Unknown Terror: Severosk, Capital of the Red Alliance
The capital of the Red Alliance, Severosk. The towering imperial palace still gleamed with splendor and beauty, but no nobles or imperial family remained within its walls. The trash-like nobles and royals who had monopolized magic to exploit the people had all vanished into the morning dew of the execution grounds, without exception. The Red Alliance now had no royals or nobles left. Everyone in the Red Alliance was equal. And some beings were a little more equal than others. Those more equal ones lived in the palace. The funny thing was, only the name had changed. They still lived and acted no differently from the royals and nobles of old.
"So, 40% of our Alliance's spies embedded in the Empire just... vanished into thin air? Along with our dear Ivan Petrovich?"
"Yes, Secretary-General Comrade."
At the words of the trembling executives, the secretary-general silently pulled out a Takarev pistol and placed it on the table. Their faces naturally turned even paler, corpse-like.
Kabalin, the secretary-general. The best words to describe him were paranoia, persecution complex, and obsession. A madman obsessed with frantically researching regeneration magic, immortality magic, and mental magic out of fear of assassination and betrayal. A lunatic who had layered every defensive, regenerative, and immortality spell on his own body to maximize his lifespan. He trusted magic but not people. It wouldn't be strange if he blew all their heads off with that pistol right then and there.
"Explain. Convince me."
His voice was quiet and calm, but a ferocious madness swirled within it. The executives desperately composed themselves and began their explanation.
"The Red Baron—that is, Comrade Ivan Petrovich—was suddenly exposed one day. He and every member of the cells he managed were all killed by the Empire's dogs."
"Without exception?"
"Yes, without a single one left out."
"A disguise, then? They could have faked their deaths and handed the entire organization over to the Empire. These dog bastards betrayed the Alliance! The whole cell network flipped to the Empire!"
Secretary-General Kabalin slammed the table repeatedly. The executives shrank back. After venting his rage for a long while, Kabalin let out a sigh.
"But if they were going to sell out the organization and defect to the Empire, they wouldn't have started a crazy shootout right in the middle of Verba city. From what I hear, it was knights clashing with knights... That's way too conspicuous. Too noisy for a betrayal."
The sight of an old man nearing 80 muttering to himself with manic gleam in his eyes was familiar to the executives. After a long bout of self-questioning, the secretary-general reached a conclusion.
"It's too much of a stretch to call it betrayal. They really got exposed and killed. But why? How did their identities get revealed? Ivan was one of the Alliance's top agents."
At his words, the executives cautiously projected an image of one person's face onto the wall with the projector.
"This is the entity known as Yurtel's Grand Seer, Secretary-General Comrade."
"Grand Seer?"
"He runs a fortune-telling shop. They say he can read the past and future."
"I don't buy that nonsense."
"We've cross-verified reports from Empire broadcasts, media articles, and testimonies from people who've actually visited the shop. It's real. He truly reads the past and future. Not vaguely, but with chilling accuracy on his targets' information."
At that, a spark lit in the secretary-general's eyes.
"Reads targets' information? Past and future at the same time?"
"Yes. That's why the Empire's elite are buying auction tickets to meet him. Too many and varied clients for a simple scam. And before the Verba incident blew up, the Grand Seer apparently closed his shop temporarily."
The secretary-general's mind raced. It wasn't hard to connect the dots.
"The Empire's emperor—that manufactured lump of flesh—must have used the guy."
"The Secret Committee's assessment matches that, Secretary-General Comrade. It was too sudden, no warning at all, and every spy under the Red Baron's command had their names exposed. The committee suspects the Grand Seer acted on the emperor's orders."
Madness and fury blazed in the secretary-general's eyes. His gaze shifted to one side. The Secret Committee. Head of the Alliance's intelligence network.
"Nikita Hashov. You didn't just sit on your hands regarding this Grand Seer even after the incident, did you?"
Nikita Hashov swallowed dryly repeatedly.
"We've already dispatched agents to Yurtel, Secretary-General Comrade! Operations to gather intel on the Grand Seer and eliminate him are underway!"
"And? Success?"
Nikita's mouth clamped shut. Fury surged in the secretary-general's voice.
"Did you succeed, Nikita Sergeyevich Hashov?!"
"F-Failure!"
"Explain why you failed!"
"Kaien dark elves! Argos's elite agents have Yurtel wrapped in double and triple layers! We've tried breaching multiple times, but failed every one! I'm sorry, Secretary-General Comrade!"
"What happened to the failed agents? Did the Grand Seer—who reads past and future—catch them and extract more intel?"
"Y-Yes. Several more cells got blown! J-Just one more chance, and I swear...!"
At that, the secretary-general pounded the table to splinters, roaring.
"You useless bastard! I've hated you since you wasted hundreds of thousands of troops in the war with the Multi-Body Republic! You incompetent fool! Do you know how much damage you've caused the Alliance? You maggot! You're the enemy of the people! The enemy!"
The atmosphere was thick enough that pulling the Takarev's trigger wouldn't have been surprising. The conference room was deathly silent, frozen; Nikita Hashov squeezed his eyes shut, trembling.
Only after a long while did the secretary-general calm down.
"With a past-and-future reader holding the fort, plus Argos and dark elves mobilized, failure was inevitable. Can't blame your incompetence when the enemies have such absurd powers."
He clenched his fist tight.
"I'd love to nuke that Yurtel city off the map, but I can't. Have to send people the old-fashioned way. What a shitty situation."
Obscenities like "suka" and "blyat" spilled from his mouth about five times in a row.
"Nikita Hashov."
"Yes, Secretary-General Comrade."
"Pull out those guys and use them. It's time."
A chilling, resolute order fell from the secretary-general's lips.
His Imperial Majesty the Emperor was incredibly generous. True to his word, if I helped pinpoint the Red Baron, he'd provide a precise diagnosis and assessment of my incurable disease. And he delivered on that promise in a massively grand scale.
How grand? They'd built a dedicated examination room for my body scan in the geothermal power research magic tower in Yurtel.
"Grand Seer, you can come down now."
Since the magic tower was built in Yurtel, I'd started every day coming here for morning checkups. They'd draw blood, strap weird machines to my head, activate all sorts of magic circles, and scan me endlessly. This had gone on for over a week now.
"How much longer is this going to take?"
"It's a process to magically scan and analyze your body's internal structure perfectly, so it takes time. Think of it as a few more months at a leisurely pace. But I guarantee it: slow, but the results will be certain. No more precise exam exists."
A few months. But I could wait. Sun's Tears were supplied regularly now, and with plenty of money and fame, I finally had the luxury.
"Please do your best."
"We'll give it everything, Grand Seer. No worries."
After morning checkups, I'd head to the fortune-telling shop to see clients. Post-lunch, I'd handle consultations for the elite. To tourists, I was just fun entertainment, but to the Empire's upper crust, I seemed indispensable now.
"Your current expansion project is risky. I see a bad future. Of course, it's your choice, sir. This isn't a fixed future. You won't definitely fail, but it won't be easy either. Even if successful, it'll be grueling."
"...As I thought."
"My advice: drop the expansion greed. Stabilize your new ventures first. Solidify your base, then push forward."
"Thanks, Grand Seer. Feels like my eyes cleared up."
Business directions. Heir decisions for kids. Whenever big choices loomed, elites sought me out. I'd read their pasts and futures, guide their decisions. Consultation tickets sold like hotcakes; afternoon elite slots were booked solid.
But rest when needed. 5 PM, shop closes. The plaza out front replayed dazzling illusion magic, captivating tourists, next to the dark elf-run horror theme park. Looked like any tourist spot.
But I saw the hidden side. After work, before heading home, I'd go to the basement of Yurtel's new department store. Through secret passages to the facility below, captives awaited as always.
"Welcome, Grand Seer."
The Argos Yurtel branch chief always greeted me barefoot, treating me like VIP royalty. Overwhelmingly deferential—burdened, but they claimed I was more valuable than the whole branch.
"How many today?"
"Just one today. A shame."
Guided to the interrogation room, I repeated my shop routine.
"Dmitri Balayerov. Cell members total seven. I'll list names and covers."
"Write it down!"
Anyone coming to kill or spy on me got stripped of all info. More than stripped, really.
"You Empire dog! You'll die someday! The Alliance won't let you...!"
"Dmitri, your wife Sonya’s already in a camp."
"...What?"
"Secret Committee did it as backup to your failure. But don't worry. Cooperate with Argos, and I see a future where you save her. We've got plenty of spies in the Red Alliance."
"...My wife... Sonya..."
"Branch Chief, offer to save his wife for cooperation. More useful that way. Name: Sonya Karovna. Prisoner 301 in Steel Dolphin Camp."
"Of course, Grand Seer."
Some spies could even be turned. Belly bigger than back. Argos, dark elves, and magic tower wizards formed an ironclad triple wall. Most couldn't even near the shop, let alone enter—got caught. Turned into precious intel for Argos, then disposed of somewhere. The Argos Chief's "Paris hell" was spot-on.
"Good work today, Grand Seer."
"Why do they keep coming, knowing they'll get caught? Branch Chief."
"To a foreign power, you're a disaster, Grand Seer. Leave you be, and Red Baron repeats. Can't not come. But come, get caught. Caught, info spilled. Vicious cycle. They know, but no choice. Not optional."
The chief smiled blissfully.
"No intel history of dismantling an enemy network this efficiently and fast. You're doing the impossible, Grand Seer."
All Argos agents here reacted the same. Their gazes bordered on worship, beyond awe. Uncomfortable, I gave an awkward smile and left.
Last routine: meet Canary agents, then done. Back at lodging, Argos agents disguised as shop staff guarded my door ironclad.
"Welcome back, Grand Seer."
"Yes. Good work today. Let's wrap quick."
"Please."
Canary agents sat before me. Called Canaries because I checked their futures daily for threats to Yurtel or me. Usually minor: tomorrow's sock hunt panic, coffee spills. Or spotting a sniper assembling a hidden wheelchair gun, leading to arrest.
Still, I checked every day. Futures shift constantly. Red Alliance was boiling real-time; who knew what insane op they'd pull. Monitoring them was my final routine, insurance.
"Nothing special today?"
I nodded to their question.
"Yes, nothing spec—"
People have fixed and fluid futures. Fluid ones shift with others' choices. And apparently, someone just made a dangerous one.
My eyes widened sharply. Canaries' relaxed vibe vanished instantly.
"What is it?"
"Three days from now, 2 AM. Intruder enters from Yurtel's western forest. Dangerous. Casualties... I saw them."
Canaries sprang into action. Radios for reports; magic to block our talk leaking.
"Who? Who's attacking?"
The obvious question. And the most terrifying part.
"I don't know."
"Pardon?"
Grand Master? 9th-circle strategic mage? Not scary. Known, so counterable. But this...
Unable to identify the subject.
It was the status window message. First time since awakening my Divine Descent ability. I felt the primal terror of the unknown.