How to Spend Money Correctly (3)

"...They're reacting already?"

I had figured it would take at least half an hour before this hit the news, or a blog, or anywhere the Russian side would even notice. This was a lot faster than expected.

"Eh, not like I care. If anything, the dopamine doesn't get a chance to cut out, so this is even better!!"

I clicked into the recommended post at once.

"Ugh, what the hell are they even saying?"

Someone must have already dropped the coordinates, because a pack of Russian hunters had started flooding the comments. Every time I scrolled, a fresh wave of dozens of new replies poured in — curses, raw fury, and the sound of national pride hitting the floor, all mashed together.

Before long, a few of the Russian hunters had dropped the coordinates, pulled up naturalization paperwork, and started slinging the most unhinged threats about coming over in person.

The commenters saw all of that and lost their minds cheering. The gallery had gone completely feral — a full-blown disaster party spinning itself into the ground.

And no matter how many insults they hurled, no matter how many death threats they stacked on top of each other, none of it touched me.

Why? Because even if every last one of them showed up and piled on at once, they wouldn't put so much as a tiny scratch on my body... I mean, on Mark One's armor.

To my eyes, they were nothing more than flies buzzing themselves hoarse after someone smashed their rage button.

Well. I did need to tidy this up to some degree. It wouldn't do for Korea's hunters to catch stray fire over something that had nothing to do with them.

I turned and stared at Mark One, who had been reading down through the comments right beside me.

"Hey, Mark One. Wanna go play with that guy?"

"...? You mean that Dmitry Lighten fellow, my lord?"

"Yeah. I trolled him, sure, but what if that bastard takes it out on our people? We've gotta take responsibility and clean up after ourselves."

"Understood. Combat is of no concern, but... how exactly are we to locate this man and go to him?"

"That's the easy part. He's got a face, doesn't he?"

The smile that split my mouth was wide enough to tear at the corners. I sketched a new magic circle across the floor of my studio apartment — the same kind I had used to summon Alkerniman and Mark One, only a little smaller.

A moment later, a woman stepped out of it — platinum-blonde hair, and a pair of distinctly mismatched eyes.

"You called for me, Master? And more than that — just as Mark One said, you've become terribly cute. It suits you wonderfully."

"Oh, have I? Thanks for the compliment. Sorry to jump straight to orders, Ibella, but I need you and Mark One to track down this bastard's current location."

I flipped the system screen around and held up a photograph of Dmitry's face.

"This damn guy is trying ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to trash the land we're about to settle on. Let's find him and teach him a lesson."

"Hmm... he's rather hideous, isn't he? Ah — never mind. Understood."

Ibella studied the photograph for a long moment, then tipped the very corner of her mouth up and nodded. A faint violet afterglow shimmered in her pupils, and a vibration so thin it was almost imaginary spread through the air — like the leftover ring of a heartbeat, amplified, only clearer and more transparent than that.

"Good."

I blew the photograph of Dmitry up across the screen again. She closed her eyes without a word, tipped her head as if reading an old score, and hummed under her breath in a register so low it barely qualified as sound.

"Less an incantation than... hmm, more of an appreciation, really."

I had no idea when he had even appeared. Alkerniman was swaying in place beside us, muttering to himself. Mark One stood at her shoulder with the greatsword in hand, silently watching what she did.

After about a minute of that low humming, a thread of violet smoke unspooled from Ibella's fingertips and seeped, slowly, into the photograph. The face in the picture warped like a reflection shivering on water — and then, inside her pupils, a set of silver coordinates flared to life.

Her voice, when she began to explain, was perfectly calm. The data inside it was anything but vague.

"Target: Dmitry Lighten. Recent residual echo density is on the high side. Last confirmed: twenty-four minutes ago. Current approximate location: in the vicinity of 55.4 degrees north, 37.3 degrees east. Those coordinates match a movement path near the Moscow Outskirts Airport zone. Accuracy: roughly within twenty meters."

"Nice! Wait — no."

My eyes went round. I shot up out of my chair.

"Moscow? Twenty-four minutes ago? Did that guy already get on a plane?"

"Are there bodyguards? Grunts in the area?"

"Hmm~"

Ibella closed her eyes again, her face tightening slightly as she searched for something, then answered in a register even lower than before.

"There are. Two black SUVs, one security bus, personnel numbering approximately twenty to thirty. The security pattern is military-grade. It's quite similar to a typical imperial escort formation. The inconvenient part, however... Master, you used to talk quite often about modern firearms? Those are deployed in rather significant numbers."

"Yeah? Modern firearms, huh..."

I looked over at the Death Knight, who had been listening to the briefing in silence.

"You. Can you tank modern firearms? Russia's got nukes too, so it could get ugly."

"Hard to say. I would have to be hit to know for certain, but so long as it is no stronger than an eighth-circle archmage's Meteor, this body will not come apart. That said..."

Mark One nodded to himself with sudden gravity, then looked me dead in the eye and went on.

"I cannot recommend that my lord personally visit this place called Russia. My lord's soul remains what it was at the peak of the Elder Lich years — but the flesh is that of an ordinary human."

"Wasn't planning to tag along anyway."

I leaned back against the desk, folded my arms, and looked at Ibella.

"Alright, finding him is the easy part. What do we actually do when we get there? Just pin him like the others and make him do PT Gymnastics?"

"Hmm... PT Gymnastics..."

Ibella blinked at me, studying my face. Then something apparently delightful occurred to her, because she smiled the most bone-chilling smile I had seen in a while.

"Why don't we simply go with what we do best?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"What we do best?"

"Yes. The way Master once dealt with the Empire's Sword Saint, raised his corpse as an undead, and used it to torment the bereaved family and the Emperor? We do the same to this Dmitry person, then livestream the entire thing to everyone through that camera function..."

"No. No. That is not — hold on."

I cut her off fast, my voice jumping.

"This is not the Continent of Barzena. If you go planting that kind of terror here, Master is going to be in enormous trouble! So not that. Let's think of something else."

"Hmm... then shall we capture this Dmitry person first and decide afterward? Frankly, no matter how strong they are, and even if they use those modern firearms, I do not believe they can defeat Mark One."

"...Yeah. That's better."

I nodded like a woman surrendering to the universe and looked at the Death Knight.

"Grab him, make him do PT Gymnastics from the top all the way through — a hundred reps — film the whole thing, then contact me."

"Understood."

"See you in a bit then, Master~ Bye!"