanship.

Elite operators are indeed very strong, but that's all they are capable of; they can't do so much.

There is no one else who can do this; it can even be described as swordsmanship that divides day and night.

"This guy is really a pardoner?!"

Ignoring Solana's surprised expression, Sodium Chloride simply closed his eyes to rest, speaking calmly and collectedly.

"It seems to be a former pardoner. After all, her clothes are a bit worn. Perhaps she left the palace for some reason. The real pardoners wouldn't be in such a sorry state."

"...You talk as if you're very familiar with them."

Solana was clearly not convinced yet.

She wasn't familiar with the absolutioners, but she was very familiar with that old silver coin, Kosch, and knew a little about them.

but····

The blue-gray eyes reflected the image of the black-clad female swordsman.

Originium Arts combined with powerful swordsmanship? He really is a madman who has taken swordsmanship to its extreme.

There was no forced physical enhancement, no exoskeleton support, and the other party's body showed no signs of modification.

All that remained was a calm aura and the sharp aura of the longsword contained within its scabbard.

A madman who pushed swordsmanship to its limits with a mortal body.

Is this a microcosm of those pardoners?

If this is truly the average level per person, then given the current state of the Tower of Babel, it's probably not worth playing anymore.

Well, it has nothing to do with her anyway.

Inch power is not simply a matter of fist and foot techniques, so sodium chloride is certainly not to be underestimated.

but····

In terms of time, more than an hour has passed now.