The Fall of the Red Baron and the Summit of Titans
A headline-grabbing clash among titans. Beings who wielded Aura Blades capable of slicing through superhuman physiques and nearly anything in existence, while commanding telekinesis. Monsters cloaked in human skin, their senses honed to the limit, rendering ambushes or sniping impossible. Naturally, a brawl between five such beasts was ferocious.
The Argos knights numbered four, yet they couldn't swiftly subdue the lone Red Baron. The reason was simple.
— No injuries to Verbava's citizens!
Don't aim for quick takedowns. Minimize damage and wear them down slowly!
They had no reason to rush from the start. This was the western region of the Dache Republic, under the Cardran Empire's sphere of influence—not the Red League's eastern territories. The longer it dragged on, the more advantageous it became for them. Thus, the fight devolved into a grueling rotation of engagements.
And one more reason.
"Die, you Empire dogs!"
The Red Baron had never intended to return alive in the first place.
— The Red Baron detonated his internal Arcane Core.
— Damn it. He's going down swinging.
— Don't fight to win. Just drain his strength. Drag it out.
It was a suicidal act, usable only once in a knight's lifetime, but its effect was undeniably absolute. The Red Baron, now unleashing several times his normal power in a single burst, charged the four Argos knights with pure aggression, intent on taking them all down with him.
The sidewalk blocks in front of the opera house shattered into chaos in an instant. The four knights and the Red Baron's forms vanished from sight. All that remained were dizzying afterimages of rapid movement, red Aura Blades and blue ones clashing in a frenzy.
"Evacuate! Stay back! Get away now!"
Sparks flying from colliding Aura Blades melted steel poles and bored into concrete like child's play. The Dache Republic's police focused not on subduing the fighters but on urgently evacuating Verbava's citizens.
The battle raged for about a minute. The Red Baron thrashed desperately, unleashing relentless, destructive assaults that ignored his own body being carved apart. But the four Argos knights didn't yield easily.
His fleeting surge of strength, forged from his life and soul, failed to claim even one knight before it ended.
"Gahk!"
The Red Baron's body convulsed. He vomited a torrent of blood as his hilt's Aura Blade flickered out. Veins bulging across his body from the Arcane Core's explosion, blood streaming from his eyes, the baron collapsed in a heap.
With a guttural rattle from his fading life, he posed his final question.
"How...? How did you... know...?"
The knights offered no reply, simply severing his head.
"Target neutralized."
— Resistance intensifying at the safehouse. Armed with heavy weapons. Request swift neutralization. Coordinates transmitted.
"Order received."
The four knights lightly kicked off the ground. In a single bound covering over ten meters, they arrived at the Red Baron's last safehouse remaining in Verbava.
"Son of a bitch!"
"There he is, the bastard!"
Red League tongues flew wildly. The roar of heavy machine guns—not rifles or submachine guns—echoed.
Argos agents and Dache Republic SWAT were deployed in a standoff, but overwhelming firepower kept them from breaching.
Then the knights arrived.
"Enemy armament level?"
"7.62mm Kalashnikov rifles and Tokarev pistols. Grenades. PPSh-41 submachine guns. And one heavy machine gun in operation."
"They're using a DShK?"
"No idea how they got it, but yes! One heavy machine gun confirmed!"
"Mages or knights?"
"None. They were all outside and have been handled."
"No problem, then."
The four knights ignited their Aura Blades from their hilts and advanced on the safehouse.
"Knight! Fuck, this is a goddamn nightmare!"
"Degtyaryov and Shpagin send their regards, comrades!"
Thick Red League curses—or screams—rang out as the heavy machine gun's thunder shook the building.
12.7x108mm rounds hurtled toward the knights. They effortlessly deflected them with Aura Blades. Ricochets struck their bodies, but faint telekinetic barriers safely blocked them.
"Shoot! Mow them all down!"
Heavy machine gun fire joined rifles, pistols, and submachine guns. But no attack pierced the knights' telekinetic shields or slashing Aura Blades.
"No dispel rounds, it seems."
"Eliminate them."
The knights surged inside, moving with blinding speed. And then...
The massacre began.
Kalashnikov rounds spat from rifles bounced off Aura Blades—and in the same instant, the shooters were bisected, rifle and all.
PPSh-41s fired no more than three rounds before heads flew.
Ambushes? The knights' senses were honed to perfection. Surprise bombs through walls, sudden corner shots—they anticipated and dodged or blocked every one, severing the attackers' necks.
The Red League agents knew death awaited, yet resisted with savage desperation. But valor and fury changed nothing.
"Empire dogs! Die with us!"
A charge with body-bound bombs—and suddenly, the assailant's body floated midair at a knight's gesture. A clenching fist motion sliced every grenade's fuze clean.
"Damn telekinesis...!"
Telekinesis then pulverized his skull.
Conventional small arms couldn't touch knights. In moments, every operative was cleared. The knights wielded telekinesis and Aura Blades with surgical precision and speed.
The final room.
"You Empire dogs!"
The heavy machine gun opened fire the instant they entered. After exactly three casings hit the floor...
The gun's barrel and body split apart.
Last gasp? The operative drew a Tokarev pistol, fired once at the knights.
The lead knight casually snatched the bullet midair with his hand, dropping the warhead to the floor.
"To fight a knight, you need dispel-enchanted rounds—or at minimum, 20mm shells. You should've brought a cannon, not a gun."
The operative jammed the pistol to his temple.
"For the League and the people."
The gun flashed; he crumpled.
The knights deactivated their Aura Blades, sheathed their hilts, and exited.
"Neutralized. Cleanup requested."
"Move in!"
Argos agents and Dache police swarmed inside. The four knights leaned against the bullet-riddled wall, lighting cigarettes.
"Catching a pistol round barehanded. Show-off."
"Rifle rounds are too fast. Pistol's doable."
Smoke billowed from their mouths. Their eyes held no relief, no satisfaction, no bitterness.
They gazed at the building in awe.
This incident wasn't their doing.
"The Great Sage... was the real deal."
"Reading someone's past just by looking..."
The ability to glimpse a target's past at a glance. In espionage, its value was incalculable.
The world turned upside down. The Cardran Empire and Yurana Kingdom Federation bombarded airwaves with coverage of Verbava's massive shootout.
Every TV channel, every newspaper—nothing but Verbava.
Mirien switched off the TV. She approached and clung tightly to me.
"No injuries?"
"I just watched an opera at the theater and left. Not a scratch, Mirien."
Her worried expression didn't fade.
"It's the future that concerns me."
I understood. The Red League had taken a solid hit from me. They'd be investigating the cause with fire in their eyes, and soon my name would surface. They wouldn't leave me be.
"Worry not. I am by your side. No matter what they try, I'll ensure they never touch you."
Reassuring. I hadn't realized having the Spirit King's contractor at my side would bring such peace.
Of course...
"...Mirien, please—for the love of god, stop groping me there in broad daylight?"
"Touching this calms my heart. I never knew it could be so soft and squishy."
She was an overly lewd Spirit King's contractor, though.
Just as her fondling threatened to make me stand at attention again, a polite knock saved me.
"Come in... Count?"
Albio Yurtel stood at the door, pale and trembling.
"What's wrong?"
He wiped cold sweat from his brow and chuckled wryly.
"His Majesty is coming to Yurtel in person."
"His Majesty?"
"His Majesty. Incognito, so no grand welcome needed. He's coming straight to your hotel."
The count's face was a mix of joy and dread.
"What the hell did you do when you met him? Why would he visit this backwater tourist trap?"
"It's the largest tourist city in the south, but yeah. When?"
"Tonight. He's on his way now."
Mirien sighed and rose.
"I'll take my leave, then. Tonight, I hand you to the Empire's ruler. Plenty to discuss, I'm sure."
But the count shook his head.
"Your Majesty? You must stay."
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"His Majesty wishes to meet you as well. Urgent matters regarding Yurtel's future and the Great Sage's protection."
Mirien grinned knowingly.
"Clever. Planning to use me, eh? Fine. Protecting Kaien's national letter is crucial."
Mirien sat back down. The count took the opposite seat. We waited together until evening.
Right on schedule, a portal ripped open in the living room. His Imperial Majesty in a suit emerged, flanked by the Argos Chief and Kalanis, the tower master boasting flowing white hair.
Seeing the Emperor, Count Yurtel shot up and saluted crisply.
"With sword and heart!"
His Majesty returned it smoothly.
"With honor and loyalty. Long time, Albio. Well?"
"By Your Majesty's grace, I am unscathed! An honor, sire!"
After warm greetings with the count, the Emperor's gaze shifted to Mirien. She rose and bowed gracefully. He reciprocated politely.
"I see Kaien's ruler."
"I see the Empire's ruler."
"Heard you're close with Great Sage Aiden."
"Not wrong. Quite intimate, I'd say."
"Kaien national letter-bearer. Impressive status. Gathered you all to discuss that very matter."
The Empire's ruler and Yurtel's lord. Tower master and Argos Chief. Kaien's queen.
Titans among titans, crammed into my modest living room. An absurd lineup, even to me. But after a pause, His Majesty cut straight to it.
"To the point: The Red League is targeting the Great Sage. We need Kaien's aid on this."
Matters befitting such a summit.