Two pairs of heavy military boots thudded across a floor littered with sawdust and blood. The harsh light from a flickering bulb revealed two Ross soldiers, their faces hidden behind iron masks, submachine guns still smoking in their hands.
"The physical fitness of these big knights is terrifying," one soldier muttered, breathing heavily. "Their nerve reactions are too fast—it's inhuman."
"Yeah," said his partner grimly. "We fired as early as we could. If we'd shot any earlier, we'd have hit our own men. But look at them."
He nudged one of the armored corpses on the ground with his boot. Half the knight's body was torn apart, but the wounds told a story.
"They dodged," he said softly. "Even with bullets flying, they tried to move. Got hit mid-air. That's how fast they were reacting."
The two men exchanged glances. Even victorious, neither felt proud.
"I never want to have a bayonet fight with one of these monsters," one said quietly. "No chance of winning."
"Nor do I want to get close with a gun. You might be dead before you can pull the trigger."
They fell silent, both knowing the truth—they had survived only because of a lucky ambush. Face-to-face, they'd have been corpses instead.
At that moment, an officer stepped into the blood-stained room. His coat brushed against the splintered doorframe. He surveyed the carnage, then nodded curtly.
"Clean it up," he ordered. "All of it."
The soldiers saluted and began their grim work.
---
Meanwhile, several streets away, the Golden Lion Duke's elite squad was resting. Their quarters were far from other Imperial teams—one unit hidden in the southern blocks, the other stationed to the east.
"Why aren't they back yet?" one knight asked, his armor clinking as he leaned against the cracked wall. The room smelled faintly of oil and steel.
"Something happened?" another knight wondered aloud, spooning canned fruit into his mouth.
"Probably not," said a third, lounging with his boots on the table. "They couldn't have known we'd send anyone to steal the blueprints. There's no way the Imperials could've prepared for that."
"Hmm. True enough."
But then—a silence fell.
The knight by the wall froze. His hand twitched toward his sword. His breathing stopped. For a moment, the air itself seemed to tighten.
Then, with wide eyes, he hissed, "Not good! Move—now!"
He leaped through the window without hesitation.
"What—?"
The others barely had time to turn.
Two shrieking sounds tore through the air.
"Whoosh! Whoosh!"
Two rockets smashed into the room.
BOOM!
The explosion tore the entire building apart. Stone and timber crashed down in an instant, burying every knight inside. No one even had time to scream.
The surviving knight—his armor scorched, his body rolling across the ground—looked up from where he'd landed in the street.
"Damn it!" he growled, clutching his sword. "The operation's been exposed!"
---
Across the district, the Imperial Army's loudspeakers echoed through the alleys:
> "The Imperial Army is pursuing criminals! All residents are ordered to stay indoors! Do not leave your homes!"
The warning repeated again and again, bouncing off the empty walls of the construction zone.
This block—personally arranged by Gavin Ward—had once been a workers' quarter for dock builders. Now it was deserted, perfect for an ambush. Still, the soldiers announced the alert to warn residents two streets away.
"Over here! One's escaping!"
A Ross soldier spotted movement. Another raised his MP40 and fired a burst of bullets down the alley.
"Why are there civilians back here?!" the knight shouted furiously as he saw them appear from the shadows.
With a sharp gesture, he conjured a shimmering magic shield. Runes flared across his armor, forming not one, but three layered barriers around his body.
Bullets hammered against him with metallic clinks, sparks flying.
None pierced the shields.
"Fools," the knight snarled, eyes glowing beneath his helm.
In the next second, two streaks of light flashed through the yellow streetlamps.
The Ross soldiers barely saw the motion—only the afterimage of a blade glinting under the lamps.
Two heads rolled. Their submachine guns clattered to the ground.
"Too weak," the knight hissed, gripping his sword. "Too weak!"
He stepped into the open street, facing the dozen Ross troops rushing toward him. Blood gleamed on his blade. The three shields around him pulsed like halos of light.
"You miserable mortals! You killed my comrades who went for the artillery blueprints, didn't you?!"
He glared down the street, voice shaking with fury. "You knew what the Duke was planning!"
The soldiers didn't answer. Their iron masks reflected the streetlight like the faces of statues—cold, lifeless, merciless.
"Fire!" barked their officer.
In an instant, the night erupted. Gunfire roared, rockets streaked through the air.
The knight's shields flared brightly as bullets rained down—98Ks, MP40s, even bazooka shells. The barrage painted the night with fire.
"You cowards! You call yourselves soldiers? There's no honor in this!"
He vaulted upward, springing from wall to wall, his armor flashing in the light.
The soldiers tracked him relentlessly. Bullets chased his shadow.
Even as he moved at impossible speed, a few rounds still clipped his barriers, shattering the outer layer.
He gritted his teeth. "Even if I die, I'll drag you all with me!"
Then he leaped high—so high that the moonlight swallowed him.
---
From below, the Ross soldiers saw a figure suspended against the crescent moon. His armor shimmered silver, wings of dust trailing behind him.
He spread his arms wide, soaking in the cold light.
For a heartbeat, he seemed like a fallen angel.
And then—he dove.
A roar echoed across the city.
---
Far above, a faint voice whispered: "Target acquired."
There, floating silently in the night sky, was Tanya Degurechaff.
The red dragon badge on her wide-brimmed cap glowed faintly under the moonlight. Her long golden hair streamed behind her like fire. Magic energy circled her small frame, illuminating the runes on her uniform.
She looked calm. Focused. Deadly.
Both sides of her uniform were connected to compact magic supply devices, pulsing with blue light.
And in her tiny hands—barely 1.3 meters tall—she held a weapon twice her own size.
The L3920 Anti-Magic Sniper Rifle, a monstrous 20-millimeter gun capable of piercing magical shields.
The weapon's barrel gleamed coldly.
Under normal conditions, no human could lift it—let alone fire it with precision. But Tanya wasn't an ordinary human. With the help of her magic conduits, she stabilized the weapon easily, her eyes locking onto the charging knight.
Her gaze shifted. A faint crosshair reflected in her pupil.
"Distance, one point two kilometers. Wind, stable. Target, mid-air. Permission to fire."
The magical circuits in her body synchronized with the rifle's power matrix. Blue light burst along the weapon's core.
BOOM!
The shot cracked the night like thunder.
A streak of golden energy tore through the air, faster than sound.
The knight never saw it.
The bullet slammed into his chest, shattering all three shields in a single instant. His sword fell from his hand as he spun mid-air, armor splintering like glass.
Blood scattered into the moonlight, glimmering as it fell.
"Confirmed hit," Tanya said softly, lowering her rifle.
---
But the knight wasn't dead—not yet.
He crashed through a rooftop, smashing beams and tiles before tumbling into the street below. His armor cracked, glowing faintly from the heat of impact.
He gasped, coughing blood, one hand reaching for his sword.
The Ross soldiers quickly surrounded him, guns trained.
"Stay down!"
He tried to rise. His voice came as a broken whisper. "The Duke… the Golden Lion Duke… will avenge…"
Another shot rang out—this time from a soldier.
The knight's body fell still.
---
Up above, Tanya exhaled slowly, her rifle still humming from the shot.
She stared down at the city below—its alleys full of light and smoke, its rooftops still burning from the earlier explosion.
"Another knight down," she murmured. "Only the Duke remains."
The moonlight framed her small figure like an angel's halo.
Below, the soldiers moved with machine-like precision, clearing bodies, checking weapons, and transmitting reports.
To them, this was just another operation.
To Tanya, it was another step toward securing the Tongsley Empire's control of Kiswell territory.
---
Far across the city, deep inside an old mansion, Gavin Ward looked out the window as distant flames licked the horizon.
He said nothing for a long while.
Then, turning to his adjutant, he said softly, "The Golden Lion Duke won't stop. Even if we destroy his knights, his ambition burns deeper than pride."
The adjutant nodded, pale. "And what of Tanya's unit, sir?"
"They'll finish it," Gavin replied. His voice was calm—but his eyes betrayed worry.
Outside, the moon drifted higher, silver and silent.
And somewhere in the dark sky, a small figure floated quietly, her rifle aimed once more at the battlefield below.
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