A Dark Fantasy Spy

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The deepest silence had fallen.

Thunder and lightning surged, casting ominous sounds and flashing lights across the desert. The tranquility was shattered by noises that shook the earth, and figures cloaked in darkness emerged onto the desolate sands.

In the haze of dust and flashes, a building emerged, revealing its outline amidst the stacked shadows of the night. Intruders moved cautiously, exploiting the cover of the darkness.

As the thunder boomed and lightning illuminated the anxious moments, the sounds of scuffling feet were swallowed by the blinding light.

In that moment, the silence of the desert concealed their presence, and the echoes in the sky erased any traces left behind.

The light and noise suddenly faded, replaced by an unbearable stillness.

“……..”

The intruders reached the building and exchanged silent signals.

It was a night so dark that even the moon failed to rise properly, making it hard to discern objects; yet, it was no challenge to grasp each other’s intentions.

Under the cover of darkness, a lone intruder stealthily approached the door, reaching for the doorknob.

A chill ran through his skin as he touched the handle, which turned with a sound as loud as a divine proclamation.

The click of the bolt advancing struck like thunder against his eardrums.

-Click!

Eyes widened. A hand was suddenly pulled back from the knob.

Fingers pointing faster than the intruder’s movements.

？！

A gunshot as fierce as a dwarf’s hammer echoed through the desert night.

Episode 16 – Six Million Dollar Man

A scream erupted immediately after the gunfire rang out.

“Ahhh!”

The thud of a body hitting the ground followed the scream by half a beat.

The intruder, lucky enough to avoid instant death, continued to wail as he rolled in the sand.

“Aagh!”

“Wh-what?!”

“It hurts! It hurts, damn it!”

An incomprehensible Eastern dialect drifted through from beyond the doorway. A voice filled with horror intermingled with the cries of the wounded. A scream rang out that could rival a soprano’s.

After a moment of catching breath, someone rushed in a hurry. At the same time, the frantic screams of villagers echoed, and the sounds of fabric and skin dragging on the ground began to fade.

The intruders held back, likely intending to attend to their wounded and regroup. It was a wise choice. It’s a matter of etiquette not to mess with armed individuals in a lawless town.

“……..”

I slung the rifle over my shoulder and took a drag from my cigarette. My drowsiness was long gone, but my body still craved nicotine.

As I took a moment to observe the darkness while puffing out smoke, a fluent Mauritanian accent pierced through the silence clearly.

“What are you doing!”

It was a familiar voice.

“That’s what I want to ask.”

I replied, taking another puff from the locally bought cigarette.

“Isn’t it rude to barge into a guest’s lodging at night, especially where an outsider is staying, without even knocking?”

Get ready to be shot.

As I reciprocated, the shout from outside the lodging echoed back.

“Asud! I am the Vigilante Leader! We met earlier, remember? Let’s talk it out!”

It was the Vigilante Leader. He raised both hands in the air as he showed himself, robust enough to reach just below the chest of an adult male.

“Talking sounds good.”

I looked at the Vigilante Leader, who was stationed behind the stone wall. Then, rolling my eyes, I scanned the area around the lodging and let out a puff of smoke before speaking.

“How about you lower your weapon first, and then we can talk.”

His gaze shifted at my words. A muffled voice could be faintly heard carried by the wind. The long poles that had been jutting up over the wall quickly vanished.

Although the moonlight was dim and it was hard to identify, those poles definitely resembled gun barrels. Bolt-action rifles. An illegal weapon common in Mauritania.

“You’ve done this more than once, haven’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Robbery. I’m not blind to see that you don’t look like a newbie. And about that armed robbery you mentioned earlier. It was your crew, wasn’t it?”

“What the hell are you talking about! You shot us!”

The angry voice shattered the silence. It was a reasonable reaction. An outsider welcomed as a guest suddenly accused the locals of robbery after shooting up the place.

Yet there was a rational reason behind my suspicion.

The first thing that came to mind was the bags of money I saw in the warehouse. Piles of cash mixed with local currency and various foreign bills.

“No way that rural farmers have that much cash on hand. Especially in cash. If they earned that much money from farming, the village wouldn’t be in this state. Unless they earned it illegally.”

Logically, rural farmers wouldn’t have that kind of money piled up in the village warehouse. There’s no reason to hold so much foreign currency.

This village, located near the border, was a mere hovel. There wasn’t even a decent job around, and they had to sell crops from the fields to cities to get by.

The Al Bas Tribe manages an extensive territory that includes this village. The chieftain’s son, Farid, mentioned that armed robbers operate in the vicinity. The warlord duo who set off for the city to fetch a doctor also said the same.

What I wondered was why armed robbers would be here in such a backwater.

From my previous conversation with Farid, I gathered that the nearest village was three hours away, and the city was five hours distant.

If robbers roamed the area, they’d be more likely to attack densely populated areas than such deserted, monster-infested swampy borders. It was a logically unsound claim.

In my experience, there are only two possibilities in such cases.

First, the armed robbers fled to the border to evade the warlords’ eyes.

Second, the local residents familiar with the terrain and armed with weapons might be the ones committing the robberies.

In war-torn areas, people typically survive by aligning with government forces or warlords for rations or by engaging in robbery. It’s simply hard to make a living otherwise.

I judged these villagers to belong to the latter category.

In other words, that meant they were robbers.

“They don’t belong to any warlord that has occupied the territory and they don’t seem cooperative with the government forces either.”

“…….”

“Yet they have stacks of cash in the warehouse?”

There’s no need for complicated reasoning. They wouldn’t be able to amass that much money from farming. If they could, Afghan farmers wouldn’t be cultivating opium.

That means they must have earned the money illegally, possibly tied to business like drugs, human trafficking, or smuggling. Or they might have hit a big score through robbery.

In essence,

They weren’t innocent civilians either.

“It seems the talent for robbery was there, but not for money laundering, considering how badly they’ve spent that fortune.”

In a relaxed posture, I gripped the rifle’s handle. It was the standard-issue rifle of the Kien Empire Army, capable of firing 600 rounds per minute.

Despite having spoken, no reply came my way.

“…….”

Was it because the truth was out, or had they realized it would be tough to argue back?

Whatever conclusion they reached, there was only one future left.

After checking the line connected to the front door, I packed my rifle and headed inside.

*

Thoughts raced through the mind of the Vigilante Leader hiding behind the stone wall. They boasted to be a journalist but were keenly observant, indeed.

He raised his voice to give orders to his subordinates.

“I was planning to handle this quietly, but the plan has gone awry. You all go and capture that guy right now.”

They had just one target to deal with.

Presumably, that gun belonged to a magician. Maybe a bodyguard, but no journalist would carry a firearm. This meant there was only one armed individual inside.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“There’s a magician in there too.”

His subordinates were clearly anxious when they voiced their concerns.

Yet the Vigilante Leader nodded firmly with determination in his eyes.

“It’s fine.”

Even though magicians and shamans are incredibly dangerous, a united front of armed civilians could still do more against them. This was proven over several years of government forces’ purging operations against rebel shamans.

Thus, no matter how skilled a magician is, he would struggle to exert his power against armed men. Bullets can breach even the most fortified skulls. After all, a magician is ultimately just another human.

Mathematically speaking, it adds up.

“We outnumber them ten to one. Let’s go and press our advantage.”

“What about the magician?”

“We can shoot them if it comes to that. As long as we keep our lives, it’s all that matters.”

Armed with that knowledge, the subordinates raised their weapons.

Under the cover of darkness, the intruders began to approach the building. It was the best structure in the village that they had offered to guests.

Even at the cost of their lives, prioritizing a guest’s safety was a long-standing custom in the Mauritania Continent.

Due to the practice of valuing honor above life, harming a guest was seen as a disgrace. Losing such honor meant losing the ability to be treated like a human being.

However, those whose honor had already been tarnished tended to break the customs without being told. Having lost honor, there was no change even if they lost a little more.

The Vigilante Leader was painfully aware of this fact.

It was also a reality familiar to foreigners who had exclusively frequented bizarre villages.

Tatatatata! The gunfire pierced the air, and sparks erupted from the windows.

“Gun! It’s gunfire!”

“Dive for cover!”

As the armed robbers approaching the lodging dove behind nearby rocks, trees, and fences. The agile ones narrowly avoided the gunfire, yet those who weren’t so fortunate became one with the desert.

A man barely hidden shouted towards his comrades.

“He’s on the first floor! He’s on the first floor!”

“He’s down there! Shoot!”

One of the men cleared his throat and directed others to the window to show the enemy’s position.

Just then, a flash! A bright white light illuminated the area, creating an instant burst of clarity, followed by the delayed gunfire.

-Bam!

A single gunshot resonated in the courtyard. It was the moment when a bullet struck the face of a man who boldly exposed himself.

The Vigilante Leader’s eyes widened at that scene momentarily before his fiery voice thundered through the ears of his subordinates.

“Damn it! What are you doing?! Shoot already!”

As the whip of his voice spurred them on, numerous muzzles began to spit fire. As triggers were pulled and bolts were cycled, brass casings burst up from the desert ground, and dust clouds erupted from the bricks that caught the rounds.

I ducked low beneath the window and began counting the countless bullets embedding into the wall.

I thought of the old war relics that I had dismissed, but they were unexpectedly threatening. Thank goodness their accuracy was low.

While unintelligible shouts poured through the broken window, I grabbed my bag and dashed up to the second floor.

Bang! Bang! Bang! As I reached the stairs, bullets that had pierced through the glass warmly greeted me. They were threatening, but certainly less so than the shots aimed directly at the first-floor window.

“…….”

I picked up a shattered mirror to observe the situation outside.

The armed robbers were shooting indiscriminately. There were far more bullets that hit the walls and missed the targets than there were those that struck the windows. It signified that these robbers were not a military-trained group.

With such inadequate arms, their skills were laughable. Despite the nighttime battle, they didn’t bring any equipment to illuminate the scene.

I didn’t expect night vision equipment or searchlights, but not even a common flashlight seemed to exist.

Nevertheless, that was good for me.

“Ha…”

As I took a moment to collect myself, I rose and pulled the trigger. It was a semi-automatic since I was not using a submachine gun.

The gunshot rang out, and one man fell, followed by another shot, creating yet another corpse. I hurriedly targeted unprotected robbers to unleash more gunfire.

In a pitch-black desert devoid of moonlight, it was impossible to discern shapes unless you were a Dark Elf. However, I had night vision goggles procured from the broker.

In the blink of an eye, I had taken out four or five bodies when furious gunfire began to explode through the window. I rolled to the side, barely managing to evade my position.

“Gah…”

With the dull sound came a sharp pain wrapping around my shoulder. I instinctively touched my face only to find red blood on my palm.

Had I been caught by the shards of broken glass? As I shook off the dust, wood chips, and bits of glass raining down from above, I began to catch my breath leaning against the window frame.

Then, an overwhelming sound of gunfire erupted from outside.

-Bam Bam Bada Bam! Bam! Bam!

The shots were clearly not those of the bolt-action rifle used by the robbers nor the sound of the Kien Empire’s automatic rifle that I carried.

Listening closely while suppressing my breath, I discerned that it resembled the sound of a pistol. It was only then I could pinpoint the origin of this onslaught of bullets.

From the neighboring building.

-Bam! Bam!

As the bullets struck the outer wall of the adjacent building, flames flashed from the windows. Someone was retaliating from inside.

Without any further analysis, I could guess the identity of that person. After all, the building beside us was the lodging where Farid and Al Bas’s guides were staying.

Those suspected to be from Al Bas were shooting at the robbers from within the building. The same pistol that the warlord duo had.

As the handgun erupted fire, the bolt-action rifle fired in response. The warlords and armed robbers exchanged an intense gun battle, each trying to take the other’s life.

Considering this area was the territory of the Al Bas Tribe and, ultimately, Hassan’s warlord faction, it was utterly insane.

To provoke the warlords was akin to antagonizing a drug cartel in Mexico.

Yet, even Mexico has vigilante groups resisting cartels. Likewise, the Mauritania Continent boasted armed vigilantes opposing warlords.

Witnessing the barrage of bullets striking the desert night, I murmured while retrieving another magazine.

“Damn it, they really picked a day to remember.”

That muttering was no idle boast.

As thunder and lightning dominated the desert, the town’s robbers exchanged furious fire against the warlords. It was as if they intended to obliterate the warlords along with the building itself.

The towering resolve they erected crescendoed, adorned by the automatic rifles that still shone amidst the gunfire.

Tatatatatatata! Someone from behind the stone wall began unleashing automatic fire towards the warlord’s lodging. Wearing night vision goggles, I observed three robbers recklessly spraying bullets at the warlord’s lodging.

I aimed my gun at them and pulled the trigger.

Bang! Bang! Two shots rang out, and two corpses fell to the ground. I couldn’t take down the one hiding behind the wall, but I had claimed two. Yet, it was futile.

The armed robbers funneling shots from their bolt-action rifles converged on the corpses. Those who stripped the automatic rifles began to unleash fire toward the windows where I was hidden.

-Tatatatatata! Tatatatata!

“…….”

Despite the barrage of gunfire turning my room into a mess, I maintained my composure as I assessed the situation.

Three armed robbers with automatic rifles. Considering the village had around 30 to 40 males of conscription age, it implied the attackers were of platoon scale.

Though these robbers were not regular troops, they wouldn’t just hand out weapons to anyone. Likely, those armed were highly skilled individuals or held a significant position.

This meant that the Vigilante Leader must have been one of those three.

“Everyone, in there!”

The shout from the Vigilante Leader echoed from behind the stone wall. My prediction was spot on. He was the last automatic rifleman I hadn’t been able to kill.

As expected, the leader hiding behind cover commanded loudly. Though it was in the local dialect, understanding his intent was straightforward.

With the command given, six or more armed robbers rushed toward the lodging. It was a risky position where they needed to expose themselves to ensure a kill.

Whether or not they realized that was the case, bullets began pouring in from the first and second-floor windows.

“…….”

Kicking away loose bricks to create space, I cautiously lifted a cracked hand mirror to check below.

Amidst the horizon, the armed robbers were brutally forcing their way through the front door.

Bang! They smashed the door down and burst into the first floor. Nothing in their movements hinted at the SOP specific to Special Forces or the seasoned behaviors of urban warfare-trained veterans. Instead, the robbers recklessly and violently stormed the building.

As I analyzed the situation, I began to count down. One second, two seconds, three seconds, and—

-Boom!

An explosion rocked the entire building, so powerful that dust kicked up from the front doors and windows obscured the second floor’s visibility.

“What’s going on? What the hell is happening?!”

At the query echoed outside, I muttered weakly.

“…They should have checked the doors before entering.”

When I received a generous meal earlier, one of the elders said he had fish from the river. Searching the nearby river led to broken nets, fishing lines, and heaps of garbage spread around. With fishing line in hand, I hurried back to create a tripwire trap.

The trap I set with fishing lines, tape, and grenades took five robbers to their demise. While it was a makeshift job, it proved effective. Seeing those robbers momentarily stunned and forgetting to shoot was satisfying enough.

I pulled the safety pin before throwing the grenade out the window. The Kien Empire grenade soared into the night, only to get caught in the branches and fall harmlessly.

Then came the blast.

“Aagh!”

“Ahhh!”

A few robbers, covered in dust and debris, started crawling on the floor in a daze. Once the lightning illuminated the area, the ruined village displayed its horrors to the world.

The rumbling thunder echoed, trailing through the sky, while the gunfire crashed following the thunder’s wake.

As I was squeezing the trigger, I noticed I had run out of bullets.

I discarded the empty magazine.

The sling hung loosely around my body when a spy carrying a handgun dashed out of the building.

*

The rapid gun battle that had begun late at night continued into dawn.

“Stop them! Don’t let them climb!”

“Farid!”

A tribesman, firing down at the stairs with his pistol, had spotted the chieftain’s son, Farid. Hoisting him up, he hurriedly shouted while suppressing gunfire.

“You have to go! Get out in the vehicle!”

“B-but what about Asud?!”

“The bodyguard will be watching! The sorceress too! Farid, just go! We will take care of the journalist!”

Some of Farid’s companions urged him to flee. The tribesmen remaining in the building fought fiercely, firing their pistols as they staved off the advancing robbers.

“The resistance from the warlords is fierce!”

“They’re pushing in from all sides!”

The Vigilante Leader directed his men feverishly. Armed with an automatic rifle, he pointed toward the warlord’s lodging, justifying their attack.

“The journalist has weapons, and there’s a sorceress too! The others have already sustained injuries! Let’s hit the warlord first!”

“There are too many of them!”

“The warlord is weaker than the sorceress who can cause explosions! They have nowhere to run anyway; let’s take them out first! Hurry before reinforcements arrive!”

That was a perfectly reasonable rationale. Compared to the lodging where the journalist wielded a rifle and the sorceress was present, the lodging, which housed the armed warlords, represented a far lesser threat.

If I left the warlords alone, their armed forces might surge into the town. Given the surroundings were a desert, the unarmed journalist and the sorceress would have a hard time escaping.

Thus, it made sense to eliminate the warlords first.

Understanding the Vigilante Leader’s intentions, his subordinates began aggressively closing in on the warlords.

While they were labeled warlords, they were limited in their ammunition as they were not combatants. The pistols that had been firing fiercely began to run dry soon.

In this interim, I managed to escape the lodging through the unguarded back door, eventually reuniting with Camila. Having been sent out from the lodging before the gunfight broke, she crouched behind a fence, waving when she saw me.

“I’m over here. Here!”

“Were you caught by the robbers?”

“No, thankfully.”

Camila seemed to be in good condition. Not caught up in the gunfight, it appeared she had avoided detection by the robbers through sheer luck.

Reassuring her, I surveyed the town engulfed in chaos from the gunfire.

Although the warlords fought fiercely to protect Farid, I suspected they’d soon be overwhelmed. Just because they were warlords didn’t mean they carried endless ammo. Not to mention, they were not the only armed individuals present.

Sure enough, the warlords were currently being overrun by the robbers.

The ferocious gunfire that had once been relentless began to taper off, indicating they were nearing an end of resources.

Camila, who was watching the scene, began to speak, trying to sound calm.

“Shouldn’t we go help them?”

I shook my head firmly.

“The number of robbers has dwindled, but there are still plenty of residents left in town.”

The robbers numbered around 30 to 40, but there were about 60 villagers. Sixty could effectively form two platoons.

Special Forces would often avoid confrontations with two platoons of troops. They were not guerillas aiming to go all out against groups of several dozen but operatives that sought out the weakest points.

Information agents acted similarly.

The mission of information agencies is to protect our vulnerabilities and identify those of the enemy, then exploit those weaknesses efficiently to bring them down.

It wasn’t about killing everything in sight like James Bond.

“That’s why I said you should enjoy James Bond only on screen. What a mess at dawn…”

I began stealthily moving towards the outskirts of the village, leading Camila along. Meanwhile, the ferocious gunfire continued echoing from the town.

While positioning ourselves near the reeds, we heard the booming sounds of an engine as a vehicle barreled through the village, breaking the fence. It was the vehicle used by the warlords.

The vehicle that escaped the village began speeding towards the field, headin west, where the city lay on the map.

“Let’s go.”

I slung my gear over my shoulder, took hold of Camila’s hand, and despite the chill of the desert wind, her hand remained warm.

“Where are we going?”

“We’ll walk to the city and exit.”

“Wait! What about the people?”

Camila pointed towards the town, where the sounds of gunfire still rang out.

Peering into the distance as if trying to look beyond the chaos, I slowly shook my head, resigned.

“Don’t worry about them.”

“No, what about Farid…”

“Farid has likely already fled with that car.”

Just observing how the warlords managed their two teams allowed me to piece the situation together.

One side was likely to take Farid to safety while the other stayed behind to hold off the robbers. The tactic was a method commonly employed by guerrillas to ensure the safety of a figure with vital information while the others engaged the pursuing forces.

The fleeing guerrillas had fate sealed between returning home or facing death. Yet, those left behind seldom made it out alive.

The same fate awaited the warlords left behind in that village.

I checked my rifle and scanned the area.

“One team breaches the encirclement with the key figure, while the other engages with the pursuers. It’s a tactic often employed by North Korean spies. Just as the Kien Empire’s intelligence forces operate. My first medal came from hunting down imperial quasi-military operatives. I know their methods well. My grandfather captured spies, so…”

“………”

“It’s time for us to run. While these forces are still holding on.”

Rushing in to assist the warlords would yield little result. If Jake or the Royal Intelligence Department’s operations team had come with me, we would have somehow engaged. But now, I was acting independently, with Camila at my side.

The reason Leoni had sent me here was to ensure Camila’s safety. Therefore, I had to escape with her.

For the success of the operation and for Camila’s safety.

“I’m sorry to those people, but there’s no other choice.”

I reiterated firmly, we needed to leave.

Perhaps understanding my resolve,

Camila, who had hesitated, gripped my hand tightly and responded with difficulty.

“…Okay.”

“We’ll leave the vehicle and proceed on foot.”

Losing the SUV given to me by Victor was disappointing, but I couldn’t risk my life over a mere vehicle.

The gunfire that had once resonated loudly from the village had now faded into silence. While there might be an SUV somewhere in the vicinity, the intel I had collected was critical to me.

After ensuring the only essential gear remained and burying the rest in the ground, we began walking westward, relying on our compass.

*

Walking through the desolate wasteland devoid of moonlight was no simple task.

Outside of the capital region, the country was occupied by the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd groups of warlords. Despite the Al Bas Tribe belonging to Hassan’s faction, the vast territory governed by the Al Bas would easily fill a large table when transferred onto a map.

We were crossing that expansive desert.

With the moon hidden away, it was impossible to see the path, and we had to don night vision goggles to proceed. As I moved according to the direction given by the compass, Camila closely followed my footfalls.

Walking hand in hand toward the city was a journey filled with tedium.

As thunder and lightning boomed far away, driving sand brushed against our clothing. We continued silently, trudging along without conversation.

In the span of five hours, we faced issues stacked high, not just concerning the mere fact that only one and a half bottles of 500 ml water remained.

It wasn’t just the fatigue of our bodies that distressed me; it was the swarms of insects that clung as we moved even 100 meters. Mosquitoes, flies, mayflies, and so on. While summer mosquitoes in South Korea might be a nuisance, the Mauritania was a whole different level.

As I drew the local traditional scarf up to the tip of my nose, I started speaking softly.

“These mosquitoes are terrible. It’s an ideal environment for catching malaria.”

“…….”

I didn’t particularly expect a response, but being met with silence nonetheless felt disappointing. Camila continued her walk with her gaze cast downward.

Suddenly, memories of my time in Nigeria surfaced. Back then, I was crossing the desert with my team while wearing night vision gear. It hadn’t been the best of times, but they were memories worth remembering.

The scenes that played in my memory bore striking similarities to current reality.

The desolate land paired with flourishing reed fields; dirt made my eyes sting, and with the mosquitoes closing around, I had to pile on layers for protection. While I avoided being bitten, the exhaustion made me collapse as soon as I reached a safe house.

In those times, my senior who had inadequate protection found his limbs viciously bitten by mosquitoes. Amidst the fright that ensued thinking he might have caught some disease, we all ended up laughing once we confirmed it was just mosquito bites.

I twisted open the water bottle and took a sip while leaning back.

Camila took the water bottle and managed an easy drink. We didn’t even have the luxury of stopping for a sip, so we both managed two sips while on the move, and when her head tilted back in a moment of unbalance, she stumbled.

“Ahh!”

“Are you okay?!”

I quickly caught her before she could fall.

Blushing with embarrassment, she nodded repeatedly. As I allowed her a moment to calm her racing heart and looked around slowly, she suddenly began to speak.

“…This isn’t my first time, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“Experiences of nearly dying.”

Camila spoke in a calm tone as she recalled her past.

At that time, during her service as a volunteer medical team in Iraq, she visited a rural village alongside colleagues and experienced an attack from residents.

“They were robbers.”

“…….”

Upon hearing that term, a surging hypothesis flickered through my mind.

In war-torn regions, there are always those who seize aid supplies from relief organizations. Rebels, warlords, terrorist groups, and corrupt armed forces. Many instigators exist, but among them, ordinary citizens were present too.

The residents had turned to robbery for a simple reason.

“They said they hadn’t received aid supplies in years. When the aid organizations provided supplies and moved to the next area, warlords would come and loot them. To prevent losing those supplies, they’d have to hide them, but once the news of the aid team’s arrival spread, the warlords would attack. So, they figured they’d steal the supplies to hide them.”

I responded calmly.

“That’s a common occurrence. It’s depicted in movies too. Wars in Somalia where warlords plunder supplies from organizations. I can’t remember the title of that one film about a helicopter crash.”

Usually, Camila would often blurt out the movie’s title and plot, but today felt different.

She sat down with her gaze directed somewhere far away.

“Those people… Later, I found out they fell victim to an attack by warlords, resulting in casualties.”

“…….”

“They took the supplies, but the warlords would seize them by force.”

“…….”

“If we had done enough to assist those villagers, wouldn’t they have avoided such a fate?”

I grasped the meaning behind her words.

The scenario of villagers resorting to robbery in Iraq mirrored that of the residents embroiled with armed bandits in the Mauritania Desert. While their targets varied, the ultimate goal remained survival.

I found answering her question in civilian terms a tough task. Usually, I could muster a response, but at such moments, the words failed me.

Perhaps it was due to my own culpability as well.

Sighing faintly, I began to speak.

“There are no ‘if’s in this world, you know. Such is the nature of life.”

“…That’s realistic.”

Suddenly, Camila looked up at the night sky.

“Will my efforts even change the world?”

“Who knows? No one can predict whom you’ll help and who might come to your aid.”

“…….”

“But you can at least make the effort. It’s better to try something than to do nothing at all, right?”

I turned to Camila with those words, and a soft smile appeared on her face as she nodded slightly.

“…That’s true.”

“Once our break is over, let’s get moving.”

We still had a long way ahead of us.

Gathering my thoughts, I took out an energy bar from my pocket and handed it to Camila. If we were about to embark on a long journey, we needed calories, so we had to grab something whenever we could.

Thus, as I munched on the nut-filled chocolate bar while crossing the desert, I heard:

“…?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Stop for a moment.”

I took Camila alongside and tucked ourselves into the thick reeds. From somewhere, an unnatural sound reached my ears.

Listening intently, I suddenly turned my head sharply. Camila was startled, staring at me.

“…It’s the sound of a vehicle.”

“Hide!”

I led Camila towards the small ditch where a trickle of water flowed. We crouched down, waiting for whatever was approaching.

The engine sounds drew closer as six pairs of headlights approached, following the path through the reeds before coming to a stop nearby, slowing down.

I checked the compass. The vehicles were coming from the east, the direction we had traveled until now.

…Damn.

“It’s the pursuers.”

My prediction had come to fruition.

Three vehicles piloted from the direction of the village slowed to a halt. They were old pickup trucks, with armed men in the back.

“Get your weapons ready.”

“Yes.”

I handed Camila my rifle and dug into my gear for another one. The Kien Empire’s standard-issue rifle, with a folding stock, was designed for airborne forces and Special Forces for air-drop assaults.

Two automatic rifles aimed toward the convoy. They were armed, but their identities remained unverified.

I spoke in quiet tones to Camila.

“Illegal firearms are more common than expected here. You must have seen such things in Africa and the Middle East.”

“…I know.”

“They might shoot an innocent civilian, so stay still until I signal you.”

Camila nodded, understanding.

In the meantime, the men in the truck began to disembark. Twelve, fifteen, sixteen… The numbers quickly climbed to over twenty. Roughly the size of a platoon.

It didn’t bode well for us.

“What are they saying?”

“I can’t hear them well from this distance…,” she replied, honing in on the sounds of the armed men carried by the wind. Frowning, she translated some of their dialogue.

“It seems they’re looking for someone. They keep asking if this is the right place… One man is adamantly affirming it is.”

“What does he claim?”

I hoped it wasn’t who I thought it might be.

But the world promptly crushed my hopes.

Camila explained that she recognized the voice of the strident man. It was from the village.

As I watched through the night vision goggles, I caught a glimpse of the vigilante leader she had pointed out, swearing under my breath.

“Damn, that’s the Vigilante Leader, isn’t it?”

How on earth did those bastards find us? Did they learn some special charms after a few heists?

There hadn’t been any shamans in the village. Perhaps they possessed magical tools. Such tools to track people are commonly used by intelligence agencies and even the police. I’d dealt with similar things while serving under Colonel Clevenz in the Counterintelligence Department.

Regardless, I had confirmed that they were indeed the enemy.

Upon looking closely, I noticed women mixed in among the robbers. It seemed they had bolstered their combat strength and come after us.

Sandwiched between the looming threats of gunfire, I signaled to Camila.

Moving slightly apart, we shifted sideways. In other words, we moved into firing positions.

The most common method to ambush a convoy is to attack from both the front and rear. I had seen my CIA friend use it frequently during their operations in Afghanistan.

Once we took our positions, we began unleashing fire towards the robbers.

Tatatatatata! The loud gunfire shook the reeds, bullets exploding in all directions. Two armed men fell, blood splattering the headlights in the ground.

Having been caught off guard, the criminals began to scatter frantically. However, a shout rang out, leading them to quickly find cover.

I dispatched more of the remaining armed men who had yet to evade my aim. We halted and reloaded magazines as the shootout paused momentarily.

Just then.

“…!”

A sudden bright flash illuminated the night vision goggles.

As I struggled to cover my eyes, a gunshot rang clear. Along with a heavy impact, I felt a jolt hitting my chest.

“Oof!”

Struck by a bullet, I collapsed onto the reed bed. Hearing my agonized cry, Camila rushed over to help me back on my feet.

“Are you okay?!”

I felt my way down to my chest. Fortunately, the bullet had been blocked by my bulletproof vest.

The Kien Empire’s armor, capable of withstanding the rounds fired by Abas’ rebels, had served its purpose well.

However, the opponents still greatly outnumbered us, at least five to one.

“…….”

I donned the night vision gear once more. But despite having them on, visibility was non-existent.

Even with the goggles, I felt around the body and found significant damage had occurred to the frame. They must’ve clanked against something while I fell.

Whatever passed happened, one fact was invariant: I had lost what was arguably my greatest edge in nighttime combat. I tossed the useless night-vision goggles into the thicket and gripped the rifle tightly, firing toward their ranks.

The criminals, inflamed with rage, responded with their volleys. As bullets cut through the air, Camila commenced her own barrage, conjuring flames in her wake.

-Fwoosh!

The flames quickly swept through the reeds.

“Let’s go!”

Supported by Camila, I got up, continuing to shoot as we fled.

Tatata! After unleashing a torrent of shots, we began to sprint away, trading fire amidst our escape.

I had lost all sense of direction by now. There was no time to check the compass as the robbers pursued us vehemently.

Despite losing my night vision, the light from Camila’s flames illuminated our path. Focusing fire on the vehicles racing after us, I muttered in disbelief.

“Wait, that’s my SUV.”

Within the pursuing vehicles, my old SUV was unmistakably among them. The vehicle that Victor had given me.

“Damn it! Those bastards took my car!”

“If you have time to complain, then run!”

The firepower from our two rifles was staggering.

In the age where the time of knights has passed, and magic and science reign, automatic weapons are the greatest might at the disposal of regular folks who can’t wield magic. This mechanical masterpiece allows for the efficient killing of people at an impressive cost-performance ratio has been favored by government forces, rebels, terrorists, and even local thugs.

Although regular armies are focused on developing commodities over magic, it doesn’t mean magic has been left behind due to obsolete status.

When does magic shine in the battlefield?

The answer lies in the flames lighting up the desert night.

-Wham!!

In conventional battles, that is, where field armies clash in large-scale warfare, magic fails to deliver its true strength. Even the most seasoned combat mages can’t withstand artillery fire. It takes twenty years to train a mage, but only a few weeks to train an artilleryman.

However, in localized combat and low-intensity disputes, where battles of company size occur, magic showcases incredible might.

In fights between small units, there’s no means to deal with a combat magician. Without the support of mortars or artillery, it’s simply not easy to contend with a skilled combat magician.

This reality is reinforced within regular army structures that invariably deploy sorcerers in reconnaissance or search parties and was validated through the numerous clashes endured by the special ops of Abas and the Kien Empire in no man’s land.

Take the occasion where terrorists employing dark magic took hostages in a department store. When the special ops team of the Kien Empire faced down the terrorists dwelling in a no man’s land village, they overwhelmed Abas’ special trace operatives with magic. Only once Abas’ artillery began barraging the Imperial forces did they manage to escape.

Thus,

“If there’s a sorceress, we can’t be beaten!”

Theoretically, that is.

With Camila unleashing mounds of magic, the armed robbers could not best us.

But then, against the twist of fate:

“The reeds are too high! I can’t see where the enemies are!”

Even at mere waist-height, the reeds were tall enough to completely obscure one’s figure. Despite the flames illuminating the night, the robbers cautiously spread out, clearly aware of a looming threat.

This left me with no other option—light everything up.

As my finger pressed down on the trigger, my body suddenly jerked sideways.

“Ugh…!”

A stinging ache throbbed in my arm. Grinding my teeth in preparation, I looked into the flickering flames’ glow, revealing a pair of holes from entry and exit wounds.

It didn’t seem that the bullet had ruptured any major veins or bones. After fashioning a tourniquet, I resumed firing at Those moving through the reeds, barking orders at Camila.

“I’ve been hit! Load the gun!”

“Got it!”

Camila grabbed my rifle and quickly reloaded it. In the meantime, I continued firing with my pistol.

As I retreated, I began to drop my gear: bulletproof vest, chest rig, and pack…

When the rifle returned to me, I began opening fire again. After I emptied a magazine, Camila scurried to grab the next.

Repeatedly, as we exchanged weapons, I asked.

“How many rounds do we have left?”

“This is the last one.”

Camila handed over a magazine she had just removed from her own rifle. Although shadows loomed, I could tell her expression was anything but bright.

Once empty, I discarded the rifle and picked up my sidearm. With Camila weaving magic, I pulled her into the ditch to take cover.

I leaned against the low bank of the ditch, pondering my fortune. It appeared Victor had indeed sold me something worthwhile. The bulletproof vest lived up to its promise; it had effectively deflected the rounds from their old-age ammunition, and the automatic rifle and grenade performed reliably. Night vision gear had too.

“…….”

How many have we already killed? By now, I felt they would have either called it a day or retreated.

Though I couldn’t negotiate with those miscreants, if given half a chance, I’d beg for them to retreat already.

Yet, the odds of that happening seemed dismally low.

The last magazine loaded into my handgun, and as I caught my breath, I heard the familiar voice slicing through the reeds.

“Surrender!”

“The Vigilante Leader…?”

I let a bitter laugh escape me. That guy was still alive.

The gangsters pressed on, hidden among the reeds, calling out from a distance. They told me to emerge and surrender; they’d spare my life. It was an implicit ultimatum, with the general intention being clearer than anything else.

Instinctively, I recognized this was the final plea. In truth, the mere suggestion of surrender was ludicrous. Stepping out meant certain doom.

Camila glanced nervously at me.

“What should we do?”

“What do you think? We push on till the end.”

I pulled a grenade from my pocket and hurled it through the reeds. A cronk broke the serenity, and anguished screams resonated eerily in the swath of reeds. This was my answer.

Watching the flames rise, Camila engulfed them with her own fire, fanning the blaze fiercely.

The reeds burst into flames. We readied ourselves for the final stand as we gazed up into the night sky.

All of a sudden, warmth began to wash over my hand. Glancing down, I discovered Camila’s hand resting on top of mine.

I grasped that hand firmly while clutching the handgun tightly.

“Guess it’s the end for me. Never had a shot at romance!”

Camila exclaimed whimsically.

In her playful demeanor, I sensed an undertone of fear.

One hand grasped a handgun, and my other still held Camila’s as I gazed through the inferno.

Beyond the rising flames, shapes trailed through the darkness, with the robbers closing in on us amid the reeds.

In silence, I gathered strength for the outcome, my blood running cold.

“…….”

“…Why are you smiling?”

“Oh, just a thought.”

I weakly lowered the handgun and continued.

“Guess it’s not my funeral today.”

At my gaze, Camila’s head turned to match.

From across the reeds, a path led westward.

Countless lights approached this way.

*

At first, they were mere glimmers. Small enough to resemble fireflies, yet they swelled larger, eventually splitting into several others.

More than a dozen vehicles.

The rapid vehicles regained no speed and sped through the rising flames without a horn sounding.

Instead, bullets rained down as they fired away.

-Tatatatatata!!

The mounted machine guns on the vehicles unleashed a storm upon the robbers. The bullets tore through the reeds, finding and obliterating those who hid therein.

Seeing that gruesome scene unfold, I tackled Camila down, pulling her into the ditch.

“Get down!”

“Ugh!”

Riding the furious spray of bullets, the vehicle finally skidded to a stop atop the charred reed field. The blinding headlights illuminated the area, and armed individuals burst out.

With automatic rifles in hand, they mercilessly retaliated against the fleeing robbers. It was a matter of seconds before the crossfire of bullets clawed through the rigged individuals.

Before long, they approached our hiding place in the ditch.

As robust light enveloped us, Camila and I raised our hands slowly, surrendering.

“……..”

As my eyes adjusted from the dark to the eerily revealing light, the forms of men became visible.

They bore automatic rifles. And judging from their shabby appearances, it appeared they were donning the fatigues of the Kien Empire.

Upon confirming their weaponry, the uniforms caught my attention as they donned the now obsolete patchwork military gear. They appeared to be sporting woodland camo.

Military uniforms. Military boots. Automatic rifles.

Those three words quickly combined in my head, leading to one inevitable conclusion.

Without hesitation, I tossed my handgun aside and raised both hands above my head, shouting in the Mauritanian tongue.

“Don’t shoot! I’m a foreign journalist!”

I willingly dismissed the notion of bandits entirely.

What I faced was a far more consequential predicament.

The men upon their arrival turned out to be soldiers. Translated, they were government forces.

Surrounded by government troops, I thought inwardly to myself.

“This is bad.”