Rebirth of a Mercenary: The Ace Mercenary Forced to Be the Beloved of the Group

On a rainy night, the alleyways of the slums were filled with the smell of rust and rotting garbage.

007 is running.

His left arm hung at an abnormal angle at his side, and with each step he took, the faint cracking sound of breaking bones rubbing against each other could be heard. His right leg was almost powerless; warm blood gushed from the bullet wound in his calf, flowing down his trouser leg and into his boots, with sticky liquid squeezing out from the soles of his shoes with each step.

The two bullets to the abdomen were the most fatal.

Blood seeped from between his fingers as he clutched his abdomen, a deep red color mingling with the rainwater. The bullet hadn't penetrated; it was still inside. With each breath, he could feel the metal bullet moving within his abdominal cavity, like a dull knife repeatedly cutting into his internal organs.

007 staggered into a narrower alley, his shoulder slammed into the wall, his severed left arm was touched, and a sharp pain shot through his body like an electric current.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

"Stop running, 007."

007 didn't turn around. He used his still-functioning right hand to support himself against the wall and continued to move forward, dragging his broken leg.

In front of us was a three-meter-high brick wall, with several moldy wooden crates and a rusted tin bucket piled at its base.

Dead end.

007 leaned against the wall and finally turned around.

008 walked in from the alley entrance.

"You run really fast," 008 stopped three steps in front of him, looking him up and down. "A broken arm, a bullet in the leg, and two holes in your stomach, yet you still managed to run three blocks. 007, are you even human?"

007 didn't speak. His amber eyes shone brightly in the rain, like two flames that burned even brighter after being doused with water.

Why?

008 tilted his head, as if thinking about how to start the conversation. Then he squatted down and looked 007, who was sitting on the ground against the wall, at eye level.

Do you know how long I've been your partner?

"Three years and two months."

"Three years and two months," 008 repeated the number, then suddenly laughed, "Three years and two months. Every mission, you were the lead attacker, and I was the second-in-command. Every mission report, your name was in the first column, and mine was in the second. Every evaluation, you were an S-rank, and I was an A-rank."

He paused, then pointed to the number on his left chest.

"I'm 008. Do you know what people outside call me?"

007 didn't respond.

"They call me 'the eternal runner-up,'" 008's voice was flat, as if he were stating something unrelated to himself. "When it comes to top-tier combat power in the mercenary world, the first person they always mention is you. '007, that amber-eyed monster,' '007, the madman with a 100% success rate in solo raids,' '007, the youngest S-class mercenary in history.'"

He paused here, then reached out and tapped the number on his chest with his knuckles.

"What about 008? Oh, 007's partner."

"I refuse to accept this."

008's voice finally changed, like a crack appearing beneath the surface of ice.

"Why should I? My marksmanship is no worse than anyone else's, my tactical rating is in the top three in the Sky Piercing, and my mission completion rate is 97%. I work harder and fight harder than anyone else. But as long as you're here, I'll always be second."

He stood up and looked down at 007.

"You think I don't know? Last month, headquarters originally intended for me to be the lead attacker. It was you, you went to the captain and said that the mission was too difficult and that it would be too risky for me to do it. You took the lead for me and did it yourself."

007's eyelashes trembled.

"You think that's for my own good?" 008's voice suddenly rose. "If you shield me once, people outside will say, '008 is no match for 007.' If you shield me twice, headquarters will never assign me any more difficult missions. The more you shield me, the more I resemble a useless piece of trash needing your protection!"

He kicked 007 in the wound on his abdomen.

007's body suddenly arched, and a mouthful of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the ground mixed with rainwater.

008 stepped on his hand that was clutching his abdomen.

"You think you're taking care of me?" 008 looked down at him, gradually increasing the pressure on his foot. "You're just enjoying yourself. Enjoying the feeling of standing on high and looking down on others, enjoying the taste of being looked up to, enjoying the sense of superiority that everyone is below you."

007 raised his eyes amidst excruciating pain.

"I thought..." His voice was terribly hoarse, as if squeezed from deep in his throat, "we were friends."

008 paused for a moment, then laughed.

"friend?"

He stopped laughing, lowered his head, and looked at 007 with the eyes one would use to look at an innocent fool.

"You actually thought we were friends?"

008 crouched down, reached out and pinched 007's chin, forcing him to lift his face.

"007, listen up."

"People like us, from the very first day we stepped into the Void, have never had friends. The blood on our hands, the people we've killed, the shady things we've done—what makes you think people like us can still have friends?"

He released his grip and stood up.

"You think I treat you like a partner? Like a brother?"

008 drew his gun from his waist, lowered the muzzle, and aimed it at 007's forehead.

"I've made you my target. From the very first time we teamed up, I've considered you an objective that had to be eliminated. What do you think I do every day? I observe you, study you, look for your weaknesses, find your openings. Your gun-drawing habits, your tactical preferences, your reaction speed after being injured, the critical point at which your stamina declines—I've noted it all down."

He tapped his temple.

"Including the fact that you are completely unguarded with people you trust."

007 leaned against the wall, looking up at the gun barrel pointed at him.

The sound of rain suddenly became very loud.

Goodbye, 007.

A gunshot rang out. A flock of birds took flight in the alley. The gunshot bounced three times between the narrow walls before being swallowed by the sound of rain, like a pebble sinking into deep water without leaving a ripple.

008 sheathed his gun and glanced at 007 leaning against the wall.

Those amber eyes were still open, gazing at the night sky above the alley, cut by the curtain of rain.

The light that had been on went out.

008 turned and walked towards the alley entrance. When he reached the alley entrance, he stopped.

"Don't blame me, 007."

His voice was muffled by the sound of the rain, as if he were talking to himself.

"You're just too outstanding."

Then he walked out of the alley and disappeared into the rainy night.

The alley fell silent. Rainwater washed away the pool of blood on the ground, slowly seeping into the cracks between the bricks and into the ground.

Those amber eyes gazed at the sky, raindrops falling into them and overflowing from the corners of their eyes like tears.