Conan: Begins to collaborate with Miss Bayonetta and become famous

"Similarly, it also contains evidence that you completely silenced the submarine," Rum said calmly, his tone as steady as if he were discussing the weather.

“Since neither of us wants anyone else to find it,” the blond man said, crossing his arms and taking a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind, “why don’t we... join forces?”

"Work together?" Rum's lips curled into an enigmatic smile.

“You might want to consider this,” the blond man leaned forward slightly, a fervent glint in his eyes, “If one day, the astonishing computing power of the AI ​​could be combined with the resources accumulated by our organization, along with the massive military-industrial complexes behind various governments…”

"What would that look like?" His voice was slightly hoarse with excitement, and his ambition almost overflowed from his eyes.

“That does sound… impressive.” Rum’s reply was somewhat perfunctory.

“That’s right!” The blond man was very satisfied with Rum’s reaction. “In this way, whether it’s within the government or at the top of an organization, those who still hold outdated ideas—such as narrow-minded patriotism that is a stumbling block, or those who suddenly have a saintly heart to save the world—must be eliminated immediately. We must not leave any hidden dangers behind!”

He frowned and made a cutting motion with his palm in front of his neck.

Gil, standing to the side, let out a barely audible sneer, his eyes filled with contempt, like a superior being looking down on an overconfident ant.

“So…” Rum seemed to be trying to understand the other person’s logic, “you mean, you want to cooperate with the intelligent entity?”

He leaned closer and lowered his voice: "Use its power to clean up the old fogies within your organization... including that puppet 'master'?"

A flicker of undisguised annoyance crossed Rum's face as he continued, "Then, clear away the obstacles from hostile governments... Once all the stumbling blocks are removed, you can build a powerful superpower and realize your dream of world domination. Am I right?"

"You know what I mean." The blond man gave him a knowing wink.

"All of this is for a higher ideal." He put on a solemn expression, cleverly packaging his naked ambition as a grand vision.

“And are you sure,” Rum said, feigning an almost pleading look, “that no one else in the world knows the exact location of the ‘Sevastopol’?”

The blond man carefully observed Rum's expression, and a confident smile gradually appeared on his face.

"Of course, only I in the whole world know." His words were full of unquestionable confidence, as if the outcome was already decided.

"I see..." Rum scratched his cheek thoughtfully, pretending to be deep in thought.

"It's okay, I can give you time to take the test—"

The blond man's words came to an abrupt halt.

Rum moved! Lightning fast! His arm created a blur, and a flash of cold light streaked across the air like lightning—

The blond man felt a chill on his neck, followed by a deep, long wound that suddenly burst open, bringing with it a burning pain and a strange feeling of suffocation. He felt like a traveler who had been trekking through the desert for days and was on the verge of dying of thirst, his throat burning with pain.

He stared in horror at his blood-stained palms, the fear of death gripping him instantly.

He didn't understand why Rum would suddenly resort to such a deadly act when he had clearly shown signs of compromise.

He was clearly the only one in the world who possessed that crucial coordinate...

His thoughts ceased there, his eyes slowly closed, and his dream of unifying the world vanished.

Rum flicked the blood off his blade, looked at the motionless body on the ground, and coldly stated the reason: "Because you will betray us."

Yes, if the intelligent being could deduce Grace's fate, how could it not foresee the blond man's end?

“Then,” Rum gritted his teeth, his voice filled with deep-seated hatred, “you will tell everything you know to that damned white wine…”

"Just because he once saved your life!" As he spoke, Rum's sharp gaze suddenly shot towards Gil, who was standing to his side and behind him.

It turns out that this sentence was never meant for the dead.

Instead, it was the man behind him, whom he had always believed to be absolutely loyal—Kiel!

Kiel's face turned deathly pale, and she shook her head frantically, trying to deny Rum's accusations. At least for this moment, her loyalty to Rum was one hundred percent.

However, before she could even open her mouth to defend herself, Rum raised the blood-stained blade in his hand again, whistling through the air, and aimed it straight at her carotid artery!

The carriage jolted wildly on the tracks, and the dim yellow light cast distorted shadows of the fighting figures onto the walls.

The air was thick with the stench of blood and the cold, metallic scent of steel.

Kiel was breathing heavily; at her feet, a corpse was slowly growing cold.

Her opponent, a man named Rum, was like a patient cheetah, the long, narrow dagger in his hand gleaming deadly in the light.

In the previous struggle, Gil was clearly at a disadvantage. Rum's knife skills were ruthless and cunning, and he almost slit her throat several times, leaving several burning wounds on her arms and waist, with blood seeping out from under her torn clothes.

In terms of strength, I am definitely several times stronger than Rum.

Unfortunately, Rum had already reviewed the simulations countless times beforehand.

He knew every move Kiel made!

“That’s enough.” Rum’s voice was hoarse, with a hint of cat-and-mouse schadenfreude.

He closed in again, the tip of his knife drawing a strange arc, aiming straight for Kiel's heart.

Kiel suddenly leaned back, his back almost touching the ground, the movement as light as if he had no weight.

In the instant she fell, her right hand flashed out to the armpit of the corpse beside her—there, a black pistol, half-exposed from its holster, lay quietly.

This is her only chance!

Click! She skillfully drew her gun, cocked it, and completed the action in one smooth motion.

The cool touch from my fingertips brought a sense of calm.

A strange, almost predictable glint flashed in Rum's eyes. Without the slightest hesitation, he pulled the trigger even faster than Kiel!

Instead of lunging forward, he used the momentum of the swaying carriage to suddenly retreat to the side and rear, cleverly shrinking his body behind the metal door frame connecting the two carriages.

boom!boom!

Two sharp gunshots ripped through the noise in the carriage.

The bullet struck the heavy metal door frame, sending up blinding sparks and leaving a deep dent, but it did not harm Rum in the slightest.

He was, after all, a man who had read the script beforehand; he was the director of this train scene, accurately predicting her movements and shooting trajectory.

Kiel was startled, but her killing instincts made her lower her wrist again without hesitation after firing two shots. Her crosshair was locked on any opening Rum might make, and her index finger was ready to pull the trigger for the third time!

At that very moment, a strange sensation came from my chest first.

It's not pain, but a kind of...?

The cold, obstructed feeling was as if a block of hard ice had suddenly been stuffed into my chest.

A warm liquid gushed out, quickly soaking the front of her clothes.

Kiel instinctively lowered his head.

In the center of her chest, below her heart, stood a familiar knife hilt, standing silently.

It was the long, narrow dagger in Rum's hand!

When did it come about? How did it arrive?

She didn't even see him throw it.

Indeed, in the brief moment between his strange retreat and evasion, drawing her full attention and the gun spitting flames, the deadly throwing knife, like a silent viper, pierced through the brief span of time and space, precisely embedding itself in her body.

The force that pulls the trigger, along with the rapid loss of life, slips silently from the fingertips.

The pistol felt incredibly heavy and fell to the floor with a clatter.

Kiel staggered, clutching his chest; the cold, hard hilt of the knife felt terrifyingly real.

She watched Rum slowly walk out from behind the door frame. There was no triumphant smugness on his face, only an unfathomable calm.

“I said,” he said calmly, “that’s the end of it.”