Chapter 17: An Encounter

Amos held a large cup of coffee and two servings of fast food, freshly bought from a corner shop, and cautiously made his way back to his car parked not far from David’s residence, using the trees for cover. The coffee was to help him stay awake through the night, the fast food would serve as his dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow. Of course, he wouldn’t go entirely without sleep; once it was past one in the morning, he would rest in his car until the alarm woke him at five.

For someone like him—a combatant—a four-hour sleep was sufficient to restore his strength.

As he approached David’s house, he noticed the gate was wide open, which startled him. Had David gone out again? But he quickly realized that if David had left, the gate would not have been left open like this.

“No, something’s wrong!” He spotted a clear cut in the door and two figures lurking in the shadows nearby, sending a chill through his heart.

Amos had been careful not to alert David or any of the numerous surveillance systems on this street, keeping himself hidden at all times.

Amos was no ordinary man. Although he seldom ventured outside the city after becoming the head of security at the Str Hotel, his battle instincts remained intact.

He lightened his steps. Though his orders were to monitor David, he knew David’s true identity and had to react.

“Someone’s here!” Commander Froman sensed the presence watching them and turned his gaze in that direction, warning Edna quietly.

At the same time, he gripped a short sword that glimmered with a strange light. With a powerful thrust, he stamped the ground, leaving a dent as his body shot forward like lightning, rushing toward Amos.

Amos, just reaching his car, was stunned. He hadn’t made a move, yet the enemy had discovered him already—proof that they were not ordinary people.

“Dora, activate automatic attack!” he quickly commanded the car’s AI assistant.

His car was no ordinary vehicle; while its exterior appeared average, it was equipped with numerous combat features. Years spent fighting outside had left him with an intense sense of insecurity when unarmed, so his car was his guarantee of safety.

A burst of rapid gunfire erupted from the car’s roof as an automatic machine gun popped out, spraying bullets in a relentless stream.

Froman, charging forward, was suddenly attacked, but he did not panic. His short sword swept a curtain of light before him, and his body rolled through the air to evade.

The light curtain was not a testament to Froman’s swordsmanship but rather the sword’s unique properties. It was a specialized combat blade, the energy inside capable of generating a defensive shield to protect its wielder in emergencies.

Of course, such a shield would be useless against first-tier insectoids or weapons above that grade, but against machine gun bullets, it could hold out for a short time.

Froman also knew he had Edna’s support; his focus was solely on Amos, leaving the automatic combat system to his companion.

As the machine gun began firing, Edna’s slender fingers moved rapidly once more. Without the aid of exoskeleton armor, her combat abilities were unimpressive, but her strength lay in electronic warfare.

Hacking the car’s AI assistant was even easier than breaching David’s security system; the machine gun jammed after only ten seconds of firing.

Give Edna another thirty seconds, and she could seize control of Amos’s car and turn its weaponry against him. This was the terrifying power of an electronic warfare specialist—even without direct combat, Edna could have a decisive impact.

“How is there an electronic warfare specialist here?” Amos shouted in anger.

Seeing the machine gun jam and realizing Froman had only been delayed a few seconds, Amos knew he was in trouble.

Electronic warfare specialists were rare, and few ever participated in combat.

By now, Amos had reached his car, but Edna had seized its control permissions. He kicked the car’s side with force.

He knew his vehicle inside out—the weak points, the hidden weapons. With a single kick, he broke open a gash in the side and pulled out a battle hammer one and a half meters long, its surface gleaming with the unique sheen of first-tier metal.

With his weapon in hand, he felt much safer.

His weapon was not like Froman’s; Froman and his team had come for a simple, low-risk infiltration mission and carried only compact weapons. Amos, however, wielded his usual first-tier weapon. Although he couldn’t unleash its full power without exoskeleton armor, it gave him confidence.

“Ah!” He let out a roar, his muscles tightening, and with a strength of 1,200 kilograms, the battle hammer felt weightless in his grasp.

“Hurry up, we’ve got a bit of trouble!” Froman’s brows furrowed as he spoke into his identity bracelet.

With the threat of the machine gun gone, he paid Amos little mind. Yet the gunfire in the quiet night had been much too conspicuous—and Amos’s shout would bring the police soon.

Amos, seeing Froman ignore him entirely, was furious. Though he was now tasked with monitoring a child, his assignment was a sign of the boss’s trust, and his status at Str Hotel was exceptionally high.

Combined with his weapon’s advantage, he was brimming with confidence.

He locked eyes with Froman, and almost simultaneously the two charged at each other.

With a thunderous crash, Amos was blown back after the clash, retreating five steps before he steadied himself.

Froman, wielding his short sword, only swayed slightly, though he looked regretfully at his blade. The collision of his high-tech close-combat weapon with Amos’s first-tier hammer had left it badly damaged—another clash would shatter it.

Amos’s eye twitched. Without hesitation, he turned and fled.

That collision had stripped him of his fighting spirit; the opponent before him was not a common combatant but a seasoned warrior of tremendous strength.

When faced with an opponent he couldn’t match, escape was no shame.

“Too late for that!” Froman sneered, charging after Amos at a speed even greater than his own.

At that moment, Edna had also seized control of the car’s machine gun, which now fired automatically at Amos.

The instant he heard the gunfire, Amos knew that running now would be a death sentence. He pivoted and charged toward Edna, hurling his battle hammer at Froman who was closing in behind.

Amos, a man made reckless by countless brushes with death, had been softened by city life, but in a life-or-death moment, his true nature blazed forth.

Anyone who survived decades of field combat was never simple—they were cunning, desperate, and passionate, and in mortal peril would always make the most rational choice.

Without his weapon, Amos felt lighter after throwing the hammer, the recoil and the adrenaline rush doubling his speed.

“Edna, watch out!” Froman called, grabbing the incoming battle hammer as he shouted a warning.

Edna, head down and immersed in her hacking device, heard the alert and quickly looked up, only to see Amos’s eyes, brimming with murderous intent, just five meters away.

Had she been armed, she could have blocked Amos’s attack, but she had always regarded herself as an electronic warfare specialist; combat skills were merely a means to survive, not to fight.

In her usual missions, she chose the safest position, conducting her operations from a distance.

If tonight’s task hadn’t been so simple and seemingly safe, she would never have been so close to the action, nor would she have foregone her exoskeleton armor.

Edna tried desperately to lean back, hoping to evade Amos’s attack, but she underestimated the desperation of a true combatant.

Only by killing her could he halt the machine gun’s assault. For Amos, survival depended on eliminating her.