Although Taras and the Faceless Ghost were planning to capture Arabella alive, Arabella was no ordinary bandit. Every strike she made had deadly force, and without proper preparation, Taras couldn't be sure of success.
"What exactly is that Simon Flail?" Taras stared at the weapon image on his electronic screen, unable to discern anything special. Wasn't it just a regular flail?
The question caused everyone in the room to exchange puzzled looks. After all, even in an era where cold weapons were still used in combat, they were mostly knives and clubs. Such a rare weapon was almost never used, and even though there were rumors, no one had actually seen it used in real combat. Even Marcellus had only heard about Arabella practicing with it when he was younger, and had never seen her wield the weapon in person.
The Chief Commissioner, though older, was experienced. After a moment of thought, he said, "The chairman of the Weapon Association should be very familiar with this weapon. Why don't we give him a call and ask?"
The idea was indeed a good one. As soon as the line connected, everyone immediately recognized the elderly figure on the other end—a man well over seventy or eighty years old. It was clear they had reached the right person.
"Simon Flail? Isn't that a hidden weapon?" The association chairman, had been an expert in all forms of weaponry during the era when cold weapons were frequently used. Even now, he taught classes, preserving the knowledge of ancient weapons, determined not to let them be forgotten.
"A hidden weapon? How can something so long and bulky be considered a hidden weapon?" Faceless Ghost was surprised. After all, hidden weapons were a specialized skill in their ghostly faction, and he had never seen anything so large and unwieldy qualify as such.
The chairman chuckled and explained, "Young man, you don't know. The Simon Flail is coiled around the waist and easily concealed under clothing. When facing an enemy, it can be used for a surprise strike, and experienced fighters can usually land a lethal blow with a single lash."
Taras pondered for a moment before asking, "Sir, if a specially made Simon Flail is weighted, would its purpose then be to sweep through the battlefield, killing everyone in its path?"
Chairman was taken aback by Taras's question and replied, "While the Simon Flail does come in light and heavy versions, few use the heavy one in combat. It consumes enormous energy, and although a heavy flail can kill with a single blow, it's extremely difficult to control and can backfire on the user. In most real-world combat, fighters fold the flail and use the light ends to strike, which can break bones and tendons. Generally, the Simon Flail is used as a supplementary weapon, used to surprise an opponent and disarm them before finishing them off with a larger weapon like a sword or spear. It's rarely used as a primary weapon."
The others might not have understood, but Taras, the Faceless Ghost, and Marcellus, all top-tier experts, immediately grasped the meaning behind Chairman's words. The Simon Flail was extremely difficult to control in combat. It was either used for surprise strikes or to shorten the distance by folding the flail in half. Using it to sweep through a group of enemies with a long strike was clearly not a feasible strategy.
Marcellus looked at Taras with a serious expression and said, "It seems that Arabella's use of the Simon Flail has gone beyond the realm of reason. She's turned it into a weapon of immense versatility, transforming what is typically a less practical concealed weapon into a deadly instrument of mass destruction. She can kill a group with just one strike."
Taras nodded, his thoughts drifting to the twenty-some police officers who had lost their lives. A surge of fury welled up inside him, reaching a boiling point.
On the other end of the line, Chairman's voice trembled with disbelief. "How is this possible? The Simon Flail is extremely difficult to control! Even when it strikes one person, it tends to get tangled or rebounds, hitting the user. Let alone killing multiple people in a single swing. This person must have terrifying core strength and arm control, as well as sustained force—able to use it like a hard weapon at range, and like a soft weapon for close combat. Is there anyone in this world who can use a concealed weapon like that?"
At this point, it was clear that further explanation was unnecessary. He gave a silent nod to the Chief of Police, signaling that the conversation with Chairman could be wrapped up.
The three of them exchanged glances, and then, without hesitation, Taras confronted Marcellus first. "Don't think I don't know. You've kidnapped her. If it weren't for the investigation into the baby formula, I would have found them already."
Marcellus shot a cold glance at Taras, sneering. "Kidnapping people isn't magic. It's been only seven or eight days, and Arabella, despite being injured, still has this kind of terrifying combat power. Maybe you should consider whether your skills are enough to catch her."
Taras didn't bother arguing with Marcellus, instead preparing his weapons, ready to team up with Faceless Ghost to capture the target.
Faceless Ghost furrowed his brow, watching Taras prepare his firearms. Something felt off. He had an instinctive feeling and looked towards the distant factory building. His expression suddenly changed. "Get down!"
Without needing to say anything, both Marcellus and Taras noticed it immediately. Marcellus even grabbed the Chief of Police's head, pushing him down to take cover. The next second, gunshots rang out, and a police officer who failed to dodge collapsed to the ground. The three men's expressions darkened. Others might not realize it, but they knew all too well—Arabella still had a gun in her hands. That made her virtually invincible!
"Did she take the gun? Did she take the bullets?" Marcellus roared angrily, not daring to lift his head, instead barking his questions at the Chief of Police.
The Chief of Police, suddenly pushed to the ground, was stunned by Marcellus's questioning. After a moment of confusion, he stammered, "The special forces on the scene are all dead. A few patrol officers were too frightened and were sent to the hospital. Oh, and that foreign agent, was on-site."
"Where is he?" Marcellus asked, glancing around but not spotting the foreign agent anywhere.
A nearby officer, who was responsible for maintaining security at the scene, responded, "Sir, that agent suddenly felt discomfort in his chest and was sent away."
Discomfort? Usually, these international officers are elite, and their physical condition shouldn't be an issue. But given the terrifying scene earlier, it wasn't unreasonable for him to have been shaken up.
Taras didn't think too much about it. What mattered most now was the situation at hand. No one knew how many bullets Arabella had on her. Based on the light machine gun she had taken, its effective range was about 800 meters, and its maximum range was 1,200 meters.
Given Arabella's skills, even with a modified sniper rifle, she could eliminate targets several kilometers away with perfect accuracy, even in blind spots. A distance of 1,000 meters would be child's play for her—she didn't care what weapon she had, she could make every shot count.
"Everyone fall back! Crawl forward, find cover behind vehicles!"
The three men knew exactly what had just happened. Arabella's shot wasn't aimed at anyone—it was simply a warning. She could take a life anytime, anywhere, if she wanted.
Taras glanced at Marcellus and said, "You take everyone to safety. Faceless Ghost and I will flank her."
"I'm going too," Marcellus said without hesitation.
"What do you plan to do? Save her? General Ackerley, in front of everyone, I advise you to reconsider," Faceless Ghost scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Recently, he had been disguising himself as a regular-looking team agent, and his words only added fuel to the growing discontent among the other Scalien officers. After all, an ordinary agent speaking to their leader in such a manner was unthinkable. Moreover, it was a given that national leaders should not get involved in the capture of international criminals. Having Marcellus here only made them nervous, fearing that any mishap might harm their leader.
Marcellus knew very well that he couldn't step in to save Arabella, nor could he take her away again at this moment. However, if he didn't go, he felt a deep unease, fearing that if Taras and the others teamed up, they might end up taking Arabella's life.
Taras was fully armed, equipped with a belt-fed submachine gun and enough ammo for two hundred rounds, along with a combat knife at his waist. The Faceless Ghost only carried a rifle, relying on his expertise in hidden weapons and surprise attacks to assist Taras in their assault.
The two of them, masters of their craft, were entirely different from everyone else. The police officers present watched in awe as their movements flashed by, like ghosts weaving through every possible cover along the road. One of them, carrying a live-fire assault rifle, moved with incredible agility through the trees, as if there were no obstacles at all.
Inside the factory, Arabella didn't fire again. It seemed she understood that, when facing an opponent of equal skill, the accuracy of her shots would be extremely low due to their speed of movement. Considering this, it was clear her ammunition wasn't plentiful. It seemed she was saving her bullets for the final showdown with Taras and the others. After all, looking at the mass of over a hundred people surrounding the area, only three of them were truly within Arabella's line of sight. Among them, Marcellus might not be as impartial as one would expect.
Taras and Faceless Ghost moved swiftly toward opposite sides of the factory, closing in rapidly. They had memorized the building's layout beforehand. After years of disuse and partial demolition, many of the factory's walls were crumbling, looking fragile and on the verge of collapse. Taras didn't linger on the first floor for even a moment. He silently ascended to the second floor, for one simple reason—only from a higher vantage point could he see further. The same logic applied to defense and shooting. There was no way Arabella would still be on the first floor.
The Faceless Ghost excelled at concealment, so he stayed close to the walls, silently ascending the stairs. When he reached the space between the second and third floors, he paused, listening intently. After a long moment, he could detect no sounds from the third floor—not even the faintest heartbeat. Taras, at that moment, also paused at the stairwell leading up to the third floor. He calculated the possibility of using a burst of force to leap directly onto the third floor and strike, but after carefully considering the angles and risks, he realized there was no chance of success. Reluctantly, he stopped in his tracks.
The entire building had four floors. Arabella was most likely on either the third floor or the top floor. Considering the best tactical positioning, the third floor was the most probable. However, he felt no presence of Arabella, and in a showdown between experts, even the slightest miscalculation could be fatal.
At that very moment, Arabella was standing just out of Taras's sight at the stairwell of the third floor. She tilted her head, looking completely at ease. It seemed like there was no one outside between the second and third floors. The Faceless Ghost believed his stealth skills had reached perfection, unaware that, to Arabella, he looked no different than someone running naked in the open.
As for Taras—Arabella silently smiled, her right hand slowly tightening around the Simon Flail. The grudge from their last encounter would soon be repaid.
