Hi I hope you will like my translation and editing, thank you so much!
Happy reading!! ☺
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"What the hell is this...? Hey, who are you?"
One of Oz's subordinates called out, but Oz instinctively knew the question was pointless. This was no ordinary person, and he wasn't friendly. In fact, he was clearly an attacker, fully armed.
As proof, the Black Dog mask, without a word, drew his weapon, a katana so long it nearly matched his height. He swung it in a circle, lowered into a fighting stance, and let out a single snort.
"Take him down!"
Oz barked the order, and two of his men charged. They used knives instead of firearms to avoid stray bullets or ricochets that could damage their precious cargo.
The two men's close combat skills were impressive. Oz had set a high bar for his subordinates, demanding a certain level of combat ability even from those without Dust Abilities.
So, when blood splattered and stained Oz's jacket, he thought the mysterious attacker had been dealt with.
But then...
Oz witnessed, in the next instant, the simultaneous, smooth sliding of his two subordinates' heads. Their headless bodies slumped onto the hard concrete.
The Black Dog mask, katana dripping with black blood, stared at him, his expression emotionless. Oz couldn't even register the speed of his swordsmanship.
A chill ran down Oz's spine.
He pulled out his MGC 9mm pistol from his pocket. The other two subordinates, reacting to their leader's use of a firearm, also drew their weapons.
This was no longer a matter of worrying about the merchandise.
A warning bell clanged in Oz's mind: This guy was dangerous.
A cacophony of gunshots echoed through the warehouse. Sparks flew as Dust-forged bullets, a product of Dust technology, exploded in the darkness.
As if playing out a film scene, the Black Dog mask moved swiftly between flashes of gunfire, closing in on the two remaining subordinates.
A strange, high-pitched "zing" and "whirr" echoed through the warehouse as the Black Dog mask swung his katana, deflecting the bullets in mid-air—an impossible feat.
With unnatural agility, he closed the distance and kicked Oz in the side, sending him crashing into the two subordinates. He plunged his katana deep into their chests, skewering them both.
Oz's ears were pierced by the death cries of his former comrades, men he had known for years, who had left their old organization together.
The gunfire ceased, replaced by an eerie silence.
In the blink of an eye, four of his subordinates were gone.
Oz's face contorted in agony. His weapons, guns and blades, were practically useless against this opponent. His only option was his Dust Ability. He tossed his gun aside.
Immediately, Oz reached for the injector on his neck. He activated it with a click, and a needle pierced his skin, delivering a familiar sting from the local injection.
Dust particles flowed from the capsule within the injector, heading towards the Black Meridian organ in his neck.
Instantly, a cloud of bluish-gray Dust particles erupted from Oz's body. The D-Dust meter on his wrist showed the air density rapidly increasing.
Oz manipulated the Dust particles.
Four pipes nearby lifted themselves into the air.
Oz's Dust Ability was simple yet powerful. He could manipulate objects imbued with his Dust particles. This ability was incredibly versatile, proving useful in both kidnapping and combat.
The Black Dog mask observed Oz's Dust Ability for a second or two.
Then, he casually adjusted his katana stance.
(I can't be killed by some random dude in a place like this...)
Oz assumed the Black Dog mask wasn't a Dust Ability user. Activating the injector should have caused Dust particles to swirl around him, but there was none around the Black Dog mask.
That meant his swordsmanship was purely based on training, which, in turn, meant he was a Dust-less, a mere mortal.
(No matter how much you train, a Dust-less Blanker like you can't beat me...)
Oz launched the four long aluminum pipes at the assassin. He was confident in his precise control; if the assassin tried to dodge, he would be crushed by the impact.
The Black Dog mask turned.
Oz, seeing his effortless dodge, twisted his lips into a smirk beneath his mask.
"Ha! You fool!"
Oz shifted his hand, altering the trajectory of the pipes in mid-air.
No human, no matter how extraordinary their physical abilities, could dodge an attack in the air. If they were hit, they would suffer multiple fractures from the sheer speed of the impact.
The pipes hurtled towards the Black Dog mask, tearing through the air.
But there was no dull thud of a body being crushed.
Instead, Oz heard a sharp, unnatural sound, like the shattering of a mineral. Then, a dry, metallic clanging echoed through the warehouse as something fell.
Oz winced. A curtain of dust and Dust particles obscured his vision. Then, the Black Dog mask emerged from the cloud, his katana held high, standing directly in front of Oz.
"What the--?"
For a moment, Oz braced himself for death, but it didn't come. The katana swung twice, "whoosh" and "whoosh," severing not his life, but his wrists.
The sharp pain of having his forearms sliced clean off, a pain he had never imagined, made Oz scream so loudly he thought his eardrums would burst.
"Damn it, damn it! My... my... hands...!"
He tried to understand what had happened. He saw four pipes, now eight, scattered on the floor. Oz was speechless. The man's swordsmanship was beyond comprehension.
"You actually cut them all...? That's... impossible..."
"O.Z. Izzy, they call you Oz, right? I have a question for you."
The Black Dog mask spoke for the first time.
Oz frowned at the unsettling voice. It was a strange, mechanical sound, a genderless, emotionless voice converted to a mechanical tone.
The Black Dog mask swung his katana, sending blood flying from the blade, marking a red line on the floor.
Oz gasped, seeing the weapon that had cut through metal and deflected bullets, yet remained unscathed. He couldn't believe that a mere Dust-less was wielding it.
Oz looked up at the Black Dog mask, his ghostly presence sending a chill down his spine, making him flinch.
"You... monster! What is this? Are you a... a Purifier?"
Oz uttered the name of the tyrants who ruthlessly eliminated criminals in the city.
"I'm not a Purifier."
The Black Dog mask sheathed his katana with a click.
"Then... who are you...?"
"Do I have an obligation to answer? Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
Oz remembered the question the Black Dog mask had asked earlier. The Black Dog mask drew a dagger from his hip and pressed it against Oz's neck, who was kneeling.
"I have a question. Answer honestly, and it'll save us both a lot of trouble..."
"I... I'll answer anything I know. So, take that thing off my neck."
The Black Dog mask asked, still holding Oz in the same position.
"Do you know a man wearing a mask with a smiley face?"
"Wha...?"
"A thin man, they call him Smiley. Don't you know him?"
It was a name and a mask design that didn't ring any bells. Oz shouted, his voice rising in frustration.
"How am I supposed to know? There are millions of people in this city!"
"You're a kidnapper, aren't you? You don't do business with him?"
The Black Dog mask seemed slightly disappointed that he hadn't gotten the answer he wanted. Then, he realized he had no further use for Oz.
After a beat, he reached for the hilt of his katana.
"Wait! Any other details? Is he a criminal? Tell me more, maybe I'll remember. I might be forgetting something!"
Oz tried to plead with him. The Black Dog mask responded quietly.
"His... chilling laughter... It won't leave my ears."
"Wha...?"
"He's a man who'll do anything to keep laughing. Once you've met him, it's not something you forget easily..."
The Black Dog mask seemed unwilling to elaborate further.
Silence descended upon the warehouse, and with each passing moment, Oz felt his life slipping away, the sound of approaching footsteps growing louder.
He couldn't just sit there and be killed. Oz desperately threw out a question.
"Why... why are you looking for him?"
"Why, you ask?"
The Black Dog mask touched his elbows. Then, as if caressing his skin, he stroked his black bodysuit.
"Why... I will find him... and I will kill him..."
As he spoke, the Black Dog mask's aura shifted. The tension that had been radiating from him dissipated, and the focus he had been giving Oz faded.
Oz's eyes widened beneath his skull mask.
This was his chance—he saw an opening. Unlike before, the Black Dog mask was vulnerable.
Oz shifted his attention to the pipes scattered around the Black Dog mask. His bluish-gray Dust particles flowed, lifting the pipes into the air.
The sharp, severed ends glinted in the moonlight streaming through the skylight.
"What... what are you going to do with him?"
Oz kept the Black Dog mask's attention focused on him, adjusting the height of the pipes.
"I will... "
The Black Dog mask gazed into the void as he answered, and Oz aimed his murderous intent at him.
Oz glared, and the aluminum pipes shot through the air at incredible speed.
(Your mistake was not finishing him off right away! Let's spill his guts!)
But just as the pipes were about to pierce his back...
The Black Dog mask stepped to the right, grabbed Oz by the back of the neck, and pulled him up.
He lifted Oz's body. The very weapons Oz had controlled turned against him, piercing his stomach in the next instant.
"I will hunt him down... And I will kill him with my own hands..."
"Gah...!"
Oz coughed up a mouthful of blood beneath his mask. The force of the coughing dislodged the dust filter of his Dress Mask, and it fell to the floor, scattering dust particles.
The Black Dog mask finally grasped the hilt of his katana, his grip quiet and firm. Oz, facing the imposing weapon, mustered all his remaining strength to speak.
"Who... who are you...?"
"Me? I'm Chumie the Revenger. A name you won't need to remember, not anymore."
With a swift draw, the Black Dog mask plunged his katana into Oz, and darkness consumed Oz's vision.
The Dust particles swirling around him vanished silently, as if echoing his demise.
One of Oz's subordinates called out, but Oz instinctively knew the question was pointless. This was no ordinary person, and he wasn't friendly. In fact, he was clearly an attacker, fully armed.
As proof, the Black Dog mask, without a word, drew his weapon, a katana so long it nearly matched his height. He swung it in a circle, lowered into a fighting stance, and let out a single snort.
"Take him down!"
Oz barked the order, and two of his men charged. They used knives instead of firearms to avoid stray bullets or ricochets that could damage their precious cargo.
The two men's close combat skills were impressive. Oz had set a high bar for his subordinates, demanding a certain level of combat ability even from those without Dust Abilities.
So, when blood splattered and stained Oz's jacket, he thought the mysterious attacker had been dealt with.
But then...
Oz witnessed, in the next instant, the simultaneous, smooth sliding of his two subordinates' heads. Their headless bodies slumped onto the hard concrete.
The Black Dog mask, katana dripping with black blood, stared at him, his expression emotionless. Oz couldn't even register the speed of his swordsmanship.
A chill ran down Oz's spine.
He pulled out his MGC 9mm pistol from his pocket. The other two subordinates, reacting to their leader's use of a firearm, also drew their weapons.
This was no longer a matter of worrying about the merchandise.
A warning bell clanged in Oz's mind: This guy was dangerous.
A cacophony of gunshots echoed through the warehouse. Sparks flew as Dust-forged bullets, a product of Dust technology, exploded in the darkness.
As if playing out a film scene, the Black Dog mask moved swiftly between flashes of gunfire, closing in on the two remaining subordinates.
A strange, high-pitched "zing" and "whirr" echoed through the warehouse as the Black Dog mask swung his katana, deflecting the bullets in mid-air—an impossible feat.
With unnatural agility, he closed the distance and kicked Oz in the side, sending him crashing into the two subordinates. He plunged his katana deep into their chests, skewering them both.
Oz's ears were pierced by the death cries of his former comrades, men he had known for years, who had left their old organization together.
The gunfire ceased, replaced by an eerie silence.
In the blink of an eye, four of his subordinates were gone.
Oz's face contorted in agony. His weapons, guns and blades, were practically useless against this opponent. His only option was his Dust Ability. He tossed his gun aside.
Immediately, Oz reached for the injector on his neck. He activated it with a click, and a needle pierced his skin, delivering a familiar sting from the local injection.
Dust particles flowed from the capsule within the injector, heading towards the Black Meridian organ in his neck.
Instantly, a cloud of bluish-gray Dust particles erupted from Oz's body. The D-Dust meter on his wrist showed the air density rapidly increasing.
Oz manipulated the Dust particles.
Four pipes nearby lifted themselves into the air.
Oz's Dust Ability was simple yet powerful. He could manipulate objects imbued with his Dust particles. This ability was incredibly versatile, proving useful in both kidnapping and combat.
The Black Dog mask observed Oz's Dust Ability for a second or two.
Then, he casually adjusted his katana stance.
(I can't be killed by some random dude in a place like this...)
Oz assumed the Black Dog mask wasn't a Dust Ability user. Activating the injector should have caused Dust particles to swirl around him, but there was none around the Black Dog mask.
That meant his swordsmanship was purely based on training, which, in turn, meant he was a Dust-less, a mere mortal.
(No matter how much you train, a Dust-less Blanker like you can't beat me...)
Oz launched the four long aluminum pipes at the assassin. He was confident in his precise control; if the assassin tried to dodge, he would be crushed by the impact.
The Black Dog mask turned.
Oz, seeing his effortless dodge, twisted his lips into a smirk beneath his mask.
"Ha! You fool!"
Oz shifted his hand, altering the trajectory of the pipes in mid-air.
No human, no matter how extraordinary their physical abilities, could dodge an attack in the air. If they were hit, they would suffer multiple fractures from the sheer speed of the impact.
The pipes hurtled towards the Black Dog mask, tearing through the air.
But there was no dull thud of a body being crushed.
Instead, Oz heard a sharp, unnatural sound, like the shattering of a mineral. Then, a dry, metallic clanging echoed through the warehouse as something fell.
Oz winced. A curtain of dust and Dust particles obscured his vision. Then, the Black Dog mask emerged from the cloud, his katana held high, standing directly in front of Oz.
"What the--?"
For a moment, Oz braced himself for death, but it didn't come. The katana swung twice, "whoosh" and "whoosh," severing not his life, but his wrists.
The sharp pain of having his forearms sliced clean off, a pain he had never imagined, made Oz scream so loudly he thought his eardrums would burst.
"Damn it, damn it! My... my... hands...!"
He tried to understand what had happened. He saw four pipes, now eight, scattered on the floor. Oz was speechless. The man's swordsmanship was beyond comprehension.
"You actually cut them all...? That's... impossible..."
"O.Z. Izzy, they call you Oz, right? I have a question for you."
The Black Dog mask spoke for the first time.
Oz frowned at the unsettling voice. It was a strange, mechanical sound, a genderless, emotionless voice converted to a mechanical tone.
The Black Dog mask swung his katana, sending blood flying from the blade, marking a red line on the floor.
Oz gasped, seeing the weapon that had cut through metal and deflected bullets, yet remained unscathed. He couldn't believe that a mere Dust-less was wielding it.
Oz looked up at the Black Dog mask, his ghostly presence sending a chill down his spine, making him flinch.
"You... monster! What is this? Are you a... a Purifier?"
Oz uttered the name of the tyrants who ruthlessly eliminated criminals in the city.
"I'm not a Purifier."
The Black Dog mask sheathed his katana with a click.
"Then... who are you...?"
"Do I have an obligation to answer? Shouldn't it be the other way around?"
Oz remembered the question the Black Dog mask had asked earlier. The Black Dog mask drew a dagger from his hip and pressed it against Oz's neck, who was kneeling.
"I have a question. Answer honestly, and it'll save us both a lot of trouble..."
"I... I'll answer anything I know. So, take that thing off my neck."
The Black Dog mask asked, still holding Oz in the same position.
"Do you know a man wearing a mask with a smiley face?"
"Wha...?"
"A thin man, they call him Smiley. Don't you know him?"
It was a name and a mask design that didn't ring any bells. Oz shouted, his voice rising in frustration.
"How am I supposed to know? There are millions of people in this city!"
"You're a kidnapper, aren't you? You don't do business with him?"
The Black Dog mask seemed slightly disappointed that he hadn't gotten the answer he wanted. Then, he realized he had no further use for Oz.
After a beat, he reached for the hilt of his katana.
"Wait! Any other details? Is he a criminal? Tell me more, maybe I'll remember. I might be forgetting something!"
Oz tried to plead with him. The Black Dog mask responded quietly.
"His... chilling laughter... It won't leave my ears."
"Wha...?"
"He's a man who'll do anything to keep laughing. Once you've met him, it's not something you forget easily..."
The Black Dog mask seemed unwilling to elaborate further.
Silence descended upon the warehouse, and with each passing moment, Oz felt his life slipping away, the sound of approaching footsteps growing louder.
He couldn't just sit there and be killed. Oz desperately threw out a question.
"Why... why are you looking for him?"
"Why, you ask?"
The Black Dog mask touched his elbows. Then, as if caressing his skin, he stroked his black bodysuit.
"Why... I will find him... and I will kill him..."
As he spoke, the Black Dog mask's aura shifted. The tension that had been radiating from him dissipated, and the focus he had been giving Oz faded.
Oz's eyes widened beneath his skull mask.
This was his chance—he saw an opening. Unlike before, the Black Dog mask was vulnerable.
Oz shifted his attention to the pipes scattered around the Black Dog mask. His bluish-gray Dust particles flowed, lifting the pipes into the air.
The sharp, severed ends glinted in the moonlight streaming through the skylight.
"What... what are you going to do with him?"
Oz kept the Black Dog mask's attention focused on him, adjusting the height of the pipes.
"I will... "
The Black Dog mask gazed into the void as he answered, and Oz aimed his murderous intent at him.
Oz glared, and the aluminum pipes shot through the air at incredible speed.
(Your mistake was not finishing him off right away! Let's spill his guts!)
But just as the pipes were about to pierce his back...
The Black Dog mask stepped to the right, grabbed Oz by the back of the neck, and pulled him up.
He lifted Oz's body. The very weapons Oz had controlled turned against him, piercing his stomach in the next instant.
"I will hunt him down... And I will kill him with my own hands..."
"Gah...!"
Oz coughed up a mouthful of blood beneath his mask. The force of the coughing dislodged the dust filter of his Dress Mask, and it fell to the floor, scattering dust particles.
The Black Dog mask finally grasped the hilt of his katana, his grip quiet and firm. Oz, facing the imposing weapon, mustered all his remaining strength to speak.
"Who... who are you...?"
"Me? I'm Chumie the Revenger. A name you won't need to remember, not anymore."
With a swift draw, the Black Dog mask plunged his katana into Oz, and darkness consumed Oz's vision.
The Dust particles swirling around him vanished silently, as if echoing his demise.
I love it how they exchange conversation
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