Chapter 1032

Afterward, emergency mobilization of police forces continued in the rear; on this side, the Second Echelon's Kashiwagi Jin, Maeda Toshihide, and Date Nagamune had already cornered Vikram. Although Okada Masayoshi was presiding over the overall situation for the first time, he himself had accumulated rich experience, with reserve forces ready to encircle from any direction. Vikram's formidable strength had clearly surpassed all expectations of the Japanese Police, but police forces from all directions quickly converged. "Catch him! Catch him!"

"Firearms permission! Repeat, firearms permission, allowing necessary use of lethal force!" The police's loudspeaker blared, and the Indian Superman also sensed the difficulty. He had consecutively taken down several more police officers, then darted and weaved through the shanty area. The shanty area's terrain was complex and roads rugged, and even twenty or thirty police forces could not temporarily block him.

Or rather, blocking him was useless.

Indians can fly! Indians fear no bullets!

At this moment, Kashiwagi Jin cornered Vikram in a narrow alley deep within the shanty area.

This was a dead-end alley piled on both sides with discarded building materials and rusted iron sheets, its end blocked by a half-collapsed brick wall.

When Vikram flipped down from a rooftop, his landing was unsteady. His struggle with Ikeda Erena and that previous Chodai Sotogari caused a momentary hesitation in his movements.

As Kashiwagi Jin rushed in from the alley entrance, he saw Vikram's back. The dark gray T-shirt's back was soaked with sweat and dust, discolored, and the fabric at the right shoulder had a bullet hole, but the exposed skin surface showed no bloodstain—only a thin layer of dark gray, hard rubber-like membrane that faintly reflected light.

Kashiwagi Jin hesitated not; he immediately raised his SIGP230, aimed at Vikram's torso, and pulled the trigger repeatedly. "Kill chicken chicken!!!"

Bang bang bang bang!

Lao Ren directly emptied the magazine!

The first bullet struck Vikram's spinal position, but the bullet hit like a pebble on a glue-coated steel plate, producing a dull impact sound before ricocheting, leaving a deformed dent on the adjacent iron sheet wall.

The second bullet struck below the Indian Superman's scapula, similarly ricocheting.

The third and fourth bullets—Vikram turned around. His face showed no expression of pain.

He simply stood there, his body fully extending like a stone wall washed by rainwater, silent and stable.

Bang bang bang bang~gaga gaga°

Lao Ren fired all bullets in one magazine.

"Japan's forests, nothing more..." Vikram sneered.

Then he moved.

His first step covered nearly half the distance between them; that explosive power caused Kashiwagi Jin's pupils to contract to the limit in that instant. Is this human?

No humans left! Only snakes, only rats, only green dragon, honeybee, black panther, hawk, rat, and fazecn!

But Lao Ren will not lose!

His karate instinct prompted the correct reaction; Lao Ren immediately stepped back half a step, lowered his center of gravity, and raised his left arm to block.

However, Vikram's baseball bat swept up from below, precisely striking his left forearm.

The force of that blow was so great that Kashiwagi Jin's entire arm rebounded, the SIGP230 slipped from his hand, struck the brick wall once, then fell onto the rubble-strewn alley floor.

Kashiwagi Jin endured the arm's excruciating pain and threw a straight punch with his right hand; his boxing technique was practical karate honed for five years at the Metropolitan Police Department, each punch capable of splitting wood.

Although I am not as fierce as Ikeda's mother tyrannosaurus, I too...

Yet when Kashiwagi Jin confidently punched Vikram's abdomen, he felt as if striking a parked American big truck.

Vikram's abdominal muscles tensed at the moment of impact, rebounding Kashiwagi Jin's fist; that reaction force caused his finger joints to emit a crisp sound.

Vikram gave him no chance for a second punch; his left hand grabbed Kashiwagi Jin's collar, and his right hand's baseball bat swept sideways from the flank, striking Kashiwagi Jin's left ribcage.

Thud~

That impact's sound echoed in the narrow alley—dull, heavy, carrying the unique tooth-aching resonance after bones shatter. This, this is impossible!

In that instant, Kashiwagi Jin's vision turned entirely white.

I will not lose! I am the Metropolitan Police Department's last trump card, I am Absolute Dual Pride, I am...

His body was flung outward, striking the alley's side iron sheet wall, then sliding down to the ground.

Lao Ren lay there, one hand propping the ground attempting to rise, but the rib pain left him only with the sound of gasping.

His ears still rang.

The esteemed Section Chief of Criminal Investigation Division One, Section One, one of the Metropolitan Police Department's "Absolute Dual Pride," was felled by an Indian wielding a baseball bat in three moves within no more than fifteen seconds, collapsing onto the shanty area's rubble-strewn ground.

He still does not believe he has already lost.

Who is this man, gasping on the ground like a dead dog?

Ah... it turns out it's me!

Turns out Indians fear no bullets; those few rounds fired at this Indian didn't even make him frown.

Turns out, the world ultimately belongs to Indian A San!

Kashiwagi Jin lay on the ground, finally understanding the world's truth.

However, Vikram had no time to collect Kashiwagi Jin's head, as others had already rushed over!

Date Nagamune arrived at another alley entrance.

He had already taken the automatic rifle issued by the Metropolitan Police Department's Special Assault Team, an M4A1, originally considered possibly usable only in the most extreme circumstances, but he hadn't expected to actually use it.

"Want to duel with me? Then you'd better be careful!"

He raised the rifle, aimed at Vikram's chest, finger on the trigger: "This shot, for Lord Masamune!"

But Maeda Toshihide rushed in from the side, grabbed his barrel, and pressed him down.

"You're crazy?!" "You're the crazy one? Why stop me?"

Maeda Toshihide's voice was low but each word carried force: "The shanty area is full of people! This is a densely populated residential zone! If you go full auto, ricochets hitting residents—what then? Hit water pipes flooding the whole district—what then? Do you want to turn this shanty area into another Nagase Ren?!" Another Nagase Ren?

Date Nagamune's finger twitched on the trigger.

He gritted his teeth, shifted his gaze from the scope, glanced around—indeed, the shanty alley's sides were densely lined with thin iron-sheet shacks, some still faintly lit, obviously occupied.

In this situation, ricochets are likely, endangering innocents!

He took a deep breath, lowered the muzzle.

But just that moment's hesitation, Vikram in the alley had already noticed them.

Hesitation means defeat!

"Again, two forest people." He did not charge forward, merely bent down, grabbed an iron drum full of construction debris beside the alley. That drum was about half a meter high, filled with rubble and bricks, weighing over fifty kilograms.

"?!" Date Nagamune and Maeda Toshihide swallowed saliva.

Red bean paste?!

Vikram lifted it over his head, then hurled it toward Date Nagamune and Maeda Toshihide.

The iron bucket traced a heavy arc in the air, coming in fast!

"Ura!!!" Maeda Toshihide flew into a rage, raising both arms high.

"Mom!!!" Date Nagamune also flew into a rage!

Then the flying bucket grazed Date's shoulder and smashed into the wall behind him, the gravel and brick fragments inside scattering like shrapnel, striking his arms and legs, Maeda Toshihide hit in the forehead by flying debris, his whole body toppling backward.

Both men collapsed onto the rubble pile, rifles slipping from their hands to clatter on the ground.

Vikram emerged from the alley, baseball bat gripped in his right hand, strides quick, almost swaggering as he strode toward them.

He stopped about two steps in front of Date Nagamune, looked down at him, then slowly raised the baseball bat, aiming at his crown. Date Nagamune lay supine in the rubble, watching the iron-gray bat trace a semicircle in the air.

He wanted to move, but his legs were pinned by rubble, his arm bleeding, fingers unable to reach the rifle sliding away.

He gritted his teeth, shut his eyes.

Akane-chan... I'm about to be promoted to Police Inspector! You'll come congratulate me, right?

Too bad, per regulations, my survivor's pension and survivor's insurance—you won't get to enjoy them!

Damn it all!!!

"Our army is defeated! Our army is defeated! Our army utterly routed!!!" Maeda Toshihide bellowed in despair.

Then a distant explosion rang out from deep in the alley.

Bang!!!

That sound was like a thunderclap compressed to the extreme, released in an instant.

Gunfire?!

But unlike the report of a pistol or rifle, this sound was deeper, farther, carrying the force of a cannon round exiting the barrel.

It's a Barrett!

Someone's firing a Barrett!

A bullet shot from afar, striking Vikram dead center in the chest with precision.

That bullet slammed into the dark gray membrane on his chest, not deflecting like Qian Ren's pistol rounds had; the armor-piercing tip penetrated, fractured, then released a dark red, electric-like smoke that spread from the impact point in all directions. Vikram's body arched violently.

"Ugh!!!!"

He let out a low groan, dragged forcibly from deep in his chest, painfully clutching his chest.

The baseball bat slipped from his hand, hitting the ground with a crisp sound.

He lowered his head to glance at his chest—the dark gray membrane there began cracking at the impact point, fissures spreading outward, revealing the twitching muscle tissue beneath.

It hurts!

It really hurts!

Vikram hadn't felt pain like this in many years.

This bullet didn't cause physical harm.

It brought a deeper rupture, violently interrupting the energy flow sustaining his superhuman state within him. He staggered back a step, then another.

Who?! What person?!

The Indian Superman lifted his gaze toward the bullet's origin; on the distant alleyway rooftop, a figure in a dark trench coat stood aiming a long-barreled sniper rifle, still trained on him.

Barrett!

At this moment, Date Nagamune and Maeda Toshihide also recognized the figure.

It's Ichijo Kaoru!

Police Superintendent Ichijo Keishi of the Public Security Division, Public Security Bureau, Metropolitan Police Department!

He didn't move, merely holding his firing pose, like a statue nailed to the rooftop, while the Barrett's muzzle still vented white smoke.

Shortly after, Ichijo Kaoru's body swayed briefly, then immediately performed a bolt-action motion, as if preparing a second shot.

Vikram showed no hesitation.

Now!

He turned and sprinted toward the other end of the alley, speed fast but no longer as smooth as before.

His stride grew unsteady.

All the way he raced through the chaotic shanty town, a used Santana idling at the alley mouth, a South Asian male's face visible in the window.

Vikram immediately flung open the passenger door and threw himself inside.

The door hadn't even shut when the Santana accelerated away, tires skidding momentarily on the gravel road before gripping and shooting toward the outskirts of the shanty town.

Ichijo Kaoru lowered his sniper rifle on the rooftop.

Through the scope he watched the Santana vanish into the morning fog, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

He had thought the Public Security Police's specially made nerve-severing bullet could utterly annihilate this terrifying Inner World existence, but now it seemed... still...

The nerve-severing bullet is a Public Security Police specialty for countering Inner World existences with abnormal regenerative capacity.

It may not kill them, but can temporarily sever their internal abnormal energy circulation, reducing them to near-ordinary human condition for several minutes to tens of minutes.

This round should make that Indian Superman uncomfortable for a while.

But that Indian's recovery speed... Ichijo Kaoru mentally calculated and felt it might be faster than expected.

He picked up the radio, voice steady: "Target fleeing from Nakamura District direction. Vehicle is a dark Santana, license plate logged. Suggest setting up interception on Nagoya outskirts roads."

"Understood! All mobile units, deploy immediately! Helicopters fast-follow! Vehicles keep pace! Notify Nagano Prefecture Police to organize interception!" Okada Masayoshi, seeing another wounded in the command vehicle, fumed.

Still can't catch him?

MD, how many chapters to catch one guy?!

Not over yet?!

"Deploy, deploy, full deployment!!!"

Several dozen police cars and a large group of motorcycles were on standby one after another, but by this time the Santana had already driven off one or two kilometers, and the police officers only then got into their vehicles one after another. Meanwhile, further back, Uesugi Muneyuki was still in the temporary facility behind Nagoya, where he had found a place to hide.

He felt that this matter was strange.

An Indian descendant, this strong, why would he come to Japan to work as a dispatched employee?

Although it is said that the greatest hermits hide in the court, the middle ones hide in the market, and the lesser ones hide in the wilderness, this Indian being so strong still seems highly abnormal. There must be something suspicious about this!

At this time, one should not act rashly! Instead, one should immediately seek assistance from the public security police!

He is not afraid of bullets! This is no ordinary Indian; decisive action must be taken!

He dialed Nankōtarō's phone number.

The phone rang only once before being answered, and Nankōtarō's voice came from the other end, clear and calm, as if he had been waiting for this call in a quiet room: "Uesugi Chief? How is the situation?"

"The target escaped. He has extraordinary regenerative ability; bullets cannot penetrate him. Ichijo Kaoru temporarily suppressed him with nerve-severing bullets, but he will recover. I need support." Uesugi Muneyuki said over the phone: "Ozawa-san told me that if necessary."

"If necessary……what kind of support?" Nankōtarō remained very calm, merely repeating the question, seemingly to confirm how much Uesugi Muneyuki knew.

"Godai Yusuke and Tsugawa Shouichi, GENERATION3 project." Uesugi Muneyuki said into the phone: "Ordinary police forces are no longer sufficient; I have requested assistance from public security, but Ichijo-san's special bullets seem also unable to kill the opponent."

Nankōtarō on the other end of the phone fell silent for a moment: "You seem to know quite a lot..."

"Is now the time to talk about this?" Uesugi Muneyuki held the phone, somewhat annoyed: "Hurry up and deploy!"

"Alright, I will notify them." Chairman Nankōtarō sighed and said: "We need to wait a moment; over there, you continue watching, don't hide behind everyone else, play your part, Uesugi-san—I don't believe you have no strength at all, do I?"

……I know you're struggling, I'm struggling too, the nation is in trouble, eating the lord's salary, serving the lord with loyalty—we all have to make do as best we can." Uesugi Muneyuki said over the phone.

The phone was hung up.

Nankōtarō sat in the office of the National Public Safety Commission, and outside the window it was still the deep blue of the pre-dawn hours.

He placed his mobile phone on the desk surface, and then his right hand silently pressed against his own waist.

"A hero cannot flee in the face of battle." Nankōtarō looked at his own reflection in the mirror, already over fifty years old, and in his right eye, for an instant, sparks flickered.

"Approve deployment!"

Outside the window, the pre-dawn sky had not yet lightened, but on the distant highway, more and more police car lights were moving in the same direction. That Santana was fleeing along the national highway toward Nagano Prefecture.

And in an even more distant location, two super-large trucks also deployed from a secret facility near Tokyo Metropolis.

The true battle, from now on, is about to begin!