Nobita's Time Heist

"Is this the kind of question you can only ask?" Micah sneered, making the scarlet revolver dance on his fingers with great enjoyment. "Just like you, from the future."

"?!"

Da Xiong was suddenly stunned as a huge amount of information flooded into his mind, piecing together all the fragmented clues.

In a short moment, I understood many things.

"This is a thing for 'sacrifice'... well... at least that's how he explained it to me. When I pull the trigger, what I fire isn't a bullet, but some kind of dark magic that can offer a life as a sacrifice, directly to the [Crimson God]."

When Micah said the words "black magic," he deliberately dragged out the tone, as if mocking this absurd world.

However, in 1899, before the light of science had illuminated the world and the average level of education was low, such things were not so difficult to accept. Especially after personally experiencing various miraculous events, Micah became even more convinced of it.

"Can you believe it, kid? He actually told me that the highest level of sacrifice is to give up everything... Haha... I think only a madman would do that."

As he spoke, he spread his arms wide, seemingly beyond arrogance. Countless bullets came from all directions, hitting him but only sending sparks flying. His body was exceptionally hard; beneath the thick brown leather coat, it was no longer human flesh.

Several emerald-green, barbed scales began to appear on his neck.

“Yes, yes, that’s right, you idiots…” Micah closed his eyes, as if he was thoroughly enjoying the barrage of bullets. What should have been a fatal blow was now like a shoulder massage to him. “There’s no need to sacrifice myself.”

He looked around, his gaze like that of a butcher looking at cattle and sheep to be slaughtered, and muttered to himself, "There are only two kinds of people in the world—winners and losers. Winners take everything, and losers have nothing. Those who have guns have the power to overturn the table at any time, which means they can always choose to be winners."

"And those who were sacrificed..."

He slowly raised his arm, pointing the scarlet muzzle of the gun at Abigail's family, "You weak losers will always be the ones to suffer!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"US dollars—!!"

……

"boom----!!"

With a roar from Da Xiong, the warriors who had been lying in wait suddenly sprang into action, and the engine roared with a powerful sound comparable to that of a galloping horse, instantly piercing the gloomy sky.

Author's message

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

To celebrate the book's release today, the author will try to update as many chapters as possible.

Chapter 55: The comeback ended so quickly.

Even with superhuman strength, Micah was still Micah, a cowboy living in the late Western frontier era, and wouldn't become someone else. Faced with something completely unknown, he also experienced a brief pause; in his eyes, it was probably like a moving iron box suddenly unfolding and transforming into a giant made entirely of metal.

Just as he drew his gun to fire, Meijin had already completed a long sprint, swung his right arm, and punched Micah hard.

"when----!!"

Like the sound of metal clashing, Micah's body completed an extremely difficult spin in mid-air, with a force no less than being hit head-on by a dump truck, flying backward and crashing heavily onto the ground, which was incredibly hard due to the low temperature.

As the "only" Transformer in this universe so far, without Optimus Prime's earnest guidance, Megatron has no concept of "not killing humans." Born from Nobita's idea, he naturally only reacts to Nobita's commands.

He threw a punch, still wondering why the returned hand was so hard, seemingly different from the human sample data stored in his database. Logically, the force of his punch should have been enough to shatter an adult's internal organs. But the man with the razor-sharp face merely bounced twice on the ground, stretched his neck, and stood up as if nothing had happened.

“eu…”

Two handguns materialized from his wrists, with azure plasma brewing in the barrels, about to unleash a terrifying thunderclap.

"Roar... Roar..." Micah pulled the pebbles that had pierced his flesh out, looked at the giant metal object in front of him, and sneered, "No wonder you dare to be so arrogant, kid, is this your trump card?"

"As expected of the future world, even the pets are so innovative."

Almost simultaneously, both men raised their hands and fired a shot at each other.

"boom------!!!"

The unseen energy blasts collided, unleashing an unprecedentedly powerful impact. The ground that formed the mountain became as fragile as tofu, crumbling into shape with the slightest touch. Huge boulders rained down like raindrops, and smoke and snow dust billowed up, as if dozens of people were simultaneously shrouding the small hillside in smoke, until it was pitch black.

Such an environment is undoubtedly more advantageous for the US dollar, which can be located at any time by using thermal imaging and physiological characteristics such as body temperature.

Even with such a massive body, hiding inside this cloud of smoke wouldn't be difficult.

"Shit...is that all you've got, Steel Chihuahua?" Micah tightened his hat brim, glancing around warily for a sudden attack, while loudly provoking, "What are you anyway? Such a huge body, such astonishing strength, yet you obey a weak human like a dog, following him around like a lapdog. Don't you find that ridiculous?"

Amidst the whistling wind, there seemed to be some noise. Micah couldn't pinpoint the general location, so he tried to further provoke his opponent, "Admit it, he doesn't take you seriously at all. In his eyes, you're no different from a gun or a cannon—just another weapon. Wait until you rust and reek of rust, then guess what he'll do to you?"

"Weapons without value will only end up in the junkyard!"

……

"Wa!!!"

Having been born less than a week ago, Meijin was undoubtedly still a baby by age, completely unaware of humanity's sinister intentions, and easily fell for their provocation. A roar with a metallic tremor revealed his position, and just as he transformed his left arm into a photon dagger, preparing to kill Micah in revenge, he swiftly turned around, raised his hand, and fired a shot that struck Meijin in the heart.

"Thump—!!"

The once smooth, flawless metal outer layer was pierced, revealing a molten lava-like sheen at the wound's edges. This shot quickly calmed Meijin down. Realizing his opponent was indeed capable of injuring him, he abandoned his arrogance and immediately ducked and rolled on the spot. During the roll, his body began rapidly folding, deforming, and reassembling, transforming back into a jeep to minimize his size.

Micah clearly hadn't expected him to use his transformation to dodge bullets, and fired two shots into the air. When he tried to aim again, all he could hear was the screeching of the tires as they spun through the air and the roar of the engine. With a sharp screech, the jeep, like a runaway horse, floored the accelerator, its tires kicking up clouds of snow and mud, hurtling straight at him!

"what------"

"boom!"

The scream abruptly stopped as Micah was hit head-on, his head slamming into the windshield, leaving a large crack immediately.

The jeep wasn't going to let him get away with it, accelerating to full throttle until he was pressed against the hood, his feet barely touching the ground. With a terrifying roar, the jeep sped off and crashed into a large rock. This rock, standing on the snow-capped mountain for years, had been hardened and cold by the wind and snow; it could never have imagined that such a secluded, desolate place would suffer such a fate.

"Ugh...you...you bastard..."

Squeezed between the hood and the rock, Micah was like a stubborn pebble stuck between mechanical gears, holding on with all his might, but his beer belly offered little resistance to impacts. His most vulnerable internal organs were compressed, and most of his body was pressed against the rock, making it incredibly difficult for him to fire his gun.

"Heh...hehehe...very interesting. It won't end like this." He spat out the blood that had spilled from the corner of his mouth, braced his left hand against the hood, and used all his strength to resist it. He slowly straightened up, almost grinding his yellow teeth to powder. "My time is coming. Just as he promised, God has chosen me!"

"Don't make that face, I just... hahahahahaha! What I want is very simple... revenge! Revenge! To this civilized world, to those arrogant hypocrites, to everyone who has offended me, or is about to offend me!"

Amidst his maniacal laughter, Micah's strength gradually increased. With a single hand exerting force, his momentum grew stronger and stronger, and he was gradually trying to break free from the suppression of the US dollar.

"Do you think I really care about anything? I've said it before, there are only two kinds of people in this world: winners and losers! Only those who don't care can keep winning!"

"In the very last..."

He suddenly pulled out his right hand, grinning maliciously as he pointed it at the jeep in front of him.

"Revenge is all I have!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"when--!!"

With a crisp clang of metal striking metal, just before he pulled the trigger, a tremendous force suddenly came from the side of the gun, forcefully knocking away the crimson revolver he regarded as his life.

Behind cover, Arthur calmly removed the spent cartridges from his bolt-action rifle, a cigar still dangling from his lips.

"Oh, Morgan... Black Lung..." In that instant, he was like an addict who had been deprived of his high, gritting his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, "I should have... killed you in the very beginning!"

“I should have had you hanged in Strawberry, Micah,” Arthur said coldly. “Open your dog eyes and take a good look. Nobody’s stupid. After spending some time with you, anyone can see what kind of person you are. Someone like you…”

"No matter where you go, you'll only be a loser!"

……

“kukukuku…”

The hood pressing down on him suddenly lightened, and Meijin chose to transform on the spot. An incredibly complex internal structure unfolded before Micah's eyes like a kaleidoscope. Metal parts of different sizes popped out one after another, attracting most of his attention. Just then, a bullet passed through the gap left in Meijin's body when he transformed and hit him squarely in the heart.

Through a fleeting moment, Micah saw Nobita holding a gun, his face as cold as ice, and he was unusually shocked.

"How could... he could do it in less than half a second...??"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The next moment, his stomach swelled into a balloon, his feet left the ground, his brain shut down, and he slowly flew into the sky.

Chapter 56: The Crimson God, First Signs of His Arrival

"Ah...ah!! Bastards, you bunch of bastards!"

"Thank you for your self-introduction, Micah, very accurate."

Arthur's tone was full of sarcasm, but you can't blame him. One second he was baring his teeth and claws, like a villain about to wipe out the human world, and now he's just floating in the sky like a balloon.

If he hadn't tied the horse with a lasso, it might have flown all the way to the stratosphere and exploded due to the thin air pressure... From this perspective, Micah should be grateful to Arthur for his timely intervention and lassoing him. Otherwise, he would most likely have met a gruesome death like those in R-rated movies.

Thanks to Nobita and Arthur's perfect teamwork, Micah was hit by a bullet from the Puff Gun and ended up like this.

Even if the revolver that gave him power were knocked away, Micah would still be able to fight again. His physique had been strengthened, and his resistance to firearms had increased dramatically, so he might be able to take down a few in close combat. However, Nobita made good use of the gadget's properties, limiting his physical strength to the greatest extent possible—he was practically a balloon, struggling to even clench his five fingers together. Even with immense strength, it would be meaningless if he couldn't touch anyone.

Miss Beth covered her mouth slightly as she looked at the mangled Micah, unable to tell which method was more terrifying.

"I've never seen a person turn into this before. You really have all sorts of weird gadgets." Asur, completely unafraid, poked Micah's belly, which had swelled into a ball, and suddenly wondered, "If I stab him in the stomach, will blood spurt out or will air leak out?"

“An interesting question, little girl.” Arthur drew his meticulously crafted dagger, twirled it, and said with a smile, “We should ask these kinds of inquisitive scientific questions boldly and verify them carefully!”

He pressed the tip of the knife against Micah's stomach, the chill emanating from the blade eliciting a furious curse from the man, tinged with fear.

"Damn it... Morgan! You bastard, you bastard—!! If you've got the guts, turn me back to my original form, and we'll have a fair one-on-one fight! You like being a cowboy? Fine, let's settle this like cowboys!"

"Huh? Hahaha..." Arthur's laughter was full of contempt. "Did I hear that right? You legendary rat, how dare you call others rats? No matter how outrageous the rules of a gunfight are, it's still a contest between people. How can you even be considered a human being?"

"You guys..."

"Snapped!"

Nobita knew Micah's character well; he was definitely not the type to answer questions without being asked. Therefore, this time, he didn't waste any more time and directly stuck the "Integrity Tape" on Micah's forehead.

"Where did you get this weapon that was sacrificed to someone else?"

"Hey, Nobita, you don't know him. He won't talk if you keep doing this. We need to use something drastic, like handing him over to me..."

Arthur, who seemed to have extensive experience in this area, was about to take on the task when Micah launched into a long, rambling monologue.

"Norman Andrew".

"That New Austin arms dealer Dutch was talking about?" Hosea grabbed a stick, leaned on it, and limped over, enduring the pain. His voice was full of anguish. "Is this... this kind of big thing he was talking about? Using witchcraft and black magic, those low-class tricks?"

"An arms dealer is just an identity he uses to cover up his true identity in this era. His true face... is... is..." Micah bit his lip hard, seemingly trying to remain silent, but unfortunately, human strength cannot overcome the power of the prop. The pent-up words burst out all at once, and his voice was even louder than before.

"It's the Apairon Foundation—!!...Norman Andrew is a henchman employed by the foundation. They pulled some strings to get him out of prison!"

"??!"

From the boundless ocean to the biting cold of snow-capped mountains, Nobita finally learned the name of his adversary. Overjoyed, he became even more cautious and pressed for more information, asking, "What is the purpose of that foundation, and who are its members?"

“I don’t know… How could he tell me all this? I probably didn’t understand most of what he said. I only know that they came from the future, were planning something great, and had been looking for suitable partners in this era. It seems to have something to do with time and history.”

“He told me that in the complex torrent of history, he chose the Van der Linde gang. And from among them, he carefully selected me… He gave me a scarlet revolver, calling it the weapon of the Crimson God. Once you accept it, you will become a servant of the Crimson God and share in His power and glory. I was originally a non-believer, I didn’t believe in any gods, but… those things happened before my eyes, and I had no choice but to believe.”

"The essence of this familiar vessel is 'sacrifice'. The more souls I offer, and the purer they are, the more power I can share. I tried it on the way, and it really works."

“Every time I kill someone with this weapon, I feel my power increase. I run faster, jump higher, and see more clearly than before. Gradually, I became dependent on it; it's more addictive than chewing tobacco or Kentucky bourbon. Killing... no... I should say, the tangible boost after the sacrifice is more fulfilling than anything else!”

His tone was no longer angry, but full of ecstasy, as if he was still savoring that irresistible feeling.

"I killed my way through... New Austin is all narrow paths here. In the evening, I'd encounter groups of two or three pedestrians, and I'd take them all with a single shot. No bodies, no bloodstains, no... witnesses, nothing left behind—the perfect crime. By any measure, there should be over a hundred of them, but still no warrant has been issued for my arrest... Hehe..."

“At this point, I find the human body unbearable. I can only continue to offer…more… to the Crimson Goddess…”

……

The outrageous remarks sent chills down everyone's spines.

More than a hundred people were killed.

This nonchalant tone suggested that he didn't consider it a big deal. Of these hundred-plus people, none had any real enmity with Micah, and most of them didn't even understand what had happened until their deaths.

He probably no longer sees other humans as beings of the same species as himself.

Nobita looked somewhat astonished. "The more sacrifices you make, the stronger you become. It's a... um... how should I put it?"

“Positive feedback. If doing something brings tangible benefits and mental and physical pleasure, you're more likely to keep doing it.” Asur, as if on cue, filled in the sentence that had been stuck in his throat for him, “The Crimson God used the positive feedback mechanism to train a murderous maniac who had no mercy for his own people. In his eyes, everyone else was just a blood pack to help him increase his power.”

"In this cycle, an individual with extremely hidden methods and motives, who is not easily detected but possesses great power and lacks empathy and compassion, will emerge. The history of America may very well be drastically altered as a result, becoming the future you are talking about."

"That's outrageous!" Da Xiong angrily exclaimed. "To resort to such despicable methods, treating people like dirt... what kind of god is that?!"

"..."

Asur glanced at him casually, his expression extremely complicated.