PATH OF THE STAR HUNTER

Looking at the missing pieces in the skulls of the people he hit with the shafts of both guns, Desmond had to accept that it was a pretty grotesque scene and that maybe, he had gone too far.

The frustration didn’t last long; as a highly capable Elementalist, Desmond needed no more than two seconds to cleanse his weapons with a wave of water that removed organic materials stuck in some of the weapon’s internal mechanisms.

“Note to me for the future, due to the size and weight, these pistols work quite well as blunt weapons. Side note, remember to cover weapons with mana to increase damage and prevent them from getting covered in human remains.”

With no one to listen, Desmond began talking to himself, which became his habit over the years. In recent times, due to one reason or another, Desmond was always in the company of someone, so his old habit of talking to himself hadn’t shown up frequently, not like when he spent a great deal of time alone on his first trip to Serefia.

Strangely enough, Desmond was genuinely alone at the moment as his shadow, his trusted servant and bodyguard, Revna, was busy guarding Claire. In a way, this wasn’t surprising at all; With his overprotective personality, Desmond would never let Claire be alone under the circumstances.

Revna didn’t even bother trying to convince Desmond to keep her by his side; she knew how strong Desmond was, and even more important, she knew how much Desmond wished to keep Claire safe. It would take otherworldly beings to intervene in order to convince Desmond to change his mind; unfortunately, those beings had better things to do.

Since Desmond had no one to respond to his comments, only his voice could be heard in this section of the forest, but that didn’t mean it was the only sound source in the area.

Yeah, well, all the soldiers from Country C were dead, and not even their dying moans were left behind, but the sound of someone requesting radio communication was still quite noticeable.

.....

Ironically, while it was evident that Desmond wasn’t planning to respond to the messages sent, the noise of the radios served as a guide to identify the officers within the three squads, something quite useful for him.

Desmond loots the bodies of the three officers who led the scouting teams, showing not a single shred of disgust at the bloody scene or guilt at being the one to cause it.

Now with three military identification badges in his pocket, Desmond left the scene. “Looks like they only had the rank of sergeant; unfortunately, their badges aren’t worth that much, but I guess it’s better than nothing.”

With as much brazenness as it was possible for a human being to have, Desmond completely forgot that he had just killed nearly forty people and instead was tallying up how many military credits he would get for the badges he collected.

Since they were only sergeant rank, the credits weren’t going to add up to a vast amount, but for an average family, it was still enough to get by for a couple of months. As for the issue of credits? This was part of the changes brought about by the new military reform. With a view to possible war conflicts and other events, within the latest list of potential military feats, there was the elimination of foreign military forces; such a thing was, of course, accompanied by a price list.

While Desmond’s current earnings weren’t to his liking, he knew very well that there would have to be a considerable number of high-ranking officers in a mobilization of this scale. Hence, the potential earnings were quite good. Now, combining the thrill of the hunt and a need for military credit, Desmond was more than willing to dye the forest red.

Having decided in his mind, Desmond activated the futuristic-looking black visor he was wearing. A low sound, like an aquatic bell that only Desmond could hear, spread out rapidly, and in feedback, a large amount of information began to appear before Desmond’s eyes.

A powerful close-range scanning ability and a medium-range sonar ability were just a few of the skills possessed by the visor Desmond wore. As part of the payment Desmond received for his little mission to rescue a kidnapped android from a world full of know-it-alls and arcanists, Desmond’s visor was anything but ordinary.

Within Desmond’s vision, a three-dimensional scan appeared, pinpointing every human being in the forest within a one-kilometer radius. Quickly, Desmond’s brain began to filter the information, discarding certain groups that were quite sure to belong to his side, given their position.

Because Desmond couldn’t process information as fast as Sara and the visor’s friendly fire feature had prerequisites that he didn’t currently meet, it took Desmond a few moments to form his plan of action.

Touching the back of his jaw and running his hand in front of his face, a mask, almost like a second skin made of hexagonal metal panels, covered Desmond’s face.

The mask was just a tiny bonus that Desmond had gotten along with the visor, and its functions were much less powerful. The cover would prevent Desmond from breathing gases or other foreign substances and had a light distortion function, something quite useful if you did not want your face to appear on a surveillance recording.

In this particular instance, Desmond was more concerned with keeping blood or human remains from falling into his mouth while he was fighting, which had happened in the past and was, frankly, a pretty unpleasant experience.

With his concerns still put aside and a preliminary plan ready, Desmond began to move through the forest at full speed. With every step Desmond took, his feet shattered the bark of the trees he kicked to stay airborne, creating a thunderous sound; it was clear that Desmond was prioritizing speed over stealth.

Soon, another scouting squad found themselves in Desmond’s way; unlike the previous ones, this one heard the noise caused by Desmond’s movement, and they were more defensive and prepared.

What difference did it make if a rabbit knew that a wolf was on its way? The answer was simple: unless the rabbit runs away at full speed, it makes no difference.

A dozen soldiers, male and female, all saw a single thing before death fell upon them. All they saw was a shadow move unreasonably fast from above before it fell into the middle of their group.

Standing in the middle of a dozen armed men and women, Desmond was relatively calm; his visor, on the other hand, was showing Desmond a scene that Sara would find familiar.

The visor was processing myriad information with terrifying speed, giving Desmond a route to follow through with distances, movement patterns, reaction times, escape routes, ammunition, and the trajectory of possible incoming attacks.

Desmond began brandishing both pistols, his arms moving in oscillating patterns; Desmond slowly turned around, changing his position as he unleashed a barrage of bullets.

In a very bizarre and aggressive way, it seemed as if Desmond was dancing as the bullets kept coming out of the barrel of both silver pistols, always finding their way to a vital area before taking someone’s life.

Desmond’s shooting positions didn’t show the slightest structure or stability. Still, with his superhuman strength, significant control over his own body, and the support of the scope, Desmond fired twelve shots in four seconds, killing all the soldiers in the process.

In a way, the visor’s ability to scan and analyze information combined perfectly with Desmond’s ridiculous combat prowess and almost bestial reflexes.

While Desmond didn’t need the scope and pistols to kill a dozen armed men, the difference was abysmal in terms of efficiency and power consumption.

Even Desmond would have to spend a decent amount of mana on killing all twelve men quickly, or he would be risking having to use even more mana to avoid the barrage of bullets. Aided by the scope and a pair of high-caliber weapons, Desmond’s combat prowess was incredibly stable and efficient; even if he was inferior to his actual combat power when he fought using mana, the trade was still favorable.

As a little added bonus, Desmond simply enjoyed this combat style, although it was unlikely that he would ever give up his fondness for hand-to-hand combat.

Details aside, Desmond went through his loot-and-hunt routine at least four more times before the enemy command center realized something was seriously wrong. By this time, Desmond had nine badges, eight sergeant-level, and one lieutenant-rank, but he was still quite dissatisfied with the result.

Desmond’s blue eyes, covered by the black visor, held a predatory gleam as they peered at a position displayed by the radar; Tired of catching small fish, Desmond set his sights on larger prey.