14. And then, goodbye.

As Karl walked toward Patrick, Patrick, who had been targeting an NCPD officer hiding behind cover, stopped in his tracks.

His instincts sensed a threat.

A beast that had lost its reason and retained only madness could instinctively perceive who its greatest enemy was. Compared to the "little rabbits" around him, whose presence was so negligible that dealing with them mattered little, what Patrick felt now was the approach of a tiger.

"Tiger Claw..."

The term flashed through his mind instantly. Patrick did not know why he could hold onto this word so firmly, as if it had been etched into his brain, impossible to erase.

"Tiger Claw..."

He whispered it, and Karl, hearing him mutter something, stopped at a distance of twelve meters.

'Is there any reason left?'

Just as Karl thought this, eyes that were yellow suffused with crimson locked onto him.

'It seems not.'

Looking at those cybernetic eyes, reddened by the ruptured flesh around the sockets yet still unable to hide their bright, long-lasting yellow glow, Karl felt that all he could see within them was madness.

"Come."

Karl simply chuckled, issuing an invitation to battle. As if in confirmation of the invitation, the very moment Karl’s words faded, Patrick’s form began to blur.

The passage of time seemed to slow; he had activated his Sandevistan once again.

The Sandevistan Patrick used was a "Dynalar Sandevistan Mk.1." It was a model designed specifically for mercenaries and soldiers—in other words, a cyberware for combat situations. Beyond accelerating human reaction speeds and overdriving the body, it also came with built-in tactical subroutines.

With the aid of these subroutines, even though Patrick had descended into madness, he could keenly identify an enemy's vitals and launch attacks against them.

Patrick’s figure arrived at Karl’s side in the blink of an eye. A Mantis Blade thrust directly toward Karl’s torso. Judging by its trajectory, it intended to pierce through Karl’s right arm, then through his lung from the side, before reaching his heart.

"I... can... see... you..."

In the time dilated by Patrick’s perception, he saw a smile slowly stretching, a tilt of a head, and words that should have been fluid.

He was keeping up with his speed?!

Even though he should have been mired in madness, Patrick still felt a jolt of alarm and a chill.

But the thrusting Mantis Blade could not be retracted; he could only continue the motion.

Karl watched it all, his smile growing even more radiant.

He had guessed right.

From the moment he first saw this cyberpsycho use the Sandevistan, Karl had formed some basic hypotheses. Summarizing them in his mind, he had already discerned the opponent’s movement patterns.

A mind in the throes of madness would only act according to its most practiced, most instinctive movements. In other words, for a cyberpsycho, he would not change his combat style, which was a flaw that could not be more ridiculous in a life-or-death struggle.

The first piece of information: this cyberpsycho named Patrick had used his Sandevistan twice before, and both times his path had been to circle around the opponent’s right side to attack. This meant that in his instinctive consciousness, attacking from the right was his most comfortable and practiced position.

The second piece of information: every time he used the Sandevistan, he could run for fourteen steps. It was fourteen steps both times. A person lost in madness, barring an instinctive warning, would not have the sanity to consciously deactivate their cyberware. This meant fourteen steps was the limit of his Sandevistan. An average adult male's stride is 85 centimeters, and fourteen steps equaled 1,190 centimeters—or 11.9 meters.

Karl stood exactly twelve meters away from Patrick.

He could not circle behind Karl. He could not use the flanking backstab he had used so smoothly the previous two times. He would only stop in front of Karl’s right side or at his flank to launch his attack.

Once one understands where the opponent will attack and which parts are likely to be struck, making a reaction that counters speed with slow, deliberate precision is not difficult.

A spring-loaded monowire whipped out, striking the side of Patrick’s arm—the one not holding the Mantis Blade. The razor-sharp monowire easily sliced through Patrick’s subcutaneous armor, severed half of his arm, and then made contact with the Mantis Blade.

The Mantis Blade was not something a monowire could cut through directly, so upon encountering resistance, the monowire utilized its nature as a line.

Just as a string winds around a spinning top due to force, the monowire began to rotate and coil around the Mantis Blade. With the momentum of that pre-emptive strike, Patrick, whose Sandevistan had reached its limit, could only watch helplessly as the monowire bound his entire arm.

The flow of time returned to normal.

Patrick instinctively pulled backward, trying to yank his arm and the Mantis Blade out of the entanglement. But his maddened brain forgot that the monowire wasn't just wrapped around the Mantis Blade; it was wrapped around half of his arm as well.

It would have been better if he hadn't pulled. As he exerted force, the monowire cutting into his flesh moved along with his motion, slicing through his muscle in the opposite direction with terrifying ease. With just a single tug, Patrick "amputated" half of his own arm's flesh.

Finally, the monowire jammed at the wrist. It wasn't that it couldn't cut further, but that under the tension of the Mantis Blade on the other half of the arm, the monowire had reached its limit. The friction between the two pieces of cyberware produced a harsh, screeching metallic sound.

Feeling the agony, Patrick experienced a momentary flash of clarity amidst his madness. Realizing the danger and the dire situation, he finally understood that his right arm was beyond saving.

He raised the Mantis Blade on his left arm, preparing to strike, but after all his struggling, Karl had long since prepared his countermeasure.

A pistol was pressed firmly against the center of Patrick’s forehead.

"Nice to meet you, yellow-eyed mister."

Karl looked down at Patrick, whose posture was a fraction lower than his own due to the struggle, and gazed at those cybernetic eyes, now thoroughly stained blood-red and with their yellow glow dimmed, as he bid the madman farewell.

"And now, goodbye."