Chapter 63: Mission Preparation

"Junior brother, you've been staring at the mirror for ten minutes straight. I know the Executioners' combat uniform looks cool, but isn't this a bit too narcissistic?" Fingel, lying on the upper bunk, couldn't help chiming in as he watched Lin Nian twisting and turning in front of the dorm's wall-mounted mirror.

The time was the eve of the War Practice class. Lin Nian and the other freshmen had just collected their combat uniforms from the Executioners. They were a uniform set of black form-fitting leather clothes paired with tactical vests and belts, and considering the season, each was thoughtfully issued a trench coat bearing the emblem of the semi-decayed World Tree on the shoulder and the school badge pinned to the chest.

"No, I just feel the crotch is a bit tight, not sure if it's my imagination..." Lin Nian twisted uncomfortably, his expression somewhat strange.

"Normal. Those guys in the Equipment Department hole up day in and day out in Vanaheim. Besides EVA, are there any other female creatures there? You know, if you don't use certain things, they atrophy, so of course the gear those guys make only fits their own dimensions." Fingel muttered off-color remarks, indirectly expressing his dissatisfaction with the bird-brains of the Equipment Department.

"Did the Equipment Department offend you?" Lin Nian struck a few gun-drawing poses, constantly moving his arms because something felt off.

"Junior, you overestimate me. How could the Equipment Department ever remember a nobody like me?" Fingel rolled his eyes. "The day you use a new weapon issued by the Equipment Department and it inexplicably explodes in your waist pouch, you'll understand what I mean. Those guys are completely unreliable; nine times out of ten, the stuff they make will blow up. The only difference is when it goes off and how big the blast radius is."

"That unreliable?" Lin Nian vigilantly inspected his combat uniform, trying to figure out if this outfit harbored something like a backup hidden power source.

"Extremely unreliable. Anyway, if you run into anyone tomorrow who claims to be from the Equipment Department, take senior brother's advice and stay far away from him. Don't even accept a piece of gum if he offers it to you—guard against the possibility that it's a high-concentration plastic explosive," Fingel said solemnly.

"Does the Equipment Department only know how to make bombs..."

"Their logic and thinking are very strange, but you have to admit they are indeed geniuses," Fingel said. "U.S. cutting-edge weapons research teams spent ten years studying the most advanced optical sights just to reduce the margin of error for a kilometer-long sniper shot to within 3 centimeters. But for the exact same goal, the Equipment Department accomplished it in half a day."

"Half-breed researchers are that amazing?" Lin Nian was shocked.

"No... they didn't waste any effort developing optical sights. Instead, they chose to research a new type of explosive warhead capable of blowing up everything within a ten-meter radius of the target, so they wouldn't have to obsess over a 3-centimeter margin of error."

"That's... certainly a unique way of thinking." Lin Nian was momentarily speechless.

"Still, you have to hand it to them; they are quite talented in crooked and unorthodox paths. For example, they successfully manufactured an exoskeleton device that allows ordinary people to lift three tons, but the drawback is also obvious—its mobility is abysmal. Whether facing dragons or dangerous half-breeds, it's nothing more than a stationary target."

"Senior, tell me honestly, do we have an EVA Unit 01 in our school?"

"Unit 01 is probably unrealistic, but I heard those madmen in the Equipment Department were watching Gundam together a while ago, and now they're starting to research how to build a terrestrial version of the Zaku..."

"Senior, now you're talking my language. Can you pull some strings with the Equipment Department? I want to be a test pilot." Lin Nian's head popped up over the upper bunk in an instant, startling Fingel, who was reading *The Birth of Tragedy*.

"You don't actually believe those lunatics in the Equipment Department can build a Zaku, do you? Instead of a Zaku, you might as well hope for a Lancelot Knightmare frame!" Fingel yelled.

"At least Code Geass had the Lancelot models later on." Lin Nian inadvertently exposed the fact that he was a closet nerd.

"Junior, I suspect that besides playing CS, the only thing you did during your free time away from moving bricks was watch anime."

"Mecha is a man's romance," Lin Nian sighed sentimentally. "Why didn't our academy ever think about building giant robots to slay dragons? That would be so cool."

"You're an 'S'-grade half-breed, not an 'S'-grade pilot. Snap out of it, junior, you still have to go dragon-slaying tomorrow!" Fingel couldn't help reaching out to press down on Lin Nian's hair and ruffle it.

"Dragon-slaying, you say... but cars are running all over these streets and airplanes are flying in the sky, where are the dragons?" Lin Nian slapped Fingel's hand away and sat back down on the lower bunk.

"Remember what I told you a while ago?" Fingel flipped a page of his book. "The Executioners' missions aren't just about hunting pure-blooded dragons; dangerous half-breeds fall under their jurisdiction as well. In fact, most of the Executioners' routine missions involve those out-of-control half-breeds, while true pure-blooded dragon awakening events account for a tiny minority."

"Senior, didn't you mention before that our target this time is the perpetrator of a serial murder case? Is that person also a dangerous half-breed?" Lin Nian suddenly recalled this detail.

"Hard to say, but highly likely," Fingel said. "You should know that all of us half-breeds possess fifty percent dragon bloodline. Classes are judged by the purity of the bloodline—the better the bloodline, the higher the class. However, there is a limit to all of this."

"A limit?"

"The critical blood limit." Fingel got down to business and closed his book. "Our bloodline has a threshold. If your dragon-related portion exceeds that threshold, you will be assimilated. Your body will undergo draconic manifestation, and your will will lean toward violence and slaughter. The further you exceed that threshold, the harder it is to be called 'human.' Those dangerous half-breeds have stepped across that line and gone further and further down that path. They can no longer be called 'human'; instead, they are heterotypic beings leaning toward and pursuing the power of the dragon race. That's why the Executioners' missions are collectively referred to as 'dragon-slaying' rather than 'man-slaying.'"

"Senior, are you trying to tell me not to pull my punches?" Lin Nian asked.

"That's part of it," Fingel said. "After all, freshmen haven't been exposed to much combat and don't understand the cruelty of our line of work."

"‘Our line of work’—you talk like an underworld mobster."

"Don't hold back, junior. Remember, don't hold back. Senior isn't joking with you." Fingel sighed. "Do you know what kind of mission I encountered during my freshman War Practice class?"

Prompted by this, Lin Nian remembered that this guy had also been a student who survived the War Practice class. "Let's hear it."

"It was a hostage rescue mission," Fingel said. "A deranged half-breed kidnapped a young girl and locked her in an abandoned building. The mission for that year's freshmen was to forcefully storm the building and rescue the hostage."

"Was the hostage saved?" Lin Nian cut straight to the point.

"Take a guess?" Fingel said. "At the time, our group of freshmen hesitated when we received the detailed mission report because the Executioners' intelligence stated that the reason the deranged half-breed suddenly snapped was that he had suffered childhood abuse. His father beat him regularly, and his mother was beaten to death before his eyes. Finally, one day when his father pinned him to the kitchen stove to burn his face with the fire, his bloodline awakened. Using brute force, he broke free, grabbed a kitchen knife, and chopped his father into mincemeat."

"So that kidnapped girl was actually his younger sister," Fingel said, lying back on the upper bunk with his hands supporting the back of his head as he stared at the ceiling. "His biological sister, five years younger than him. His sister had suffered beatings from their father right along with him since childhood, and he had always played the role of her protector. Every time his father tried to beat his sister, he would shield her and take all the brutal blows with his own body. So logically speaking, he loved his sister very much. Back then, our freshman class was debating whether we should use gentle means to persuade him."

"I'm guessing the outcome wasn't ideal," Lin Nian said.

"Yeah. Because of internal disagreements, we delayed the time to storm the building, and by the time everyone reached a consensus, it was already too late." Fingel nodded calmly. "We calculated the time and infiltrated the building in the middle of the night while the enemy was resting and sleeping. We kicked the door open with thunderous momentum and stormed inside. When I shoved a gun loaded with Frigga rounds right against that half-breed brother's forehead and loudly demanded where the hostage was, he unexpectedly said nothing at all and just touched his stomach."

"No way," Lin Nian said softly.

"That's why I say dangerous half-breeds can no longer be called 'human.' Perhaps there is still a shred of humanity left in their hearts, but the violence brought by dragon blood distorts their worldview, causing them to do things that are unimaginable and utterly terrifying," Fingel said. "If we had chosen to breach the building earlier that day, the sister acting as the hostage might not have died. While we were still arguing about how to grant our enemy 'human rights' and a 'chance at reform,' everything was already too late. So, junior, don't show any mercy when facing those enemies, or the only ones who will suffer deeply are other innocent people."

"Senior, do I look like the soft-hearted type?" Lin Nian asked.

"I don't know. Killing people and killing chickens are two different things, and furthermore, nowadays many people don't even dare to kill a chicken. When a living, breathing creature is right in front of you, you thrust a blade into its body and it will splatter blood, wail, beg for mercy, and weep bitterly. Feeling it squirm and roll around in your hands will stir up a sense of nausea right from the bottom of your heart," Fingel said.

"So guns were invented precisely to reduce the sense of guilt in killers." Lin Nian touched the empty holster on his tactical belt.

"Do you think if you catch the criminal tomorrow, you'll give him a clean and swift end?" Fingel asked. "Pressing a gun to his head—at that range, even Frigga rounds will rattle his brains into mush. Will you really be able to pull the trigger?"

"I don't know," Lin Nian shook his head. "Mishima Isshin once told me something. He said that only when you encounter a 'choice' can you truly know what kind of person you are. It seems tomorrow will be that kind of moment."

"Heh, we haven't even written the first stroke of the character yet, and you're already so confident you can catch the criminal?" Fingel whistled.

"I have a hunch," Lin Nian pinched the bridge of his nose. "I feel like something crazy is going to happen in this War Practice class."

"Want to hear some advice from someone who's been there?"

"Of course." Lin Nian shrugged.

"That is, serial killers are very good at hiding their identities. So when you fall into an identification crisis and can't figure out who the culprit is, remember: generally, the ones who look handsome or pretty are mostly half-breeds," Fingel said seriously.

"What?"

"Literally," Fingel said. "A half-breed's bloodline is superior to ordinary people in every aspect. Strength, speed, and endurance are among the deciding factors of nature's survival of the fittest. At the same time, appearance is also a crucial advantage for mating and reproduction. Half-breeds are exceptionally gifted in this regard, so apart from those disfigured later in life, I've practically never seen an ugly half-breed."

Prompted by this, Lin Nian recalled that he truly hadn't seen any students with mediocre looks at Cassell College; everyone was handsome enough to star in a youth idol drama.

"You're an example, junior. As an 'S'-grade, you're handsome with quite a distinct style, well worthy of the 'S'-grade title." Fingel gave a thumbs-up. Lin Nian didn't refute it and accepted the senior's approval with great humility. "So, if you're not sure who the culprit is during a mission, just look for the best-looking guy in the crowd. Nine times out of ten, that's the person you're looking for!"

Fingel snapped his fingers. "And one more thing, hold onto this."

Lin Nian reacted quickly, raising his hand to catch the object dropping from the upper bunk. Opening his palm, he found a 9mm steel-core bullet, its outer brass layer reflecting a white sheen under the light.

"Senior has intelligence sources. The location of your mission this time has heavy pedestrian traffic and is also a sensitive area, so they won't issue live ammunition to you freshmen. Cherish this bullet and use it sparingly; it might just work wonders at a critical moment," Fingel said lazily.

Lin Nian gripped the bullet without asking where Fingel had managed to get it. He just looked up thoughtfully at the upper bunk where Fingel was leisurely crossing his legs.