For example, extortion and collecting protection money.
They were all doing bad things, no doubt about it. But beneath the leather and chrome, some—just some—were half-good guys. One of the better ones happened to be the leader of a dropout gang named Sting. Like Hayden, he came from an ordinary working-class family and grew up as an ordinary citizen. Because of this, he wasn't too bad; he always tried to think of his neighborhood and did some good deeds in practice.
More importantly, with unemployment and the Great Depression causing social disorder, if any organization could be considered to be managing the security of poor communities, it would probably be these former student delinquents. Under Sting's management, the streets they frequented had recently become relatively peaceful. There hadn't been any madmen killing people in the streets, nor any robbers or thieves.
They're all doing bad things, no doubt about it. But just looking at these former student delinquents, you can't help but wonder: are these out-of-school teenagers involved in gangs because they're evil or stupid? Or are they truly desperate?
Tonight, Sting's gang is meeting another gang in an abandoned warehouse. This other gang is also made up of former college dropouts from poor families, and they're also involved in smuggling. They have similar gang structures, the same markets, and the same obsession with black leather jackets and bio-engineered items. Expecting these two gangs to meet without causing trouble seems highly unlikely. However, Sting genuinely doesn't plan to fight them tonight.
Although both gang leaders were now standing in the warehouse with their henchmen, facing each other, Sting genuinely wanted to negotiate. Therefore, he said:
“Friends, we were all ruined by the Mitra Group, unable to continue our studies, and forced to do this embarrassing business on the streets. Why fight each other to the death over a few pieces of land or what price to set for smuggling? Nobody wants to be a laughing stock for the big corporations, right?”
The other student gang opposite him was called the Black God Gang, and for some reason, they all called their leader the Black Prophet. This dark-haired former student had his hair shaved high, and beneath the newly grown, stiff hair were red ink tattoos. Sting was somewhat surprised to find that the tattoos seemed to represent a kind of magic he didn't recognize.
Fortunately, the leader of the Black Prophet nodded in agreement: "That's right. We are all poor people, and we all hate the Mithra Group, so we should work together first."
“But two groups like us are far too small to fight against the Mithra Group. It would be such a waste if we started fighting over territory. We should rely on the same thing first!”
Sting frowned at the Black Prophet's words and even exchanged glances with his friends—was this eccentric guy high on drugs? But the magic he possessed seemed more complex than it appeared.
So Sting finally asked, "What, what are you relying on?"
"You can all see our logo."
The Black Prophet pointed to the symbol on his leather coat, which was a black snake.
"Black God has shown us how to punish the Mitra Group. Friends, you should join us. We can pull off a few big heists together, get revenge on them, and take their ill-gotten gains!"
276: Destroy it already!
Every member of the Black God Gang has red magical tattoos. Depending on their position within the gang, these tattoos seem to possess different powers—this isn't news; gangs and thugs who frequent the streets lately know this, due to numerous eyewitness accounts.
But intelligence is just intelligence. Sting and his former student gang had never witnessed the Black God Gang's magic firsthand. Besides, tattoo magic isn't uncommon in various cultures around the world, so Sting's gang hadn't paid much attention to it in the past.
...until now.
The leader of the Black God Gang, the Black Prophet, claimed to possess special power—the "Black God"—and even tried to persuade the Sting Gang to join them. This left the Sting Gang bewildered, wondering if the gang from the next street had gone on a drug spree.
Fortunately, the Black God Gang is used to being seen this way.
"Words are no proof, so let me show you."
The Black Prophet extended his right hand, hidden beneath his black leather overcoat. Seeing his posture as if to cast a spell, the Sting gang members immediately became alert. However, the Black Prophet neither attacked them nor cast a spell on anyone. He simply pointed to the sky and shouted:
"Ashwing, heed my call! Daughter of the Storm and Shadow, eye for eye, blood for blood, appear before me against the murderer and avenger, Tissphone!"
The words had barely left his lips when the Black Prophet's shadow stretched out. From within that elongated shadow emerged a new figure, standing silently beside the Black Prophet. The appearance of this figure astonished the members of the Sting Gang. For the one who had answered the summons was a beautiful woman with black hair. She held a flaming whip in her right hand and a sword in her left. Not only did she possess breathtaking beauty beyond compare, but a pair of wings also extended from her back—those black wings seemed poised to slice through the sky!
An ordinary person might be captivated by the dark woman's beauty, but Sting had been a good student of Professor Albion and had taken a few classes in classical magic. Therefore, he immediately realized the beautiful woman's true identity, hastily retreating and shouting to his brothers, "It's a demon! Don't come any closer!"
The situation quickly became tense.
The woman in darkness heard Sting's shout, but only sneered, crossed her arms, and did not launch any attack.
The Black Prophet beside her shook his head and said, “Friend, you’re wrong. She’s not a devil, but an angel—a vengeful angel who avenges us, the suffering people who have nowhere else to turn.”
"What vengeful angel? This is the devil! Do you think I never went to class?!"
Sting didn't believe it at all. He had already pointed the smuggled military arcane wand at the female demon and the Black Prophet, and his other brothers reacted quickly, following suit. The atmosphere in the entire Sting gang had become extremely tense, like a powder keg ready to explode at any moment.
On the other hand, the Black God Gang... strange, they're being held at gunpoint, how come they're not scared at all?
"Friend, the knowledge you believe in is ultimately nothing more than what your books and teachers tell you. The difference between gods and demons largely depends on the observer's perspective."
The Black Prophet even had the time to calmly continue reasoning with him.
"Let's put it another way. Even if you say that the vengeful angels are demons, does that mean that the humans we see every day are necessarily more trustworthy than gods and demons? Are those capitalist gods who rule us good people? There's no such logic in this world."
What? What is this person trying to say? Could this be the legendary rhetoric of a religious fanatic?
To be honest, Sting was quite hesitant. Tonight, they had only intended to negotiate with the Black God Gang, possibly seeking cooperation, but they hadn't planned on using violence. Besides, these strange men hadn't done anything other than summoning demons; they didn't seem hostile. If Sting's gang were to fire first… it didn't seem quite right.
Just when it seemed the stalemate was about to continue, some commotion and noise seemed to rise from outside the abandoned warehouse.
【what's the situation? 】
Sting dared not look away from the Black God Gang, so he tried to contact his underlings via telepathy on the StarNet. To his astonishment, he discovered that network communications within a radius of several hundred meters had been completely disrupted!
"It's a cop!"
The Sting gang's henchmen on lookout outside the warehouse were now shouting angrily at the top of their lungs.
"The New Seattle Police Department has blocked all communications in the area! They're surrounding us with weapons—damn it! These damn cops didn't even give us a routine warning!?"
Before he could finish speaking, a sharp gunshot rang out outside the warehouse! The lookout didn't even have time to scream before his head was blown off by a large-caliber sniper rifle!
Meanwhile, the first wave of police stormed into the old warehouse in a V-formation! They wore riot armor infused with mithril, sufficient to withstand attacks from light weapons and low-level magic. The armor also incorporated life-enhancing runes, boosting their combat effectiveness and reaction speed. They were also armed with the Wotan Corporation's magical assault rifles, the "Kuriki-Executioner"—clearly special tactical equipment! These weren't ordinary cops; they were a paramilitary-level SWAT team!
In the first encounter, several unsuspecting Sting gang members were riddled with bullets by the police. These SWAT officers clearly had no intention of arresting them; they wanted to wipe out the entire student gang!
"【Magic Missile Storm】!"
Sting immediately waved his magical device and released a spell, firing five, six, ten shadow light bullets, all of which hit the chest of the leading SWAT officer—however, the SWAT officer's armor simply deflected the light bullets, as if it were just blocking raindrops.
Of course, the gang students also activated their magical shields. Blue halos surrounded them—but to no avail. The SWAT officers' assault rifles continuously fired magical bullets, easily shattering their shields and tearing them apart along with their flesh.
Within seconds, the surroundings were filled with madness and chaos, a frenzied massacre consisting of blood, gunshots, and screams!
Fortunately, the Sting gang wasn't the only one here, otherwise they would have been slaughtered by the police tonight.
Just as a policeman carrying a riot shield rushed towards Sting, ready to knock him down and shoot him, the Black God Gang—their leader, the Black Prophet—finally made his move. He extended his right index finger, pointed it at the SWAT officer with the shield, and said, "Die."
A powerful surge of magic instantly erupted from his body. The red magical tattoo on his neck glowed like blood, washing over the SWAT officer like a tidal wave, transforming into a pure magical curse that surged towards him, piercing his soul and his very essence. Armor was useless, cybernetic modifications were useless, muscles, bones, and skin were useless. The SWAT officer, shield in hand, staggered back several steps, coughing up blood. His eyes popped out of their sockets with a "pop," and then he collapsed dead, bleeding from all seven orifices.
"Fight! Warriors of the Black God! Fight!" the Black Prophet roared. "Slay these capitalist lackeys! Today we collect our debts from them, tomorrow we will take revenge on the gods!"
As the entire Black God Gang joined the battle, the situation immediately and dramatically reversed. These so-called Black God followers were actually using modern arcane magic. They also took out magical devices and launched spells such as [Bombardment], [Lightning Bolt], and [Microwave Thermal Ball]. Strangely, however, their arcane spells had an effect on the SWAT officers. This was because each time they cast an arcane spell, the red tattoos on their bodies would glow, amplifying the destructive power of their spells!
These amplified spells were able to penetrate the quasi-military-grade equipment worn by the special police officers, pierce their souls, and injure or kill them!
The Black God Gang's defensive capabilities were another matter entirely. They couldn't be as tough as riot armor, but they had other methods. The SWAT officers opened fire on the Black God followers, but when the magic bullets hit them, they discovered that the people had vanished into shadows—it was an illusion!
These tattoos even provided the Black God Gang members with a lasting illusion effect!
Although it's not true defense, under the protection of long-lasting illusion magic, these gang members can take on three opponents at once and are extremely brave!
But none of them could compare to Tissphon, the "Angel of Vengeance" summoned by the Black Prophet. This dark angel, wielding a fiery whip and longsword, smiled and unleashed a storm of slaughter upon the SWAT officers. A flash of the demonic sword, and a SWAT officer's head flew through the air, splattering blood that soaked her black wings; the fiery whip lashed out, piercing through useless armor, hooking into the officers' souls, and burning them to a crisp with hellfire. Two officers lay in pools of blood; a third tried to attack her, but his shotgun suddenly burst into flames. The Angel of Vengeance seized the opportunity, grabbed his head, twisted it, and snapped his neck.
Here and there, the vengeful angel swirled like a whirlwind inside and outside the warehouse, slaughtering the approaching police officers one by one. Even as the police fled in panic, she continued to fire fireballs at their retreating figures, seemingly unsatisfied.
The abandoned warehouse is now filled with corpses. There are police officers, members of the Sting Gang, and even several members of the Black God Gang are dead—illusion magic isn't invincible; if you're unlucky, you can still get shot.
But everyone saw the Black Prophet walk up to the few fallen believers, reach out and close their eyes, and softly chant:
"Burn my remains with the blazing holy fire."
What joy is there in living? What sorrow is there in dying?
"To eliminate evil and preserve good is the only way to achieve enlightenment (lucif-el)."
"Pity us mortals, for we suffer so much!"
To Stine, this seemed like a religious madman or a black prophet, yet now he appeared solemn, showing no sorrow whatsoever for his death. His recitation of these four lines, neither song nor poem, instead revealed a sense of compassion for humanity.
And it wasn't just him singing; the other believers joined in: "Burn my broken body, blazing holy fire. What joy is there in life? What sorrow in death? To cast away evil and preserve good, for only the light (lucif-el) remains. Pity us, the people of this world, for our suffering is truly abundant!"
The scene was so bizarre that the Sting gang students were completely dumbfounded.
There were many wounded and dying people at the scene. The Black God Gang members chanted incantations as they split up to heal the injured. White flames erupted from their hands, burning the wounds of the victims. It was excruciating; several gang members screamed in pain, but it was truly effective. Their wounds stopped bleeding, scabbed over, and were mostly healed. Anyone who still had a breath left was saved by the Black God cult members.
Even Sting was completely dumbfounded: "This...this is black magic, isn't it?"
"The difference between gods and demons largely depends on the observer's perspective," the Black Prophet said calmly. "The difference between black and white magic lies solely in the user's subjective will. The power that drives black magic is selfishness... while the power that drives our magic is love."
Why is this place filled with love?!
But in fact, the force driving these Black God cultists is indeed love! What joy is there in life? What sorrow in death? Pity us mortals, for our suffering is so great! —This, too, is a kind of love!
Sting shook his head, feeling his head spinning. But he knew what he should be concerned with right now, so he quickly grabbed one of the officers who had been revived and asked, "How did you cops know we were meeting here beforehand? Where did you get that intelligence?"
In Sting's view, the meeting between the two gangs in the abandoned warehouse to discuss cooperation should have gone unnoticed by the police. Moreover, the SWAT team's stealthy encirclement and subsequent brutal beatings seemed meticulously planned. Could there be a mole within one of the gangs?
This kind of paranoia could have easily caused a lot of trouble. Luckily, the police these days were just doing their jobs and had almost no loyalty to the federal government (although occasionally a fool would appear), so after being interrogated by the gang for a few minutes, they confessed: "It was a resident nearby! A resident from this neighborhood secretly reported that you were meeting at this abandoned warehouse today! Residents nearby can easily find out these things! They just need to keep track of when you went there and how much beer you bought!"
Sting was stunned after hearing what the policeman said—why?
These student gangs, while they carved out territories and engaged in smuggling, weren't in it for the money. Their sole purpose was to maintain gang operations and, in fact, keep the neighborhood safe. They robbed and extorted, but never targeted the poor people in the neighborhood (who, in reality, had nothing to steal). They targeted the lackeys of large corporations or the lower-level businesses within those corporations, like robbing shops.
Yes, it is indeed a bit petty and ridiculous. But Sting is also aggrieved. They are just a street gang made up of a group of college dropouts. Someone as outstanding as Sting can use high-level arcane magic of level six or even seven, which is already worthy of the reputation of a prestigious public university (especially since he hasn't even finished his studies).
But could they really attack the headquarters of a giant corporation? Impossible! They'd all be dead in the time it takes to make a cup of instant noodles!
Therefore, Sting could only say bitterly, "A bunch of fools being played by the company, they don't even know that we're doing this for their own good."
However, the Black Prophet shook his head upon hearing Sting's words:
"Your statement is extremely unfair to ordinary people. The people's eyes are discerning. Do you think they don't know that big companies are the worst? But why are they still willing to respect these companies and kneel before them? The so-called 'fooling the people' argument is untenable. No matter when or where, ordinary people just want to survive."
“Although the environment is getting worse, people are still trying to survive. For ordinary people, we are actually destroying the environment in which they are trying to live. We rob the bottom shops and offices of companies, which does weaken the overall strength of large companies, but at the same time, it leaves the neighborhood residents who work there without food. It is only natural that they report us to the police.”
At this point, the Black Prophet let out a long, drawn-out sigh.
"In such a harsh environment, corporate enslavement has become the only thing people rely on to survive. It is no longer a problem of a small number of people or a few individuals. No matter how much companies enslave people, they will still be loyal to and believe in the company, and will spontaneously defend the company's rule and capitalism."
These words left Sting speechless and at a loss for words. After a long while, he reluctantly uttered, "So what should we do?"
"What can we do? What can we do?" The Black Prophet finally chuckled, "There's nothing we can do. Nothing we do will change the situation. The current situation is just that pathetic, so hopeless. This world is finished—what joy is there in life? What sorrow in death? Joy and sorrow, all return to dust. Pity us mortals, for our suffering is truly abundant!"
But Sting was not reconciled. Looking back at his gang and the dozen or so brothers who had died in the police raid, Sting was filled with anger and sorrow.
"Is justice dead? Is Heaven blind?!"
He couldn't help but utter that curse.
"it's not true."
Unexpectedly, the Black Prophet became serious at this moment.
"The power of justice has arrived, but we must use it ourselves and realize justice ourselves. Haven't you seen it?"
He pointed to Tissphon, the "Avenging Angel" he had summoned. The dark angel was still hovering above the warehouse, watching for any returning enemies. Then the Black Prophet pointed to the magical tattoos on his body—special powers bestowed upon their Black God Gang by the Avenging Angel.
“With this?” Sting found it utterly absurd. “This force is barely more powerful than the New Seattle police. The company’s security forces could crush us like biscuits!”
"Perhaps. But what else can we do? Do you really care about surviving?"
The Black Prophet countered with a question,
"So we're back to the question I asked at the beginning, my friends. You should join us. We can pull off a big heist together—at least, we can give the Mitra Corporation a big middle finger before we die!"
Sting finally realized that the Black God Gang was actually something like a death cult. But then again, now that things had come to this, he couldn't quite say that these religious fanatics were entirely wrong. In fact, he was even somewhat swayed by that last sentence.
Anyway, they can't survive. Even if they survive today, or tomorrow, rebels who have lost the support of the people will sooner or later be betrayed to the company or the New Jersey police, and suffer a humiliating or painful death.
Playing big before you die can actually leave a stain on the Mitra Group's reputation, so it's a glorious death.
"Burn my remains with the blazing holy fire."
The Black Prophet, standing to the side, closed his eyes and murmured,
"O Lucif-el, righteous vengeful angel, bless me, and may my broken body be transformed into flames."
277: Yearning for Death
Overall, the Sting gang was persuaded by the Black God gang to go on a big spree with them.
Since we're going to die anyway, let's make it a spectacular one, like setting off a huge firework display.
Destroy it! What does destruction matter anyway? We're all going to die anyway, so why not fight to the death together with the enemy! If this sinful world doesn't allow the lower classes to survive, then at least a few upper classes should be dragged down with them to die. Only then can it be considered somewhat fair and just, right?
Such a simple, even somewhat dark, thought prompted the Sting Gang to join forces with the Black God Gang… and that's not all. In fact, after joining, the Sting Gang discovered that many gangs in New Seattle had already been recruited or persuaded by the Black God Gang. Besides out-of-school students like the Sting Gang, there were also unemployed young workers, such as those who had only worked for a year or two after graduation and were rendered unemployed by the Great Recession and the Skill Chip program. Their passion and resentment, not yet completely worn down by their companies, were now about to erupt.
Death? So what if we die! We're already barely surviving, what's there to be afraid of? Getting a chip implanted and being a slave to a big company forever, isn't that worse than death?
That being said, not everyone thinks that way. In reality, many are still afraid, believing that it's better to live a miserable life than to die. These people, of course, won't be allowed to join the operation; in fact, they don't even know the specifics of the Black God Gang's plans.
"Make a big splash and slap the Mitra Group in the face." That sounds great, but how exactly? From the beginning, no one knew the Black Prophet's plan; secrecy was paramount. After a few days, once the manpower was gathered and their loyalty roughly confirmed, the Black Prophet summoned the gang leaders for a meeting in an abandoned sewer, telling them:
“I know everyone wants to do something big, but we can’t just grab a gun and storm into the Mitra Corporation’s headquarters. We’d all be dead in minutes.”
These words made the gang leaders exchange bewildered glances, and then Sting couldn't help but complain: "Who among those who agree to do this together now is afraid of dying? At this point, it's just a matter of death, and no one cares anymore."
Yes. Those who were willing to be summoned by the Black Prophet are now all thinking that it's better to die a glorious death than to live a wretched life.