Impressing the enemy

After peeking from behind a cover carefully, Tristan saw that the other roof was empty.

Like he thought, the enemy thought Tristan wouldn't dare to go back up and decided to chase him on the ground.

Tristan smiled.

His intention wasn't trying to outshout the enemy again.

Instead, he moved into a position from which he could see Mark's room.

Even if Mark was alarmed by silenced gunshots from above, how far could he leave with a broken knee?

The answer was—not far at all. Mark's silhouette was visible in his room through the thin curtain. With the increased observation skill, Tristan spotted even more details than before.

Mark was calling someone, but getting no response. In frustration, he was moving the phone away from his ear and back.

Tristan aimed at Mark's head. At this distance, he didn't even need optics.

His anger flared within him.

'I gave him a second chance, and instead of taking it and getting the fuck out of this city, he turned against me. Even that bitch Evelyn had enough sense to know when she's beaten!'

Tristan scowled and pressed the trigger.

The bullet flew forth like a continuation of his anger.

It left a small hole in the window glass, the curtain, Mark's head, and stuck in the wall behind him. There were barely any traces, but Mark fell like a puppet with cut strings.

Tristan let out a long breath, satisfaction welling in him, and ejected the spent casing.

There were plenty of those lying around, which were definitely a piece of evidence, but at this point, it was too late to gather them.

'That other shooter—it's good that he lost me for now. I better just get away from him. If he's from Cuatro Angulos and I kill him, Pierce will have my neck. I'm not strong enough to get into hot water with two gangs at once—yet.'

With that thought, Tristan ran to the fire stairs. They were too open and left him vulnerable, but the inner staircase was definitely full of alarmed people right now—if the door toward it was open at all.

He ran down the stairs two at a time, forcefully ignoring the way rusty metal creaked under his feet. Tristan was at the second floor when he saw his attacker appear from the corner, rifle at the ready.

The wound Tristan had left him before now was bandaged roughly.

'Shit. You leave me no choice!'

Tristan ran all the remaining stairs down, then jumped down from the two meters that separated him and the lawn below.

A bullet scratched his unwounded shoulder, making his wounds more symmetrical.

Tristan landed into a crouch, feeling the impact pulse through his feet and hearing the crunch of discarded syringes under his shoes.

[Ding!]

[You gained a new skill—athletics. Reward: 100 PP!]

Tristan blinked and sprung into a run, charging at the enemy and raising his own rifle. He shot at his legs, barely aiming, and missed when the enemy jerked away.

However, the enemy's returned shots missed Tristan, too.

There were only ten meters separating them when Tristan landed, and he crossed them in a blink of an eye.

Without hesitation, Tristan let his rifle fall to the ground and punched his opponent in the face.

The punch flew with even more speed and precision than Tristan showed before.

With his honed reflexes, Ranged barely was ready to block it with his own rifle. However, Tristan saw through his defenses.

Instead of breaking his fist on a metal rifle, he moved his hand around it, turning his punch into a grab for Ranger's weapon.

Ranger barely slipped away from that when Tristan kicked at his knee faster than a snake.

A blow upon blow was ruthlessly raining on Ranger, and the tough man could barely weather them. He didn't even have an opportunity to pull out his combat knife.

It was absolutely not the same level Ranger had judged Tristan to be at from their shootout on the roof!

His current strength was on the level of aspiring athletes, and his technique was something Ranger was totally unprepared for.

[Ding!]

[You have impressed a person of high skill. Reward: your PP increased by 500!]

Although Tristan was used to annoying notifications, this one still distracted him for a fraction of a second.

His opponent used the time to launch a counterattack, bashing Tristan with the butt of his rifle.

However, Tristan dodged and immediately seized the initiative again. With a punch at the enemy's throat, Tristan sent the man to the ground, where he coughed heavily and gasped for breath.

Tristan kicked his head, knocking the man out entirely.

'A person of high skill? Who was this guy?'

He wanted to analyze the new type of notification he got, but he already saw some people looking at him from the windows, and there were shouts, too.

However, Tristan couldn't just ignore the man he defeated.

He leaned over his body and quickly patted through the man's pockets. With his pickpocket's fingers, Tristan quickly fished a phone out of them.

Tristan also lowered down his mask—the man was as white as they got. And a quick check showed a lack of any tattoos on the back of his neck.

'Is he not from Angulos?' Tristan wondered. 'Maybe he has a tattoo somewhere else. Fuck, there are too many people around to kill him, anyway.'

Feeling like he was painting a target on his back, Tristan just took the man's phone and ran away from the stares directed at him toward the less crowded alleyways.

Tristan moved around, keeping a keen ear out for other people and avoiding them. He sneaked through the shadows until he was far from the commotion he caused.

The mission didn't go as perfectly as he wanted to, but it worked out. He was sure that if no one saw his face in detail from the distance Tristan was at, and he covered part of it by his hood.

Now was the time to reap his rewards and search for some answers.