A Dark Fantasy Spy

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“Ha…”

I leaned against the wall and let out a sigh. The smell of blood and sweat, mingled with a faint odor of gunpowder and chemicals, clung to my nostrils. It was somewhat nauseating.

I wiped my sweaty face with my hand. Instead of the grimy sweat that had been smeared with foreign substances, a reddish liquid stained my palm.

…It was blood.

Using the wall for support, I rose and peered through the shattered remains of a window. It seemed scrap had lodged itself in my skin, as I spotted a slight shimmer on my skin. I also noticed blood trickling down my forehead. What would happen if glass managed to enter my wound? I recalled a time when a shard had lodged into my finger, severing my tendon halfway. My concern grew.

As I silently stared through the glass, I limped around to survey the area.

The once lavishly lit department store was now dimmed, illuminated only by the distant emergency lights. The space that had been bustling with nearly a dozen terrorists was unnaturally quiet.

Not a single one moved.

After scanning the surroundings for some time, I pondered while holding the unloaded revolver in a daze.

“…Is it over?”

Episode 8 – Say Hello To My Little Friend

Gunfire and shouts echoed through the cramped corridor.

In the shadowy hallway, as the blue light from the guide lights slightly dispelled the darkness, the earsplitting gunfire and the flickering flames burst forth, only to quickly diminish again.

“Hey, hey! Block them! Don’t let them in!”

“Get back! Move!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

One of the terrorists fired off his shotgun towards the corner. Despite it being a rapid-fire gun that was well-maintained, unfortunately, his aim was terrible.

Bang! Bang! Tch.

Realizing his bullets had run out, the terrorist reached into his pocket to reload when someone dashed out from the end of the corridor.

“……!”

Instinctively, the terrorist halted his reloading, pulling up his gun in a defensive posture. He wasn’t sure what was coming his way, but he lifted his weapon to defend against the object swinging toward him.

“Ugh!”

-Clang!

A heavy impact washed over his arm, and the sharp sound of metal rang out clearly. The moment he had squeezed his eyes shut in that split second, he opened them to find that the thing blocking his gun was a blade.

A wickedly sharp blade.

For a brief moment of reflection, the knife that had been blocked by his shotgun ricocheted away, and with a heavy impact, the blade deftly shifted its trajectory and came flying back in.

Toward his ankle.

“Ugh-!!”

The terrorist shrieked as pain shot through his calf. He even dropped the gun he cherished so dearly, clutching his injury while groaning in agony, but soon found himself sprawled on the ground as a merciless kick targeted his abdomen.

Crash. The kicked body was sent crashing against the door. The terrorist, thrust into the room, tumbled across the floor, and those who had been quietly observing the situation from outside raised their hands in surrender upon seeing the sword thrust toward them.

Francesca lightly twisted her wrist, gripping the sword, and spoke.

“Looks like I found it. The situation room, that is…”

“Really?”

“Come see for yourself.”

While Francesca subdued the terrorists, Camila and Lucia trudged into the situation room.

After surveying the area, both of them got to work. Camila began gathering scattered communication devices and scraps of paper, while Lucia knelt beside the fallen terrorist, channeling her divine power to heal his wounds. It was first aid.

As Francesca cornered the terrorists, she momentarily glanced at Lucia, who was treating the terrorist with the calf injury.

“Is it really necessary to treat him now…?”

“There’s no benefit in being late.”

Lucia answered shortly, concentrating on her healing. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to converse with Francesca, who was a magician and her superior. It was simply that treatment was far more important than chit-chat. Besides, this wasn’t a situation suited for casual conversation.

So neither Lucia nor Francesca placed much significance on questions and answers.

The situation was resolved in an instant.

Francesca had thoroughly disarmed and subdued the terrorists, while Lucia had managed to close the wounds that had been freshly opened.

Camila chimed in.

“I found the radio!”

The original plan was to secure the situation room in hopes of notifying the outside about the ongoing situation inside the department store. To be more precise, it was about finding a way to exit while providing information about the interior, or discovering a means for reinforcements to break in. The military and police were likely surrounding the area.

The problem was,

“Uh… Is there anyone here who knows how to operate a radio? I can use one roughly, but I’ve never dealt with anything as specialized as this.”

“I don’t really know about radios…”

“I haven’t used one either.”

It turned out nobody knew how to use the communication equipment.

*

While Camila, Lucia, and Francesca searched for the situation room, I braced myself against the remaining terrorists. That was the plan.

There was only one objective: Escape.

Shutting down the power and magic within the department store to extinguish the lights, Camila rolled the majority of scattered terrorists into one place, and I dealt with them. That was my entire intermediary target to get out of the department store.

It would be best if Camila, Lucia, and Francesca could turn off the lights and secure the situation room, then request backup from outside. Even if that couldn’t happen, it wouldn’t matter. If far off enough, I could stay in a safe location without getting involved in a fight.

The question was whether I could handle the terrorists, whose numbers I had no accurate idea of.

And I did it.

All alone.

“Ha…”

I collapsed amidst the corpses of the terrorists, exhaling heavily. As the tension eased, the pain I had forgotten rushed back, and a flood of chaotic thoughts invaded my mind.

I’d never been on a solo operation, but I had pulled it off. It wouldn’t have been all of them, but I had managed to capture most of the terrorists.

Judging by sight, there were at least seven corpses strewn about. It precisely matched the number of terrorists I had killed earlier.

With dazed senses, I examined my body.

“…….”

There wasn’t a single unscathed spot.

Bruises and contusions marked my skin, looking as if I had been caught in a fight. I suppose there was blood where I couldn’t recall injuring myself, my forehead felt torn, and it seemed like the wound Lucia had treated had reopened.

And was that all? Rolling on the ground, there were splinters of wood, metal, and glass embedded in me all over.

Moreover, while monitoring my body, I noticed a sudden discomfort as blood trickled into my eye, pulling me back to the moment.

I wiped my eyes and face with my sleeve, disgusted.

“Damn…”

No one had it rougher than I did. Even the terrorists stuck together, moving in groups, yet here I was, completely alone.

“…I feel incredibly lonely.”

That said, the plan had been successful. Most of the terrorists were dead, while Camila, Lucia, and Francesca also appeared to be alive. Alive… but not entirely unscathed, yet I was still breathing.

That made my next task clear.

I brushed myself off, standing up to regroup. I wiped off the blood and bandaged my wounds. I discarded the revolver that had run out of ammo and hoisted my spent pistol. I had no clue where my knife had ended up. I must have dropped it somewhere amid the chaos, but it was too dark to find it.

I was left with only two magazines. One had been fully used up in that encounter with Marco or Irina, leaving only one behind.

I needed to find a new weapon. I rummaged through the pockets of the fallen terrorists. Although poorly maintained, thankfully, there were plenty of guns lying around that worked to some degree.

I needed to gather a whole lot of guns. Or a significantly bigger one.

-Click.

While searching the corpses, an unfamiliar sound echoed in my ears.

It was the sound of a radio.

I paused my weapon search and rummaged through the terrorists’ bodies until I found a radio that was still operational.

-‘…Ah, hello? Can you hear me?’

“Camila?”

-‘Oh, we’re connected! Can you hear me loud and clear?’

It was Camila.

With shaking fingers, I grasped the radio.

“…I can hear you clearly. But where are you right now?”

-‘I found it! There are terrorists and equipment here!’

“You actually found it…?”

-‘Yeah!’

“Oh, wow…”

She had found the situation room. Honestly, I hadn’t been expecting much, as I thought it would be tough to find it without guidance, but hearing that she had indeed located it made me feel rather stunned than relieved.

“Anyway, I’m relieved you found it. You said there were terrorists, but there’s not an issue, right?”

-‘Yes, I’ve got them all tied up. It seems like we’ve ensured safety for now.’

Her response streamed from the radio. So they had secured the situation room and ensured safety; I couldn’t be more grateful.

-‘Uh, but there’s one problem that’s come up. A rather significant issue.’

“A problem…?”

-‘I found equipment that seems to have been brought in by the terrorists, but no one among us knows how to use it. It’s somewhat specialized…’

“What kind of radio is it? If you tell me, I can guide you on connecting to the communication line.”

-‘How would I know what the radios here are like if I don’t even know the ones on Earth…?’

“Ah.”

Right. Camila was a newbie.

I had briefly misremembered given that she mentioned she had taken courses in national intelligence and interned at SIS during college.

“Then I’ll come over there. Please give me your precise location.”

-‘Uh… are you sure that’s okay? This seems like a public line…’

“It’s fine. After all, the terrorists won’t be able to hear us. We hold all the radios.”

-‘Huh?’

“We’ve got four radios. One is with me now, and the other two still belong to Camila.”

The radio that had been passed to Camila when she left, the terrorists in the broadcast room who had held radios, the radio I recently confiscated, and the one from the first terrorist I had killed in the staff passage, which is now broken.

Add it all up, and it made four.

“So don’t worry. They won’t hear our conversation right now. It seems like I managed to take down the remaining terrorists as well.”

-‘Alright. Still, to be safe, I’ll come to get you.’

“Are you planning on leaving the situation room?”

-‘For now, it seems safe. Also, you must have been injured, so it wouldn’t be easy for you to get here. So please tell me where you are right away.’

“…Got it. I’ll let you know my location.”

Gasping, I finally managed to get to my feet. As I straightened my back, I inadvertently let out a moan.

It wasn’t because I was getting old, but rather because I was exhausted. In fact, it felt like my entire body had taken a beating. I had never been particularly strong, but it seemed like I severely overstretched my limits. My legs didn’t want to cooperate.

I glanced downward to see a large hole in my thigh. Had I been shot? I had no idea. I had been so occupied that I hadn’t even noticed such an injury occurring.

Struggling to walk, I ultimately decided to shuffle along like an elderly person.

-‘Is something wrong?’

“Just a moment… I need to figure out where I am. Ah, I know where now.”

While hopping ungracefully on one foot and trying to ascertain where I was, I suddenly heard a cough coming from behind me.

“…Cough!”

I halted and turned around.

A brief silence followed, and then the cough resounded again. More of a sound one would expect from someone gravely ill rather than a mere cold.

-‘Hey?’

“…….”

-‘…Is everything alright? Should we head over there?’

“…Wait a second.”

With the radio in one hand and a gun in the other, I cautiously approached the direction of the sound.

Across the store. Behind the shelf.

Slowly extending the hand gripping my pistol, I inspected the space behind the shelves.

And there, I spotted a person.

*

In the corner compartment of the store where I had fought the terrorists, I noticed someone. A middle-aged man.

I didn’t introduce myself, nor did I shine a bright light to compare faces, but I could tell that he was a terrorist.

One notable fact was that he was middle-aged.

Typically, terrorists range in age from their 20s to 40s, but they mostly gather around their 20s and 30s. Be it mass shootings, hijackings, strap on bomb vests, or drive vehicles packed with explosives for suicide missions.

Why? Because younger individuals are more susceptible to becoming terrorists.

With social media, it’s easy to come across propaganda videos uploaded online, they possess less life experience thus more easily fall for sweet talks, and, most importantly, they are more prone to brainwashing. Moreover, they are fearless.

While it has become a worn-out tactic, nowadays they also use women, elderly individuals, and children in terrorism. Since even terrorist organizations aren’t as dull as one would expect, they generally suspect unmarried men between the ages of 20s and 40s.

However, such phenomena are unobserved in this place. Because magic exists in this world.

Regardless of gender, anyone can easily perform acts of terrorism. Even minors can create chaos if they can wield magic. A sorcerer could at ease butcher a mere handful of people on the street and challenge law enforcement. Such is this world.

However, even in this town, it was extremely rare for a middle-aged person—well, someone nearing retirement—to personally engage in terrorism.

Therefore, when I finally came face to face with a terrorist, my initial thought was, “How strange.”

“…….”

I hadn’t noticed the man’s stature when I only heard his voice, but now I saw that he was smaller than I had expected. Whether due to malnutrition or health issues, his eyes were sunken and his cheekbones protruded.

Injured, the terrorist was clutching his shoulder. His blood-soaked right hand was grasping his shoulder, while his left hand, resting upon his stomach, trembled.

His aged hands were dry and cracked. It could simply be the transition between the seasons, but considering that doctors often wash their hands frequently due to their profession and typically have dry skin, it was possible that he really was a doctor.

Because in a no man’s land, everything is scarce.

Even now, it’s uncertain if he holds a license, but in a lawless no man’s land, having a license holds no value.

I questioned him.

“Are you the doctor?”

“…….”

He didn’t answer. I hadn’t expected a response, so I didn’t mind.

After all, nearly all the corpses around belonged to men and women aged between their 20s and 30s, and he was the only middle-aged man who seemed capable of conversing with me.

Whether by luck or misfortune, out of all the terrorists, this was the one who was still breathing and facing me.

I slightly lowered the aim of my gun pointed at the living terrorist.

“Looks like you’re the one.”

“…….”

Though I didn’t hear a reply, I noticed blood flowing from between his fingers. I lowered my weapon while watching the terrorist, as he was partially lying down, forcing himself to look up at me.

After gazing in silence for a while, he suddenly spoke.

“…Who are you?”

“…….”

“You’re not the police, but… ugh… it seems.”

The terrorist groaned, painfully asking me. Although he wasn’t bleeding heavily, it looked like his wound was quite deep.

“I’m just an unlucky civil servant who came shopping and ended up stuck here.”

“…….”

The terrorist emitted a muffled sound, half-laughing in disbelief.

“Do civil servants carry guns these days…?”

“If you aren’t the police, then you must be military…? Or the Magic Department…?”

Breathing harshly, the terrorist questioned me.

Of course, I had no intention of revealing that. I had no desire to do so.

I placed my pistol on the shelf and sighed lightly.

“About the cargo you brought from the outside. It’s probably related to that strange curtain-like thing, isn’t it?”

“…….”

“Answer while it’s still calm. That way, even if it lands in court later, they might consider a lenient verdict for you.”

It was a lie about the leniency of the judgment. I had no authority to decide that; I couldn’t know what they would think of me at the trial.

What I needed to know was whether that strange curtain that had cut off the department store from the outside was related to their cargo.

In response, the terrorist chuckled.

“If I was scared of the law, would I be here, doing this…?”

It seemed he knew full well he had gone over the edge.

Most likely, regardless of the outcome, even if he managed to survive, he would be facing a high chance of capital punishment. Just assessing his features, he appeared to be either a key figure or the ringleader.

“Did you plan to negotiate with the government? After throwing this mess?”

“The dead… are… ugh… negotiations were possible.”

He had taken hostages without killing anyone, and thus had considered speaking with the government. Honestly, judging by how they tried to kill me, I thought at least one or two hostages would have met their demise, but it was unexpectedly civilized.

Would the government actually negotiate with these people?

Most likely not.

The Government of Abas wanted to bring him to the gallows. By doing so, they would present themselves as strong against terrorism and lessen criticism from the cult and magic tower.

So this guy was bound for the execution ground. Perhaps those terrorists might all receive capital punishment.

Yet,

Whether this guy ends up hanged was none of my business.

“Let’s skip the dirty business and get to the clean part. The cargo. What’s its purpose?”

“…….”

The answer didn’t come again. The terrorist simply stared at me, powerfully locking his gaze.

“…Was I supposed to see blood?”

“…….”

“I mean, was there a need for this bloody confrontation?”

To be honest, I didn’t know.

It might have been possible to negotiate quietly and slip away, or the government might have agreed to negotiate to save us, or otherwise find a way to escape on our own.

“To put it frankly….”

But one thing was clear,

“It doesn’t matter.”

That kind of hypothesis wasn’t really relevant.

“If you didn’t want a bloody outcome, why the hell did you come here to stir up trouble?”

“…….”

“This is your last chance. The cargo. What were you going to do with it?”

-Thunk!

A loud sound reverberated from the direction of the atrium. Like something had fallen or was kicked against the iron door.

I turned to gaze in that direction. Perhaps it was Camila.

At that very moment, the terrorist leaped up and charged at me. The middle-aged terrorist, who had introduced himself as a doctor, lunged at my face with bloodshot eyes.

I swung my arm to deflect his reaching hand, grasping the terrorist by the neck.

“Ugh, h-huh…!”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

As I tightened my grip on his neck, his desperate gasps were audible.

“I’ll ask you just once more. The cargo from the outside. What is its purpose?”

“Grrr!”

“Answer, you bastard!”

Ignoring his gasps, I continued to clamp down on his neck. Although it wasn’t tight enough to prevent him from speaking, it was restrictive enough he was capable of responding in short sentences.

Yet, he remained silent. Instead, he used his body weight and strength, trying to strike my arm, which was throttling him, with his elbow.

“Ugh…!”

“Grrr!”

The pain shot through my arm harder than expected. I stumbled back instinctively, and the terrorist gasped for breath after finally being released.

Though no one was in full control, I was quicker.

In one hand, I undid my belt. Grabbing both ends, I pulled it tight and wrapped it around the thrashing terrorist’s neck.

“Die, you bastard!”

“……!”

The leather’s texture was unmistakably clear in my palm. As I pulled, the buckle clanked and shifted in the struggle.

With him struggling for survival, I tackled his legs to bring him down. Stepping on his back, I yanked tightly on the belt.

At that moment, everything slowed down, as if time itself had dilated.

The tightly pulled belt swung back and forth, veins and arteries pulsating from the strain.

The terrorist, gasping for breath, writhed on the ground, while the shattered glass made unpleasant scraping noises beneath him.

My consciousness began to dull from the loss of blood and the disorienting environment around me.

And right before I finished him off entirely,

A beastman leapt from the shadows and tackled me.

“Damn it!”

Crash! The beastman charged in at tremendous speed, wrapping his arms around my waist, and we tumbled across the floor in an awkward heap.

Rolling over a couple of times and colliding against something hard, I couldn’t tell if it was a shelf, a flowerbed, or a pillar, but it hurt like hell.

The pain from my back made me bend involuntarily, and with a tightening sensation in my chest, I struggled to breathe.

“Cough…!”

In that fleeting moment, as my senses dulled, my eyes fell upon my pistol that had been knocked free. A government-issued pistol from the Military Intelligence Agency. The mag on the ground beside it was fully loaded.

Crawling forward, I grasped the pistol. I pressed the release button and dropped the empty mag.

With shaky hands like shaking aspen, I forced the mag into position.

-Click.

The magazine finally slid into place with a satisfying sound. I laid face down, breathing heavily, and pulled back the slide with all the strength I had.

Taking aim at the beastman with trembling hands,

I fired.

-Bang!

Yet unfortunately, the bullet went wide. The shot hit aimlessly and shattered a nearby window, causing my pistol’s slide to jerk backward. I attempted to realign my aim at the standing beastman, but regrettably, I was one moment too late.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“What the hell…!”

The beastman climbed atop me.

The fur-covered fox beastman let out a savage growl, baring her sharp teeth. She swung her fist, knocking the gun out of my hand once more.

The following moment was a punch directed at my face.

As I braced for impact, I squeezed my eyes shut, but the force of the blow stunned me beyond expectation.

My face burned. It stung.

The power behind the punch was so overwhelming that, in that instant, I felt as if I had been shot, the back of my head hitting the floor.

I fought to maintain consciousness, thrashing like a car running out of gas, yet my body felt heavier and lethargic as the world lost focus. It was instinct, if one could say it was instinct.

In that moment, my surroundings dimmed, my vision blurred.

The ringing in my ears faded, drowned out by a furious voice.

“Run, teacher! I’ll handle this!”

“…….”

“Get out of here, now!”

It was the beastman.

Climbing over me, she shouted for me to escape from the middle-aged terrorist.

“What are you doing, teacher? Hurry up and run!”

The middle-aged terrorist crawled on the floor, struggling to pull the belt out of his grasp. He still seemed dazed from everything that had happened.

The beastman called out again for me to flee, while I fixed my eyes on the enormous blade hanging at her waist.

In that instant, my brain sent a warning.

If I stayed put, death awaited me.

“…….”

At that moment, clarity returned.

In the distraction the beastman had provided, I bolted up, extending my hand toward the terrorist’s face.

The young beastman’s skin, still soft and unblemished. I noticed that the skin was surprisingly smooth. I wrapped my thumb around her lips, pinching the bridge of her nose with my index finger.

Then I forcefully bent the longest finger.

Toward her left eye.

“Kyaaaaaah-!!”

A piercing scream filled the once bustling store.

The beastman screamed in agony, clenching her bleeding eye with her hand, while I felt the wet sensation of sticky blood and the squishy fragments of her cornea against my fingertips.

I dug my finger in with renewed vigor, as if I were trying to carve a hole into her brain.

“Damn you, furball…!”

The sensation of her eyeball being crushed was clearer than ever.

Her cries echoed around me, but without hesitation, I pushed my fingertip deeper, aiming to obliterate her eye and then finish off the beastman terrorist by strangling her to death.

But just like most things in life, nothing goes as planned.

While I gouged at her eye, a sudden, fiery pain shot through my thumb, causing me to withdraw it instinctively.

“Argh!”

The sharp pain felt as if it had been burned. Instinctively pulling my hand back, I clutched at my wrist with my trembling left hand, trying to stifle the throbbing agony.

What remained was the absence of my finger.

Where my thumb should have been was merely a fleshy mess dripping blood, spewing nothing but slaughter.

“Damn it!!”

“Bleh!”

While I moaned, the fox beastman spat something out, her mouth full of saliva and blood as she fell upon my severed thumb.

The moment I was incapacitated and had no time to signal for aid or choke back the spilling blood, the cunning terrorist managed to strangle my neck.

“……!”

“Die, you bastard!”

The beastman’s hands gripped my neck like clamps. Gasping for breath proved to be impossible. Reflexively, I reached for her wrist; yet my finger had been severed, so I lacked the strength to free myself.

I couldn’t scream or curse. My entire body contorted while I struggled with the urge to scream, and my eyes felt as though they might pop out of their sockets.

Was this a survival response, or was this a vision of my impending demise? Time slowed to a crawl, dragging out every moment before me.

The middle-aged man nearly finished unbuckling the belt.

The fox beastman who had climbed atop me twisted my neck even tighter.

I could feel the urgency to shake her off, using what little strength I had left.

Threads of blood began to stain my vision. An awareness of the chaos that raced through my mind—a blend of delirium and dreams.
The flashes danced in front of my eyes. It all whirled around me.

And then, a gunshot tore through the air.

It shattered everything.

The pressure on my neck disappeared.

“C-cough!”

Fresh air filled my lungs as clarity returned, sharpening my sight. The oppressive force had vanished from my throat.

Raining down upon me was the fallen fox beastman, dripping blood as she slumped to the floor.

And, in the distance,

There stood a panting Camila, aiming the pistol at me.

“Ar-are you alright?!”

“…….”

“What on earth is happening?! Please stay awake! Don’t close your eyes!”

She dashed over, pulling me into an embrace.

In a daze, I looked up at her glimmering blue eyes, now filled with tears.

Voices mixed in a crescendo echoed through my ears. My heavy eyelids drooped like curtains, refusing to remain open, sinking into a sweet serenade.

Inside the store overflowing with the slaughter of the terrorists, I felt a warm touch against my cheek.

“…Camila.”

“Yes, yes…?!”

“I’m really glad to see you….”