A Dark Fantasy Spy

---

As the sun was setting, the dark clouds hanging in the sky whistled throughout the night, shaking the windows with relentless force while howling like a monstrous beast.

That wasn’t enough for them, apparently, as they began to pour down a torrential rain.

What started as a few thick raindrops, shaking the stillness of the desert’s darkness, transformed into a downpour that fell without mercy.

[Due to a curse incident occurring on the streets of the capital, Begram, in the Aracosia province, over 20 casualties reported…]

[In the capital Oea (Ὀία) of the Republic of Libue in the Mauritania Continent, over 80 casualties reported due to a warlord clash. As of the 17th, ports and Warp Gates are closed.]

[The military of the Tispon Republic is considering declaring martial law. Representatives of civil society have issued protest statements, and some insiders close to Mayor Hussain bin Abdullah Suliman have come into contact with certain civil figures.]

As I was checking the intelligence that came in from various branches throughout the night, a sudden feeling of presences made me turn my gaze.

“Ugh….”

Wrapped tightly in a blanket, Camila was squirming on the bed.

Rain droplets were banging against the metal slate, while palm-sized bugs hit the window and vanished as they chased after the dim lights of the device and fireplace. Despite all that, she was completely oblivious, peacefully asleep.

As the voice of Al-Yabd’s timekeeper woke my senses, a tiny alarm sound noted that the departure time was nearing, but the owner of the alarm was still in dreamland.

“…….”

I turned off the alarm before she could wake up.

Then I adjusted her disheveled pillow and laid her head down gently.

—

Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

—

As dawn was nearing, with the day just about to break, we packed our bags and left our lodging.

“Sorry for oversleeping. I was trying to get up on time…”

“It’s alright.”

Camila rubbed her sleepy eyes as she apologized. She said even though she set the alarm to match Al-Yabd’s morning prayer, she was unable to wake up. I accepted her apology nonchalantly as I loaded our luggage into the trunk.

Checking my watch that was covered by my sleeve, I saw a speck of magic stone clinging to the tips of the hour and minute hands, emitting a faint glow, indicating it was 5:36.

I opened the car door and let Camila in first. The back seat was occupied with equipment acquired from Abas and the black market, so she had to sit in the passenger seat.

Camila, struggling to fit into the passenger seat, peeked her head out to look at me before closing the door.

“…So when did you get this car?”

“I received it from a friend.”

The vehicle had been a gift from Victor.

I heard it belonged to a local notable who had been living in a lavish mansion with a garden, but when goblins waving red flags attacked, he hastily sold it to Victor while fleeing abroad. A bit of land and some buildings were included as well.

Camila nodded as if she roughly understood.

“Whoever it is, they seem like a capable friend.”

The rain that had been pouring down all night had long since transformed into thin droplets. By the time day broke, the roaring winds which had stormed away left only dark clouds without a sound.

I took hold of the steering wheel, slightly bending forward as I started the engine.

“Our goal is to arrive at the destination before lunch prayers start. It should take about 2 to 2 and a half hours if we hit the highway. As for explanations… we can go through them slowly on the way.”

“Got it.”

“Buckle up if you’re ready.”

The vehicle began to splatter through a heap of mud and moved forward.

—

Images of Africa and the Middle East are generally not very good.

Some might conjure up vast deserts and wastelands, while others might think of the backward lands lacking safety and infrastructure.

But the moment you set foot in Africa and the Middle East, the view before your eyes resembling a cityscape from 1970s Korea magically dissolves all misconceptions about Africa and the Middle East.

“It’s my first time wandering here in the dawn.”

Camila perched by the window, bobbing her head.

“So you only went out during the day?”

“It’s dangerous after sunset. Especially for foreigners.”

Honestly, I was super curious about what the city looked like at night, but Camila never stepped out when darkness fell. There were concerns for staying as safe as possible.

“What’s it like seeing it up close?”

“Hmm….”

As she gently rolled down the window and rested her chin on the ledge, Camila absorbed the bluish hues of the cityscape with both eyes.

The dawn city was remarkably quiet. Although it couldn’t be compared to Seoul or London, the roads were quite wide, and surprisingly tall buildings stood shoulder to shoulder with shorter ones.

Small bushes and palm trees designated as flowerbeds separated the borders of both lanes, while awkwardly written signs with unique scripts reminiscent of Arabic or Persian flickered by.

I hadn’t specifically learned the official language of the Mauritania Continent, but I had no difficulty reading and understanding the letters. Camila was reading the passing signs with her eyes—pharmacies, tea houses, restaurants, magic charging stations, butcher shops, supermarkets…. Names that reeked of human presence.

“…It’s not bad, actually.”

I gently turned the steering wheel, taking to the outskirts of the new city.

The fastest route to the highway would involve passing through the old city, but without any team members there to support me, heading into the old city with Camila in the passenger seat was risky. It was better to take a longer, safer route.

The vehicle, utilizing the outskirts, passed through an entrance ramp heading East.

Buildings gradually shrank in height, shiny exteriors started to fade away, and soon, smooth plains filled our view. Long highways and bumpy dirt roads appeared alongside sparse trees and hills. Though it was my first time visiting, it felt strangely familiar.

Maybe due to the early hour, there were hardly any vehicles using the highway. It was just a few old white trucks far exceeding their load capacity and some buses lumbering along with people.

I checked the rearview and side mirrors alternately, verifying there were no tailgaters, then pointed towards the glove compartment.

“Camila, do you mind grabbing the documents in there?”

“What kind are you referring to…. Ah, found them.”

As she rummaged through the compartment in the dark, Camila found the documents.

They were part of the intelligence reports produced by the Military Intelligence Agency.

I turned the steering wheel to avoid a puddle and opened the folder.

“There are three groups of warlords active in this region.”

Warlords who maintain neutrality, aiming for self-sufficiency or Mauritanian centralism.

Warlords with strong ties to dictatorial countries, including the Kien Empire.

And warlords who maintain a casual acquaintance with democratic nations like Abas.

To simplify, let’s categorize them into three groups.

My plan is to provoke conflict between Group 1 (centrist warlords) and Group 2 (pro-Kien Empire warlords).

“…You’re provoking conflict?”

Camila, tilting her head in confusion, suddenly seemed to grasp something as she replied.

“Oh, come to think of it, this was one of the prospective regions we’re about to be dispatched to, right?”

“Yes.”

The country we were in was one of the prospective places for our dispatch after the northern part of the Kien Empire. To be more precise, a considerable number of countries existing on the Mauritania Continent were selected as candidates.

These countries were experiencing either a civil war or going berserk due to monsters. The countries listed as candidates were essentially grappling with one issue or the other. Or sometimes both at once.

My mission is to observe all events occurring in such candidate regions and eliminate any potential threats to Camila and our party. Rebels, terrorist organizations, criminal groups, warlords, armed factions, and so on.

Of course, Camila was well aware of this too.

“I thought you came here to find new colleagues….”

Looking outside, she asked with a worried tone, “This isn’t going to be dangerous, is it?”

“It’s not as dangerous as you might think. I’ve done this a few times before, so I believe we can pull through this as well. Plus, I heard someone who might be our new colleague is around here, so I thought I’d look for them as well.”

“Is that all?”

Of course not. I also had the mission of investigating the black magic terror that occurred at Abas Department Store last year and the demon rampaging in northern Kien.

However, those tasks were assigned to Colonel Clevenz’s anti-terror unit and the Inquisition, and they were unrelated to this operation.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s a relief.”

Anyway, the goal of this mission is to weaken the warlord forces.

Specifically, we’re targeting ‘pro-Kien Empire warlords (Group 2)’ and ‘centrist warlords (Group 1)’ who pose threats to the Abas government and our party. Warlords aligned with the Kien Empire are certainly taken care of by the Military Intelligence Agency—George is leading that endeavor—but I have strongly insisted that we should neutralize the centrist warlords before Camila is dispatched.

Self-sufficient Mauritanian-centered warlords reject outside intervention. From their perspective, Camila is no different than outsiders from Abas or Kien.

Even if we yield a hundred times, understanding Camila is one thing, but the Magician of the Magic Tower, Francesca, or the Cleric of the Cult, Lucia, will naturally become targets for the centrist warlords. And creating any trouble for my party is something that neither Abas, Kien, nor the Cult desires.

Of course, I feel the same way.

“In fact, there are several minor warlords and tribes in this area apart from these three groups of warlords, but those don’t need to be factored into calculations.”

“Why’s that?”

“Minor tribes tend to follow the trends of larger warlords. They listen to whoever’s strongest in the neighborhood.”

In other words, targeting the larger warlords is the key focus of this operation.

“My goal is to weaken Groups 1 and 2. To do that, it’ll be necessary to support the ‘Group 3’ warlords, who have maintained friendly relations with democratic nations.”

Stirring up Group 3 to strike at Groups 1 and 2. If weakening Groups 1 and 2 is the primary goal, then expanding the influence of Group 3 is the secondary goal.

If a ‘friendly warlord’ controls an area devoid of government forces, at least you won’t have to worry about getting shot while walking down the street. Lucia will surely want to go out to do medical services when she arrives here, so if she has good ties with the warlords controlling such areas, it’ll make receiving assistance easier.

Upon hearing the explanation, Camila quickly nodded in agreement. After all, she had experienced similar situations in Africa and the Middle East several times.

“When I worked with Doctors Without Borders, I entered dangerous areas with the cooperation of warlords for the safety of volunteers. Of course, we almost all died when some idiot shot at the bus carrying the doctors and nurses…but anyway, that’s the plan, right?”

“Exactly. If we could also find the new colleague along the way, that would be great.”

Larger warlords are keen on intelligence work, so they might also lend a helping hand in locating a new colleague.

For reference, that Group 3 warlord was the one behind the propaganda Camila had seen in the alley.

Camila asked, “How?”

“Currently, the leader of the Hassan Tribe, Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan, leads the Group 3 warlords. He oversees several tribes and has seized a significant amount of territory. We need to contact him first.”

“Hmmm….”

After hearing the answer, Camila wore a complex expression. Although she didn’t voice it, a serious vibe emanated from her eyes.

“To my ears, it sounds like the country plans to support foreign warlords in secret. Is this…a safe operation?”

“Support? We’re going there to negotiate.”

“What does that warlord have to trade with the Abas government?”

Well, that’s a good question. I slowly began to think about what kind of products these tribes primarily traded.

Poppies, opium, illegal weapons, ammunition, precious metals, underground resources…. The ammunition is probably produced from raw materials mined in the tribal territories, and they also sell precious metals like steel, copper, or gold sourced from tribal-owned mines. Of course, the drug cultivation and production facilities are doing the same.

Everything produced there isn’t something that can be legally traded. These are goods illicitly produced in areas occupied by armed groups. Naturally, the Abas government can’t demand such things in negotiation.

The Military Intelligence Agency isn’t the CIA, so they’re certainly not involved in drug trade.

“Mmm….”

No matter how I think about it, these local warlords aren’t suitable negotiating partners. It’d be more beneficial to maintain a casual relationship with them.

“From my perspective, it seems they aren’t worth negotiating with. So, let’s use a bit of ‘divide and conquer’—the British folk game.”

“What kind of nonsense—”

“It’s not nonsense. Ask the blood of your people that runs through your veins.”

“Stop with the strange talk and explain the rest!”

Anyway, the contents of the plan were simple.

The ultimate goal is to weaken the influence of Groups 1 and 2. To achieve that, we’ll stir up conflict between the two warlords. In return for promising assistance, we’ll gain the cooperation of Group 3’s local armed forces.

To gain that cooperation, we will contact the leader of the Hassan Tribe, Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan. That’s the intermediate goal of our operation.

“First, we’ll contact the minor tribes under the control of the Hassan Tribe. I know a leader who’s connected with them.”

“Are you suggesting we build connections from the bottom up? Rather than contacting the higher-ups directly?”

“Exactly.”

If we try to make contact with Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan directly, the chances of being thwarted will be quite high. A warlord leader wouldn’t just meet with a foreigner they don’t know. However, approaching through ‘connections’ poses no issue.

What do they say? To capture the enemy, shoot the horse they ride.

“We will enter the territory controlled by that minor tribe this afternoon and commence our operation. We’ll survey the overall situation of the tribal territories, sketching out our initial plans for building a foundational intel network.”

“Do you know the way?”

“Of course I do. I know exactly where the checkpoints are and what facilities there are in each area of their territory.”

I had received ample intel from Victor.

There were also regular materials shared from headquarters, so there shouldn’t be an issue approaching Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan.

“After making contact with the minor tribe’s leader, we’ll gradually build rapport and approach our goal. I’ll tell you the specific methods once we arrive at the safehouse. And your cover identity as well.”

“Got it. By the way, what’s the deadline for gathering intel? As in, when does the operation need to be wrapped up?”

“By July, when Camila, Lucia, and Francesca are officially dispatched to the Mauritania Continent.”

“July….”

Camila, counting the days with her fingers, spoke with a panicked tone, “That means less than 60 days left?! You’re telling me to finish the operation in two months!”

“That should be sufficient. The issue lies with you.”

“With me?”

“You can’t stay here for two months.”

Currently, Camila was secretly sneaking into the Mauritania Continent. Given that the Imperial Intelligence Agency was actively searching for her, dragging our heels while traveling with her would be a significant risk.

“The Recon Command is tracking us, so it’ll be dangerous if we exceed a month. They are certainly not pushovers.”

“…What should we do?”

“Two weeks.”

I spread my index and middle fingers apart, showing them to her.

“I’ll aim to finish this operation within two weeks. Depending on circumstances, it might go beyond, but whatever happens, you must return to the Empire in exactly two weeks, understood?”

Camila nodded with an uneasy expression. It seemed she was worried that her situation might put me in danger.

I offered her some comforting words, insisting that wouldn’t be a problem.

However, the minor issue was that we lack the manpower to turn intel into actionable information….

Thankfully, I had an excellent analyst right next to me.

I delegated the analysis to Camila. Her analytical skills, having even interned at the British Intelligence Agency, surpassed those of most entry-level intelligence agents.

Camila, seated in the back, retrieved a device and curled up in the passenger seat as she recited the reports sent by the Military Intelligence Agency that pertained to the Mauritania Continent. It was the daily report circulated to all frontline personnel by the department in charge of the continent.

“May 9th Daily Report. It lists various news reported from around the continent: civil wars, terror incidents, accidents… In the country of Aracosia, a shaman’s curse caused 27 casualties, while in the Republic of Libue, a warlord engaged in a gunfight in the capital.”

“Oh, there…”

Both Aracosia and Libue were among the regions where trails of the new colleague were confirmed. An investigator dispatched by the Inquisition two months prior hadn’t produced any results, I heard.

The intelligence collected by the Military Intelligence Agency from the Mauritania Continent was primarily brief reports such as “a certain incident occurred in a specific country.” Since the human intelligence network had vacated after the embassy evacuations due to the civil war, open-source intelligence (OSINT) backfilled those gaps.

Certainly, there were no intelligence officers active in the Mauritania Continent, but chronic manpower shortages were a common issue among third world branches.

I sighed lightly and spoke up.

“This place is quite noisy. Given how lacking the materials are, we need to ensure we promptly update anything useful that comes in.”

“I believe that’s necessary even from a civilian perspective… oh, here’s something interesting.”

“What is it?”

“The immigration office in the Ugaristan Federation has been closed for about three hours. The reason? ‘False terror report.’”

Did they close the Warp Gate due to a prank call? Unbelievable.

By the way, just where is this Ugaristan? I only heard the name, yet I was already getting a bad feeling that it might not be a normal country.

As I exited the highway, I jokingly commented, “Let’s never go to a place like that.”

“Of course we shouldn’t.”

—

Leaving the quiet highway, we entered the city. Despite the dawn just beginning to break, the sparsity of people was quite noteworthy. After driving down such a deserted road for a while, the sun-kissed walls typical of the Middle East and North Africa came into view beyond the windows.

I opened the distance off the wall a little, gradually slowing down to get a good look at the building. This was to confirm if it was indeed the house Victor had introduced.

“…Oh, right.”

After verifying the address and the building’s characteristics, I parked the car close to the wall and got out first.

Unlocking the steel padlock on the front gate, I opened the heavy iron door wide, drove the car into the yard, and then locked the door once more.

At that moment, Camila, distracted from whatever she was doing with her device, leaned her upper body out of the passenger seat.

Though she had rolled down all the windows, her body was stuck, so after a while of struggling, she ultimately got out of the car entirely.

“Where is this place?”

“This will be our home from now on.”

Camila looked around the house and questioned with delight, “You didn’t buy this place, did you?!”

“No. It’s a long-term rental. We have to move out again in two months. If there are any changes to the interior or damaged furniture, we have to restore it to its original condition before returning.”

“Oh….”

“We were originally going to stay in a hotel or motel, but there were no decent accommodations available… Even so, it’s a good property we managed to find after some difficulty.”

To be precise, it was a property won from a wealthy person who had been fleeing from communist rebels just before heading abroad, with both the car and location being sold cheaply to Victor, but anyway.

I opened the front door to step inside.

Camila gazed from a short distance as she looked up at the building. The impressive three-story structure was clearly well-built and a magnificent house.

“…Hmm. I’ve never lived with someone before.”

Well, we could just think of it as a guesthouse.

Without a fuss, she gathered her things and hopped quickly into the house.

“There are no more documents sent by the company.”

“Got it. Please burn the paperwork for me.”

“How should we handle the equipment?”

“Just wear some casual clothes over local attire. There’s no need to dress too extravagantly. Also, just bring two guns.”

The preparations were complete.

Now it was time to start the operation.