Timely Broadcast
A single timely broadcast, and a huge number of them dropped their weapons and raised their hands. Shouting surrender, don't shoot, at the top of their lungs as they surrendered to my men. Some even came surrendering straight to me. Not that they came to me—it was me approaching them. But still, some chose to fight to the bitter end. A minority fueled by revolutionary zeal or drug-induced aggression that overpowered their fear of death acted as commissars, enforcing discipline.
Right around the corner in the direction we were advancing, one such bastard was there now.
"You idiots! You can't seriously believe what the Public Security Bureau is saying, can you? That you'll live if you surrender? Don't make me laugh! Better to die here than suffer their torture! Fight to the last moment for your comrades, for your families and friends!"
The distrust of corrupt state power among the oppressed masses played its part here too. If they were truly worried about their families and friends, it would have been wiser to shoot each other in the face to avoid identification after death. But with their minds paralyzed by desperation, they didn't have the bandwidth for that.
"Fire!"
Kakakakakang!
Russian rifle and machine gun knockoffs spat fire toward us. But my powerful telekinetic field blocked every shot. An invisible force pushing straight ahead formed a one-hand-span-thick bulletproof barrier filling the corridor. Ordinary rifle rounds couldn't penetrate even a finger joint's depth before ricocheting back the way they came. Machine gun rounds dug in just a bit deeper.
Our side's grunts started bleeding from hits by their own bullets. Magical ricochet effect.
"Whoa..."
Kyung-tae's murmur from behind. He'd been trailing close despite hearing he wasn't needed for protection, nerves on edge. Naturally, the enemies were far more shocked. Whether wounded or not, none dared attack again.
"Kneel."
The more prisoners for interrogation, the better. At my command, they dropped their weapons and lowered themselves. Occasional glances up at me held transcendent terror and bewilderment beyond comprehension. Even the commissar who'd been yelling his lungs out moments ago averted his eyes in a convulsion at a single glance from me.
By now, geniuses awakening to abilities beyond physical enhancement were probably starting to appear somewhere in the world. But rumors of such prodigies were still just that—rumors. So my power still delivered massive shock value. Governments were surely hiding those rare cases tightly. In time, they'd realize it was futile.
A mana field suppressed cuts an ability user's output like a fuel-starved engine. Thus, the enemies kneeling to greet me lacked the strength to resist my men binding them, even belatedly.
One finally opened his mouth.
"P-please... spare me..."
"I won't kill you."
For now. They'd all die in the end.
Every deck level showed the same enemy reactions, so pacifying the Becklux didn't take long. The fight was more anticlimactic than expected, leaving me deflated. But cooling off, I realized my high spirits stemmed from having casualties—my edge had been overkill.
After capturing masses of prisoners and ending combat, I headed straight to the intensive care unit to heal the severely wounded first. Kyung-tae watched intently, with awe, as wounds closed slowly but in real time.
"Bro's mana field radius is about a hundred meters now, right? Since the Luzhou's floating that far out."
"Yeah."
"Hmm. That much at a hundred meters... I get a rough sense now."
"It's improved, but don't quantify hastily. It varies by your resistance too."
"Got it."
I'd lacked time lately for mage training, but hadn't slacked entirely. Optimizing my circuit in spare moments was natural progress. Unless mentally exhausted, I pondered code interpretation and application even in lucid dreams. No change in policy: I must become the decisive asymmetric force. After wrapping here, more self-enhancement effort. Give subordinates more chances to acclimate via controlled power use. Standardize output levels—worth considering for easier support.
I withdrew the Life incantation from Golden Age wisdom and asked the healed subordinate.
"How's it feel?"
Testing his nearly severed shoulder within full range, he replied politely.
"Better than before the injury. Thank you, Chairman."
Healing all wounded took about fifteen minutes. Against mana-less civilians, under one. But my personally awakened men resisted external magic strongly. Still, with the enemy's offensive collapsed, this leisure was fine.
Up on the bridge post-treatment, Suyeon greeted me composedly, having managed overall control. Her calm belied recent combat. Shattered bulletproof glass and ceiling bullet scars testified to the danger. Chilly winter blew through broken windows.
"You worked hard, bro."
"You too. Held the fort excellently while I was out."
Close aides need vast abilities, including combat prowess. My org's prime purpose: insurance against London's Round Table. Worst case, fight to the last protecting me. Suyeon had innate talent and ambition for her role. Normally, executive secretary and policy chief got only refresher combat training mandatory for cadres. But she'd completed comprehensive tactical training for bodyguards, strike teams, smuggling crews—three times. Instructors who'd trained Kyung-tae gave high marks; no doubt her skill. Why I could leave my spot to her in battle.
She feels indebted over Su-hyuk, to the point of guilt.
I'd told her in Singapore, but dead Kang Su-hyuk wouldn't want his sister living like this. He'd entrusted his life to me wishing happiness for his sole kin. Guessing that, I felt guilt despite no explicit contract breach. This rare debt was unfamiliar.
Of course, no letting Suyeon go now. I'd offered; she'd refused by choice.
Where else to find such talent...
Some prove the world's unfairness: congenital geniuses stacking talents impossibly. Like that American: special forces hero with medal, top-of-class med school grad, astronaut select while practicing medicine. And no silver spoon—immigrant dad killed by cops threatening family with a knife.
My luck: harvesting two per generation like him. Kyung-tae and Suyeon proved by merit; despite youth, no grumbles from below. Thanks to my cultivated org health and meritocracy.
Meritocracy's messy nationally, but useful for org managers like me.
"Helicopter wing?"
Suyeon answered.
"Judged Black Sea Party's offensive exhausted, so ordered three in one group to cover each other, refuel/resupply at nearest outpost. Fill thirds first, then rest if no issues. Left one for ship cover and perimeter watch; flagship refueling nearly done."
Post-patrol cover end, remaining wing's ammo/fuel neared critical. Suyeon, as deputy, acted independently. We'd been incommuncado inside. My staggered refuel order invalidated by intense combat. Becklux's helo deck fuel limited anyway; even with margin, couldn't full-fill all.
"Recall them?"
"No. My judgment matches yours."
The assault I faced was surely their all-out. If stronger forces waited, no dragging to today—revolutionaries would've seized lower Zhu Jiang early. Another basis: Al Qasim artisans' output limits. Handicraft ammo has caps; smuggling hard. Drugs: hundreds kilos dope armies. Ammo: same weight lasts hundreds half-day. Ports under gov control, tighter now. Risk shelling from corvettes/destroyers; bikes can't seize ports. Thus, Black Sea Party's import limits. Couldn't satisfy both drugs/ammo. Tactically, prioritize un-replicable systems like IR-guided MANPADS over ammo. Explains rare heavy weapons pre-today.
Saved weapons/ammo for decisive moment, lulling mil/police too.
Without my shake-up, they'd have prepped longer for total victory far stronger than today.
Diagonal forward from Becklux: Luzhou still engaging. No need aid; numbers/firepower gave edge. Attackers ignorant of ship layout fought terrain-disadvantaged. Navy sailors/abilities from lower decks flanked via hatches. Looked done in 2-3 minutes max.
One concern now. Suyeon voiced it, staring at monitor.
"The biggest variable hasn't intervened yet—that worries me."
Her laptop linked flagship data. Antenna mast fixed, full battlefield view here. Fragmented Black Sea Party lost initiative, pushed south relentlessly. If we'd been breached, different story—no steady advance. Clusterfucks of individual duels.
Kyung-tae added, same screen.
"Maybe no chance to jump in? Y'know, Round Table elites stand out—features, skin. One leaked pic, diplomatic nightmare, right?"
"Dunno. Doubt Round Table's prep that sloppy..."
Hong Kong's value dwarfs Mexico influence or cartel knights. Restoring to UK sway earns proportional payback from gov. Maybe skip risky now, aid post-loss guerrillas later. Endless bleed via vast mountains/forests. China can't lock every village across hundreds kms. Mao-worshipping guerrillas' infiltration/sabotage/terror chronic fatigue continent-wide.
Post-failure Maoists/Black Sea Party meeker to patrons. Long-term puppetry? But too big loss here problematic...
I said reservedly.
"Watch while reorganizing. See if they let it slide."
Won't be long wait. If acting today, before full rout.