Chapter 30: The Eve of the Storm

Sakiko put on her earmuffs, held her pistols crossed in front of her chest, and locked her golden eyes onto her targets.

Ten shooting targets were set thirty meters away, not in a straight line, but scattered across every corner of the shooting range, demanding attention from different directions and angles. Nor were they standing alone; some were pressed against the ceiling, while others were deliberately hidden, revealing only a tiny sliver.

The dual pistols she wielded were Stechkin APS—Soviet-made, known as the submachine guns of the handgun world. Their greatest feature was the capability for burst fire. Chambered in 9mm with 18-round magazines, she had specifically equipped them with silencers.

Both guns fired simultaneously in burst mode, emptying their magazines in an instant.

If any professional marksman had been present, they would have shaken their heads at Sakiko’s stance. It was less like shooting and more like a little girl waving her Barbie dolls—no aiming, no technique, just her hands sliding through two simple trajectories.

Sakiko walked forward to inspect the results.

Every bullet from the Stechkin had struck its mark. Starting from the direction she first faced, she hit the 10-ring, the 9, the 8... all the way to the 1-ring on the outer edge, then back from 1 to 10. The shooting followed the rules perfectly, striking every intended spot on every target.

Ever since she realized the nature of her Spirit: Absolute Judgment, developing this power had become part of Sakiko’s daily routine.

Compared to using a blade, firearms—weapons that allowed for long-range engagement—were more suited to the absolute-hit advantage of Absolute Judgment.

Simply put, this was a visual-lock skill. The premise of an absolute hit was visual acquisition; once she clearly fixed her mind on the target point, the rest was left to the activated Judgment. All she had to do was pull the trigger.

Ricochets, curves, aerial drops... the bullets of Absolute Judgment had no fixed trajectory and did not obey the laws of physics. The firearm was merely an activation platform. The bullets seemed to have a will of their own, as if the world itself corrected all impossibilities to ensure the final result of a hit.

Ejecting the empty magazines and reloading, Sakiko curled up on the sofa with her guns and closed her eyes. She was exhausted; Judgment placed a heavy load on her body, and continuous activation brought fatigue.

Just then, the full-length mirror beside her began to ripple like water. Wisps of golden light burst forth like threads, and a man riding an eight-legged steed appeared within the glass. The scene reflected was not this underground shooting range, but a highway amidst a rainstorm.

Odin. He raised his spear of destiny high, his horse stepping slowly out of the mirror.

This should have been impossible. His true form should have been as massive as a mountain, yet the mirror was less than two meters tall.

But he had done it. The hooves of the eight-legged steed, Sleipnir, had already stepped out of the mirror, followed by the armored horse head. Odin’s own breastplate protruded from the glass, and the tip of Gungnir successfully manifested.

He and his steed had shrunk to a size perfectly adapted to the mirror, allowing them to pass through with ease. Sleipnir’s hooves made no sound as they touched the shooting room floor; his arrival felt like nothing more than an unseen gust of wind.

Odin slowly raised his spear. The tip of Gungnir was only an arm’s length from Sakiko’s throat. If he moved it just a fraction further...

Sakiko suddenly opened her eyes, fierce killing intent flashing within her savage golden pupils. Without hesitation, she raised her hands and fired in a continuous burst.

Eighteen bullets passed through Odin’s body. He, his spear, and his steed rippled like water, as if they were merely a projection existing in reality.

All the bullets struck the full-length mirror. The glass shattered, and the manifesting Odin shattered along with it. He let out a wail of frustration; the world trembled at the sound, but soon it fell silent, leaving only a pile of fragments.

Sakiko walked over and ground the large shards into dust the size of fingernails. The effort left her even more tired. She collapsed back into the sofa, squinting at the gun in her hand, where a weary face was vaguely reflected in the black metal.

Months had passed. There were four cocktails left that Rui Kageya had given her. As her bloodline continued to strengthen, the frequency of Odin’s attacks increased.

Fortunately, it was never his true form. Just as Rui had done at the beginning, as long as the medium entering reality was destroyed, Odin would vanish.

In a sense, the invading Odin was like a restless soul. With his power and size, he should have been invincible, but he seemed unable to leave his Nibelungen, forced to use mediums to intrude into the real world.

Water was a perfect medium, which was why their first encounter with Odin had involved a rainstorm. Mirrors were also excellent conduits. The larger the medium, the larger the Odin that appeared.

In the worst instance, Sakiko had even seen Odin within the eyes of Mutsumi Wakaba. However, that threat was negligible; as soon as Mutsumi blinked, the medium was interrupted and Odin disappeared.

But that did not mean the false Odins were without threat.

She remembered during a music class, while the teacher was playing, everyone was listening with rapt attention. Sakiko saw golden flames surging on the piano stand, lightning flashing, and the sound of thundering hooves echoing throughout the classroom.

Just as she stood up with a cry of alarm, the piano shattered into pieces. The teacher’s face was cut by a flying metal fragment, forcing her to take leave and go to the hospital; it was said she was left with a scar.

Afterward, everyone said it was a resonance caused by the new student’s shout, but only Sakiko had seen the tip of Odin’s spear. Its target should have been her; the piano and the teacher were merely collateral damage.

This creature was like a death-chasing ghost, refusing to let go. Sooner or later, the scene on that highway would happen again.

Would she be able to win when that time came? Sakiko stared blankly.

She had spent these past few months in a blur of activity. After school, she avoided any interaction with her classmates at Haneoka, rushing home to practice her sword and guns. She had almost no spare time; even while eating, she was mentally rehearsing sword techniques, to the point where her classmates still didn't know her surname.

Naturally, CryChic had ended in silence, and she had no interaction with Tomori Takamatsu, who attended the same school.

It wasn't that she didn't want to speak, but that she didn't dare. Odin could appear by her side at any moment; why involve anyone else?

Sakiko knew this was hard on everyone, but she had no choice. Ignorance was the happiest state of being, just as she herself had felt no danger before she knew of the Dragon race.

Yet, being in the same school and in the next class, there were times she couldn't help but look.

During physical education, she saw Tomori Takamatsu watching her from afar. Sakiko could understand what Tomori was thinking; that gaze was so lonely, so sorrowful that it seemed she might burst into tears at any moment.

But she also knew Tomori lacked the courage to walk up to her. As long as Sakiko didn't give the slightest hint for her to come over, Tomori wouldn't take a single step.

The distance wasn't long, but for a girl who had never been understood by the world, it was already a chasm.

Sakiko actually wanted to run over, to give her a hug, to say aloud how hard it was, to say that she must live on and be happy...

But words from the heart, once let out, could never be stopped. Her heart would constantly crave that warmth and comfort, becoming weaker and unable to hold the sword.

So she could only pretend she felt nothing, burying even the slightest hint of overflowing tenderness and replacing it with the gaze of a stranger.

Misunderstood or cursed, Sakiko didn't care. If making Tomori sad for a while could buy her safety, then that was for the best.

The people of the Togawa family were all stubborn. She wasn't the only one bearing everything now; Mutsumi Wakaba was willing to help her hide everything, to fight to the end, and to share the infamy.

If, in the end, it was destined that Sakiko and Mutsumi could not defeat the gods, then only they would die.

Tomori Takamatsu, Soyo Nagasaki, Taki Shiina—they would all live on, they could have new friends to walk with them. Someone like Sakiko Togawa should just be buried like dust.

Sakiko turned over, resting Murasame on her chest. She had grown accustomed to this; she carried weapons even when she was alone.

She trained for at least eight hours every day, often sleeping past midnight. She was truly a different person from who she used to be.

Even so, she had no absolute confidence in her ability to slay a god; she just practiced and practiced again until that day arrived.

This reminded her of the story of Odin. In that tale called Ragnarök, Odin ordered the Valkyries to lead the souls of brave warriors to Valhalla.

There, those souls trained their skills, drank, fought each other, and died and were reborn, preparing to step onto the battlefield when the end of the world arrived.

But even that could not change the outcome. The myths clearly recorded the end of the gods; who would be killed by whom was already predestined, and even Odin himself was no exception.

Thinking of this, a chill crept from the depths of her heart.

If that myth were true, then wasn't she currently doing the same futile work as Odin? All deaths had already been written in that book called fate. Invisible threads connected everything. No matter how she struggled or ran, even if she drove a Maybach, she couldn't escape the predetermined destiny.

*Knock, knock, knock.*

The sound of knocking startled Sakiko, and Murasame nearly fell to the floor.

"Saki." Mutsumi’s voice came from outside.

"Come in," Sakiko sat up, feeling a bit more at ease.

Mutsumi walked in carrying a tray. "Dinner."

The clock on the wall showed it was already 11:00 PM. Sakiko had been so focused on training that she had completely forgotten to eat; her total immersion had once made her forget her hunger.

"Odin?" Mutsumi noticed the shards on the floor.

"I'm used to it." Sakiko leaned in to sniff, her expression immediately changing from anticipation to disgust. "I smell... abalone special ramen..."

"It’s very delicious."

The lid was lifted, and it was indeed the master’s elaborate abalone ramen. The fried egg was even arranged in a heart shape. Just looking at it, she could imagine the old man’s lecherous, smug expression as he plated it.

"The problem is, we’ve been eating ramen for ten days straight." Sakiko stared at the tray, chopsticks in hand, but she had no appetite at all, her face full of sorrow.

Uesugi Koshou was indeed very confident in his ramen—so confident that he always liked to shoo the home’s chefs away and take over dinner preparations himself.

At first, given his skill, it really did make people give a thumbs up. But his passion for it had clearly reached a pathological level. A few compliments were like a shot of adrenaline, and he would make ramen at the drop of a hat.

Even Sadaharu Togawa couldn't handle his godfather’s hobby; he had significantly reduced his time at home lately, especially at night, always returning after dinner time.

Uesugi Koshou would say, "I saved a bowl especially for you!" and Sadaharu Togawa would wave his hand, saying, "No, no, thank you for your kindness, but I’ve had too much to drink and eat at tonight’s banquet, let the children enjoy it!"

It had reached the point where Sakiko felt she was gaining weight. Even high-intensity physical training couldn't withstand the toll of salty, oily ramen.

"I have this, too." As if by magic, Mutsumi pulled out a paper bag. The smile of Colonel Sanders on it was truly heartwarming.

"Hamburgers!" Sakiko’s eyes lit up.

Uesugi Koshou’s interference had changed her set menu. The people of the Togawa family couldn't do anything about him since he was the guest invited by the head of the house. However, when not eating ramen, Sakiko followed a strict nutritional plan where junk food was strictly forbidden for life.

But Mutsumi, who was staying at the Togawa house, was not restricted by this. She was a guest, and guests naturally had the right to eat things they liked.

"Remember to destroy the evidence," Mutsumi said, placing a finger to her lips.

"We can just burn the trash here." Sakiko happily pulled out an egg tart and bit into it. The two little mice began to share the sinful calories.

Mutsumi had brought an entire set meal: a whole chicken, mashed potatoes, beef burgers, egg tarts, and cola. To Sakiko, these were rare delicacies. When her hands got oily or messy from the food, she would lick them, like a satisfied cat.

"Cheese." Mutsumi reached out to wipe the cheese from the corner of Sakiko’s mouth and put it in her own mouth. Sakiko blinked, momentarily dazed.

The communication light on the wall suddenly flickered and beeped. Both of them were startled, nearly dropping the half-eaten beef burgers in their hands.

Could it be that the butler had such all-seeing eyes that he knew they were sneaking food in a basement without surveillance equipment and was about to burst in and catch them?

Sakiko wiped her fingers clean with a tissue and answered the phone with trepidation. In this mansion, the person she feared most was that butler.

"Miss, someone claiming to be your classmate is here to see you." The voice on the other end was indeed the stern butler, but his tone was calm. "She says her name is Taki Shiina. She asked me to tell you that Tomori Takamatsu did not go home. She has gone missing."