Free Web Novel- "My name is Pavel Ivanovich Sokolov."
Hiss— — Hiss— —
Two streams of thick, black liquid slid silently from the custom spray canisters.
Pavel, piloting his mech, walked backward with elegant, noiseless steps down the red-carpeted corridor of the officers' dormitory, evenly coating every inch of the floor and carpet with the black paint.
- "Alright, this is my name now. Just a few months ago, I was living in a modern metropolis. I might have been a corporate drone, maybe a freelancer... Hmm... My memory is a bit fuzzy, but I remember having health insurance, weekends off, and a PS5."
Pavel had reached a lavishly decorated door, likely belonging to a lieutenant-grade officer.
He didn't bother picking the lock this time, instead pouring the remaining half-can of fuel directly onto the door.
- "I lived in the villa district in the northeast of the city... or maybe an apartment complex? Whatever."
In the shadows at the end of the corridor, his subordinate, Grigori, was trembling while clutching a heavy machine gun.
Watching their captain splash oil under the enemy's nose like a ghost gave him the feeling that he had drunk too much industrial alcohol today.
Pavel finished his task, turned around, tilted his head slightly, and made a'shush' gesture with his index finger held up to his helmet.
Then, he pointed downstairs, signaling a retreat.
- "I should still be unmarried. I don't smoke cheap cigarettes, and I only taste alcohol lightly. I go to sleep at eleven every night, ensuring eight hours of sufficient rest."
Pavel did a final check of the oil slick on the floor. The black liquid shimmered with a sickening, rainbow-like sheen under the moonlight, stretching deep into the darkness of the corridor.
He nodded in satisfaction, and under Grigori's complex gaze, he pulled a box of matches from the tool pouch at his waist.
It was a high-quality, windproof, and stably burning matchbox he had lifted from an enemy.
- "Before bed, I usually drink a glass of hot milk and do twenty minutes of muscle relaxation exercises. I welcome the next morning without fatigue or stress, just like an infant, and my health check results also show I am very healthy."
Sssshhh— —
A small cluster of orange flame suddenly ignited in the darkness.
Pavel pinched the burning match but didn't immediately throw it away; instead, he watched it burn as if admiring a piece of art.
The firelight reflected off the cold exterior of the mech. Behind the helmet were a pair of eyes so calm they were chilling.
- "This is my attitude toward life. I don't dwell on victory or annoyance, nor do I create enemies that keep me awake at night. I just want to live a peaceful life."
He released his fingers.
The match traced a graceful arc and landed on the viscous pool of oil at his feet.
Whoosh— — BOOM!!!
There was no massive explosion, only an inhaling sound as if coming from the depths of hell. The ghostly blue flame expanded wildly the moment it touched the oil surface, surging along the oil slick like a greedy serpent of fire, moving at the fastest speed of its life toward the depths of the corridor.
In an instant, the previously cold hallway transformed into a steel refining furnace.
"Retreat."
Pavel's voice came through the mech's amplifier, carrying a mechanical indifference.
He turned, gave a push to his still-dazed subordinate, and the two mechs immediately charged toward the main door downstairs.
This time, they no longer concealed the sound of their footsteps; the heavy clang of steel boots made the shaky staircase groan with creaks.
- "But ah— —"
Almost the moment they rushed out the main door, a heart-wrenching scream echoed from the second floor.
That sound didn't seem like something a human could make; it was more like a skinned beast struggling in its death throes.
"Fire! It's on fire!"
"Water! Get water quickly!"
"No! Someone set the fire!"
"Damn it! The stairs have burned away!"
"Cough, cough, cough— —! My eyes!"
Pavel stood on the snow outside the apartment building and slammed the heavy oak door shut with his backhand.
Bang!
The dull sound of the door closing temporarily muffled the screams from inside.
But it wasn't enough.
Pavel pulled a thick iron chain, originally used for towing artillery, from the mounting point on the back of his mech.
With practiced movements, he threaded the chain through the door's ornate bronze handle—once, twice, three times.
- "But in this world, there are always some impolite barbarians."
The people inside the door began to slam against it frantically. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom
Thump! Thump! Thump!
The force of the impact, carrying the despair of the dying, made the entire door tremble.
"Damn it, someone's outside! Open the door! I beg you!"
"I am a Viscount of Victoriana! Let me out! I have money!"
"Cough, cough, cough— — Damn Usar beasts!"
Pavel remained deaf to their pleas.
Under Grigori's gaze, he pulled the chain tight, tied a dead knot, then picked up a broken steel pipe from the ground. Using the terrifying brute force of the mech's hydraulic arm, he twisted the pipe directly into the shape of a pretzel, jamming it into the gap of the chain, completely welding the door shut.
- «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» "Look at these people, bandits from the Victorian Empire. Rude, greedy, and without any bottom line."
- "Now, they are the annoyances obstructing my sleep, and thus, they are my enemies."
- "I must take care of them so I can sleep soundly tonight!"
After finishing everything, Pavel took two steps back in satisfaction, as if admiring a newly completed oil painting.
At this moment, the second-floor windows had already been breached by the raging fire. Thick black smoke mixed with sparks shot straight into the sky, tearing a bloody red wound in the darkest sky before dawn.
"Damn it, it's Usar scum!"
"Setting a fire and locking the door! You sons of bitches are so insidious!"
"If you have the guts, fight us head-on! What kind of hero hides outside!"
"It must be that bastard named Pavel! I know you! You despicable— — Aaaahhhh!"
Those voices changed from cries for "Help" to vicious curses, finally fading into weak screams, leaving only the crackling sound of fire consuming wood.
Grigori stood aside, holding his precious heavy machine gun, swallowed, and the voice transmitted through his helmet carried a hint of trembling: "Boss... what were you muttering about just now?"
Pavel turned, his back to the building that had turned into a torch.
The firelight cast a long, distorted shadow on the back of his mech, resembling the spread black wings of a demon.
"Nothing, Grigori."
"I was just lamenting why a good person like me, who is pure-hearted and longs for peace, someone who would feel heartbroken even stepping on an ant..."
"...is always forced to do things like this?"
Rumble— —
Behind him, the roof of the apartment building collapsed with a roar amidst the raging flames. A huge air blast mixed with sparks swept over, making the rain tarp on Pavel's mech flap wildly.
Against this hellish backdrop, Pavel let out a soft sigh.
