NOVEL WEB Chapter 902
There are countless intelligence agencies in Russia.
No, I’m not exaggerating; there really are an overwhelming number of them.
During the existence of the Soviet Union, the infamous KGB was in operation.
However, following the failed coup in 1991, KGB was dismantled and split into five separate entities: the Federal Security Service, the Republic Security Directorate, the Federal Border Guard Service, the Federal Guard Service, and the Government Communications Committee. Not long after, the Soviet Union collapsed, giving way to the Russian Federation, leading to a major upheaval.
For a long time, the dictator and President of Russia, Vyacheslav, restructured the intelligence agencies based on these five institutions, operating them in a specialized manner according to the agents’ fields of expertise.
And now, these agents were specialized in information gathering, particularly in ‘wiretapping.’
These were the ones who mastered martial arts to enhance their hearing, had skills related to memory, possessed supernatural abilities like Clairvoyance or Psychometry, and could share senses with summon creatures, even reading the vibrations of Qi to eavesdrop secretly.
Every single one of them could be called a specialist in wiretapping.
As a select group operating in the shadows of a giant country like Russia, each of them was verified and tested. They were elite agents with brilliant talents and veteran-level experience.
However, there were definitely things that even their vast experience and talents could not comprehend.
A prime example would be beings like shamans.
[Though a person may die, their soul does not completely scatter; the light soul rises to the sky while the heavier Baek descends to the ground, and with the flow of time, they scatter apart. Just as one can infer the whole form by observing a broken piece, our intuition reaches even before destruction, so gathering the Baek, I shall draw forth the shape of the soul; answer my question, O lion, with your faint memories. Where is your companion?]
A muttering that might suit a gypsy, with an entirely calm voice as if speaking to a passerby.
But that voice was so eerily ominous, far surpassing anything one might speak in a deliberately lowered tone!
Though the agents were listening to the shaman’s words via eavesdropping and employing expensive equipment to hear it as if they were right there, they just couldn’t comprehend the actions of the shaman.
It felt as if every action the shaman took was completely detached from their understanding.
“Why didn’t we attack the shaman? What are they doing?”
It’s incomprehensible.
They hadn’t done anything grand; all they did was overhear a bit and tail someone, right?
If they had attempted an assassination or made some threats, they could understand such behavior.
But just acting to gather information— why would they behave like that? It was utterly beyond their grasp of common sense.
Information gathering happens everywhere.
Not just in Russia, but in China or America, it’s a universal occurrence.
Even targeting civilians, embedding backdoors in electronics or reviewing usage logs— isn’t that light information collection, after all? Naturally, it’s common sense that intelligence agencies would tail those who have a higher importance than regular civilians, and there shouldn’t be such a sensitive reaction to it.
Viktor is one of Russia’s critical surveillance targets, and the ‘shaman,’ as an ability user, holds a high level of importance on its own. Hence, it was only natural for the intelligence agency to follow the shaman who made contact with Viktor.
Surely, the shaman should’ve understood that much.
That’s just common sense.
Yeah.
This is precisely what common sense is.
It’s the sensibility of the agents and the intelligence agencies.
What the shaman was doing was outside of that common sense!
“Tsk…”
Isn’t it only natural to feel uneasy after eavesdropping and tailing someone?
Yes, feeling uncomfortable is normal and quite ordinary.
But just because one feels uncomfortable, does that mean they go around killing people? Where’s the common sense in that?
Especially for the shaman, that person was an agent.
Not just some random guy, not a criminal rolling around in the slums, but an agent belonging to the state.
Killing someone like that, who was clearly an agent, without even a thought of them as a mere guest was no different from declaring war against the Russian Federation. Or it could also be seen as a provocation, completely disregarding any potential counteraction or anger from Russia’s intelligence agencies.
It’s incomprehensible.
That shaman’s actions were entirely alien to the common sense of the agents.
But one thing was sure.
Right now, that shaman was trying to kill other agents as well.
And if more agents were to die, it would escalate to a truly uncontrollable level.
‘If just one more, it could still be handled.’
After all, the incident had begun.
But it wasn’t over yet.
Whether through cleaning it up or resolving it, at the very least, they needed to show some kind of effort.
‘I need to avoid the winds of purging.’
A sharp, icy wind was sweeping down, conjured by Vyacheslav.
In such times, they couldn’t afford to create any flaws.
So they decided.
Before things escalated any further, they would attempt to have a conversation.
* * *
When they were children, grandparents would often sit the kids down and point towards the dark forest, saying:
In that forest, there are ferocious bears and wolves, and deeper inside, there’s a wicked old woman who controls them. The name of that evil witch living in a house with chicken legs is Baba-Yaga, and she enjoys eating little children.
Those who grew up hearing such spine-chilling tales would recall them every time they step into a dark forest.
With shining eyes, they can’t help but envision the wolves licking their lips while eyeing them, the bears lying in wait behind trees, and the evil old woman flying through the air on her mortuary pestle.
But even as the childhood fears begin to creep back up upon him, the agent steps into the forest.
Even feeling as though he’s walking into the jaws of a monster that wants to devour him, he couldn’t refuse his mission to speak with the shaman.
Dressed in all black with leather military boots.
An artifact specialized for escape.
With night vision goggles and a camera atop his head.
He was the messenger sent by the intelligence agency, their eyes and ears.
“Oh, oh. A guest has come again…?”
Ah.
Food entering one’s throat never goes amiss.
Not long after the agent entered the forest, the shaman welcomed him with a stance reminiscent of the giant Jesus figure atop Corcovado in Brazil.
The shaman stood with legs neatly together and arms wide open.
A gesture showing he bore no weapons and a sign of affection that he would gladly accept a hug.
However, even with the shaman displaying such hospitality, the agent could not relax.
For in his night vision goggles, something was crystal clear.
A pair of arms suddenly sprouted from behind the shaman, tightly clutching the corpse of a dead soldier.
Would the soldier’s foot be seen as floating in mid-air if the night vision goggles hadn’t been there?
Or would it have appeared as a white hand floating in the air, holding the soldier’s foot?
It might have been better, in fact.
It’d be much more pleasant to believe that the soldier was held by some kind of mystical shaman magic or artifact rather than seeing a third arm sprouting from a person’s back!
And look at that shaman’s face.
A look often found among Europeans.
Skin slightly tan, with features suggesting mixed ethnicity.
The shaman’s face, presumed to be of gypsy origin, bore a bright smile.
At first glance, it didn’t seem odd at all.
But to agents, who regularly disguise themselves, that face appeared differently.
‘It’s unnatural.’
Years of experience warned him.
Don’t be fooled by that face.
But what should he be cautious about?
What was he being warned about?
The agent looked at the shaman through his night vision goggles.
And soon realized.
‘Why do the teeth look like they’re moving?’
Yellow and black teeth filled the shaman’s mouth.
Strangely enough, it seemed as if they were moving.
Despite it being impossible.
‘No, they’re definitely moving.’
But contrary to his rational thoughts, his instincts resolutely declared.
It was indeed moving, and it was something completely different from the teeth he knew.
And as he continued to observe the shaman, this perception took hold.
‘…A plant? A monster?’
The earlier thought of a Jesus figure evaporated.
An overwhelming presence stood there, much more akin to a monster.
Similar to a person yet holding an uncanny difference.
Standing there was a bizarre being, more reminiscent of the forest than of humanity…
Hehe.
Seeing the agent’s reaction, the shaman curled his lip even more.
As if he could see through the agent’s thoughts.
Then, as if to show off, he opened his mouth wide and squeezed a laugh from deep within his throat.
Hahahahaha-!
Though it appeared boisterous, it felt anything but.
That laugh resonated as though it came from deep within the earth.
For some reason, it sent chills down his spine, making him want to fall down.
[Stay sharp. There’s subsonic vibration mixed in with that laughter…].
At that moment, a voice rang in his ear.
It was an agent monitoring in real-time.
[Is this magic? It has the effect of a tiger’s roar, huh?]
Hearing that sound, the agent understood.
That their previous rigidity wasn’t due to some supernatural force or some intangible power, but through something scientifically explicable and understandable.
Fear arises from ignorance and the unknown.
Once something is understood, it becomes a conquerable target.
The agent found his courage and spoke to the shaman.
“I’m Ivan, and I’ve come as a guest.”
He didn’t mention his affiliation or his purpose.
He simply emphasized that he was visiting as a ‘guest’ and uttered his name.
To fulfill the conditions that shaman spoke of so often concerning ‘guests.’
“Oh, oh. A guest, huh…?”
Could it be that the agents’ analyses were correct?
Instead of attacking outright, the shaman nodded.
Then, with a sound reminiscent of scratching his neck, he let out a chuckle before dropping the corpse.
The arm that had been stretched out behind him folded away, and the foot that had been dragged around fell to the ground, finally finding rest.
The corpse, which had been dragged along, could finally rest in peace.
The shaman asked.
“Did you come voluntarily or under duress?”