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Devil's Enclave

Sal Douglas. A name that sends shivers down the strongest of spines. He was the Strongest Grandmaster of the 3000 World, living a live of bloodshed, wanting nothing besides gaining absolute freedom and destroying the group of people who pushed him down the spiral of despair into an endless pit of agony and torment. However, before his revenge could come true, he was pinned with a crime that turned the entire world against him. All the powerhouses came to kill him. As strong as he was, even he couldn't stand strong against so many. He was destined to fall. However, he was unwilling. Unwilling to let things end just like that. He grasped his only chance at survival, setting into play a ploy that had been on hold for countless decades. This is the journey of a man who strives to carve open a path to the greatest stage once again. This is the journey of a man who aims to obtain everything with his cunning and strength for that's the path of man, that's the path of gods, that's the song of the strong willed soul! Will you accompany this man on his journey? If so, read on!

LeoHoly · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
32 Chs

The Final Preparations (last)

"It has. I can help you locate Big Joe, but before that, I must warn you: he is rumored to have acquired a gun," the anomaly replied to Sal.

"What's a gun? A weapon?" Sal asked in a voice filled with curiosity. Being from the 3000 World where lethal weapons like guns and hand grenades didn't exist, it was his first time hearing about a gun. He was utterly clueless about it.

The anomaly didn't look down on him because of his ignorance and calmly explained, "Yes, it's a weapon. It fires bullets at high speed. It's effective against both mortals and introductory phase combatants. So even you aren't safe against it. If the rumors are true, you need to kill Big Joe before he can equip himself with his gun or you'll be in grave danger." 

"Is there a way to counter it?" Sal inquired calmly.

"It's going to be a lengthy explanation," the anomaly said.

"I did rather hear it than die because of ignorance," Sal said.

"Bullets are shot in a straight trajectory. Before they are shot, you can predict their path by closely observing the point from which they are discharged. That point is a gun's barrel. Basically, by gauging the alignment of the barrel, you can anticipate where the bullet will fly off. Now, you need to make this prediction because it's one of the two most necessary skills to dodging a bullet," the anomaly explained in a matter-of-fact tone, aiming to educate Sal on the intricacies of firearms—a concept alien to him.

"What's the second one?" Sal questioned.

"You must begin moving an instant before the trigger is pulled because then the shooter can make no changes. This is also crucial because once the bullet is discharged from the barrel, it travels at such a high speed that it becomes nearly impossible to react in time. For instance, if you're only 10 feet away, the bullet, traveling upwards of 1,200 feet per second, will reach you in just 0.00833 seconds. Human reaction times to perceive a threat and begin to react to it are generally around 0.15 to 0.25 seconds, which is significantly lower than the time needed to dodge a bullet at close range," the anomaly answered.

"The only conceivable way to dodge a bullet is by anticipating the shooter's actions and moving preemptively based on their body language and the alignment of the gun before the shooter fires. Is that right?" Sal asked.

"Yeah, it is," the anomaly voiced out its agreement. "Most combatants dodge bullets this way." 

"I've never even seen a gun, so I don't know which part is the barrel and which is the trigger. Can you help me with that?" Sal couldn't afford to see the gun in action tonight because by then it would be too late. He needed an image of it before the battle begins. 

Recognizing the necessity of this request, the anomaly tapped into the memories it held from the original owner. 

It then projected a vivid memory into Sal's mind, which showed the detailed image of a gun and explained each of its parts and their functions through dynamic visual cues, allowing Sal to grasp the last bit of essential knowledge he needed to potentially face such a threat in reality.

'So that's a gun? What an intricate weapon.' Sal remarked confidently, "I'm sure I will win. Don't delay any longer. Share his house location with me."

"Big Joe's residence is close to the border between the Refugee Camp and the Banu Fortress. It's a giant tent with leather panels. I have shared a memory of its exact location with you. Take the back alley past the old water tower; it's the quickest, most deserted and and darkest route to his tent. This route barely have functional street lamps and is sparsely illuminated by the dim moonlight escaping the thin layer of clouds in the sky," the anomaly revealed.

"Thank you. This just made things a whole lot easier." Sal would have wasted hours, if not a day, if he had no choice but to discover Big Joe's location himself. So, he felt thankful to the anomaly.

He entered the dilapidated shack, looked towards the makeshift bed, saw Ann's chest rising and falling slowly, and confirmed she was fast asleep.

"She is a person who sleeps deeply," the anomaly commented. "You don't need to worry about her waking up in the middle of the night, finding out you are missing, and raising a ruckus in search of you, which would raise suspicion."

"That's quite assuring to know." 

Sal was planning to plant a seed in Ann's mind, but after hearing what the anomaly said, he decided against it.

The seed was a weak controlling tool that allowed him to manipulate sleep patterns subtly. He could create it from his spiritual consciousness. It couldn't knock a person out, but if a person was already asleep, it could effectively enter them into a deeper sleep and prolong the time it would take for them to wake up. 

Looking away from Ann, he picked up the umbrella from the corner of the shack, went out, closed the door gently so that it made no sound that could disturb Ann from her sleep, used his spiritual consciousness to lock the door of the shack from the outside, and then he started running.

As Sal was heading towards the back alley past the water tower, he picked up the faint sound of footsteps approaching from afar. He extended a slender thread of his spiritual consciousness in the direction of the footsteps, discerning a group of five—three men and two women—clad in matching tight-fitted uniforms. Their attire marked them as members of the same organization.

Each bore a badge on their chest, stark black with two words emblazoned across it.

'Police officer?' Sal squinted his eyes in the dim light.

When he queried the anomaly about it, the response came swiftly, "It's the night patrol. Quickly hide yourself. Don't let them catch sight of you so late at night on the streets; it won't end well."

Sal didn't hesitate. He dashed into a nearby deserted alley he had previously scanned with his spiritual consciousness and hid himself inside a dumpster with the umbrella.

"Why?" he asked in his mind. Despite sitting above a pile of garbage and surrounded by a nauseating smell, his voice was calm.

The anomaly seemed to anticipate his question as it replied, "It's strictly forbidden to be out at night. The night patrol enforces this rule harshly."

Its voice echoed within the confines of Sal's mind, drawing no attention from the passing night patrol.

"What a bizarre rule," Sal muttered internally.

"If you gain a deeper understanding of this world, you wouldn't think it so strange," the anomaly's words sounded mysterious.

"How about you make me understand?" Sal said with a playful glint in his eyes.

"I can't," It said. "This is part of the reward that you'll receive after you help me resolve my resentment."

'It didn't fall for it,' Sal could only sigh in disappointment.

The footsteps drew closer and then went away. Soon, they couldn't be heard.

The road was clear!

Sal jumped out of the dumpster with his umbrella and went on his way.