Chapter 957: Section 628: Regret (1)
It seems that this guy named Victor should be a human, but he must have been modified by that military AI.
The modification surgery requires the recipient to have enough ’strength’, a concept Malin still doesn’t understand, because as far as he knows among the known recipients, those children born in the Purple Chamber are all different. Some possess enough Spell Talent, others become high-ranking warriors, and still others have extraordinary business acumen. Malin’s Lulu... this little Night Watcher doesn’t have any remarkable talents or the physical constitution; she doesn’t even... Malin frowned, putting this wise but otherwise talentless girl aside and then turned to the three members of the Dark Guild.
Now, they are Malin’s most troublesome issue to deal with.
Looking at them, Malin spoke: "It seems you don’t want to be enemies with me, why is that?"
This was Malin’s most curious question. After all, if they really fought, even Malin couldn’t squash them all in a blink. Without Raglov and Todd, someone would certainly flee.
The silence of these three young men to Malin’s question was surprising for a while, until finally the one brimming with buckshots spoke: "I have a younger brother and two younger sisters, all serving in the army or logistics... Sir, you should know that your existence has helped my siblings. Although I am an assassin, I understand that without you, my family members would have likely ended up in trouble, as everyone knows how terrifying Chaos is."
"I see... So considering your age, how old are your sisters?" Malin sat down, somewhat unable to comprehend why this young man’s siblings would choose such dangerous jobs. The brother was understandable, but the sisters, even in the logistics camp, that’s still the dangerous front line.
But... it is at least a job.
"My brother is fifteen, the older sister is thirteen, and the younger one is ten. Although the two sisters can’t fight as soldiers like my brother, they can wash clothes, cook, and deliver some food in the logistics camp," the young man said, taking a drag from the cigarette in his hand: "I can give them about forty Mowish a month, which is enough for them to live comfortably. But my brother was conscripted before your arrival, and there was nothing I could change. The conscription officer even sent his own son to the front lines. What else can I say? I can’t just kill the guy; he’s just another unfortunate soul."
"What about your sisters?" Malin said, flicking another cigarette to him while feeling some sympathy for his plight—though an assassin who took lives, business is business, but there’s still a shred of conscience left in him.