Chapter 20
Chapter 20
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 020
Chapter Title: Al Kimia Alliance
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"So, you're certain Kyle Clark met this woman and talked with her?"
Joseph Howard stared at the photo in front of him as he asked.
Lieutenant Roden, who had gone out with Kyle the previous day, nodded.
"Yes. Prisoner 43471 met her at the end."
The photo showed Kyle Clark with a blonde woman.
But that woman's face was unmistakably familiar to Joseph Howard.
VVIP profiles were routinely distributed as classified documents among high-ranking Dun City police officials.
...Fleetwood.
It referred to one of the six founding families that established the first Magic Tower three hundred years ago—the magical dynasty currently led by Tower Master Richard Fleetwood.
Joseph's eyes narrowed.
'Fleetwood's daughter came all the way to the 8th Special District just to meet Kyle Clark?'
He let out a small groan.
'I already suspected Kyle was from the Magic Tower.'
He figured there must have been some reason he left the Tower.
'But I never imagined the Tower Master's own granddaughter would come visit him in person.'
Her secretive demeanor made it look like a clandestine rendezvous to anyone watching.
Joseph rolled his eyes silently.
'Could Kyle Clark have some deep connection to the Fleetwoods?'
For example.
'...What if Kyle was actually Fleetwood's man.'
But for some reason, he left the Tower, and now the current Tower Master's granddaughter had snuck out incognito to check on him...
If that assumption held true, then this prisoner named Kyle Clark might be a much bigger deal than he thought.
The Fleetwoods were considered the most prominent among the six founding families of magic.
And if he was directly related to the bloodline of the current Tower Master, no less.
'Heh, the Tower Master's bloodline...'
If that were the case, even an outsider like him couldn't begin to imagine the extent of Kyle's magical talent.
'But then, what about his sister, Lena Clark?'
Both from the Magic Tower? Her actions as a hacker were too blatant for that.
'Maybe she's an external collaborator for the Fleetwoods?'
Whatever the case, all the signs pointed to Kyle Clark having an extraordinary background.
'I don't know why he left the Tower or why he wants a new identity.'
But the possibility that he was far more capable than he seemed had just skyrocketed.
'...I need to hold onto him somehow.'
Joseph Howard needed the power of Kyle Clark, the Magic Tower's man.
"Remember this. You know nothing about this photo."
As he cautioned, Lieutenant Roden nodded.
"Understood. And about the commotion yesterday..."
"No, you handled that well."
Joseph said as he pulled a cigarette from his pack.
"A few mafia thugs dying overnight isn't worth making a fuss over."
This was the 8th Special District, after all—people dropped dead every other day.
Street trash, non-citizens no less. Why bother sanctioning Kyle Clark over dealing with a few of them?
It would only stir up trouble.
"From now on, give Kyle Clark every convenience you can. I can't go into details, but provoking him needlessly won't do us any good."
If even Team Leader Joseph was going this far...
'What the hell is that prisoner's real identity...?'
The slightly surprised Lieutenant Roden replied.
"Yes, sir. I'll see to it."
Just then, someone knocked on the office door.
"What is it?"
"Team Leader, Prisoner 43471, Kyle Clark, is here to see you."
"...! Send him in right away."
Roden exchanged a glance with Joseph, saluted, and opened the door.
In the meantime, the team leader had hidden the photo from yesterday in a drawer.
"Oh? You're here too, Officer."
"I had a report to give. I'll take my leave, Team Leader."
Joseph nodded, and Roden closed the door behind him as he left.
Joseph stood and gestured to the sofa for Kyle.
"Ah, have a seat. Coffee?"
"No thanks. I'm good today."
"Mm."
Joseph nodded and sat across from him. Kyle asked,
"Same as last time?"
"Similar. But not Moonlit Path."
Strangely, since that day, Moonlit Path had gone suspiciously quiet.
It almost seemed like they'd abandoned the 8th Special District entirely.
When Joseph mentioned it, Kyle could only manage an awkward smile.
"This time's target is an organization called the Al Kimia Alliance... Ever heard of them?"
"Al Kimia? The alchemist group?"
"Right. More precisely, a coalition of alchemist schools."
He pulled out a file on Al Kimia incidents and continued.
"Alchemy was originally a discipline meant to enrich the world. But that's changed. Over time, it's devolved into a mere tool for pursuing immortality."
And the alchemists researching it were no different.
Their ancestors' noble ideals were long gone. Modern alchemists were monsters who sacrificed their humanity for eternal life.
That's why they were shunned by mainstream society and had set up a new nest in the 8th Special District's demon den.
"They're into human trafficking, live experiments using people as ingredients, chimera manufacturing, mutation synthesis—you name it. Their crimes rival any major crime syndicate. To stabilize security in the 8th even a little, we have to root them out."
And recently, an informant they'd painstakingly recruited had obtained intel on one of the alliance's key schools—only to be murdered by alchemists.
"Don't tell me that was from the last mission..."
"Yeah, that woman."
'Ah, so that's what...'
Kyle finally understood what "info leaked by the informant" in the mission completion conditions meant.
"Day after tomorrow, the 141 will be deployed for a major raid on the Al Kimia Alliance's primary hideout."
"A raid?"
"Yeah. We've been on defense so far—now we're going on the offensive."
He pulled a photo from the file binder.
It showed a young man's face.
"The 141's job is just to clear the path... but I have a favor to ask you."
"This guy..."
"Victor Menshov. Key executive in the Al Kimia Alliance, our target, and head of the Veritas School we're raiding."
Joseph tapped the photo and continued.
"Kill him or capture him alive, and I promise major sentence reductions plus thirty million credits."
"...!!"
Thirty million credits.
Enough to buy a decent magic artifact.
'Even for a prisoner, promising that much reward...'
It meant the man was that valuable.
"You'll deploy with 1st Squad. As you know, 3rd Squad's still not at full strength."
Walter and the other survivors from that day were still in the infirmary.
They probably wouldn't rejoin before the op.
Joseph asked Kyle,
"What do you say? In?"
Kyle had no reason to refuse.
Might as well get extra reductions and cash.
"Yeah, I'll do it."
Joseph grinned at the answer.
Operation day.
"To the helicopters, now!! Move it!!"
"Get moving! Go, go!!"
The moment the alarm blared, I rushed out to the parade ground in my gear.
A fierce sand-laden wind whipped my face at the same time.
Looking up, I saw multiple helicopters already flying overhead.
"4th Squad, over here!!"
"6th Squad, you deaf? Move faster!"
"Faster! Faster!"
The usually empty parade ground teemed with people. Lieutenant Roden shouted at me from the center.
"43471! Over here!"
"!!"
I ran toward him, where the 1st Squad prisoners were gathered.
I quickly scanned their faces.
'Okay. All guys.'
Relieved, I joined 1st Squad. Lieutenant Roden barked,
"1st Squad!!! Board the helicopters now!!"
"Run! Keep running!"
"Damn it, what the hell is going on?!"
"We going to war or something?!"
The tense atmosphere had the prisoners sprinting across the ground with grim faces.
"Less chatter, more moving!!"
"Wanna get your heads blown off!?"
We boarded the chopper, and the hatch quickly sealed shut.
Roden confirmed and radioed in.
"1st Squad, all aboard!! Take off!!"
The chopper shot up like it had been waiting. Officers hurriedly closed the windows.
"Shit, things feel off."
"No way those rumors were true? Cops hitting the Al Kimia Alliance?"
"Damn! That's why they swapped all our rifles for large-bore shotguns yesterday..."
The roar over the high-band silenced the prisoners.
The intermittent radio chatter turned the prisoner across from me pale.
"Crazy bastards. They're really throwing us into the alchemists' den...!"
That's when I locked eyes with the middle-aged prisoner next to me.
I nodded in greeting.
"Hey."
The tough-looking guy asked,
"You that rumored Mafia Butcher?"
Wow.
I greeted first, and he didn't ignore me.
First time for everything.
A bit touched, I replied,
"Uh... yeah, seems like it."
"Shit, at least we're better off than the other squads."
The muscular man extended his hand.
"Jeff."
"Kyle Clark."
"Good to team up with you, Mafia Butcher."
"......"
Everything good except that corny nickname.
I turned to see an unfamiliar officer starting the briefing.
That drew curses from around the cabin, but the officer continued stone-faced.
In other words, mine-clearing for the main force.
As usual, officers quickly inspected our body cams.
Jeff muttered around his cigarette.
"What a load of crap."
We stood as one. Thud! The chopper hit the ground.
The light turned green, and the hatch slammed open with a clang.
"Son of a—!"
"Get off!"
We piled out into a filthy alleyway.
Residents in nearby buildings hurriedly drew their curtains as we arrived.
Then, gunfire and explosions erupted not far off.
Signal that other squads were already engaging.
At the order, 1st Squad hustled to the manhole on our terminals.
"...Never thought I'd end up crawling into a sewer."
Jeff muttered, took a deep breath, and pried open the manhole cover.
Then he suddenly dove aside like dodging something.
Thud!
"......"
"......"
The sewer entrance was dead silent.
Prisoners' dumbfounded stares turned to Jeff.
"What're you doing?"
Jeff blinked.
"...Usually, something jumps out from below, right?"
"Big guy's got the biggest balls to piss himself."
I looked at him, surprised.
"Thought you were the tough guy type, mister."
"......"
Jeff cleared his throat awkwardly and pointed down the manhole.
"Ahem. So, who's going first?"
"I'll take it."
"Oh, the Mafia Butcher, alright."
The other prisoners reacted.
"No shit, that's the Mafia Butcher?"
"From 3rd Squad?"
"Looks harmless, but appearances deceive."
'Squad chatter's supposed to be prohibited.'
Not a single one who didn't know the damn nickname.
'Curse that infirmary.'
Swallowing my embarrassment, I climbed down the ladder, flicked on my shotgun's light, and scanned around.
The sewer was shockingly tall and vast.
Clearly artificially expanded.
Jeff's voice came from above.
"Anything down there?!"
"Nah! Just the puke-inducing stench!"
"All clear?"
"We're coming down—hold up!"
That's when it happened.
Bang! A bullet whizzed past me.
"!!"
Startled, I quickly hurled a fireball deep into the sewer with Basic Fire Magic.
Green dwarves flickered into view along its path.
'Goblins...!?'
All wearing night-vision goggles. I looked up and yelled,
"Wait...!! Stay up there!"
"What?"
Bullets pierced my body from the darkness.
"Kreek, kreek. Fired too soon."
"Who said fire? Kreek."
"Not me."
"Not me either."
A smart-looking goblin shouted,
"Focus! He's a mage!"
I regenerated instantly and kicked off the ground toward them.
"Grah!?"
Before they could react to my unscathed state, I blasted the nearest one with my shotgun.
Bang!!
Its head exploded, flying off.
The others freaked out.
"Keeaaak!"
"Sh-shoot!! Fire already!"
'No idea why goblins are here, but...!'
Ignoring bullets with my boosted toughness, I charged shotgun blazing, then stomped right in front of a goblin.
"Kek!?"
Boom!!
A massive shockwave swept the sewer.
As I emerged from its center,
"Fire!!"
A barrage of rockets lanced from the dark, engulfing me.
Kaboom!!
A colossal explosion collapsed the sewer.
Amid the settling dust cloud, a goblin peeked out and muttered,
"Kreek, d-did we get him?"
"......"
"......"
The sudden silence twisted the smart goblin's face.
"You idiot! Don't jinx it like—"
Lightning erupted from the debris, engulfing them in an instant.