Chapter 293: 292 National Curse

Clever bastard!

After seeing the terrified aide on Leon's back through the power armor's scope, the squad commander furrowed his brow, then reset the launcher and halted the already warming-up rotary cannon.

With the firepower mounted on his own power armor, if he fired this full-auto burst, he didn't know if the target with the strange weapon would die—but his aide, from the Lyon family, would surely be riddled to death.

As the "Sitting Lion" of the Kingdom's Military Department, the Lyon family's influence ran deep; if he truly killed both his aide and the target, he might be dragged before a military tribunal by their combined forces.

Then he'd have to close in.

After assessing the situation, the power armor squad commander swiftly issued his orders.

The twelve-unit power armor squad immediately split into three: five units veered left, six units flanked right, and the commander's armor surged forward in a straight line toward Leon's position, raising the rotary cannon on its arm…

…

"Tatata! Tatata!"

Amidst the drumming rain of gunfire, Leon himself wasn't hit, but the ground ten meters ahead erupted in a spray of mud and stone, shredded by a hail of silver nails.

Immediately after, several bright red canister weapons were hurled by the pursuing power armors farther ahead; when they landed, a vast burst of blazing yellow flame erupted instantly, the scorching heatwave slamming into Leon's face and curling his hair.

So cautious…

Watching the power armor behind him—capable of overtaking him at any moment, yet maintaining a steady, measured distance, only using its cannon and incendiary rounds to slow him down while waiting for the others to encircle him—Leon couldn't help but sigh inwardly at his bad luck.

Though Pion's rear end was useful, it lacked direct mental assault capability; he could only gnaw at the thick iron shells of the power armors. So the Lyon kid's words were right: at his current level, handling two or three power armors was already pushing it—more than that, and he'd definitely crash.

Right now, the best option was to turn around and charge back, eliminate the power armor clinging to his tail—but given how cautious its operator had been, he'd never let Leon get close; if Leon turned to charge, he'd just pull back again.

Though tracked power armors were hard to turn, their forward and backward speed wasn't slow—probably fifty to sixty kilometers per hour. Leon couldn't catch up, and chasing would only plunge him deeper into the encirclement.

He'd have to fight hard.

Using the Black Goat's soul vision to scout the positions of the other power armors, Leon suddenly changed direction—not fleeing straight ahead anymore, but charging straight toward the five units that had flanked left.

Seeing Leon's seemingly suicidal move, the operator of this group assumed his teammates were nearby and that he only needed to hold on briefly for support—so he didn't retreat. Instead, he pulled down the shield from his back and advanced, raising it to block.

Then you're done for!

Seizing this fleeting opening, amid the Lyon kid's shriek, Leon didn't slow—he slammed straight into the two-meter-wide shield.

The silver metal orb, roughly the size of two human heads, hovering beside him, obeyed Leon's will and transformed into an razor-sharp blade, slicing through the shield's lower edge like dry grass, carving out a hole large enough to crawl through!

What the hell was that?!

Everyone who saw the shield instantly breached gasped in shock; the power armor operator, facing Leon and his unknown weapon, panicked and scrambled backward, trying to use speed to escape this dangerous "little man."

But shifting from advance to retreat required momentum—once Leon closed the distance and entered the "Ass Sword's" two-meter range, his fate was sealed.

"Pupupupu!"

The sound of metal armor piercing rang out in succession. Having dismantled several power armors already, Leon knew their weak points—he commanded the "Ass Sword" to split into four slender silver lances, piercing the joints between torso and limbs in quick succession.

As the thirty-centimeter-thick outer shell was breached, the intricate gear systems inside jammed against the hardened silver lances; the armor's weight-reduction module instantly failed. Vast plumes of blazing white steam erupted from ruptured pipes snapped by the armor's own weight, exploding into a thick, blinding, acrid fog around it.

"Watch out! He's out!"

Amid the panicked warning from the disabled armor's operator, Leon, covering his nose and mouth, darted out from the dense white fog, coughing as the Lyon kid behind him choked, and lunged toward the second approaching power armor.

Unprepared for how fast his teammate had fallen, the second operator, in blind panic, instinctively raised his rotary cannon and aimed it at the terrifying figure charging toward him.

Is he… firing?!

Hearing the high-pitched whine of a washing machine at max spin, the Lyon kid behind Leon shuddered violently—he realized his own teammate had opened fire, aiming to kill him too—and screamed in utter despair:

"I!"

The silver orb beside Leon split in two: one half wrapped around the cannon's barrel, blocking every nail round; the other half formed a hand, gripping the power armor's arm and yanking it sideways.

"Shit!"

Taking advantage of the armor's momentary imbalance, Leon sidestepped the leg the armor stumbled forward with, slipped to its hip, and the silver that had shoved the cannon flowed back like a living thing, precisely landing in Leon's hand—transforming into a slender, thin blade.

"You!"

The silver blade slashed sideways, slicing through the power armor's hip like cutting paper. A torrent of shattered metal fragments erupted with the high-pressure steam from ruptured pipes, pockmarking the ground with countless tiny craters. The armor, missing most of one leg, toppled backward with a crash.

"Ma!!!???"

"Boom!!!"

The heavy thud of the falling power armor and the Lyon kid's trembling "Ma!" landed almost simultaneously—then the acrid white fog erupted again, swallowing once more the figure who had dismantled two power armors in the blink of an eye.