Less than three minutes after Nein's declaration, the relevant parties assembled in the central hall of the operational headquarters. There was one man, previously unknown to me, who stood as tall as Zanh Kiem but with twice the Maker's broad shoulders. At first glance, he seemed a lumbering rustic, but any impression of his clumsiness evaporated once he started to move. Clearly, he was a seasoned and formidable shapeshifter combatant. He introduced himself as Ohrin and was in charge of the security forces of Wilflaes. His presence made sense; without the involvement of his battle units, both state ones and, of course, those from the clans loyal to the Castle, we simply did not have time.
"So," Mr. Rock began, bending over a vast map of Wilflaes and its surroundings laid out on the floor. "These marks here, light yellow." The shapeshifter's finger traced the southern outskirts of the capital. "We became aware of this base last night."
"Yes, that's the dummy Eshin base marker," Nein confirmed.
"Dummy?"
"Absolutely. It's a decoy, a diversion. I doubt any clan members are there. At most, they've stationed allied clans or mere 'trusted' mercenaries."
"And the lime-colored one?" The hand of the raig curator shifted to the opposite side of the map.
Over the past few days, I'd frequently encountered Mr. Rock. We'd chatted about the Knight's organization and discussed certain specifics. Truth be told, among all the curators of the heir I'd met, I had a particular fondness for Rock. He was forthright, genuine, and had such self-assuredness that deceit and duplicity seemed foreign to him. In many ways, he seemed more knightly than many of the raigs. Whoever assigned him to his role had excellent judgment, for Rock was the main liaison with the Break Knights.
"The lime one," Nein replied, "represents the 'primary' base, a compound of three adjacent villas."
"'Primary'? Did you say that sarcastically, or am I misunderstanding?"
"No, you caught it. It's been set up to look that way. While all evidence points there, it's misleading. I'm convinced there are Eshin members there, but the clan's leadership wouldn't lament their loss."
"What about the orange mark?" Rock continued, sliding his hand further across the map.
"That's Eshin's facade of a headquarters. We discovered it due to a bug planted by Kael and Thora in one of the Dark Adept's vehicles."
"And the red?"
"Ah, that's the genuine headquarters."
"So, the orange-marked one is a ruse?"
"I'd label it as the external base, with the red one being the internal. Clever rats! They always have a system: an apparent entrance, the real one, a backup, and then where the most valuable lies," Nein answered confidently, certain of his deductions.
"What do the black marks signify?" Rock asked, gesturing to around four dozen flags marking nearly the entire capital and its outskirts.
"Those are clandestine apartments and warehouses, all registered under front companies and offices. They can be dealt with as we proceed without using the primary forces," Nein explained.
"So, you've mapped their entire network?" Ohrin interrupted, rubbing his large hands together.
"Not entirely. They have at least another fifty bases worldwide. But that's a secondary concern."
"Secondary?" Crixus, who had been sitting with anticipation gleaming in his eyes, blurted out.
"The Eshin leadership, their Dark adepts, and most probably their treasury and documents are currently in Novilter. Were you expecting to obliterate an entire global crime clan in one fell swoop? Our plan is to incapacitate their leadership, destabilize their base, and acquire the necessary documents. We'll clean up the rest later," Zanh Kiem responded instead of Nein, and Crixus didn't dare contradict the Maker.
"Give me a moment," Nein said as he walked to his desk. After shuffling through a cluttered mess, he located a thick folder. Returning to the map, he started placing aerial photographs next to the respective marks. "We can inspect the two closest points more thoroughly with the Knights' assistance. As for the other two - the visible and concealed headquarters - we must attack them simultaneously. The operation should commence at all four locations at the same time."
"That makes sense," Ohrin commented, pacing along the edge of the map. "City special forces will handle the yellow mark. Alihark's Dogs will tackle the lime. The orange is my team's responsibility. But there are bound to be Dark Ones at the red... I'll send our elite if absolutely necessary, but against the Dark Adepts, we shapeshifters are merely a tasty energy source..."
"I, alongside Lao and Bao, will handle the concealed base," Zanh Kiem reassured Ohrin. "Also, Mr. Alir, have you reached an agreement with Sharp Knives?"
"Absolutely," the crime curator nodded in agreement.
"I'd involve them too. I believe they're just as eager for vengeance against those who betrayed them as we are," the Third Palm's leader remarked with a smile.
"Did everyone forget about us?" Crixus inquired, feigning nonchalance.
The Maker gave him a look so piercing that Crixus had to resist the urge to flee to the Break instantly.
Besides Crixus, Maya, and myself, Halley, Rex, and Leonidas were also present. The latter trio was present in their real bodies, as their identities were hidden only from the general populace. Kael and Tora were close, but the sisters remained in Projection.
Nein had given us an estimate of at least two hours, and with that timeline in mind, our planning commenced. Details were fine-tuned, teams organized, observers designated, and command was passed to the special forces to ready the vehicles. The information Nein gathered proved extensive, allowing the preparations to unfold with a relaxed and methodical pace. Everyone was clear about their roles and responsibilities. We raigs, however, felt somewhat sidelined, merely observing the proceedings.
"So," the Maker began, addressing our group, "this isn't a standard operation targeting common criminals. We have confirmed that some of these vermin can detect the presence of Knights nearby, even when in Projection."
"I can vouch for that with ninety percent certainty," Nein picked up from where the Maker left off. "Those with this sensitivity probably won't be impacted by Shock Swords either. Such shapeshifters are limited in number, perhaps a maximum of two dozen at worst. However, it's essential to note that there's no outward way to identify which ones have this heightened sensitivity."
"You need to grasp this," Zanh Kiem said gravely, "your strikes must be decisive. This means lethal. Knights, are you prepared for that?"
"Everyone there can be exterminated. I have all the necessary information, and whatever I lack, we'll deduce from any residual evidence. Capturing these creatures alive for questioning would be ideal, but it's not essential," Nein clarified.
"Special forces can handle the decoy base, but they require a cover," Zanh Kiem said, glancing towards the twin sisters' auras. "Thora and Kael, you will be assigned there."
"There's a seventy-three percent probability you won't even need to intervene," the investigator chimed in.
"Maya and Leonidas will take the one marked in lemon. Endeavor to capture someone there," the Maker continued. "For the orange base, Halley and Rex will be in charge. Casualties are likely. Are you up for the task?"
"Yes," Halley responded.
"Yes," Rex echoed with more resolve.
"Excellent. Maestro, Crixus, you'll accompany me to the hidden headquarters. No theatrics, no heroics. We anticipate an alchemical lab there. Our approach must be conservative: a thorough sweep, leaving no one behind. Take no captives - the risk is too high. Our primary target is the Dark Branch. In situations like these, there's no room for games or hesitations. We move swiftly and ruthlessly."
"Understood, that's not an issue for me," Crixus replied, a gleam of satisfaction evident.
"Not my first time," I added nonchalantly.
To be honest, I might have felt differently if it were any other target, but my grievances with Eshin's vermin are obvious.
"I'd prefer to be with Master Maestro," Maya interjected, rising from her seat.
"This is a military operation," Zanh Kiem sternly reminded her. "I'm in command here, Miss Maya. Orders aren't open for debate."
"They are fulfilled..." the girl murmured, lowering her head and sinking reluctantly back into her chair. She was discontented but recognized the necessity of compliance.
In my previous life, I'd been present during the planning of various military operations, including some spearheaded by elite special forces. Yet, I had never witnessed such precision, the rapidity of order execution, or such meticulous attention to detail. As soon as objectives were identified and assignments given, things began to whirl at an almost incomprehensible pace. Crystal clear instructions were dispensed, and each of the curators clearly understood their domain of responsibility. As for Zanh Kiem's team, they appeared to grasp their leader's intentions even without verbal communication.
We deliberated on involving more raigs in the mission. However, after considering the advantages and disadvantages, we decided against it. Time was a scarce commodity. Introducing someone new and briefing them thoroughly within our tight timeframe was unfeasible. While the operation's prep progressed rapidly, the time constraints set by Nein remained stringent.
In an ideal scenario, orchestrating such an intricate military maneuver would require at least a week of planning. However, the one thing we lacked, as emphasized by the investigator from the Third Palm, was time. He perpetually prodded us to hasten, which earned him several exasperated glances from Zanh Kiem, who was perfectly aware of our situation. Nein's urgency seemed a tad excessive.
Having shown foresight surprising for a ruler, the heir, upon realizing Eshin's power stemmed from alchemy and collaboration with the ancient Dark Branch, placed the entire operation under Zanh Kiem's authority. Observing the Maker in his leadership role was even more remarkable than witnessing Nein in action. Commands were dispensed even before the completion of reports. Personnel set out to probe areas with an accuracy suggesting the leader of the Third Palm possessed some precognitive insight. Zan, having recognized this as the culmination of his life's work, was fully committed.
Within a mere forty minutes of the investigator's pivotal statement, operational teams were on the move, with support units closely following. The Alihark's Dogs training base likely hadn't ever seen such an influx of manpower and machinery: eighteen helicopters, over forty unmarked SUVs, and seven armored personnel carriers. In close proximity, at the capital's training field, stood a tank battalion and even an MLRS division, both of which were at our disposal. However, Zan considered the tanks and MLRS as assets he hoped wouldn't be necessary. Even if they were deployed promptly, they could only engage two out of the four bases. Nonetheless, Thora and Kael were equipped with systems that enabled them to guide a missile strike if circumstances demanded it.
The main challenge was the synchronization required for the attacks on all the bases and other locations identified by Nein. Every move had to be executed simultaneously, down to the very second. As I looked at Zan, my confidence swelled – we were bound to succeed.
Yet Lucas, thinking through his universe, approached the matter carelessly. If the Gifted from the Galaxy Far, Far Away possessed the powers the script ascribed to them, then observing Zan, I found it hard to believe anyone could have bested them. It seemed implausible. But perhaps I'm viewing this askew: during the events depicted in the movie, the Jedi Order hadn't engaged in combat for nearly a thousand years and was fundamentally a peaceful entity. It further reinforced my belief that shapeshifters dominated this realm solely because high-ranking sensums had no appetite for power. There wasn't any other explanation for such a unique world order.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
I proposed to the Maker that the raigs proceed ahead of the main forces, positioning themselves earlier. However, he shot me a reproachful glance, advising me to refrain from meddling in matters beyond my grasp. Then, with a touch of condescension, he clarified our lack of insight into the capabilities of Eshin's Dark Branch. There was a potential risk they might detect the Knights prematurely. He told me this already while walking toward a large tourist bus with tinted windows. We boarded it, accompanied by the twins, Crixus, Mr. Tunk, and the five familiar Sharp Knives. The Maker took the driver's seat.
I was initially puzzled by this choice of transportation, but the rationale soon became evident. Before reaching the main road, our bus was seamlessly integrated into a column of identical vehicles. These buses were ferrying tourists to the second-largest city in Novilter, slated to reach by morning. We, however, would only accompany them for a portion of the journey.
Interestingly, the mercenaries, unlike our previous encounter, were mostly silent. Their reticence made sense: few would be chatty in the presence of the fearsome adepts of Retribution. I had grown accustomed to Zanh Kiem and his team, but for others, their presence was daunting.
Mr. Tunk briefed the Sharp Knives as Zanh Kiem outlined the specifics to Crixus and me. The initial plan was set. Crixus and I would launch our assault from within. When the alarm inevitably sounded, the Knives would spring into action, neutralizing any threats. Meanwhile, the Third Palm would provide cover, equipped with high-caliber sniper rifles. Six minutes post-initiation, helicopters bearing the heir's elite combat unit would touch down. But this was merely a fallback measure. According to Nein, the true headquarters would be sparsely populated – perhaps a dozen shapeshifters and Dark Ones at most. Even our modest unit would be ample, assuming things went as planned. Yet, in the event of a mishap, reinforcements awaited, along with two fighter-bombers on standby at a nearby airstrip. They were equipped with munitions specifically designed to target underground bunkers.
Zanh Kiem multitasked impressively, driving the bus, holding briefings, and relaying orders to other groups via Mr. Tunk. In contrast, Crixus moved away from the driver's seat and, to my astonishment, easily mingled with the mercenaries, finding common ground and conversational topics. Oddly enough, even though he loathed shapeshifters, he seemed to have a soft spot for clanless ones.
"Seven minutes before the start," Zanh Kiem declared after nearly an hour of merging with the stream of sightseeing buses. Our vehicle detached from the convoy and halted at a deserted gas station. "Mr. Tunk, I need the tablet and map."
"Here you are," the curator of the clerics responded, promptly handing over the items.
"Master Maestro, Sir Crixus," began the Maker formally. "Regrettably, I'll have to resort to a basic map, as I sense nothing peculiar in this vicinity. Our target is a standard estate spanning roughly twenty-four hectares, with a two-story mansion at its heart. My abilities are mute here, most likely due to alchemical protection. If it weren't for Nein's calculations, I'd suspect we'd come to the wrong location. But we're well aware that Eshin's Dark Branch possesses not only conventional disguises but also specialized ones to shield against individuals like me. Consequently, we'll be operating under conditions where my foresight might be rendered useless. According to Nein, modifications were made to this mansion six months ago, ostensibly some interior remodeling. But based on the machinery and materials used, there's likely a vast bunker beneath, complete with a state-of-the-art purification and filtration system. The probable location of the bunker is right here." The spot he indicated lit up in red on the tablet. "Remember, lethal force is essential; we're unfamiliar with the capabilities of such an ancient Dark clan." After receiving our affirmative nods, the leader of the Third Palm addressed the mercenaries. "Your objectives: start with this servants' quarters. If I were them, that's where I'd stash the arsenal and extra guards. Once cleared, proceed to secure these points. Lao and Bao will have your backs, but my position will be here," he stated, pinpointing a location near an emergency exit. "Be warned, you'll encounter formidable foes, the cream of the crop. But I trust the element of surprise will be to our advantage."
"Have you written us off already?" Sly asks with a bitter smirk.
"That's entirely up to you," Zanh Kiem responds evenly. "If the reputation of the Sharp Knives isn't just talk..." He trails off, then adds with a hint of amusement, "And I sincerely hope it isn't, we might pull this off without any casualties on our side. Besides, I've been well-trained. I can pull out anyone, even with severe injuries - just make sure you don't take a bullet to the head. Their security shouldn't exceed five or six top-tier fighters."
"We're of the same caliber," the leader of the Knives says as he checks his gear. "Dying in battle against our equals isn't the worst way to go. We're prepared."
Checking his watch, Zanh Kiem stands. "Mr. Tunk, you're on cover duty for me."
"Understood!"
"The Knights will initiate the operation, to the exact second. The rest will join either when the alarm goes off or on my mark. Let's move!"
Ra-a-a-a-i-i-i-ig!!
Crixus and I shifted to the Break simultaneously.
"Ah, just noticed-you've got a watch in Projection!" Crixus, who had recently cooled off in his interactions with me, reverts to his typical demeanor, albeit with one change: he no longer calls me "old man."
"It comes in handy, doesn't it?" I reply, jesting and winking at him. "Which route will you take: north or south?" We had two marked paths to the bunker to cover.
"The north," Crixus replies decisively.
"Excellent. I'll handle the south then."
As we approached the mansion, we hashed out the finer points. I particularly cautioned Crixus against impulsively confronting the shapeshifters. The Dark Ones were our primary objective, and I believed the rest of our crew could manage the shapeshifters. I could only hope that when Crixus assured me he'd handle things "properly," he meant it, and wouldn't act rashly.
A minute before our kickoff, we parted ways.
From my first look at the mansion, it was evident Nein had been right. Average folks wouldn't install concealed firing positions on their rooftops. Given my prior encounters, shapeshifters enhanced with alchemy had a detection range for Projections no greater than thirty meters. So, I didn;t approach directly, potentially in full view of hidden snipers. Rather than using a conventional entryway or window, I phased through the wall. Without hesitation, I swiftly descended through the levels.
Ah, there's the ventilation system. I decide to follow it, even though it veers slightly off the predicted location of the bunker. But given that the Maker's powers are muted here, I trust my instincts more than anyone else's assumptions.
I push on, hoping I'm not too late. The walls are thick-dense concrete reinforced with steel. Even for me, it's challenging to navigate through. My Projection quivers under the strain. With one final effort, I break into the open. Apparently, I miscalculated and arrived seven seconds earlier than planned.
Before me is a brightly lit room of considerable size. It's not a command center or a planning room; it's a laboratory! Immaculate white walls surround rows of equipment, shelves filled with chemical reagents, and other hallmarks of a well-fitted lab.
A large table, similar to a surgical one, has been shifted to one side, clearing space in the middle of the room. An odd diagram has been etched on the floor, centering around a dying creature that appears to belong to the mustelid family. Its fur is marred with gashes, and its spine seems to be snapped. Circling this creature are four figures in pristine white lab coats. Their apparent leader is a strikingly young blonde who seems vaguely familiar. She's accompanied by three "assistants": a middle-aged man, and two very young individuals-a girl about Izao's age and a boy no older than fourteen. A single look at their dark, abyss-like auras tells me all I need to know: these aren't mere scientists; they're Dark Adepts!
"Word" is drawn from its scabbard. Yet, before I deliver a strike, the blonde stands abruptly, shouting with a distinct Bavarian accent, "Alarm! Raigs!"
The others freeze, their eyes wide with terror. I seize the opportunity. The blonde seems the most formidable, so I aim my first blow at her. But she raises her hands, cloaked in Darkness, and my spectral blade is deflected by this deceptively frail shield. It fails to harm her. Instantly, a tendril of dark energy emerges from behind her, lunging at me. Although I'm in Projection, I sense the danger from it and dodge. Due to the room's constraints, it grazes me slightly, and I feel an immediate drain in my prana. It's a minor decrease, about five percent, but it's enough to set off alarm bells in my mind.
"Help!" cries the blonde Dark One.
However, the response to her plea isn't quite what she anticipated. The man's hands shimmer with Darkness as he assumes a combat stance, but the young ones have no intention of fighting. Both the boy and the girl spring to their feet, racing for the exit. I might have had a chance to hurl "Word" and end both their lives-unlike their seniors, they either lack protection against the weapons of the Knights or have simply forgotten how to use it. Hesitation grips me, the thought of ending such young lives pausing my hand, and the time to use the "Throw" runs out. I'm forced to dodge two black tentacle whips at once.
The confines of the room are a disadvantage. The laboratory might be spacious, but it's not expansive enough for a raig to unleash their full prowess. Moreover, "Word" bounces off these whips of theirs as if from the blade of a Break Knight! And to add to my troubles, this pair seems to have an uncanny ability to see me clearly, even in Projection. In truth, I'd be in a dire situation, given that these tentacles defied the laws of physics, seemingly driven solely by the Dark Ones' will. However, I have "Purity" on my side. The wakizashi springs to action, causing the Dark Ones to shriek in agony whenever their whips make contact with its pristine, unyielding blade-a shard of an idealistic boy's soul.
"Purity" slices through their whips effortlessly. And even though they regenerate rapidly, with every slash I deliver, the Dark Ones' strength diminishes. I don't aim to capture anyone alive, yet, they manage to land blows on me three more times before the immaculate blade finds its mark, piercing the blonde's throat. She crumples lifelessly onto the sterile floor. Her companion, evidently weaker, barely lasts five seconds post that event. Perhaps sensing the inevitable, he attempts to flee but is met with the piercing embrace of "Purity."
There are still two more-those who fled the lab earlier. They mustn't escape! I sprint toward the exit, only to be met by Crixus, poised for battle.
"Two down!" he grins, revealing a pair of lifeless young bodies in the corridor behind him. Clearly, Crixus harbored no reservations about dealing fatal blows, even to young Dark Ones.
"Upwards!" I reply tersely, trying to avoid gazing at the almost-childlike deceased.
Using Sliding in this confined space is futile, but we press on at full speed. Corridors give way to a set of massive steel doors reminiscent of a bank vault. We ascend, navigating more hallways lined with surveillance cameras and concealed automated firing points. Naturally, the security isn't configured to counteract raigs, so we stride on, unbothered.
In less than two minutes since the onset of the operation, our duo bursts into the central hall of the mansion.
However, the scene that greets us deviates from expectations. The furniture is reduced to rubble, and the walls are marred with bullet impacts. Sly is propped up by the window, gasping for air with a broken leg. A knife protrudes just below his collarbone, which he clutches with his left hand. Ivan is sprawled near him, unconscious. Despite his inert state, his aura suggests he's alive, albeit critically injured with multiple breaches in his body armor. The Head of Sharp Knives stands but looks worse for wear. He has a head wound, a fractured right elbow, and his bulletproof vest looks tattered, revealing a gaping injury across his chest. What surprises me the most is Zanh Kiem, kneeling and shaking his head. He sports a pronounced bruise on his face and appears as if he's been roughed up by thugs. And in this case, the Maker played the part of the victim! Apart from the familiar faces, two corpses litter the floor. One is missing half its skull, while the other is pierced with at least seven knives. Bizarrely, he succumbed not to these injuries but to poison, seemingly taken when he grasped the inevitability of his demise.
I exit the Break. First, the conflict seems to have subsided. Second, I remain protected by the Angel.
"Damn," Sly murmurs, "What just happened? Where are these monsters from?" The mercenary extracts the knife from himself and casts a wary eye on the two deceased. "It's unbelievable! This one kept fighting even with a hole in his heart!"
"The other one kicked my ass," Zanh Kiem acknowledges, pointing towards the body. "A Maker's ass, that is."
"Thankfully, there were only two," the Head of Sharp Knives adds, "I've never faced such opponents before."
"We might've been corpses alongside them if not for Mr. Tunk's impeccable shot through the blackout curtains," Zanh Kiem comments, glancing at the corpse with half its head obliterated. "Who would've thought? Shapeshifters enhanced with alchemical elixirs can surpass even top-ranking sensums trained in monasteries."
"Why are you even here?" I demand, running out of patience.
"My alchemical blindness wasn't absolute," the Maker replies, standing up. "They planned to detonate the mansion upon any alarm. I had to deviate from the plan."
"So, are we done?" Crixus emerges, assessing the scene.
"As far as combat is concerned, yes," the Maker responds, checking Ivan's condition. "He'll make it." Turning to Crixus, he inquires, "And you?"
"Took out four Dark Ones!" Crixus boasts.
"Two seasoned adepts," I specify. "Apparently, quite powerful, given they could harm my Projection. The other two seemed like novices. We had no choice but to eliminate them."
"I expected something like this," Zanh Kiem remarks, tending to Sly's injuries.
"There's something else, though I'm not sure how crucial it might be..." Crixus begins but hesitates.
"Just spill it," the Maker interrupts, clearly irritated by the pause.
"In the lab, they were conducting experiments on a dying wolverine."
"They kidnapped someone from the duke's family?!" Mr. Tunk exclaims in shock, stepping into the room with a sniper rifle slung over his shoulder. Behind him, the monk twins seem untouched, while a pair of mercenaries appear a bit battered.
"What? No!" Crixus responds, puzzled. "Just an animal, seemingly a wild one."
Mr. Tunk breathes a massive sigh of relief, "Oh..."
"Summon the helicopters, Mr. Tunk," the Maker orders. "And have Nein come here."
"Understood!" The curator replies, retrieving a radio from his belt.
Ten minutes later, we were briefed on the situation elsewhere. The decoy base operation went without a hitch – no casualties on our side and many adversaries were captured alive. The actual headquarters operation went mostly as planned. However, we lost one commando to a stray bullet to the head. Unexpectedly, the secondary target, deemed less dangerous, housed an incredibly powerful Dark One. Though we secured the base, the Alihark clan suffered over ten casualties, and Leonidas was critically injured. He's alive but comatose. Maya informed us he was struck by the dark lashes of the adept and drained of prana. Consequently, he fell out of his Break state, and a malevolent energy pulse hit him. After hearing this, Zanh Kiem assured us, "If Leonidas didn't perish instantly, either Rui or I will bring him back. Don't fret."
Using his enhanced Maker abilities, the leader of the Third Palm administered medical aid to all in need and deactivated the self-destruct systems. Shortly after, reinforcements arrived, led by Nein.
"You've done your part," declared the Retribution investigator upon entering the mansion. "Now it's my turn. Lao ban, my gut tells me we'll find enough documents and records here to eradicate the rest of Eshin globally!"
"So, did we pull it off?" I ask, sitting next to the weary Maker.
"It seems so," Zanh replies softly. "Enlightenment didn't come, but it rarely does concerning Dark Ones. Yet, I trust Nein's judgment: if he's confident, then it must be true."
"We've bought the world another year?"
"Don't jump ahead. Fully dismantling the remnants of Eshin will take at least six months. But we've struck a major blow."
"I believe in you," I assure him.
"Ah," Zanh says, glancing around to ensure privacy. "Praise from Metatron! I'm honored."
"Get lost!"
"Indeed, I must. There's still so much to do," he says, grinning cheekily.