The Scumbag's Guide To Heroism novel Chapter 495

Chapter 495: 495 | The Weapon. Where?

Granite skin’s shoulders tensed.

There it was. The tell.

"And the fact that you brought nullification and immunity variants to a flooded plaza full of first-years tells me you weren’t planning to leave survivors, which means whatever you’re actually here for isn’t about the publicity stunt your butler friend was selling upstairs."

Air-claw shifted his weight.

Another tell.

"So why don’t you save us both some time," I spun the staff again and felt Sadism purring approval through every rib that hurt like hell. "And tell me what the Twilight Society is really after before I have to beat it out of you."

Granite skin laughed.

It was an ugly sound. Wet, mean, full of the specific confidence that comes from knowing you’ve already won.

"You think we’re here for intel?" He rolled his shoulders and the stone rippled down his arms like liquid running uphill. "Kid, we’re the distraction. The real team’s already halfway to the objective while your instructors are busy playing hero with our disposable friends upstairs."

My stomach dropped.

"What objective."

"The weapon." He said it simple, conversational, like it wasn’t the worst thing I’d heard all morning.

"Command’s been planning this for months. Today was just the opening we needed, all those nice first-years clustered together while security’s running thin."

My mouth went dry.

Air-claw was circling closer now, those shimmering hands weaving patterns that looked surgical. Professional. The kind of movements that said he’d done this before and knew exactly which organs to remove first.

"Your boss tell you what happens when you corner a Belmont?" I asked it conversational, buying time while my brain worked through options that were rapidly approaching zero. The Oracle Feed was quiet, which meant it had nothing useful to add or was waiting to see if I’d figure this out myself.

"Your mom died doing rescue work," granite skin said it flat, casual, like he was reading a weather report. "Your dad died thirty seconds after her trying to pull civilians from a collapsing structure. You’re the last one, and you’re Unmarked, which means when I crush your skull nobody’s going to remember your family was worth a damn."

His hand flexed.

"Actually, scratch that. They’ll remember you as the kid who couldn’t hack it, who got into Halloran on a sympathy vote and died in his first real incident because he didn’t have the power to back up the legacy name."

Air-claw’s hands moved closer.

"We’ll make it quick," he said, almost kind. "Professional courtesy. Your parents were decent Heroes back in the day, even if their kid turned out defective."

The cold thing in my chest stopped laughing.

Something else woke up instead.

Something I’d been carrying since a conference room three months ago when a System decided I was going to survive in a dead boy’s body by becoming exactly the kind of person who could handle moments like this.

I activated Blitz and closed the gap.

Granite skin’s eyes went wide behind his mask because he’d expected me to be slower after the beating I’d taken, expected the debuff to drag me down, expected Unmarked physiology to fail under pressure.

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