A Dark Fantasy Spy

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In the Information Agency, codenames are utilized as part of security measures, with a surprisingly broad range of application for those codenames.

From the smallest conversations of Information Agency agents to official meetings and intelligence documents, codenames and aliases were practically mandatory in almost every conversation and document, aside from documents crafted without codes or disguises.

In that sense, the assignment of the codename ‘Michael’ to our new companion, Akande, wasn’t all that strange.

For reference, ‘Michael’ wasn’t an identification code assigned by the company; it was a codename personally assigned by Camila.

The first reason was that he was as tall as the basketball player ‘Michael Jordan,’ and the second reason was his body covered in tattoos and muscular build, quite reminiscent of the boxer ‘Michael Tyson.’ Hence, merging those images to call him ‘Michael’ seemed fitting.

“Do we really have to call him by that name? Can’t we just call him normally instead of using a codename…?”

“There’s a feeling to it, you know.”

“A feeling? Why do we need a codename when we’re just talking amongst ourselves?”

In my view, the codename seemed quite unnecessary, yet Camila kept insisting on referring to Akande as Michael at every opportunity.

Though it felt juvenile that she was pushing that codename on me, she seemed to find it quite amusing. So, I sometimes played along by using the codename Michael, teasing her about her lack of naming sense.

However…

Seeing the rampaging Akande, I had no choice but to admit Camila’s naming sense was spot on.

The guy was pummeling angels with his fists.

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Episode 17 – The Tree That Drinks Blood

As the political regime struck a blow in mid-air, a cracking sound erupted from the void of nothingness.

As his left hand struck the thick column, it shed stones like a snake shedding its skin. As his right hand drove deep into the brick wall, it lifted, revealing the ground beneath like a turtle’s shell splitting open.

The dual swords, sharp enough to slice through glances, surged like the wind without missing a beat but were quickly blocked by the meaty fist with veins protruding.

“Your attack.”

Akande, who had defended against Nathaniel’s strike, opened his mouth.

“Fast. Quite.”

The words that slipped from his lips were incredibly awkward, but Akande merely grinned, unconcerned about his pronunciation.

“But. Slower. Than me.”

As his thick lips curled up, revealing sharp teeth like a beast’s fangs, his fist shot out faster than lightning.

The tattoo stretching from his shoulder to forearm glowed, and he began to roar like a lion charging through the savanna.

His overwhelming momentum, powerful enough to shatter stone, thrust through Nathaniel’s breastplate like a dagger.

Boom! The force in his punch resonated like the beat of a native drum driving away intruders.

In response, Akande erupted with a loud cheer.

“Zullûwth (storm, fierce wind)!”

—Boom!

Like thunder rolling from afar, Nathaniel’s body was violently shoved back. The impact was so palpable that even we, some distance away, could feel ourselves stagger.

Nathaniel was caught off guard, taking the full brunt of the power behind the punch. The shock was significant enough that one knee of the angel’s buckled to the ground.

That was both a mistake and an opportunity. Akande seized this chance without hesitation.

“Krama-ta hum!”

As the tattoos connecting his calves and Achilles tendon ignited with a fiery glow, the bricks beneath his feet shattered with a sickening crack.

As the stones split apart, Akande charged forward, smashing the ground like a sandcastle.

The space warped around him, the scenery pulling back like stretched taffy.

Akande managed to leap in front of Nathaniel all at once and began to swing his vein-popping fists indiscriminately.

“Uryyyyyy-!!”

The storm of punches commenced. Each hit was a critical strike.

With a roar reminiscent of something half-human, half-beast, he unleashed a relentless barrage on Nathaniel. In the chaos, dust and stone shards whirled around as Akande swung his fists, leaving Nathaniel helpless as he was mercilessly pummeled.

“This isn’t a joke!”

Veronica, watching the scene unfold, had a look of sheer horror on her face. It was an image of a mere human overpowering a divine being—a sight that could only exist in legends.

“I’ve never seen anyone like him other than the hero who fought demons and his siblings. How did you bring him here?”

How did I bring him here? I just loaded him into the van.

Akande was literally overwhelming Nathaniel. When thinking back to how he had fought evenly against the armored knight, Ramiel, it was hard to believe.

With his left hand he’d deliver a blow to Nathaniel’s abdomen, then with his right, swing for his jaw, following up a punch that skewered his breastplate. Then, he’d seize his wrist and toss him like a rag doll. As Nathaniel floated mid-air, Akande leapt up.

With a mighty slam, he brought his thick legs down onto the angel.

The angel’s descent was not the perfect imagery depicted in scriptures or literature. The shape that plummeted to the ground like a cannonball created chasms upon impact. Dust and debris erupted like a shell exploding.

It was a scene that made one’s flesh tremble, yet Nathaniel showed no sign of pain.

Not even groaning, the angel dusted himself off and lifted his head. Sitting on the broken ground below him, Akande began to prepare himself for the next attack.

“…Hmph.”

He pushed his power into the legs that connected him to the earth. The bricks cracked like broken tiles as his feet dug into the ground.

At the point where he connected with the Earth God, Akande lowered his body, resembling a tiger stalking its prey.

All ten fingers curled in unison. Mimicking the claws of a ferocious beast, Akande stretched out his bent hands forward. At that moment, something dark and shadowy behind him took form, roaring like a lion.

—Grrrrrrr…!!!

A thunderous roar echoed.

The cry of the ruler of the savanna sent tremors through the entire desert. The ground shook, animals shivered, and the wild roar reached up to the sky.

With his bent fingers, Akande poured strength throughout his body. As if determined to finish the fight in one blow, the tattoos pulsed vibrantly, burning bright.

However…

—Screech!

As a sound like icy metal rang out, everything ceased.

The lion’s roar, the tattoo’s hum—everything vanished as if the world had gone silent. Wondering what was happening, I looked up only to see Akande poised and Nathaniel gripped with a sword.

Something happened. I don’t know what, but something definitely occurred.

An inexpressible sense of foreboding passed through my mind in that fleeting moment.

“Stop.”

A voice that resonated like thunder rang in my head.

In that moment, as if time, which had seemed to stop, began flowing again, changes occurred. The roar that had shaken the savanna ceased, the glowing tattoos quieted, and the lion’s form dissolved.

Realizing that the lion had vanished in some way, Akande’s expression visibly hardened. Startled, he scanned around, but before he could fully turn, Nathaniel had moved from a distance to stand right before Akande.

Nathaniel’s hand clasped around both of Akande’s wrists. Akande exerted pressure with his lower body to escape the grip, and the ground beneath him groaned as he pushed the bricks—yet, his wrists didn’t budge.

Like an adult playing with a child, Nathaniel silently held Akande’s wrists, observing him. Then…

—Crack.

A horrific sound broke the air.

A crunching noise began to emanate from his trapped wrists. Amidst his efforts to escape with his feet pushing into the ground, Akande’s scream trailed a beat behind.

“Gaaaah!”

Despite his dreadful shout, Nathaniel didn’t let go of him. Releasing one wrist, Nathaniel gripped the other with the strength of clay being kneaded.

“Ugh…!”

“What the hell…”

As his shriek echoed in every direction, Veronica gulped down her dread.

With his freed hand clenching his trembling arm, the tremors wouldn’t cease. As the grip tightened, piercing screams grew louder, with crimson flesh seeping through Nathaniel’s hold.

With just the act of squeezing, Akande’s wrist was crushed. As Nathaniel finally released him, he let go of Akande’s wrist revealing a gruesome mashed mass of flesh and broken bones.

Akande, launched from the ground, crash-landed near us. As I instinctively grabbed his wrist to check his condition, an expletive slipped out.

“…Damn. It’s completely ground to mush.”

His wrist was so pulverized it was nothing short of a puddle. Even without medical knowledge, anyone would know there was no remedy other than amputation.

Veronica rushed to me, prepared to invoke her divine power, but Akande, with his uninjured hand, held the saint back, grimacing as he focused his attention.

As the tattoos began to glow brightly, Akande’s shattered wrist rapidly swelled. The mushy flesh sprouted anew, the broken bones realigned. In grotesque fashion, the severed blood vessels writhed and reached towards the trembling hand, causing Veronica to look on in sheer horror as she utilized her divine power.

“What is this…!?”

“The power of essence.”

Nathaniel replied as he leisurely began to step forward.

The angel hooked his finger through the ring at the end of the sword’s hilt, spinning the blade in the air. As Nathaniel held the revolving blade, his gaze settled on Akande.

“To you humans, such excessive power is not allowed. It should be normal to neither wield nor even feel it in your bodies.”

“…”

“If some fool hadn’t spread the knowledge.”

As Nathaniel’s eyes shifted, Ramiel, who had thrust his greatsword into the ground, stood up.

“There is nothing excessive for any being in this land, Nathaniel. I understand your desire to cast blame, but refrain from speaking foolishly.”

“Laughable.”

The wise rebuked the brave for their ignorance.

“Shamir was it? The human who shared the essence called himself that, I believe.”

“That’s right.”

“After hundreds of years of inheriting essence, and yet you cannot handle it properly. Such a trivial understanding is a waste of precious essence.”

“What you see may only be the tip of the iceberg.”

“Making excuses, aren’t we? Since when has your tongue grown so long?”

Nathaniel scoffed derisively, but Ramiel remained unfazed.

Still gripping his greatsword in the ground, he pulled out a hammer. Grabbing the long handle that appeared out of nowhere, he revealed a massive head. Thud! The enormous weight of the hammer stirred up clouds of dust even from just resting it down.

Now wielding a new weapon, Ramiel turned his attention towards us, speaking softly.

“Though your intervention is appreciated, there’s no need for you to involve yourselves. This is a matter for Nathaniel and me to resolve.”

“You’re right, you foolish one. For once, you’re correct.”

Swish. As his cloak fluttered, an array of glinting daggers revealed themselves, hidden beneath the fabric, shining in the light of Veronica’s lamp.

“Do not interfere.”

Nathaniel warned us, brandishing his daggers.

The angel pointed a dagger towards Veronica and Akande.

“I can overlook your apathy, but this isn’t a place for you. Therefore, flee! I won’t stop your escape, Altiora’s lord, and the essence’s heir. And….”

His sentence paused for a moment. Fixing his gaze upon me, he lingered as if he had more to say, but Nathaniel remained silent for a while.

Then…

“…Oh, who are you?”

A question was suddenly thrown my way. Doubting if he was referring to someone else, I looked around, but no one else was present.

Being asked who I was caught me off guard. As the scene froze before me, Ramiel placed the hammer over his shoulder and answered for me.

“I’m an envoy sent from abroad.”

“I do not know you, Anah?”

“I don’t know either.”

What the hell? Are they really trying to embarrass me for being unknown?

I was completely stunned, unable to respond in disbelief. Sure, I could accept being a nobody regarding Veronica, but why was even that half-naked, American native like Akande not aware of me while I was in the company of these two?! Life is unfair.

Wanting to protest, being caught up in a feeling of injustice, words failed me. Nathaniel simply stared at me for a while without opening his mouth.

At that moment.

“…Ah, you should flee?”

Out of the blue, Veronica, who had been quiet, suddenly spoke up.

With a notably uncomfortable expression on her face.

“How could I run away? I have a face and dignity to uphold. I have to repay what was done to me before I leave.”

Clack.

The wooden box she had been carrying clattered to the floor. Kicking the case open, the saint countered Nathaniel’s words.

“Did you really think I would run away if you threatened me? ‘Oh, yes. I’ll flee now?’”

“I told you this isn’t a fight for you. Aren’t you afraid of dying?”

“If I were the kind of person who was frightened by that, I wouldn’t have come this far! Do you know how much I’ve endured?”

Veronica’s reaction to Nathaniel’s blatant threat was exceedingly simplistic.

She dug her fingers into her ears repeatedly. First with the right hand, then switching to the left. With her fingers digging into her ears, she blew air.

To put it politely, it was a gesture that signified she wouldn’t bother listening to his words, while in a crass manner, it meant “Go f* yourself.”

“I’m not about to take orders from your pigeon wings, especially not from a Pope!”

With a nonchalant demeanor that suggested she couldn’t care less, the saint ignored Nathaniel’s words as she pulled something from the box.

“The elders at the Holy See can’t judge me! Cardinals, bishops, archbishops, even the Inquisition!”

What emerged from the box was an exceedingly old musket. A legendary weapon said to have been gifted by a demon to a famous marksman hundreds of years ago.

With a single shot, it could pierce the heart and head of its target—a musket that fires the bullets of fate.

The Catastrophe’s flintlock.

Holding the legendary weapon used to assassinate a pope, the saint aimed it at the angel.

“That’s the limit of your church’s law!”