Having completed his transformation under the cover of the flowing, pitch-black symbiotic substance, Victor steadily caught the mechanical head that was still speaking and sparking with electricity.
His other hand, which had turned into a blade, reverted to its original form, and he hefted the "trophy" in his hand like he was weighing a basketball.
"Tsk," Victor tilted his head, examining the circuits and components inside the head, his face wearing that signature smile—a mix of curiosity and madness.
"Seriously, pal, over seventy percent of the people at Nevermore Academy have ordered 'personalized self-defense crafts' from me. On my client list... you don't seem to be one of them, do you?"
The mechanical head's synthesized voice remained steady, even carrying a hint of mockery.
"What if I'm one of the other thirty percent?"
The corners of Victor's mouth curled into a wider grin, his sharp teeth glinting with a cold light.
"Aha! That's exactly the problem! I might mix up the names and faces of students who have bought my 'crafts.' But for those who haven't..."
His smile instantly became dangerous and oppressive.
"I keep a very clear ledger in my head! Unfortunately, you—or rather, this skin of yours—aren't on that 'thirty percent clean list' either. Lying isn't what good boys do."
"Then, how about we make a deal?"
The mechanical head attempted a final effort, its tone even simulating a touch of human-like negotiation.
"Stop trying to block that idiot in the crypt. Let me complete my observation and recording mission in peace. In return, when I come to capture you later, I can be as gentle as possible. C-136, C-137."
*Bang!*
Responding to it were Victor's fingers suddenly snapping shut.
The powerful symbiotic force instantly crushed the metal, popping the mechanical head into a lump of scrap iron. The final sparks flickered like dying fireflies before going out completely.
"Looks like our negotiations have broken down. Oh well, the resurrection ceremony over there has probably already started anyway; there's no stopping it. Now then..."
Sounds came from all around.
Victor looked up, his gaze falling on the dozen or so "students" emerging silently from the surrounding shadows.
Their eyes were hollow, their steps perfectly synchronized. Their fingers rapidly deformed and extended into dark gun muzzles, cold blades snapped out from their elbows, and various lethal weapons protruded from every joint of their bodies.
They were practically walking, humanoid arsenals.
The leading mechanical puppet tilted its head, its synthesized voice ringing out without any emotion.
"As you 'expected' before, I've loaded these mechanical bodies with some'slapstick performance' functional modules. Does the current visual effect suit your aesthetic?"
The smile on Victor's face froze instantly, and he even instinctively raised a hand as if wanting to slap his own mouth.
"Dammit..."
He muttered under his breath, his tone filled with annoyance.
"That's what you get for running your mouth! That's what you get for making stupid suggestions! Happy now?!"
In the square, the parents watched helplessly as the "students" emerging from the shadows twisted and deformed their limbs, revealing cold metal skeletons and dark gun muzzles. Before they could even scream—
"Enemy attack!!!"
Some student shouted at the top of their lungs, their voice even carrying a hint of... excitement?
In the next second, a scene that left all the parents dumbfounded unfolded.
These elite students, who usually clutched copies of Advanced Potions and Ancient Rune Analysis, reached behind their waists or into their coats in perfect unison.
*Click! Click!*
The crisp sound of guns being cocked rose and fell.
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