Torn City: The Almighty System

On It

Before the hand could reach Lincoln’s coat pocket, Lincoln grabbed it hard and twisted it.

The sound of bones dislocating was heard.

[Grasping: Overpowered Target by 2 Levels, Inflicted 20 Damage to Target HP, Dislocated Target’s arm...]

"Let go! Let go! MY HAND!" the thief screamed in agony.

In the face of sheer pain, the thief did not remember to hide his face. He just shouted with all his might, his body kneeling down due to the immense pain, snot and tears covering his face in an instant.

The sudden shouts and change of events attracted the crowd’s attention.

They even attracted the killer with the hostage and Carl, who had been confronting him.

The killer was quicker than Carl though.

He pushed the hostage straight into Carl’s face, preventing him from moving forward, and then swung his dagger around madly, pushing through the crowd.

The crowd saw the crazy killer with the swinging dagger, and quickly moved out of his way.

In an instant, a safe path was carved out through the crowd.

At the end of that path, stood Lincoln.

"F*ck off!" The killer lunged towards Lincoln with the dagger.

He was the only person blocking his escape, so he had no intention of sparing his life.

The dagger was moving fast toward its target, but it was not precise. It lacked the necessary technique.

With his [Sharp Weapon (Dagger)] skill at Master Level, Lincoln could tell that the killer’s stabbing technique was flawed.

Other than the sheer force of the killer, there was nothing to be afraid of.

The driving force of the stab was no stronger than an average man’s.

Lincoln stood right there, calculating the attack, with no intention of dodging or ducking.

The scene was too much for the crowd to handle. It looked like Lincoln had been stunned by the incoming attack and could not move at all.

The poor guy.

The crowd felt pity for him.

Of course that was all their merciful heart could do at that particular moment.

They couldn’t save Lincoln from the attack.

They stayed away from the killer, scared of spilling blood onto their clothes. That was the only reason that could explain the choice they made.

However, not all of them were cowards.

"Careful!" Carl could not help but shouted at Lincoln.

He pushed the hostage away while he struggled to get up and dash towards Lincoln.

Just as the young policeman stood up, the crazy killer that was rushing forward was sent flying backwards. The man fell to the ground, blood flowing out of his mouth.

What had just happened?

Carl stood there with a puzzled look on his face.

The crowd shared the same expression with him.

Everything had happened in a flash. No one had seen what had really happened.

The only person who knew what had transpired was Lincoln.

While the killer had been approaching him, Lincoln had moved slightly and launched a straightforward kick. The killer’s dagger had slashed through Lincoln’s coat, but Lincoln’s kick had landed hard on the man’s abdomen.

Lincoln’s [Strength] Level was currently at III, but when he struck using his legs, the [Hand-to-hand Combat] special effect was triggered, boosting his Strength up to V Level momentarily.

Such power definitely exceeded a normal person’s.

According to Evilgenius, and using [Strength] as an example, this was how levels were categorized.

I: Less than a grown man’s strength; a woman’s strength.

II: An average fully-grown man’s strength.

III: A strong, buff body, like a coolie’s working at a station or at the docks.

IV: An amateur weightlifter.

V: Professional Weightlifting Level.

VI: Weightlifting World Champion

For one’s rank to reach VII or higher, they had to have superhuman strength.

Lincoln’s strength level could not be considered superhuman, or even VI Rank Weightlifting World Champion. As a matter of fact, he could only reach V Rank Professional Weightlifting Level because of the triggered special effect from [Hand-to-hand Combat], but still no one could deny that Lincoln was stronger than the average person.

The blood-vomitting killer was proof enough.

[Straight Kick: Inflicts 70 Damage to Target HP, (Hand-to-hand Combat (Master))...]

"Carl, I think this fellow here is the killer that your Chief has been looking for. Take him to John, it will relieve some of his anxiety. Oh, and I think this guy here belongs to a gang. You could probably arrest an extra pickpocketing gang!"

Tit for tat. It was only fair.

As for the thieves, Lincoln had chosen to stay out of it, because he knew that thieves around the station were like wild grass. You picked one off, and another took his place. Not even a prairie fire could destroy wild grass. It would grow right back once the spring breeze blew.

However, the thief had struck Lincoln and almost ruined his original plan.

Lincoln was not going to stay calm while being treated like that.

He was not one to tolerate things.

He was more of the aggressive type who liked to solve the problem at hand.

"Yes... Yes, sir!" the young policeman stuttered as he collected his thoughts. He was still in shock over what had happened.

However, that was not any of Lincoln’s concern.

[Sub Mission: The dead woman in the police station (Complete)]

Noticing that his Sub Mission had been completed, Lincoln quickly moved to the side of the road and hailed down a wagon.

He had not forgotten that he had more urgent matters to attend to.

"To the St. Patrick School!" Lincoln told the wagoner.

.....

The first part of the name described the school’s nature accurately.

It was a church school, and like all church schools, it was famous for its strict rules and quality education.

It was the educational aspect that made all the parents in the city send their children there, especially when the "No forced religion" rule was established.

That’s when St. Patrick raised its tuition fees and turned from an affordable school into an expensive half-public, half-church school.

The strict school rules and quality education still remained though.

In other words, it became a school for the higher classes.

No child could even dream of entering the school if they hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

Lincoln’s memory provided him with a briefing on St. Patrick School while he sat in the wagon cabin on his way there.

He could not comment any further on the "No forced religion" order, or the changes at the school.

Following the discovery of fire powder and firearms, basic knowledge was no longer necessary.

Still, some special rights had been maintained.

The wagon was still several blocks from the school when it was pulled over by a policeman.

There was a police outpost on both ends of the street where the school was located. The outposts were occupied by patrolling policemen 24 hours a day.

Still, that was not the only security around St. Patrick. Inside the school, there was a security team employed by the school itself, called the School Security Force.

For Lincoln, the School Security Force was the main point of this investigation.

After all, Arya Bolton could not have learned fencing or disappearing out of thin air, and the weapons in her possession definitely did not match her status or position. Considering Bolton’s protectiveness over his daughter, such dangerous items would have been totally off limits.

Arya Bolton must have understood that as well, which was why she had hidden the box under her bed.

Lincoln speculated that she had learned that hiding method from someone else.

After all, creating a gap on the floor without damaging the ceiling underneath was not something any Johnny Doe could have pulled off.

Obviously someone had taught Arya Bolton fencing, shooting and even the art of hiding, not just things, but also herself.

Fooling her own parents must not have been an easy task.

As for the mysterious person who had taught Arya Bolton all this, Lincoln considered them the key to solving this mystery.

From the looks of it, Arya Bolton had trusted this person a lot, so there was a very high chance that, after running away from home, she had come into contact with that person.

Lincoln was thinking of all the possible outcomes of the case, but his thoughts did not slow him down in the least. When the patrol officer asked him who he was, he quickly showed him the letter from Chief Officer John.

"Thank you, sir. You may enter, but only by foot!"

"Sure," Lincoln did not argue with the patrol officer.

He had no reason to as he had not really entered the school for his investigation yet. Such conflict might be good to avoid.

Lincoln payed the wagoner for the trip and quickly headed toward the school entrance.

The old school gate showed the grand history of St. Patrick School, and the newly-built buildings behind it looked very lively.

"Please hold, Sir!"

When Lincoln approached the entrance gate, he was inspected by guards once more.

The guard this time was a middle-aged man who looked like he belonged to the School Security Force. He was wearing a wide, loose missionary robe, but Lincoln’s sharp senses allowed him to notice the weapon under his garment.

It was not a dagger or some other kind of sharp weapon. It had to be a flintlock pistol.

"What tight security!"

Lincoln kept the thought to himself as he cooperated by halting and stating, "I’m Lincoln, the special consultant from the police station. I’ve come here to take care of an urgent matter!"

Lincoln did not know if the man had been made aware of Arya’s disappearance.

He figured that it might hurt Arya’s case if he said anything, so he chose to bluff his way through.

The man raised his eyebrow at Lincoln’s bluff, but when he looked at the letter in Lincoln’s hand, he didn’t question him any further. He made a hand signal to his side and another member of the School Security Force wearing the same robe ran inside the school.

"Please wait here. I cannot authorize your entrance on my own, even with the verification letter from the police station," the man said.

"Well, of course,"

Lincoln smiled in reply.

Time passed by the seconds.

After about ten minutes, the man who had run inside came back, followed by an elderly woman.

Judging by the way she looked, she had to be a nun.