The Dagger (1)
Isn't there a magic-infused gun? I thought as I blocked the barrage of gunfire raining down from all sides. It made sense, of course. Mages were an incredibly rare breed, and their labor hours were far too valuable to be wasted on simple, repetitive tasks. In a way, they were facing a similar bottleneck to the one that prevented me from mass-producing the improved Rosetta Stone indefinitely.
The time it took to empty a semi-automatic pistol's magazine was generally the same. A few seconds later, amidst the thick, acrid gunsmoke, I walked out completely unscathed and prodded them once more.
"I told you, go get your boss," I said, waving away the smoke with my hand and offering a sly smile. The guards froze in collective panic. Did they honestly think mere pistol rounds could scratch me?
Reloading naturally took longer, which only amplified their panic. Though it was a brief window in absolute terms, it was more than enough time for my Head of Security to do his work.
"Gah!" "Ugh!" "Ack!" A chorus of choked screams erupted immediately. It was proof that the perimeter surrounding me was being dismantled, link by link.
Before they could even slide a fresh mag in, Pavel Nikolayevich Tsoy charged into the center of the enemy formation, striking down a wrist holding a pistol. A crisp, metallic crack echoed as he transitioned seamlessly into his next move. Infusing his other fist with telekinesis, he drove a punch straight into another guard's solar plexus.
The guard flew through the air and crashed hard onto the floor. Without a moment's hesitation, Pavel lunged at the next target, repeating the process. Only this time, he didn't just disarm the man—he snatched the guard's wrist, twisted it, and commandeered the weapon. Forcing the enemy to bear the burden of reload time, Pavel walked away with a fully loaded, seventeen-round Glock.
"Stop him! Shoot him, damn it! Just stop him!" If they didn't take down the intruder who had breached their flank, they would all be slaughtered. One by one, the remaining guards finished reloading and began training their barrels on Pavel.
But now armed with seventeen rounds of swift death, Pavel had no reason to hold back. He pulled the trigger in rapid succession, systematically neutralizing the threats from the nearest to the furthest.
The enemies didn't just stand there, of course. Standing nearly 190 centimeters tall with a heavily muscled build, Pavel was a massive target—missing him should have been harder than hitting him. Yet, the guards found themselves failing at the easy task. Even as Pavel tore through their ranks, punching holes into heads and torsos, he wasn't dodging the bullets themselves; he was reading the twitch of their trigger fingers, anticipating the trajectories, and executing evasive maneuvers ahead of time.
At times, he used the corpses of fallen guards as shields. Once those meat shields outlived their usefulness, this modern-day Hercules—this resurrected Samson—flung them like human cannonballs into the remaining opposition.
"Urgh!" "Gah!" On rare occasions, he truly did read the bullet's path.
—! I could clearly sense the magical alarm blaring within Pavel's soul. The improved Rosetta Stone I had gifted him was sensing his imminent peril and sending out a warning signal.
Every time it did, Pavel twisted his body to dodge the bullet. When dodging was impossible, he deliberately angled himself so the round would strike the thickest layer of his defensive magic. Even in the latter case, considering the bullet's flight time and human reaction speed, it was undoubtedly the most rational decision.
Even with defensive magic active, throwing oneself fearlessly toward a pointed gun barrel required a level of grit that not everyone possessed. Sure, I had just walked confidently into the center of the hall as if daring them to shoot, but Pavel's sheer audacity was on an entirely different level. After all, standing still in one spot required far less courage than charging across a chaotic battlefield like my Head of Security was doing.
One bullet per guard was more than enough. Those without defenses fell in a single shot, and those clad in magical protection met the same fate. Wherever Pavel's gaze landed, I had already moved ahead to exploit the security vulnerabilities in their defensive magic.
A few of them had maintained a shred of composure even after watching me block their entire opening volley, but that composure vanished completely now. Deprived of their safety nets, their ends were no different from the suited guards who had fallen before them.
Still, one detail bothered me more than anything else. They had defensive magic prepared in advance...? Magical barriers cast on living organisms required constant, periodic renewal. This was a fundamental rule that even I couldn't bypass. For instance, once the defensive magic I personally cast on our syndicate members back in the UK expired, they would have to rely on degraded versions renewed by the Equinox unit.
Since the skirmish began, there had been no sign of the enemy casting any new spells. Therefore, the fact that they were already shrouded in defensive magic when we breached the door could only mean one thing. Did they know we were coming...?! The mage on the Marseille side had anticipated this raid. I would have to figure out where the leak came from later.
"My Lady, your next order!" Pavel called out, having just finished off the last of the guards. The men littered across the floor were either already dead or rapidly on their way to becoming corpses.
"First, let's regroup. I don't know what they're plotting, but—" I cut myself off, throwing my body to the side. They really aren't going to give us a moment's rest, are they?! At that exact moment, a magic bullet tore through the air, hurtling toward the spot where I had been standing a split second ago. It was a pure projectile of offensive magic, devoid of physical mass, launched from a distance.
Was this their plan from the start...?! Having lost its target, the magic bullet detonated in midair with a sharp bang. Instead of dispersing in all directions, it seemed designed to direct over ninety percent of its explosive force forward. There were no other mages detected within a dozen meters. Since they were sniping with magic bullets from a distance, they must have prepared thoroughly. The enemy mage had to be deeper inside. They had sacrificed nearly twenty beefy guards just to buy enough time to establish this long-range bombardment.
To secure a one-sided opportunity to beat me down, they considered twenty lives a cheap price to pay. Truly, it was just like a mage—bloated with elitism. This was no amateur opponent.
"Are you alright?!" Pavel rushed over, stepping in to block the trajectory from which the magic bullet had flown.
"You idiot! Get out of the blind spot!" We couldn't afford to move carelessly. Especially considering how eagerly whoever was behind this had been waiting for this exact moment—a crisis for us, a golden opportunity for them. Sure enough, another projectile, conjured out of thin air, shot toward Pavel at high speed.
Pavel didn't ignore my warning. Armed with superhuman reflexes and the soul-shaking alarm of the Rosetta Stone, he executed a sharp, sudden pivot. An ordinary human would have shattered their ankle attempting such a maneuver. The magic bullet aimed at Pavel sliced harmlessly through the empty air once more. The directional spell detonated, converting its magical energy into raw physical force that scattered into nothingness.
"My Lady, what kind of magic is this?!" Pavel shouted. Having both dodged attacks, we were now separated on opposite sides. The only blind spots the enemy could exploit from the rear of the six-way junction were the central hall and the front corridor. Naturally, we took cover in two of the remaining four paths leading toward the VIP rooms.
"It's like a shaped charge! Except it uses raw magic as the projectile instead of explosives!" Unless specifically enchanted, penetrating defensive magic with standard bullets was an arduous task. Short of firing a tank cannon, they couldn't just spray infinite firepower to break a barrier, nor did they want to show themselves up close. Thus, they resorted to these directional magic bullets. Once they hit, they would pierce right through any defensive magic and violently rupture whatever was inside.
"Then what do we block it with?!" "Anything! As long as it has physical mass, anything works!" Even a wooden plank would do. Because these spells were optimized to maximize penetration against magical defenses, their effectiveness plummeted against ordinary physical matter. If we were inside the main casino floor instead of this corridor leading to the VIP rooms, we could have just flipped a poker table to use as a shield.
Even as we spoke, the exploding magic bullets were bracketed, steadily narrowing down our positions to increase their accuracy. If the improved Rosetta Stone hadn't warned us in advance, our defensive magic would have been breached by a hit or two long ago. Pavel kept shouting, both because of the urgency of the situation and the deafening sonic booms of the magic bullets detonating in real-time.
"Isn't the enemy mage behind that door?!" "Most likely! Though I have no idea how they know exactly where we are!" Just as I couldn't pinpoint the enemy mage's exact location, they shouldn't have been able to pinpoint ours either. Yet, the magic bullet strikes were growing increasingly precise, a feat impossible unless they had eyes everywhere. Since we were using the corridors themselves as cover, any angle they could shoot us from should have been a blind spot.
Wait... eyes everywhere? A sudden wave of irritation washed over me. How had I missed something so simple? This was the enemy's home turf. Though it was still a mystery how they knew I was coming, they clearly had plenty of time to prepare. Naturally, they would have countless ways to track my position in this vast space—whether through simple CCTV cameras, or more advanced LiDAR and ultrasonic sensors. If it were a magical tracking method, there was no way I wouldn't have sensed it. In other words, there had to be a physical apparatus somewhere. And if there was a physical apparatus...
I can smash it with the Spiegel! I gave Pavel a subtle nod, signaling him to move toward me the moment I made my move. There was no time to waste. I dashed straight out into the central hall and activated the Spiegel. Sensing my movement, a sharply honed magic bullet came hurtling toward me, but the forcefield of the national relic expanded faster.
With a deafening roar, the ceiling and walls began to shave away, taking every single surveillance device the traitors had installed with them. If the mage deep inside had been tracking my position through electronic means, they would now be staring at screens flashing "NO SIGNAL" all at once. Flustered, the enemy mage blindly fired a barrage of magic bullets, but it was entirely futile. Trying to counter the Spiegel with that kind of brute force was utterly meaningless.
Once the dust settled, we advanced deeper into the casino without hesitation. Since they had thrown such a grand welcoming party, the "boss" I had been searching for so desperately had to be just beyond that corridor. Having revealed my trump card, the Spiegel, the threat of the magic bullets diminished significantly. Though there were likely surveillance devices in the rear corridors as well, reducing the central hall to tatters had crippled their entire monitoring network.
It made sense. Who in their right mind would bury sensors and cameras dozens of meters deep just to anticipate an anomaly like the Spiegel? Furthermore, my own magical prowess played a significant role. I wasn't an idiot; did they really think I wouldn't adapt after being attacked the exact same way dozens of times? Pavel and I maintained our 360-degree security sweep as we pushed deeper. Perhaps they had exhausted their preparations, because our path forward was practically a straight shot.
Thus, our confrontation with the enemy took place in the most luxurious room at the very back of the casino. Two men stood on the opposite side. One was the Marseille traitor whose face I recognized, and the other was an unfamiliar Slav. Circumstantially, the latter had to be the mage who had briefly put Pavel and me in a tight spot.
"So I finally get to meet the boss. You didn't honestly think you'd be forgiven after pulling this shit, did you?" To make matters worse, the layout of this spacious room poked at my trauma. It looked exactly like the first sight I had laid eyes on after ending up in this body—the syndicate headquarters in Kaliningrad. Talk about a twisted, morbid sense of taste. Pavel seemed to share my sentiment, his face contorted in absolute disgust.
Next, I snapped at the mage beside him. "And you. Judging by your spells, you seem decent enough. Where the hell did you crawl out from? Did you jump into this fight thinking you actually had a chance of winning?" Whoever he was, that mage had to die here. I had no intention of leaving loose ends, and when dealing with a mage who wasn't loyal to me, the benefits of silencing him far outweighed the cost of the cleanup.
Surely, they didn't fully comprehend the Spiegel either. He should have been showing some normal signs of panic, just like before, but the enemy mage merely let out a sickening smirk.
"Yerina Willowvna Bronska, and Pavel Nikolayevich Tsoy. It seems you have become a far more powerful mage than anticipated. Perhaps we must elevate our threat response level."
"Threat response...? What the hell are you babbling about?" Regardless of my scowl, the mage kept talking, completely ignoring my question.
"Comrade (Tovarishch), this fight will take longer than expected. You should withdraw." "Tsk." The Marseille traitor, who had been subtly edging toward the back, nodded and accepted the mage's suggestion.
Rage flared within me at the realization that I had no choice but to let him go for now. At this distance, any countermeasure I threw would likely fall short. I decided to postpone grinding his soul to dust. In truth, the mage's next words drove any thought of the traitor completely out of my mind.
"Bronska, the General Secretary has commanded us. We are to eliminate you and your syndicate before you grow any further, putting an end to what was left unfinished that day." There was no need to ponder what "that day" meant.
"So that's who you are. A dog personally sent by Stalin?" "Though your father is dead, you remain, Bronska. My mission is not yet complete."
From his use of the title "General Secretary" to his mention of my father, an ominous realization suddenly flashed through my mind. "You... were you there that day?"
"I did not lay eyes on you myself. I believed the Spetsnaz would be more than enough to clean up a father and daughter who weren't even mages." "Yet you failed. After all, I'm standing right here, perfectly fine."
"Yes, it was a miscalculation. Who would have thought the young lady of a Margrave's house, who had spent her life merely dabbling in the magical arts, would choose that exact moment to awaken as a true mage?" "..." The materialist pointed at my chest. "I suppose that is the item your father tried to sell off. It is as powerful as rumored. It will make a fine trophy."
To think he was a certified, dyed-in-the-wool commie. He must have dug through the remaining records at the Kaliningrad headquarters to glean some knowledge about the Spiegel. "And who said I'd just hand it over?"
It was difficult to suppress the tempest of emotions swirling inside me. Though my words were sharp, they carried traces of fear, regret, competitive drive, and a thirst for vengeance. The former belonged to Yerina, and the latter belonged to me. Or perhaps, since we were one and the same, they were all mine. Ha, I never expected to face this so soon. My old nightmare had finally caught up with me.