The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 492

Chapter 492: 492 | You’re Welcome

Blitz carried me through the hole in the wall before force-guy finished processing that I was upright. Ten feet compressed into a fraction of a second, the world blurring, and I arrived inside his guard with Joyful Cloud already moving. He tried to raise the density wall. Too slow. The staff caught him across the ribs with Strength Resonance channeled through it, and at eighty-eight percent of a hundred with a legendary weapon multiplying the output, the impact folded him around the ivory like a napkin and threw him back into the plaza.

Clean hit. Stamina flooded back into my legs, the Sadism feedback loop paying out, and the cold thing in my chest purred.

"Two," I said.

Sixteen left, and the rain kept falling, and somewhere three hundred meters away Sloane’s fury spiked through the bond in a way that meant she’d found a room full of people to be furious at.

They came all at once. Smart play. I could only be in one place and there were a lot of them and the water slowed everyone down the same. A woman with four extra arms sprouting from her torso closed from the left. A man whose skin had gone metallic came from the right. Two more waded up the center with weapons drawn. The electric one had gotten back up. The whole cluster converged in the flooded intersection with the coordination of people who’d finally understood that numbers were the only advantage they had left.

I want to tell you I handled it clean.

I didn’t.

Six-arms got a grip on my left shoulder and squeezed. Something ground against something that shouldn’t grind. I heard myself make a sound I wasn’t proud of. Mirror-guy came in while I was compromised and caught me across the temple with a fist that felt like getting hit with a car door. The world went white at the edges. My ears rang. The debuff meant my recovery lagged just enough that mirror-guy got a second hit in before I cleared the first.

His knuckles split my eyebrow open. Blood ran hot down the side of my face, mixing with rainwater, and I tasted copper.

Six-arms twisted the grip. Mirror-guy wound up for a third hit.

The two in the center were three steps out.

The electric one was coming up fast behind them.

My stamina was at sixty percent and dropping.

The Oracle Feed wasn’t saying a word.

Down I went, into the water, black flood closing over my head.

For half a second I floated in the black water with blood leaking from my temple and six-arms’ grip still echoing through nerve endings that couldn’t decide if the damage was structural or just deeply insulting. My shoulder screamed. The debuff sat on my chest like a passenger who wouldn’t get out. Eighteen percent of my reflexes were somewhere else, filing a complaint, and some quiet part of me ran the numbers on what a lesser body would look like right now and concluded that a lesser body would already be unconscious.

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