A Dark Fantasy Spy

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In the dark alley, a projectile crossed paths.

For a brief moment, a fist-sized metal projectile soared through the air, before the rounded shell collided with the ground.

An explosion did not occur.

The shell that hit the asphalt merely tumbled across the road, releasing pale smoke in all directions.

‘…A dud shell?’

So, it wasn’t surprising that Martinez thought of a dud shell upon seeing the projectile spewing smoke without exploding.

The suddenly rising smoke caused a pack of dogs, still possessing their instincts, to pause their attack on humans and start to panic instead.

The ambush may have failed, but it was not a problem.

The undead, controlled by the thoughts of their master, would follow his commands without regard for instinct. And it wasn’t just Martinez who had his vision obscured.

Using the smoke as cover, Martinez brushed off the mud-stained hem of his clothing and stood up. Perhaps concerned about stray fire, the shooting had stopped.

Approaching his side, his loyal subordinate, Ahmad bin Rabani, began to support Martinez.

“Sir.”

Martinez’s gaze turned toward Ahmad.

Having rushed out of the hotel after receiving a message, Ahmad was dressed much lighter than usual.

“…The contract?”

Upon quietly asking, Ahmad shook his head with a troubled expression.

“No response.”

“…Damn it.”

After devouring the sacrifice, they turn a blind eye. Truly, you can’t trust a demon.

But he could not stop here.

He had come this far. How could he stop for merely a slight hiccup?

Supported by Ahmad, Martinez channeled magic into the magical circle. The unstable spell shimmered brightly and transformed into a veil.

Though he didn’t say much, he already knew what needed to be done from this point onward.

He patted Ahmad on the shoulder, and Ahmad nodded heavily.

“…Go.”

As the thick smoke began to dissipate all around.

What remained in the alley were the snarling pack of dogs and the solitary magician who chose to remain.

Only the quasi-military operatives with guns were left.

Episode 13 – No Country for the Magician

“What happened?”

At my casual question, Pippin’s reply came back.

– “One adult male has fled the scene. He’s 275 meters… no, 286 meters to the east. Identified as Martinez.”

“What about the employees?”

– “They’re currently in a standoff with the magician. A new magician has entered the conflict, and it seems to be Ahmad bin Rabani.”

So they were in a standoff.

That didn’t mean they were fighting.

“Does it look like they need medical support?”

I could hear the rustling of paper over the radio. Pippin paused briefly after communicating with the operations team, then contacted me again.

– “There are no casualties.”

“Any unusual findings?”

– “It seems that undead in the shape of dogs have appeared. They appear to be related to the undead that were previously reported by the Manager from that village. As anticipated by the senior analyst who supported the operations team, it looks like Martinez and his group are necromancers.”

Undead. A new magician. A necromancer.

Had it been just a month ago, I would have been horrified by such a report, but now my reaction was apathetic. Other quasi-military operatives from the Royal Intelligence Department shared the same feelings.

While Pippin continued her analysis, I walked through the secluded alley and casually said, “They fired a projectile?”

– “Yes.”

Pippin replied.

– “Right after the protective magic was activated, the field team fired a projectile from the air. The gas was successfully released.”

“Did anyone inhale it?”

– “None of the personnel in the field team inhaled the gas. They evacuated right after it was released. However, both Martinez and Ahmad definitely inhaled it. They had been waiting on-site for nearly a minute, so they must have inhaled at least a small amount.”

“…Really?”

I nodded, withdrawing my finger from the button.

“Well, they’ll probably die soon.”

The silent radio flickered its green light, ceasing operation. As radio silence began, it was unlikely that the Empire would track our location.

Exiting the alley, I suddenly looked up at the sky.

Amidst the thick darkness, sparkling white snowflakes tickled the tip of my nose.

The gloomy sky of the snowy northern region.

As clouds swirled like a looming storm, I gently closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

“……”

The end was in sight.

*

“…It’s over.”

As I finally raised my gaze with difficulty, I emerged from the end of a long tunnel to find a snowy country.

Martinez envisioned the country covered in pure white snow.

The freshly fallen snow formed fields.

Stretching out to the horizon like vast pastures, the land was dotted with snowdrifts glowing white in the shadows.

It wasn’t just the snowballs that sparkled.

Drizzling down like the morning dew, moistening the earth, tiny snowflakes were falling to the ground.

That sight. The starlight flowing over the snowy fields. The landscape etched into his eyes was immensely beautiful.

“……”

A railroad traversed the empty snowy landscape.

Before entering the tunnel, Martinez had been walking along the railroad that extended straight ahead when he suddenly plopped down onto the snowy ground.

“Ha…”

Captivated by the majestic view, he unconsciously clutched his chest and let out a trembling breath.

His chest hurt, and his breath was ragged.

With every inhale, his inflated lungs screamed as if they were about to tear apart.

It felt like thousands of needles were stabbing between his ribs, and the impulse to rip open his chest and pull out his lungs surged within him.

The pain that had been following him since meeting Ahmad showed no signs of fading away.

At first, he thought he might have been injured after being hit by a car and rolling on the road, but a sheer magical energy that he managed to absorb allowed him insight into his body: the pain in his chest wasn’t from any external shock or impact.

His lungs were completely ruined. His ribs were fine except for a small crack, but there was blood flowing from his lungs.

Why?

He sought answers, but none came.

At that moment, a hypothesis crossed his mind.

Long ago, he had heard tales from martial artists about a weapon developed to kill magicians and priests while on a monster-slaying mission on the Mauritania Continent.

He hadn’t seen it personally; it was merely something he had overheard among the officers, but a similar rumor had also circulated among magicians.

The Empire was rumored to possess a poison that couldn’t be countered by either magic or divine. Just a tiny sip would plunge someone into a coma; it was said to destroy the lungs entirely, and only those above the rank of bishop could neutralize it with divine. Claiming one’s life upon casting magic was also part of the stories told.

These rumors weren’t limited to the Empire; magicians from Abas, Patalia, and the Lushan Federation had shared similar stories.

He had thought them to be mere conspiracy theories, but now—

“…Damn it.”

Struggling to walk, Martinez fell silent as he collapsed, resting himself against the tunnel wall.

Things had twisted out of control.

The plan went awry, and the operation failed.

A grand total of twenty years—perhaps even his entire life as a magician—devoted to a plan, shattered to pieces.

What he prided as the best countermeasure had failed because of the unforeseen appearance of a hero and his entourage. The holy maiden’s silver bullet pierced the heart of the demon.

Perhaps the failure was already foreseen the moment the Duke allowed the Inquisition to station itself. No, even before that, it may have been predicted when the inquisitors sensed the demon’s existence and visited the northern villages.

For two weeks, he had gathered his subordinates to come up with alternatives, but that too had failed.

Before concrete plans could be established, his subordinates lost their lives at the hands of the intruder, leaving him to flee in this state.

“…Ha.”

The moment he swallowed the hot liquid rising from his insides, he let out a sigh of either regret or anger.

Forgetting the pain that was tugging at his nails, Martinez steadied his body as he pushed himself off the wall, moving with unsteady legs to hasten his steps.

The plan had failed, but it was not the end.

Even if he were to have his name erased from the roster of the academic community and be expelled from the magic tower, pursued by the magic battalion, even if the cursed Inquisition’s forces scoured the entire continent. There was still a chance.

As long as he survived, he could rise again at any time.

So, while he had the strength left, he had to escape the north as quickly as possible.

Amid the vague thoughts of whether it was an excuse or an obligation, Martinez managed to rise from his position and began to walk while leaning against the wall.

Toward the beam of light at the end of the tunnel.

As he stumbled through, he suddenly felt as if a shadow had cast over the tunnel. Raising his head with great effort, a strange scene unfolded before his eyes.

“……”

At the end of the long tunnel lay the snowy country.

Freshly fallen white snow blanketed the earth. The world was filled with glistening white snow.

A vast snowy plain stretched out toward the horizon.

The railroad crossed over the land where snowballs accumulated.

A faint moonlight settled at the tunnel’s end, where a woman stood tall.

The moment Martinez summoned the strength to look up and see her face, he let out a breath between his trembling lips.

*

At the small sigh that slipped from the crack, the woman’s eyes fluttered open.

A pair of violet eyes like a pair of violets.

Francesca, with her eyes open, looked at Martinez while standing on the railroad.

The gaze turning toward Martinez from Francesca was chillingly cold. The intensity of her gaze shone almost as strongly as the moon emerging from behind the clouds, colder than the winter river.

Her voice was just as frigid as her gaze.

“Lord Ahmad is fighting for his life, yet the one who caused it all is right here.”

With a sharp tone, Francesca’s voice made Martinez’s jaw tighten.

Unlike her usual expression, unfazed by emotions, he was now clearly emotional.

Francesca was the same.

The woman who smiled sweetly at everyone now wore an expression devoid of any emotion. The absence of a smile combined with the cold gaze and voice reminiscent of a lifeless watercolor portrait that gave off no vibrance.

“…Did you know?”

“I had my suspicions.”

“…Since when?”

“Since I realized you were hiding something from me.”

The usual soft tone was nowhere to be found, only a stiff tone like that of stone flowed from her lips.

Martinez’s expression hardened under Francesca’s notably different demeanor.

“Let me ask just one thing.”

“Please, go ahead, Lady Ranieri.”

“That day.”

December 31st. The day the demon revealed itself to the world.

“The magicians flying in the sky above Orventzku died. The Public Security claimed the magic that killed them was from the protective factions.”

“……”

“Did you do it?”

Martinez fell silent. His silence served as an answer.

Martinez sighed deeply only to let out a cough mixed with regret.

“Did you know why I’m acting like this?”

“……”

The response was silence. Silence was the answer.

At this, the magician took a step forward and appealed to the heir of the archmage.

“Independence is what everyone in the tower desires. It’s the wish of all magicians.”

The Tower is located in Nastasia City, in the southern part of the Empire.

Long ago, the previous Emperor, worried about his sister who fought in the war against the cult, claimed to be the tower’s benefactor, and that sister was the Duke of the North.

Thanks to this, for over a hundred years, magicians from all over the world were able to secure a place in Nastasia City in the southern Empire.

However, right after the demise of the previous Emperor due to illness, everything changed when the current Emperor Nikolai VI used the young age as an excuse to spark a coup d’état and claimed regency.

The Empire that once claimed to be the tower’s benefactor turned its back. The regent who usurped the throne denied the tower as an official state and reached a pact with the Pope regarding the Nastasia Treaty.

Later, when a grown-up Nikolai VI staged another coup to regain the throne, purged the bureaucrats, and solidified his power, the situation remained unchanged. The Emperor renounced all of the regent’s acts and policies but kept one unchanged; the aggressive policy against the Magic Tower.

“The empire has betrayed us twice.”

“……”

“We’ve been treated like parasites for the last hundred years.”

“…So?”

Francesca retorted sharply.

“What does that have to do with this incident?”

“…What do you mean by—”

“I don’t care what you do, whether you make a deal with the demon, trap the Empire in a corner, or oppose the cult. I’m not positively viewing your opinions, nor am I agreeing with them either.”

Martinez stared blankly at Francesca. Her dispassionate voice continued.

“If you had told me the truth, even if I had informed the Oracle about you being a necromancer, I wouldn’t have come here personally to confront you. But you deceived me.”

“That’s…”

“Then, you must have used me as a means to achieve your goals, right?”

At those words, his lips tightened.

Francesca’s lips parted.

“It’s not the magician’s desire.”

That chilling voice concluded.

“It’s for your plan.”

A butterfly fluttered into Martinez’s line of sight, curling in the air like the wind racing across the plains, before hovering around and finally landing on his blade.

Strange symbols adorned the blade as magic flowed into it, coloring it green.

“Whatever your objective is, no matter how significant it may be, the fact that you deceived me, struck down a magician, and fled on your own to save your life does not change.”

Francesca lifted the rune blade that shimmered with fierce blue cold light.

Behind her, a whirling gear collected nearby debris, forming its body, while in her hand was a vial with vividly glowing poison.

“Except for wars between nations and just duels, taking another magician’s life is an egregious crime. No matter the reason.”

However, there was one exception:
“Killing a traitorous magician is something even the Oracle does not condemn.”

“And you deceived me, made a contract with a demon, and killed a magician.”

The heir of the archmage, lifting his ancestor’s sword, spoke to the necromancer.

It was a declaration.

“I’ll die knowing the reason.”

As green magic seeped into the magic circle drawn in the air.

A green veil filled the sight.

A massive fist shook the barrier, while a sticky liquid corroded concrete and steel.

As the unstable magic scattered like wings of a butterfly,

The blue blade cut through the air.

In the world blanketed by pure white snow, the perfectly folded white snow formed fields and the land blanketed in snowballs glowed white in the darkness.

Tiny snowflakes sparkled as they fell to the ground.

The starlight flowing through the snowy fields captured within his eyes.

The blue magic, twinkling like burning embers, scattered chaotically, filling his sight.

In the face of the captivating beauty, Martinez closed his eyes.

The moon, shrouded in clouds, plunged toward the inverted world.

*

– “Confirmed the deaths of Karim Boumediene, Ahmad bin Rabani, and Juan Pablo Martinez.

Personnel deployed on-site should move to the designated location to prepare for equipment and document disposal before exfiltration.

Thank you for your hard work.”