I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

Three reconnaissance drones, launched from the top of the tower, attempted to capture his image, but suddenly disintegrated upon entering Pegasus's line of sight—the gears and bearings seemed to be wrapped in countless transparent threads, then compressed tightly in an instant. The precision components blossomed in mid-air, forming beautiful metallic flowers that fell to the ground.

The crossbow bolts fired from below began to slow down at a distance of twenty meters, and came to a complete stop at ten meters. The surface of the bolts gradually became covered with fine, crack-like scratches, and the marks extending from the attacker's hand changed from straight lines to perfect parabolas, before finally succumbing to gravity and falling to the ground.

When he reached the top of the tower, he finally raised the seemingly useless crossbow in his hand and gently smashed it against the glass in front of him.

In the instant the glass curtain wall shattered, Gerald caught a whiff of something unfamiliar.

Someone is disrupting the wind's path.

The instant Pegasus's feet touched the ground, heat gathered before him. The artillery barrage fired at closest range, swirling together shards of glass and carrying immense energy as it ripped across the sky—

However, it did not cause any harm to the person who was supposed to be hit.

Gerald dodged the shelling by simply taking a step to the side. He tilted his head and looked with interest at the Colombian military power armor that was now in the center of the watchtower, waiting for him with its hovering system.

really not bad.

This looks like something good that Nastie can think about.

------

"Hee-choo".

The banshee, who was writing with a bone pen, was pulled from her thoughts by a sneeze. She frowned and glanced at the research environment around her... It didn't look like there was any pollen present.

If there really are some dust particles in the air that shouldn't be there, then she should find the cleaning staff and give them a verbal warning.

Her gaze returned to the object in front of her.

A miniature city model was floating steadily in mid-air right in front of her.

Chapter 63 After running for a long time, it turns out there was no need to run at all (4K5)

As the roar echoed throughout the messenger station, Angelina and Provence, led by Seria, were still sneaking closer to the station's perimeter.

The patrolling soldiers were still lingering ahead, and the entrance to the post station was completely packed with people due to the two men's escape. The increased inspection efforts resulted in a dense crowd of people and vehicles surrounding the area.

The good news is that this provides them with excellent cover while they are infiltrating. After all, quite a few people are also taking this opportunity to rush forward, wanting to see what went wrong.

But when the wall on the south side of the station was breached, some experienced pioneers immediately returned to their vehicles, ready to leave immediately.

The words "Rusty Hammer" were passed down from the very beginning through the mouths of others, one wave after another.

The scene instantly descended into chaos, with the sounds of camel bells and engine roars weaving a chaotic symphony around the post station.

The pioneer captain, who had once borrowed a fire from Kannot, was shielding the cargo box with his body, swatting down a petty thief who was trying to take advantage of the chaos to steal things, and roaring at the front to make the truck turn around.

On the other side, a Sargon was rapidly assembling goods on the saddle of a pack animal. The burn scar on his left cheek glistened with cold sweat, but his hands never stopped moving.

Completely bewildered, Li Boli scratched the feathers on his head, about to ask the people around him what had happened, when he was treated like cargo and thrown onto the roof of the car. With a slam on the gas, the poor Li Boli's mouth was instantly filled with air, and before he could even cry out, he was dragged away at high speed.

"Wait a minute, the rusty hammer?"

Angelina dodged the people who had been pushing forward with her. They were now moving against the flow of people, having to watch out for trampling and other unnecessary incidents along the way—her Originium Arts were always very effective in situations like this.

For Ange, she had only recently left Syracuse, and her main area of ​​activity was primarily east of Victoria. There, the Rusthammer's reputation wasn't as exaggerated as it is now. However, as a messenger, she naturally understood the weight of that name: "But, that explosion by the wall just now—"

“It’s him,” Saria replied briefly, her gaze quickly falling on a fence on the side of the post station. She quickened her pace. “Perhaps it’s a bit radical, but it’s definitely the most efficient way.”

Upon hearing this, Provence quickly took a few steps forward. After a brief rest, her speed was not much slower than Seria's.

She quickly caught up with Seria and said anxiously, "The messenger stations here have a lot of heavy firepower. The army in the wilderness is about the same level as the troops responsible for the defense of mobile cities, not to mention the border here in Colombia. We need to go and help him."

"..." Saria, who was speeding along, didn't know how to respond to those words, and could only express her feelings with silence: "...He probably doesn't need help."

Upon hearing this, Provence paused for a moment before realizing what he had just said, and his face flushed slightly.

She remembered the physical fitness tests at Rhode Island.

Rhode Island's physical fitness test results are like grades discussed in class during high school; for employees who simply want to find a job, it's just a number.

However, within Rhodes Island, there is actually a large group of fans who use this to compare the combat strength of operators. They record the performance of some operators in notebooks, support their favorites, and secretly cheer them on. As for Provence, who considers herself to have a very high sense of identity and belonging to Rhodes Island... she has actually participated in this once as well.

Although a doctor once said that "the strength of an entity varies from person to person, so a linear ranking is meaningless", she still couldn't help but cast her vote for the little rabbit who was in charge of Rhodes Island.

Because she is young, watching her grow up brings a sense of joy, like raising a child.

Admiring strength is human nature. No matter how cold and ruthless she may be, Saria, this decisive and strong woman, still enjoys immense popularity and a dedicated fan club on Rhodes Island. Yet, even so, no one would believe that she could accomplish the feat that person just achieved.

She watched that person fly by right before her eyes.

Back to the topic.

As one of the few people rushing against the crowd, their actions were hardly noticed by anyone. Angelina even used the anti-gravity mode of her staff to help carry some luggage for others, earning some thanks and concern in return.

In the wilderness, the messengers' reputation had already spread far and wide; judging from their actions alone, almost everyone would assume they were going to help the people at the post station.

These two women, who didn't seem to be very good at fighting, shouldn't have gone in and died for nothing, even if there was a tough guy in a helmet leading the way.

However, these warnings quickly subsided.

Because that seemingly frail little fox lady has now raised her staff and easily lifted the formidable figure at the front and the big-tailed Lupo behind her, sending them flying into the sky together.

Everyone nodded in understanding; it turned out that this was the hidden powerhouse.

"Whoa." Angelina glanced at the bustling crowd below, and cold sweat poured down her back. "Although Dr. Kal'tsit said my abilities are very useful on the battlefield, this seems to be the first time I've actually felt it. This kind of scene... subconsciously gives me a feeling of being superior to others, it's terrifying."

“I don’t feel that way at all, Ange.” A tear welled up in Miss Rupert’s eye. “Could you please remind me next time you use anti-gravity mode? I just find it terrifying.”

The visibility in the air was still good, but the feeling of the wind blowing your body up was different from the feeling of fighting gravity. The two were not comparable. Provence still held Angelina's arm tightly with fear in his heart, while Seria's thoughts drifted for a moment before returning to the current situation.

"The soldiers' attention has been drawn there, leaving only a small group to evacuate near the main gate." Vayvan's voice was muffled by the wind, a feeling she hadn't experienced in the past few days. "We'll go straight into the post station. Provence, can you identify where the Cataclysmic Messenger is responsible for?"

“The flag of the Lateran messengers should be flying outside the building; I can tell.”

Provence's gaze was fixed on the soldiers responsible for evacuation at the main entrance. They were obviously unaware of the three people entering from the side of the station. Although the cameras were still faithfully maintaining their function, there was no time to waste.

But soon, an unexpected event occurred.

"Stop, we need to land."

Saria's words were a second slower than her actions. She caught the crossbow bolt that was shot from a distance in an instant, demonstrating the intuition she had developed through long-term close combat.

Upon seeing the soldier who had spotted them in the distance, she immediately released Angelina's hand. With a subconscious scream from the girl, Vayvan plummeted downwards without any protection, absorbing the potential energy of her weight without calcifying, and lunged straight at the soldier upon landing.

The soldier didn't linger; he simply climbed over the window and landed inside the building, quickly disappearing from sight.

Waifan stopped and frowned at the arrow in his hand.

"Seraph—no, are you alright!" Angelina quickly landed with Provence, instinctively wanting to call out his name, but she quickly remembered Seraph's special reminder during the operation and stopped in time. "Was that soldier...was he still here?"

"It doesn't seem so. That person doesn't appear to be planning to operate with the other soldiers."

Saria gripped the arrow tightly in her hand, her gaze searching for the flags of the messengers of all nations nearby: "You mentioned a [soldier] who helped you earlier; there's a possibility that person was the attacker."

"Huh? Ah... I hope not." Angelina seemed a little downcast. As a messenger, even though she was used to other people's hostile attitudes towards the infected, she could still count the number of times she had been attacked on one hand. "If it's true, why would that person do this... They even helped us before."

She felt somewhat lost in the current situation.

Saria didn't say much, but simply placed the arrow in front of the two of them: "These are the arrows from just now."

The teary-eyed little fox leaned closer to look, but didn't quite understand. However, Provence immediately realized the problem: "—No arrow? Only wood, and given the speed just now, was it just a warning?"

“I’m afraid so.” Vayvan put away the arrow. “Since we can’t figure out the motive, let’s proceed with the original objective for now.”

Just like Gerald did before. Once the goal is determined, all the motives and clues will reveal themselves.

……

boom!

On the other side, the moment the armor shattered, Gerald smelled that unpleasant odor of engine oil—to be precise, it was the smell of military-grade lithium-based lubricating ester mixed with coolant. This was a blind spot for him, but it meant a completely different concept to the commander in front of him.

Upon smelling that familiar scent, the first thing Colombian soldiers should do is prepare to die in battle.

No matter where you are in Colombia, without money, everything you need for life becomes a struggle. That's the essence of this country: money and the value a person can bring to life mean everything.

In this remote border region, the soldiers were provided with excellent weapons and equipment, and the only value they were required to provide in return was to prevent this passageway from being burned and smashed by those brain-dead lunatics.

Therefore, without support, the damage to the power armor means that everything is over.

But the commander was still able to remain calm, and he even had the strength to maintain his upright posture.

“You’re not one of Rusthammer, are you?” His deep voice came from inside the power armor. “They’re not going to play cat and mouse with me.”

Gerald didn't say anything, he just kept smashing the outer shell of the power armor.

With a simple activation of the Originium circuit within, the crossbow bolt in his hand would carry heavy kinetic energy, piercing through the power armor's meticulously designed external defenses. Then, all he needed to do was disarm the opponent completely, like dismantling a crab.

Pegasus parted the front of his breastplate, revealing the trembling energy core within.

He couldn't understand the settings and wiring; it was too complicated for him. If Saria were here, he could ask her what was going on.

"You don't like to talk? Very well, whatever you do will be useless."

The commander wanted to trigger the armor's self-destruct system, but Gerald had already realized this and easily broke his limbs and fingers, continuing to dismantle the power armor like peeling crab legs.

Gerald felt that the Columbians should not be thinking about increasing the power and maximum output of their power armor, but rather how to deal with the effects of Originium Arts.

Just as his initial Originium Arts were partially dispelled by the countermeasures inherent in the Steam Knights, these soldiers didn't seem to have experienced much of the baptism of real war; otherwise, they wouldn't have gotten the point wrong.

Of course, it's also possible that his Originium Arts have reached a new level.

While melee weapons are lethal enough on their own, powerful individuals imbue them with their Originium Arts to amplify their destructive power—Terra's land-based warships only reached modern warfare standards thanks to the enhancements provided by various mages. Given his current Originium Arts, a crossbow seems more like a viable option for clearing out mobs than a sword.

However, upon closer examination, if he were to face more than a hundred power armors simultaneously, and Columbia's industrialization had indeed reached that level of productivity, he would indeed have no way to solve this problem and would only be able to find an opportunity to kill the people inside the power armors one by one.

...Terra hasn't reached the level where it can remotely control power armor with AI yet...probably not.

"I only need these things to evacuate the crowd."

Although he had no expectations for the other party's answer, Gerald still disguised his voice and said, "You can report to your superiors that all of this was the work of Rusthammer, and that you protected the others at the post station, so you won't be held accountable. The result of refusing is also simple: your subordinates will die here meaninglessly."

“…Ha!” The commander endured the excruciating pain in his limbs and chuckled coldly. “Who sent you? Blacksteel or Raytheon Industries? Whoever it was, they shouldn’t have hired someone who doesn’t understand Columbia’s rules.”

"let it go."

Gerald had no interest in listening to others' nonsense or giving them a second chance, and besides, he didn't really understand the power armor's hovering system. And this commander, who seemed to be a stubborn soldier, was exactly the type Gerald knew.

So Gerald simply dragged the power armor to the window where he had come in.

Most of the people in the building had already been evacuated, and there might still be soldiers coming to provide support in the stairwell. He walked to the window and looked down.

Very good, the ground is very open.

Just as he was about to place a layer of wind below and throw the power armor down, a blazing red cloud suddenly exploded in the sky.

The glaring red color sounded like an alarm bell; just looking up was enough to make one instantly aware of it.

—Disaster is imminent.

A special signal flare belonging to the Colombian Cataclysmic Messenger appeared in the sky above the messenger station.

"Wait a minute, why?"

Gerald vaguely heard the man in the power armor suddenly struggle wildly, muttering to himself in a low voice, his voice a mixture of doubt and astonishment: "This is impossible... It can't possibly be like this..."

……

Meanwhile on the other side.

The three people standing in the messenger handover room all looked at the cloud that had exploded nearby and fell silent.

Until Angelina asked timidly.

"How is this going?"

Chapter Sixty-Four: A Clichéd Story (Please refresh the chapter)

The shape of the clouds bursting open at the dome resembled pouring soup from a pot with a ladle—anyone who saw this would instinctively move away from the center.

The distinctive spiral pattern of military signal flares stretched through the clouds, and the red smoke trails mixed with phosphorescent agents practically plastered the severity of the situation on everyone's faces.

For the three people who are preparing to solve the problem, there is both good news and bad news.

The good news is that they no longer need to fetch signal guns to warn the people at the post station. The natural disaster messengers here seem to know that a natural disaster is about to strike, and all they need to do now is help others evacuate to complete their mission.

They had initially thought the messenger from the post station was delayed because he was unaware of the specific situation. Coupled with the commander's attitude earlier, various conspiracy theories raced through their minds.

This answer brought some comfort to the two messenger ladies; at least everyone could now escape the natural disaster.

The bad news is... they're right there in the messenger exchange area.

The signal flare didn't seem to have been launched from here; it was more likely launched from near where they had just landed.