Chapter 77: The Calculations of a Madman

Three minutes earlier, on the far edge of the horizon, a man lay lazily at the cliffside, toying with a flamboyant sniper rifle. He wore a pair of violet sunglasses, their lenses reflecting the fragmented glow of the moon.

Kando extended a finger into the air, drawing invisible lines as if crafting an intricate sculpture. His movements were slow yet precise, his fingertip tilting ever so slightly, as though sensing the intangible flow of the wind.

"Wind speed… about 3.8 meters per second, south-southwest." His mutter was low and steady, carrying an air of certainty. Raising his head, he squinted to measure the altitude difference between his position and the distant target.

"Angle's roughly fifteen degrees. The bullet will veer slightly to the right..." Tapping the scope resting on his knee, he adjusted the dials, a smirk tugging at his lips as if he were admiring a masterpiece.

"This position... perfect height," Kando grinned, baring sharp canines that gleamed like those of a predator who had found the ideal opportunity. Yet he didn't fire immediately. Instead, he let the breeze brush his fingertips, as if conversing with nature itself.

"With those lunatics' chaotic fighting styles, plus all these nasty tricks..." He pushed up his sunglasses with a flourish, his grin deepening. "One more second—this bullet's trajectory will be a thing of beauty." His voice was casual, as though critiquing a work of art.

Kando's finger gently squeezed the trigger. Peering through the scope, his eyes gleamed with excitement. His other hand tapped rhythmically on the ground beside him, like a maestro guiding a symphony of destruction.

With a deafening roar, the first bullet erupted from the barrel, tearing through the air with the thunderous force of a storm. The sharp projectile shattered the sound barrier, leaving a trail of turbulence and heat. It wavered slightly in the breeze, its trajectory shifting minutely to the right—but Kando had already accounted for this.

Hot on its heels, the second bullet roared into action. It was fired mere fractions of a second later, but with higher initial velocity and an optimized design. Mid-flight, it closed in on the first, friction heating its surface to a faint red glow. As the second bullet neared the first, the airflow between them created a subtle compression, pushing the lead bullet forward with a slight nudge.

The third bullet followed. Fired after another brief pause, it carried additional rotational force, spinning with precision like an arrow loosed from a taut bow. Taking advantage of the path cleared by the preceding bullets, it sliced through the reduced air resistance. Its trajectory arced ever so slightly upward, aligning seamlessly with the second bullet.

In the air, the three bullets converged, their distances narrowing until they seemed to weave an invisible beam of destruction. Each adjusted its position, influencing one another to orchestrate an intricate dance of trajectories.

Then came the fourth bullet, the finale of this deadly symphony. It exploded from the barrel with an unmistakable sense of dominance, faster and fiercer than the rest. In a blink, it caught up to the last bullet, striking its rear with a calculated impact. The collision sent a shockwave rippling through the projectiles, propelling the entire chain forward with renewed velocity.

As if guided by fate itself, the bullets merged into a unified force, hurtling toward an ostensibly empty patch of air. Through their ricochets and interferences, they had stabilized into a single, unstoppable trajectory.

And then—

Bang! The bullet struck its target with unerring precision. The immense impact tore through the frontal skull, carving a gruesome path of destruction. Shards of bone splintered under the force, tissue shredded, and in the confined space of the cranial cavity, the bullet's energy erupted like a storm.

Unable to contain the violent surge, the skull expanded to its limit before exploding in a grotesque burst.

Blood, brain matter, and shattered bone fragments sprayed outward, painting the air with a macabre red bloom. The sheer force of the blast sent the man's body staggering backward, while blood gushed from the jagged remnants of his neck like a relentless fountain.

Usagi stood not far away, frozen as she witnessed the horror unfold. Warm droplets splattered against her face, and for a moment, her mind went blank. Her entire body trembled as she stared at the ghastly spectacle before her, unable to discern whether this was a battle between humans or a primal act of slaughter.

From his vantage point, Kando leisurely removed his eye from the scope, a smug grin spreading across his face. Raising a hand, he adjusted his violet sunglasses with a carefree flick, his tone lighthearted.

"Hm, what a shame. Why does a person only have one head?"