Tower of Overturn

That was absolute death — erasing a person's existence, making everyone forget "it".

"Even a low-ranking person like me knows that Babel has touched history; these first-class Big Shots definitely know better. They must realize the errors in your words, which means you've directly proved 'we are not Babel'. Therefore, we can't pin this memory theft on Babel... Soon, they will also deduce whose memory was stolen."

"All channels, change of plan. Search the memories of the first-class passengers, report to me immediately upon finding the target. There's no need to copy the target's memories; just stun the target, bring them to the captain's room, and if the situation demands, amputate the target's limbs. Inject all other passengers with a slow-acting poison, set to activate ten minutes later."

The captain's voice rose flatly: "Everyone, reply if you hear."

"…Yes, received."

Trigger replied hoarsely.

He grinned as if he had eaten something spicy.

...and somewhat regretted it.

Had his eagerness backfired...?

His eyes, hidden behind a mask, gradually filled with murderous intent.

No matter, this wasn't a dead end.

As long as he made sure these people never returned, no one would know these stupid words were his own. He could easily blame it on the other two...

...as long as the boss didn't retrieve his memories, he could believe his words.

He snorted begrudgingly, and turned his gaze back to the room.

Sitting in this first-class cabin was a cat-eared girl, appearing gentle and petite in demeanor.

Considering that the body sizes of prone-spirituals who resembled small cats were generally smaller, perhaps she was not a girl, but a young woman.

Her hair was styled in twin ponytails, one thicker strand hung over her left shoulder while another rested at her back. Although she looked about fourteen or fifteen years old, she emitted the gentle and caring aura of a wise mother.

At that moment, she was sitting with her eyes closed, head bowed in her seat.

In front of her, there was an open box.

—Inside was a gun, with the safety already off.

Trigger's pupils dilated.

He recognized that gun.

Peacekeeper, a portable model of a shotgun. It could be carried in separate parts—the stock and the barrel—and assembled into a long gun, significantly increasing its firepower.

The captain also had one; it was very useful for assassinations.

In the Sky Era, although the giant dragons had allowed elves to form huge corporations, they neither granted them the power to deprive others of life nor allowed the elves to draft laws. Hence, even the "Seven Giants" could not equip their spiritual energy private armies with lethal weapons but were limited to using tranquillizer guns, net launchers, electric shock guns, and cold weapons.

Such lethal firearms could only be produced, carried, and used by dangerous individuals like the "Codeless".

Apart from the privileged class of "Directors" and their direct relatives, merely possessing one could lead to three years of imprisonment under corporate law by the local headquarters.

"Damn it…"

Trigger muttered.

...how could it be possible?

They were able to bring in guns because the security personnel were infiltrators who had joined two years earlier as part of this plan.

But this little girl...

Many possibilities flashed through his mind, such as maybe she was a mistress of an underground gang, or an infiltrating Assassin... In any case, despite her appearance, she was definitely not of the benevolent kind.

Suddenly, Trigger felt a wave of relief.

"Good thing there's that virus..."

Otherwise, if he had barged in so recklessly, he might have been killed on the spot.

After all, even he was only carrying a small-caliber silencer pistol.

With it, he could potentially target the captain—

He suddenly felt a surge of greed and reached out to grab the gun but abruptly stopped midway.

Still cautious, Trigger pulled the gun out and pressed it against the girl's temple.

"Stop pretending, you heard everything," he said.

Trigger snorted coldly, threatening in a low voice, "Who exactly are you?"

No response.

After a moment, he scoffed again, "Since that's the case, I have no choice but to kill you first."

Still no response.

The girl continued to sit with her head bowed, as silent as if she truly had passed out.

If there was still no reaction to this degree, it certainly couldn't be a trap!

Trigger was ecstatic.

He reached out to seize his spoils of war.

But as he grasped the gun, he suddenly felt an ice-cold pain spreading weakly through his right chest.

He was stunned for a moment before he saw the cat-eared girl's right hand pinching a faint luminescence.

Its tip was penetrating his right chest.

Like a carver holding a chisel or a surgeon wielding a scalpel.

Without murderous intent or any preparatory movement, her action was silent... If she had targeted his unenhanced heart or head, he might not have even known how he died.

Even though there was no damage to his outer clothing or skin, Trigger felt a chill flowing through his right chest.

His personal system immediately alerted him that his right lung lobe had been vertically severed by something.

His clothes, his muscles, his ribs, none blocked that delicate scalpel.