Chapter 167: Agent Rescue (1)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 167: Agent Rescue (1)
The capital of Robrus. At Yelena’s mansion, the cold wind still howled without mercy.
"...Killed in a bombing?"
"Yes, Commissar. That is correct."
Yelena received her adjutant's urgent report with a deep furrow in her brow. The news was grim: Boris, one of the People's Commissars for Internal Affairs, had been slain in a mysterious explosion.
"As a result, a significant number of officials are being summoned to the Winter Palace. The official word is that they are searching for the mastermind behind the assassination..."
In that moment, a flash of dread surged through Yelena's mind. Boris was dead—that much was clear. But for the sake of an investigation, was there any logical reason to summon people to the Winter Palace, of all places—
Bang!
The front door was thrown open with violent force, followed by a rush of heavy footsteps. Yelena and her adjutant turned sharply. Standing there were the Adversaries of Robrus.
"Commissar Yelena."
Her face hardened as she swept her gaze over them.
"We carry an emergency summons from the Winter Palace."
Yelena forced herself to remain composed and countered, "A summons? At this hour? On what grounds?"
"An emergency investigation regarding the assassination of Commissar Boris. You are to accompany us immediately."
It was the same reason her adjutant had just given—but the eyes of these Adversaries glinted with unmistakable murderous intent.
Every suspicion flickering through her mind solidified into a cold certainty.
"Understood. Wait outside."
"We cannot."
The lead Adversary cut her off, stepping forward. "You will come with us this instant."
Yelena scoffed at the sheer arrogance.
"The Winter Palace, where the General Secretary and my father reside, calls for me—and you expect me to go without even being properly dressed?"
Yelena gestured to herself. She was wearing nothing but a silk slip.
"Are you telling me to walk out looking like this? What exactly are you demanding?"
"..."
The Adversaries hesitated for a moment, weighing the situation.
"Wait. It won't take long."
Taking advantage of their brief hesitation, Yelena retreated to her bedroom. She threw open her wardrobe and donned a military overcoat woven with protective magic.
Her eye caught a sheet of parchment tucked into a corner.
"..."
It was the mana communication parchment Maximilian had left behind.
She hesitated for a heartbeat, then slipped it deep into the folds of her coat.
"Commissar. It is time."
The Adversary bastards had already followed her up to the room.
"Fine. Let us go."
Stepping out, Yelena walked between them down the corridors of her residence.
The many guards and servants who usually attended the mansion were nowhere to be seen—not even a shadow remained. Not a trace. Had a sweep already been conducted?
"Is my father also at the Winter Palace?"
"Yes. He is."
For a moment, Yelena’s expression stiffened. A bitterness like seeping pus spread through her mouth.
In the man's flat answer, she sensed the foreshadowing of her father's fate.
"I received a letter from him three days ago. He said nothing was amiss then."
The Adversaries kept their eyes fixed forward, offering no reply. Yelena quietly closed her eyes. She slid a hand into the pocket of her military overcoat, her fingers closing around a grenade and a smoke canister.
Yelena flooded them with mana, overcharging their output.
Crackle—
A sparking buzz began to emanate from her pocket. The Adversaries' eyes flew wide, and Yelena offered a sweet, cold smile.
KABOOOOOM!
The grenade detonated against the reinforced fabric of her overcoat. The Adversaries were hurled backward as thick, acrid smoke surged out, coiling in every direction. Yelena used the chaos to bolt—running anywhere, as long as it was away.
* * *
Time on the continent flowed on relentlessly. Before anyone noticed, winter’s back had broken, and spring had arrived, carrying warm winds in its wake.
The Imperial Palace publicly announced the establishment of the Ministry of Commerce. For its inaugural appointment, Kents Bertem had been selected.
Regarding the closed hearing currently underway, rumors spread through the Knights that, unlike the trial of Anton Zefren, the atmosphere was remarkably cordial.
In the midst of this, I made my way to Lorenzo Academy. I had received some rather promising news.
"You've arrived, Sir Knight."
In the laboratory, Rector Lorenzo was the first to greet me. For some reason, his complexion looked strangely haggard today.
"The completed prototype helmet."
What he carefully placed upon the table was a sleek, black helmet defined by smooth, aggressive curves.
"I have realized the design nearly exactly as you ordered, Sir Knight."
I picked up the helmet. Examining its form, I nodded with satisfaction.
What is the most important thing for a knight on the battlefield?
A weapon to tear the enemy apart? An aura sphere to absorb artillery fire? Perfect strategy and tactics? Or the raw mana a knight holds within?
No.
According to the memories of my previous regression, the greatest weakness a human knight carries into battle—the one factor that must be controlled—is emotion.
"This helmet blocks the natural field of vision. More precisely, it reconstructs visual information."
Lorenzo pointed at the visor as he explained.
"All human details—the enemy's face, their expressions, the color of the blood they spill—are erased. What remains is only a simple target-object, a condensed mass of heat and mana rendered in red and blue."
"And sound as well, I take it?"
"Yes. It is designed so that only allied communications and tactically necessary noise reach the ears."
Instead of a dying enemy's face, one sees a turbulence of heat; instead of pleas or screams, one hears only footsteps and gunfire.
"...Please, try it on."
I gladly donned the helmet. In an instant, the ambient noise of the room fell silent. Before my eyes, Lorenzo was no longer a human—only a cluster of thermal imagery.
Smiling, I removed the helmet.
"Good."
In addition to the hardware, I was in the midst of drafting a new engagement doctrine for the knights to be introduced at Empire Point.
The foremost principle: Vacate the site the instant combat concludes.
The purpose was, on one level, to minimize the exposure of knights as an asymmetrical fighting force. But fundamentally, it was to deny the knights the time to bear witness, with their own eyes, to the slaughter they had just wrought.
"...However, Sir Knight."
Lorenzo's voice suddenly grew heavy.
"Since the recent enactment of the Imperial Citizenship Act... a fair number of students and researchers have come forward to confess their own origins."
I looked at Lorenzo. Unable to meet my gaze, he lowered his head.
"How should they be—"
"Compile a list and hand it over."
"..."
Lorenzo's body trembled. As if to set him at ease, I patted his shoulder.
"Rector Lorenzo."
"...Yes."
"Don't trouble yourself too much. In the end, all of this is pragmatism in service of the Empire, and I have great trust in your discernment and conscience."
I lowered my voice to a gentler tone. Belatedly, Lorenzo lifted his gaze to meet mine.
"If there is a student or researcher of alien bloodline among them whose talent you truly cherish, there is no need to cast them out. You may keep them here as your useful instruments—and as assets of the Empire."
Lorenzo's expression turned to one of pure astonishment.
After all, Lorenzo Academy was neither a formal university nor a public office, so it did not technically fall within the scope of the legislation.
" That is pragmatism. With the sole exception of one single sub-species bloodline."
"...You mean the Izenheim."
"Yes."
Lorenzo seemed to feel that scholarly curiosity peculiar to his kind at my unwavering stance.
"Might I ask... the particular reason you cast out only the Izenheim with such severity?"
I looked at him, unmoving.
For a moment, I closed my eyes, then opened them.
"Because they..."
My words halted.
A silence fell.
If I spoke this truth aloud, would he even believe me? Would he be able to understand my intent?
"Because they are the enemy of humanity. The ones who will one day destroy us all."
Lorenzo's face went blank for a moment, then he let out an awkward cough and wore a strained smile.
His reaction reminded me, once again, of something I had long known.
No one can believe me, and no one can know me.
In the end, I must walk this path alone.
It is a solitude I have already resolved to endure, so I do not fear it. It only tempers my mission into a sharper, cleaner form.
Rustle.
Just then, a sound rose from within the folds of my clothes—the sound of parchment.
I drew it out.
[It seems there may be some disruption to the caviar supply. I would like to request your aid.]
At the rather humorous phrasing, I couldn't help but smile.
* * *
Wooooooooo— Wooooooooo—
A deafening siren blanketed the entire capital of Robrus.
[ Citizens, attention. ]
Heavily armed military and police units were deployed simultaneously throughout the streets. Plainclothes Secret Police and Adversaries trampled over the daily lives of the citizens, searching house after house.
[ An emergency edict for state security has gone into effect. ]
Those they meant to hunt down were not limited to Yelena. Ideological criminals, political prisoners, and beyond them, high-ranking officials, prosecutors, members of the Party Central Committee, and the Politburo—all those whom the General Secretary and Zerof wished to purge...
[ Should any citizen spot someone behaving suspiciously, they are to report it at once. ]
In a cramped inn room, a voice spilled from a battered old radio on the table.
Zzzkk, zzzk-zzzk!
[ Kirov Yumanov, head of the Yumanov family, who had been plotting to overthrow the state, was executed at dawn today. ]
Yelena peered out at the street through a gap in the window, her back pressed against the wall.
From the very moment she had been sharing supper with Maximilian at Lilac Vita—had her father's neck already been resting on the guillotine?
She had been too naive. And too incompetent.
[ Kirov Yumanov exploited the blood-tax of the people and sold state assets to foreign powers, among other crimes... ]
They were stringing together every sort of filthy embezzlement, plunder, and treasonous act her father had never committed into neat, plausible fabrications.
[ The General Secretary shall never tolerate such corrupt elements who suck the blood and sweat of the people, and... ]
Click.
Yelena switched off the radio. Gazing up at the moon hanging in the Robrus sky, she clenched her teeth.
"There is... no way out."
None that she could see. No matter how she turned it over in her mind, she could not find a path to survive here.
Whoooo...
Moonlight slipped through on the cold wind. As she stood still, her hands groping through the darkness—
Bang! Bang!
The door of the inn room rattled as though it would shatter.
"—Inspection!"
Bang! Bang!
"—We know someone's in there. Open the door at once!"
Bang! Bang!
"—If you do not open it, we will break it down!"
The sound of them preparing to smash the door in was upon her. Yelena, clad in her black overcoat, leapt out the window.
"There! Halt!"
But those sweeping the alleys caught her trail. Gun muzzles flashed toward her in unison.
Bang! Bang-bang-bang!
She deflected the bullets with mana. One round grazed her ankle, but she endured the pain and sprinted down the alleyway, cutting and turning through the maze-like passages.
But the space was finite, and her pursuers were nearly infinite.
"..."
She reached a dead-end wall. As Yelena bit her lip, she heard it.
Thud. Thud.
Footsteps echoed from a short distance away.
Thud. Thud.
In rhythm with that steady beat, slowly—
Thud. Thud.
A figure emerged from around the corner.
As Yelena glared at the man, her hand gripping the dagger at her waist—
"Shh."
The man pressed a finger to his lips. It was a peculiar reaction. Yelena looked him over carefully.
He was a man in a Robrus uniform. He looked at her and removed his cap. The shock of black hair now revealed was unfamiliar—but beneath it—
The unwavering golden eyes and that face were, without question, someone she had seen before.
"Certainly, there would be cause for disruption in the caviar supply."
Maximilian murmured as he approached her. Without the slightest hesitation, he swung a dagger.
Snick.
He cropped her long hair nearly as short as a man's, then snapped handcuffs onto her wrists.
She had no moment to flinch at the sequence of motions. It was as though he had prepared it all long in advance.
"You've held out remarkably well to get this far."
Maximilian smiled faintly and lifted the parchment.
"When two of these are brought near each other, they resonate, emitting faint waves of mana. Thanks to that, I was able to find you quite easily. Come with me."
He walked beside her as though escorting a prisoner. A few soldiers approached and questioned them, but he answered in fluent Robrus that she was a "petty thief," brushing them off with practiced ease.
"Get in."
Outside the alleyway, he bundled her into a military vehicle he had prepared. Yelena let out a laugh of pure disbelief.
"How on earth did you secure all this?"
"Robrus is an enemy state. Intelligence on this level is the bare minimum."
Vrooooom.
He settled into the driver's seat and took the wheel.
"That said, this mission will not be easy. You are, after all, a rather famous figure, Ms. Yelena."
That was precisely why—for Yelena—none of this made any sense. A single line of text, scribbled onto a piece of parchment. A line he could have ignored with no consequence to himself—and yet he had come all the way to this distant East to find her?
"Why?"
Yelena condensed every one of her questions into a single word. It was the most precise expression.
Maximilian gave a small, dark laugh.
"Because of my pure hatred."
In that instant, Yelena's eyes wavered.
"General Secretary Varmil Maxtoon is, without any doubt, an Izenheim."
Yelena stared at him. The desert-colored gold of his eyes burned with murderous intent. It was as though burning sand were swirling within his retinas.
"A base, lowborn creature—a filthy sub-species who must never be permitted to lead a nation."
The voice that murmured the words was savage. Whenever he spoke of the Izenheim, even his beautiful face contorted into something predatory.
He was, without question, a more ferocious and madness-driven imperialist than anyone she had ever encountered. And yet—
"I told you once before. The Izenheim must never stand in high office, and your current situation is the proof of it."
For the moment, he and she stood on the same side.
"...That much is purely my personal feeling, however."
Maximilian quickly composed his expression. With an emotionless grip on the wheel, he continued.
"Now let me offer you a more practical reason. You are a defector from an enemy state. A key insider holding extremely valuable intelligence on the Eastern Union."
This time, the reasoning was indeed more pragmatic.
"The military strength of Robrus, the structure of its power, the techniques of the Adversaries, the actual scale and movements of the army. There is a great deal the Empire stands to gain from saving you."
"...Are you telling me to betray my homeland?"
In response to Yelena's words, Maximilian gazed out at the sleet fluttering past the window and replied, "Your homeland betrayed you first."
He nodded forward with his chin.
"Of course, all this arithmetic presumes we actually escape this country's border in one piece."
Up ahead, a checkpoint came into view, manned by heavily armed soldiers.
"You have about three minutes to answer. If your decision is difficult, try opening the glove compartment in front of you and taking a look at the photographs inside."
Yelena watched his profile for a moment, then—with a click—opened the dashboard compartment.
Inside, a few black-and-white photographs lay alone.
"..."
Her complexion paled violently.
The figure in the photograph was her father, staring into the camera with a gaunt face and empty eyes.
Kirov Yumanov.
"They are apparently mugshots taken just before the execution. No doubt they will appear on the front page of tomorrow's Robrus state newspaper."
"...Ha."
Crunch.
Yelena clenched the photographs tightly in her fist and closed her eyes.