Chapter 34
Chapter 34
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 034
Chapter Title: Assault Operation
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Many people expressed confusion at that comment.
Then someone cautiously posted.
More chats poured in.
A cynical chat followed.
"Damn it all!"
Bam! A pot-bellied mafia boss slammed his tablet down like he wanted to shatter it, protesting loudly.
"What the hell is this!? Godfather. And you, Don Valone! You said a mana drain ability user could definitely take out the Butcher!"
"Hmmm..."
The old man in the red jacket, Don Valone, swallowed an uncomfortable groan.
"The Butcher's fine, but that psychopath crippled a cop in the process...!"
"The whole 8th Special District is laughing at us. We struck first and got our asses handed to us!"
"How are you gonna take responsibility for this!? You were so cocky, and now our faces are the only ones dragged through the mud!"
"Enough with the damn face-saving talk!"
Valone flashed his eyes fiercely.
"Linus forgot we're the Valone Family from the start, didn't he? If we're talking damaged pride, no one's more humiliated than me right here!"
"Hah, talk about the pot calling the kettle black!"
"Mazaroni. You done talking?!"
"That's enough."
Just before the argument escalated, the Godfather raised his hand, and the tension eased momentarily.
Confirming they'd calmed, he spoke in a low voice.
"Whether the cop lives or dies, attacking the Butcher—who's technically police—means war was inevitable. They've got their pretext now. Hell, even if we hadn't done a thing..."
The Godfather raised a finger, raising his voice.
"They'd have held that blade to our throats sooner or later. Am I wrong? That's why you all backed this plan!"
"That's...!"
"Don't chicken out now! Sure, the Butcher exceeded expectations. But that doesn't change the stance of this meeting!"
The family bosses groaned one by one.
Scanning them, the Godfather spoke calmly.
"Use this as a lesson. Prepare stronger cards next time."
"Stronger cards? Got some ace up your sleeve?"
To the bespectacled mafia Edmonds' question, he quietly closed his eyes.
"First, ally with the Al Kimia Alliance. And sign premium contracts with the elf guild while we're at it."
"...Elves, fine. But can we trust the alchemists? Our main businesses overlap a lot..."
"It's do or die now. We're in the same boat. If they wanna live, they'll cooperate."
"Hmmm..."
The pot-bellied Mazaroni sneered.
"So pulling in pointy-ears and alchemists is your 'strong card,' Godfather?"
"Of course not. They're just force multipliers."
"Then what is it?"
"That..."
The Godfather paused before answering.
"I'll tell you once it's solid. Too early to say now."
"......"
"...Understood."
"So, old friends. Trust me for now. Focus on cooperating with the alchemists to counter the police moves."
"Sigh..."
"Hmmm."
The bosses nodded reluctantly.
Amid them, Mazaroni exchanged a meaningful glance with the bespectacled Edmonds.
"The Godfather's got no plan at all!"
On the way home after the meeting.
Mazaroni vented in his luxury sedan.
"Never dreamed a mana drainer would go down. No way he has a next step!"
"Honestly, I'm suspicious too."
Edmonds chimed in agreement.
"Dodging the question? Not like the usual Godfather."
"He's panicked. Catching the Butcher would've smoothed everything. Now he's just buying time."
He clicked his tongue.
"'Stronger card'? The Mafia Butcher who broke even Gerald Hudson. If mana drain—a mage killer—fails, what the hell do we use? Hire Magic Tower guys?!"
Powerhouses on Hudson's level or higher existed, sure. But they weren't for hire, nor did they bend easily.
"At this point, I need a Plan B."
"Plan B...?"
Mazaroni shot him a look.
"In case we lose this war."
"...!!"
"Edmonds. We need backups too, right?"
Meanwhile, at the Elf Mercenary Guild.
In a stark, decoration-free room, several elves silently watched a hologram video.
A young blue-eyed female elf spoke in disbelief.
"...This video real? No edits?"
"Downloaded and replayed from the surviving warrior's combat data."
Among them, an elderly elf laden with bizarre machinery rasped.
"You see it too, right?"
The hologram clearly showed an ancient wind.
Just like ancient texts described—like formless energy moving with intent. Undeniable proof.
"Not just that."
The elder continued.
"Not only blocked sniper bullets... but reflected them for a counter-snipe. That's no ordinary wind."
He coughed lightly, steadying his breath with his respirator.
"...The noblest wind. One only the World Tree's chosen could befriend... Without doubt, a high-rank spirit."
"!!"
The elves murmured excitedly.
"No way..."
"Summoned a spirit? A high-rank one, no less?"
"Unbelievable..."
"How...?"
The blue-eyed woman asked.
"Guild Master, no World Tree—how'd a human learn our secret magic?"
"Cough... No one knows. But think, child."
The Guild Master lifted his head laboriously.
"The Last Secret Sorcerer wrote only that our savior, 'Salva,' would come. Never said kin."
"...!"
"And the one who guarded her end... was human, not elf."
Referring to the Founding Sorceress.
Unease rippled through the elves.
"Th-then..."
"You saying that human mage is the prophesied Salva?"
"Maybe, maybe not. Does it matter?"
Swallowing a cough, he eyed them.
"What matters is, because of him, a miracle: a noble spirit bearing World Tree mana descended here. After centuries."
"World Tree mana...!"
Some elves' eyes welled up.
Their gazes turned to their grotesque, implant-riddled bodies.
Most flesh replaced by machines. Without them, they couldn't breathe or live. No longer true elves.
Their cells couldn't divide without that era's mana.
"With World Tree mana... perhaps, cough, we could escape this mechanical prison, even a little."
A hope to break implant addiction, reclaim some body.
A wish to feel life in nature, breathe its scent, as texts described.
"If I could sense that mana, I wouldn't care if the last secret magic heir is human. Nay, I'd gladly hail him Salva, our savior."
"!!"
"And you? Or do you cling to racial arrogance even now?"
Eyes wide, they shook heads, kneeling one by one.
"We accept the Guild Master's words."
"Accept."
"Accept."
"Accept."
"Guild Master..."
He asked the trembling-eyed young elf—his sole kin.
"Afraid, child? To beg pardon from a human for our rudeness, plead mercy?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Kneeling, she replied shakily.
"I accept the Guild Master's words."
A male elf whispered beside the elder.
"Guild Master. The mafia's premium contract offer...?"
"...Reject it."
Since the mafia opposed him.
"No more work with the mafia."
He nodded.
"Accept."
After returning from my second outing.
I'd been feeling restless about various things.
It started with the IDs from multiple countries I found at home that day.
All with sis's photo, but different names and origins.
From that moment, everything blurred.
Was sis—Lena Clark—really who I thought?
Or hiding countless secrets?
'Thought I knew her so well.'
Since then, I wondered if I knew her at all.
And those doubts led back to a fundamental question.
One I'd asked long ago, never answered.
'Why me, of all people?'
Alley orphans were a dime a dozen.
'Why me?'
Then.
Walter, gazing out the window, said,
"Air feels ominous today."
"Yeah."
Since the outing fiasco, a heavy mood hung over the cellblock.
Not just my attack.
The cops surveilling me got hit by mafia too.
One critical.
Joseph Team Leader's fury was no secret.
"And you're moping—not like you."
"Huh?"
"Something up?"
"Uh..."
I blinked at Walter.
"Uncle, you're surprisingly perceptive?"
"Kid. You're usually hyped even for death row, but come back from outing drooping? Think I'm blind?"
"Was I?"
"Yeah, you were."
That obvious?
"Dunno the details, but..."
Walter lit a cigarette.
"Save unsolvable worries for later. It'll just sour your mood. Life's too short to waste emotions on dead-end thoughts."
Maybe because it's truly short.
His words rang true.
"...You comforting me?"
"Comfort? Gross. Just saying."
"......"
But Walter was spot on.
'Yeah, no point dwelling now. Besides...'
I recalled the message when joining the penal unit.
Back then, 'censored' meant nothing. Now?
It felt tied to the hidden quest 'Lena Clark's Truth.'
Maybe all answers there.
'Just keep pushing for citizenship like planned.'
And her wish for my normal life felt genuine.
'Whatever her secrets, doesn't erase her grace.'
She's still family.
Clap! I smacked my cheeks hard.
"Okay. Table the brooding."
"Good."
"Thanks for the pep talk, Uncle."
"Thanks? Remember next squad mix."
"That again?"
"Stick to your back long-term. Deal?"
Then.
"43471, you there?"
Roden Inspector stood there.
"Team Leader's calling. Follow."
"?"
Heading to Joseph Team Leader's 4th-floor office as usual, Roden grabbed me.
"43471. Not there."
"...Huh?"
"This way."
He pointed upstairs.
'Not 4th floor?'
Unusual vibe. I followed up the stairs to a double door on the 6th floor.
"...What's this?"
"You'll see."
Roden flung the doors open.
A vast space, long table lined with a dozen police brass.
"...???"
I blinked in confusion. A familiar face at the head raised a hand.
"Ah, you're here."
"...Councilman Rockton?"
"Sit."
All eyes locked on me.
Dazed, I awkwardly took the end seat. Rockton spoke into the mic.
"Let's begin."
Then, unseen messages appeared.
"!!"