Chapter 55: Meteorite in Human Form
"Is it done?!" Mustang asked urgently, his voice strained.
Nearly ten minutes had passed, and they still hadn’t received confirmation of Patriarch Baek’s death. They had resorted to heavy suppressive fire against the main hall just to halt the evacuation. But there was a strict limit to how long they could hold that position before local security forces responded.
"Tell the breach squad to rush the venue," Marteen replied, his eye never leaving his high-magnification optic. "That’s the only way to double our chances of confirming the target’s death."
Even with heavy armor-piercing ammunition designed to punch through structural barriers, the venue’s concrete walls and the human shields inside were proving major obstacles.
Marteen only had visual confirmation that Patriarch Baek was struck in the left shoulder. As an experienced assassin, he knew a wound like that—well away from any vital organs—meant the patriarch was still very much alive.
With his thermal scope unable to distinguish friend from foe in the chaotic heat signatures, the only logical step was to provide overwatch against anyone attempting to escape when the ground squad took over the venue.
’But, how the hell did that old man react in time in the first place?!’ Marteen grumbled inwardly, firing another random round into the building. ’That was a guaranteed kill shot. No human should have survived it.’
Since their contract contained no restrictions on collateral damage, the Babylon team was fully prepared to massacre everyone inside to guarantee the Patriarch’s death. The guests were merely acceptable casualties.
Suddenly, Mustang’s eyes widened. He looked straight up, catching sight of a dark silhouette hurtling down through the night sky directly toward their ridge.
It was falling at terrifying speed—aimed right at their position.
Realizing there was no time to draw his weapon or pull Marteen out of the drop zone, Mustang made a split-second decision and threw himself backward.
"WATCH OUT!"
KABOOM!
The entire ridge rumbled as if struck by an artillery shell, sending a thick plume of dust and shattered rock billowing into the air.
"Ugh! Hey, Marteen! Are you okay?!" Mustang coughed, covering his mouth and nose with his forearm as he pushed himself up. "Answer me, dickhead!"
Silence met his call.
Heart pounding, Mustang started stepping into the dense dust cloud to investigate, but froze dead in his tracks the moment a calm, unfamiliar voice called out from the center of the crater.
"Oh, man... I only managed to crush one of them, and it cost me my trembling knees," a young man muttered casually.
It was none other than Donape.
Mustang flinched at the unfamiliar voice, but he didn’t waste a single second with idle chatter or questioning the impossible. He instantly identified Donape as a lethal threat. Logic, explanations, and questions could wait until after he put the intruder down.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Mustang opened fire without hesitation, spraying a hail of automatic gunfire into the dust cloud. He assumed Marteen was already incapacitated or dead. Thus, he came to a quick decision and felt zero restraint holding him back.
It was a cold, brutal display of true mercenary efficiency—no hesitation, no sentimental bond getting in the way of survival. Complete the contract, get paid, and survive.
Anything else was just a matter of trivialities.
Out of nowhere, a silhouette burst through the settling dust.
Donape closed the distance instantly, grabbing the barrel of the rifle to halt the gunfire. In one fluid, devastating motion, he pivoted his hips and slammed Mustang—and the gun—directly into the rocky ridge ground.
BOOM!
The thunderous impact sent a fresh wave of pulverized stone and dust into the air.
When the cloud cleared, both Marteen and Mustang lay battered and helpless. They were still breathing, but crippled with severe injuries.
"Damn it... my anger still hasn’t subsided," Donape grumbled, flexing his sore joints.
A wave of fatigue hit him. The initial leap from the compound had forced his knees to absorb a brutal shock, even with Qi shielding his legs.
’Still, I have enough Qi left to clean up those bastards down below.’
"Time to finish this."
Without missing a beat, Donape leaped off the edge, diving straight toward the squad of mercenaries stationed at the base of the ridge. They had already heard the ruckus above and were aiming upward.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
A fierce barrage of automatic gunfire greeted his descent. Donape dodged fluidly in mid-air, kicking off the sheer cliff face to weave through the incoming lead.
Using his final foothold against the ridge wall, he compressed his Qi and launched himself downward to maximize his kinetic force.
KABOOM!
His landing was less destructive than his first leap, but the shockwave still slammed into the mercenary unit, knocking the men off balance and pushing them back.
Donape didn’t give them a single second to recover.
"Huh?!" One mercenary gasped as Donape materialized right in front of him. Realizing his rifle was useless at point-blank range, the soldier instinctively drew his tactical dagger.
Donape caught the man’s wrist mid-slash, driving a sharp elbow down into the joint.
CRACK!
"ARGH!"
The mercenary’s agony snapped the others out of their stupor. Ignoring the risk of friendly fire, they raised their rifles.
Donape swung his arm overhead and thrust his palm forward, releasing a torrent of stored internal energy.
BOOSH!
A radiant bolt of pure Qi erupted from his palm, blasting two mercenaries off their feet. The shockwave hurled them through the air, bouncing them off the hard ground before crashing through several small trees, snapping the trunks on impact.
It was a brutal, uncompromising force—and their injuries were undoubtedly critical.
The sight of their comrades being launched through tree trunks like ragdolls broke the mercenaries’ professional discipline in an instant.
"What the hell is this guy?!"
"Fire! Fire! Kill him!"
Panic took over. The remaining seven mercenaries squeezed their triggers, opening fire in a blind, chaotic spray.
Donape didn’t waste a second. He moved like a ghost, weaving through the crossfire with tight, razor-sharp sidesteps. The heat of passing bullets brushed against his jacket, but none found their mark.
He closed the distance on the nearest shooter, grabbing the rifle barrel and yanking it upward. The soldier was dragged forward by his own weapon, stumbling right into Donape’s rising knee.
CRACK!
The man’s nose broke, and he went limp before he even hit the dirt.
Without pausing, Donape spun on his heel, sweeping his leg low to kick a second mercenary’s legs out from under him. As the soldier fell, Donape caught him by his tactical vest and slammed him face-first into a third mercenary with a sickening crunch.
The remaining four mercenaries’ hands trembled violently as they fumbled to reload, their tactical composure completely shattered. They looked up just in time to see Donape standing directly over them, his breathing heavy and his eyes cold.
"P-Please—"
Donape didn’t let them finish. Channeling a swift, forceful burst of Qi down into his feet, he stomped the earth, unleashing a powerful kinetic shockwave that instantly terrified their consciousness.
The four mercenaries were thrown backward, tumbling and rolling across the dirt.
Silence settled over the clearing, spoiled only by the crackle of burning brush and the distant wails of security sirens from the compound. Donape stood amidst the broken Babylon squad, wiping a smudge of dirt from his cheek.
His body, however, was visibly trembling. He had used far too much Qi in too short a time.
Had his mind been clear and calculated, he could have relied purely on his physical Heavenly Martial Arts to neutralize them—even if dodging automatic fire without Qi took a little longer. But he had rushed into the fight in a blind rage over his System Quest, burning through his internal energy reserves without restraint.
"My anger subsides as my body grows tired," Donape muttered to himself, checking his aching knees with a heavy groan.
He glanced back toward the main estate, his eyes narrowing.
"Now... how am I going to clean up the rest? If my senses aren’t playing tricks on me, there are still about twenty of them suppressing the venue."
Relying purely on the fluidity of Heavenly Martial Arts, Donape slipped into the shadowed perimeter surrounding the venue. With his Qi depleted, he stripped away all brute force, letting his body move with effortless, liquid grace—flowing out of the mercenaries’ line of sight like water navigating around river stones.
He stalked the twenty mercenaries entrenched around the main hall, who were still completely focused on suppressing the venue.
Swoosh.
Donape materialized behind the first pair of mercenaries. Before either could turn, his hands swept out in a soft, wave-like arc. With gentle precision, he guided their rifle barrels upward while delivering light, double-palm strikes to the nerve clusters on their necks. Both men went limp instantly, falling without a single rustle of tactical gear.
He flowed seamlessly toward the next three men, moving like a soft current through high grass.
When one soldier caught a shadow in his periphery and tried to raise his rifle, Donape caught the barrel with a curving, fluid motion, redirecting the soldier’s momentum directly into his comrade. As the two collided, Donape glided between them, snapping their heads back with a swift, powerful double-backhand strike.
Moving down the line, the remaining mercenaries sensed something was wrong, but Donape was already among them—an untouchable eddy in the stream of combat.
He yielded to their movements before they could even finish turning, stepping smoothly into their blind spots.
He used soft redirection to turn their momentum against them, sweeping ankles and deflecting limbs with minimal exertion.
Every strike was quiet and measured, driving concise kinetic force straight into their nervous systems rather than shattering bones or creating loud, chaotic impacts.
Within two minutes, the gunfire suppressing the venue completely died down.
Donape stepped out from the shadow of the entrance, standing over the final unconscious mercenary. His breathing was rough and shaky, his aching knees and heavy limbs bearing the full physical toll of overusing Qi for the first time.
The perimeter was clear—cleared not with a roar, but with the quiet, unstoppable flow of water.