Chapter 410
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 410
Chapter Title: That's So Like You.
-----------------------------------------------------------------
She always woke up at the same time.
Ate the same breakfast.
Commute in the same car.
To Kseniya, it was routine.
She had started her days this way for years now, so it was tedious to a degree, but even more so, it was familiar.
'What's this?'
That was why.
The faint sense of wrongness she felt—something only detectable because her days were always identical—made her scan her surroundings.
'Something's off.'
The VAS car speeding along.
The light bus at the stop.
After glancing at the unusually quiet street, Kseniya suddenly realized.
'...Was it always this empty around here?'
Normally, the roads would be packed with cars. Workers would fill the buses, and pedestrians would hustle by.
But today, there were noticeably few.
It wouldn't be strange on a special day, but considering Moscow's nature—where most citizens repeated similar labors even if not exactly like hers on a weekday—this was odd.
'And beyond that, something feels... empty.'
As Kseniya pondered the reason for this feeling,
something strange caught her eye.
Some pedestrians checked their watches, then pulled something from their bags.
"That's..."
Kseniya's eyes widened.
It wasn't just her work at the munitions factory that let her recognize the latest rocket launchers and rifles at a glance.
It was the red bands wrapped around their heads.
The symbolism made her gasp in horror.
"R-Revolutionaries?"
The moment she realized what this meant and swallowed hard,
several warheads launched from rocket launchers with thunderous shouts slammed into the Okhrana headquarters standing imposingly at the road's end.
"All power to the Soviets!"
"Brothers! Sisters! Rise up! The time of revolution is upon us!"
"Freedom and equality for us!"
"All power to the Soviets!"
Meanwhile, at that very hour,
the Okhrana headquarters wasn't the only target hit.
From the KGB to the Central Oversight Office.
Simultaneous assaults began on every organization or individual known as the government's dogs, loyal to Ekaterina.
Dozens of locations at least.
Enough to plunge all of Moscow into chaos temporarily.
In the midst of that stirred confusion, the revolutionaries revealed their hidden identities.
"Reclaim our rights!"
A grease-stained factory worker tied on a headband.
"Don't pass dictatorship on to our children!"
A woman from a diner pulled a gun from the fridge.
"Dictator, step down!"
A bus driver veered off route.
"Cough, cough! Glory to the Soviets, once more!"
An old man at a free clinic raised a red flag.
Each individual's actions were utterly haphazard.
Compared to properly trained soldiers or agents, they hardly seemed orderly.
But as a group, it was different.
Like a single ant seeming erratic, but tens of thousands forming an orderly column.
Even emerging from entirely different places, the revolutionaries moved in the same direction, creating a massive current through Moscow.
And among them were many who weren't originally revolutionaries.
10% had long harbored grudges against the government and seized this chance to join actively.
30% had no strong thoughts on revolution but got swept up in the crowd psychology and went along.
And...
"Come on, brother, join us."
"But I have to go to work today..."
"How long will you live as the dictator's slave? Don't talk nonsense—put on this headband now!"
"I-I'll wear it! Just the headband, right!"
About 50% joined hastily out of fear—insulted as the dictator's dogs for refusing, or 'requested' to cooperate at gunpoint.
Thus, the revolutionaries swelled exponentially.
From tens of thousands.
To hundreds of thousands.
And beyond, to millions.
As time passed, the growing masses eventually filled the city with a red tide.
"Drive out the dictator!"
"Reclaim our land from those barbaric savages first!"
"Silver Dragon thieves, go back to the steppes and herd sheep!"
Was it the power of the collective?
Even those who joined reluctantly at first grew fervent, chanting slogans until they shouted with zeal.
Thus, the red tide roughened into waves, then a tsunami surging one way.
"Kill the dictator!"
...At the forefront, a white-haired girl in a mask and glasses waved a red flag, screaming most passionately.
Blood flowers in full bloom.
It evoked the mad advance once led by Sword Flower Joan of Arc.
High atop a distant skyscraper,
Yuna Kyung, perched on Rimon's shoulder watching the scene, dazedly opened her beak.
[Whoa, shit's going down...]
"..."
[Team Leader, what do we do? This could cause massive casualties.]
Yuna Kyung rarely looked worried.
Even suppressing a thousand unarmed civilians meant injuries.
Let alone millions of revolutionaries armed with guns and heavy weapons clashing with the Russian military—casualties were inevitable.
Even if the military used only non-lethal weapons, the revolutionaries wouldn't.
That was why,
when Rimon replied, Yuna Kyung looked stunned.
"Dunno. We'll watch for now."
[...Watch?]
"Exactly what I said."
[Wait, you're just gonna stand by and watch?]
Not expecting this, Yuna Kyung looked baffled.
But Rimon was calm.
"Me helping them crush the Russian army would look weird. Can't stop the revolutionaries either."
[Why not? A show of force from you would stop them all!]
"You want me suppressing revolutionaries?"
[Not suppress—just mediate, talk them down between both sides.]
"Think words will work on that crazy princess?"
[Well...]
Yuna Kyung was at a loss.
Having dealt with Ekaterina before, she knew convincing her was absurd.
"And the revolutionaries? Think kids rising to topple a dictator will stop now?"
[R-Revolutions happen from grievances, right? Fix those and...]
"Useless."
Cutting her off,
Rimon said quietly.
"Revolution is a tree that feeds on blood. Once sprouted, it demands more—and cutting it needs even more."
Even leader Sergei couldn't halt millions now.
Seeing Rimon's cold demeanor, Yuna Kyung despaired.
[...So the catastrophe White Sis predicted might come from this revolution?]
"Possible."
[Then what?]
"Told you. Watch for now."
[Until when?]
"Don't ask me. Things are done—nothing I can do."
[...]
Then, Yuna Kyung blinked.
His usual apathetic face.
Detached, cynical attitude.
But after years watching him, that unusually heavy gaze gave her a strange expression.
That was when Rimon added,
"Doubt I'll need to do anything anyway."
[Huh?]
Ignoring her confusion,
Rimon offered no explanation.
He just watched the red tide engulf Moscow, arms crossed.
Thanks to him, Yuna Kyung forgot her earlier unease and followed suit, peering down—then tilted her head.
[...Huh?]
[Eh? Wait.]
[What the...?]
First puzzled.
Then suspicious.
After scanning the cityscape repeatedly, Yuna Kyung gaped.
Overwhelmed by the revolutionaries' momentum, she'd missed one key fact until now.
The revolutionaries sweeping Moscow unstoppable noticed it much later.
By the time they stormed the Kremlin.
"Hey."
"What, brother?"
"This the Kremlin, right?"
"Obviously. Can't you tell?"
"Yeah, I know, but..."
After eyeing the ornate palace any Muscovite would recognize,
the revolutionary lowered his rifle limply, asking awkwardly.
"So why's no one guarding it?"
"..."
No answer.
Others couldn't grasp it either.
Not just the Kremlin.
Those puzzled by no response despite rockets and gunfire, entering Okhrana HQ.
Raiders on KGB bases.
Assaults on military posts.
All found empty buildings—no armed soldiers, no ruthless agents, not even a fly.
Upon reports,
Sergei realized belatedly.
Why their rebellion progressed so smoothly.
Why they'd seized the Kremlin without a single fight or resistance.
"Everyone... fled?"
Silver Dragons and Russian military.
Okhrana and KGB.
High officials' families too.
Their foes had bolted long ago. As Sergei stared blankly,
the white-haired girl who'd charged ahead longest muttered dazedly much later.
"...What the actual fuck?"
And at that moment,
atop the skyscraper, the white-haired youth bent over laughing.
"Pfft...! Hahahahaha!"
[T-Team Leader?]
Ignoring the bluebird nearly tumbling from his shoulder,
Rimon didn't care.
He clutched his gut, rolling on the floor in laughter, then finally chuckled.
"Indeed, idiot princess. So like you."
His sharp edge from moments ago gone,
speaking with mirth, Rimon straightened and raised both hands.
"No—more like, so like all of you."
In one-on-one duels.
One-vs-many brawls.
Wide-scale exterminations.
Ambush or stratagem.
The weakest clan, lagging every other.
Yet they endured the Heroes' Age.
Even evading Rimon's dogged pursuit without capture, suffering least losses.
The White Dragon Clan, Seven Dragons' best at 'escape.'
Imagining their princess smug and expressionless now, Rimon clapped.
Clap, clap, clap.
Slowly.
Heavily.
With joyful admiration.
In days, evacuating all revolutionary targets.
Turning an unstoppable revolution bloodless—a feat even he couldn't block. Thus, Rimon quietly applauded the girl.
"Winning by fighting is amateur. True masters win without fighting. So running away is winning."
Siberian Railway.
One of few ways across frozen Siberia.
Fleeing along Russia's vein, the white-haired girl munched cream puffs in the lavish train car, declaring triumphantly.
"Splendid, Princess. Tata has nothing left to teach."
The white-haired woman who'd executed the escape per her orders.
Tata said admiringly.
Truly heartfelt.
For White Dragons, 'good at fleeing' was high praise.
Aynsha's escape was swift, precise, flawless—a perfect 100.
...Though Yuna Kyung would flip, insisting 'win without fighting' didn't mean that.
"Enough praise, Tata."
Aware or not,
Aynsha said curtly.
Eying the piled luggage from her cabin to the cargo hold, she continued blankly as always.
"Our real fight starts now."