9:38 AM, March 15, 2021/4018, Fourth Era.

  Velsai Palace.

  "You are all useless!"

  Emperor Papaldia, Phillip, was tearing apart his office. The reason for his rage was the devastating news of not just the losses but the humiliation before all the nations. He had hoped the battle would last long enough to force negotiations, ensuring the empire's survival even if it meant losing honor.

  But that country, Russia, had ruined everything—their abhorrent strength had done it. A power that defied current understanding—unlike the aircraft of Mu or Milishial, which were not known for their sustained lethality, those cursed Russian planes, their sound, everything about them was an unacceptable blasphemy against the laws of this world.

  From another world? More like from hell. Phillip bit his lip, the pain unable to mask his despair. The empire should have won, as it always had, and even in defeat, there should have been a glimmer of hope to cling to. But now, there was nothing but failure and inevitable death. He leaned against the bookshelf, looking out the window, seeing many adventurers still here, including those he trusted the most.

  What truly angered him was the cowardice of those who had sworn loyalty to him. The nobles, who had pledged to live and die for the empire, turned out to be nothing but power-hungry dogs. When the war was going well, they praised him, but now, with defeat spreading, they only cared about preserving their positions, waiting for the chance to seize power. They thought that by avoiding responsibility and not sending troops to the front, they could protect their own territories, ignoring the fate of the empire.

  And the generals in the east? Those he trusted to defend the territory reacted too slowly, even doing nothing significant. Now he understood—it wasn't incompetence but cowardice. When news of consecutive defeats reached them, fear overwhelmed them. Instead of organizing counterattacks or holding their ground, they hesitated, afraid to act. They didn't fight for the empire but only when victory was certain. Once they realized the empire was collapsing, they would be the first to flee. Phillip gritted his teeth, hating the weakness of those he once considered allies.

  Voro-12 and Rys-21 had performed excellently—countering countless assassination attempts from colonial uprisings. The number and scale of these uprisings were unverified, and the garrison forces were mysteriously attacked. There were rumors of a rebel group using a strange symbol—a double-headed eagle with one side dead—as a declaration to the empire that it was them.

  He took a deep breath, calming himself before calling for a servant. The war was now a complete failure, with no hope of resistance. He knew he shouldn't stay here long, but fleeing abruptly would cause the city to riot, and the remaining forces in the capital wouldn't be enough to maintain stability. He thought there must be a way to have it both ways.

  Phillip blinked, realizing—it was surprisingly simple—to exploit Papaldian spirit, everything would go smoothly. And he could escape with the essentials. He smiled at his disheveled hair and shouted, "Servant! Clean this up."

  The door opened, and the servant entered, seeing the scene but not daring to show emotion. Phillip didn't care and walked out calmly.

  ...

  11:22 AM

  In the central square, people gathered, buzzing with rumors of the Papaldian army's devastating defeat. Some were anxious, others furious, but all felt the unease enveloping the city. The empire's flags fluttered in the cold wind, but instead of pride, they highlighted the helplessness of the declining dynasty.

  The announcement from the loudspeakers began, informing them of any news from the emperor. This time, Phillip's voice rang out with grandeur:

  "Citizens of the great Papaldian Empire. But now, it is no longer so. Our country has been invaded by barbarians from outside with their terrifying power. We are now facing death. Why? Because the lands we once conquered are rising up, and with their hatred, all of them will take revenge on us, my people, for our weakness, and they will take advantage of our vulnerability and cooperate with the enemy. My citizens, we are facing absolute destruction; they have no mercy for us. Not even prisoners, they don't care. So, are we safe when they get here? No, they will kill us all, kill you, your family, friends, and relatives without a second thought. And if you understand, we must fight back fiercely, take up arms, and push back the enemy. You are not alone, you have a Papaldian Emperor, a Papaldian general, and a Papaldian soldier who will not abandon you, I will not abandon anyone. And if you understand, come to the former Mu embassy to receive weapons, and we will fight them to the last man. Glory to the Empire!"

  The emperor's speech stirred intense emotions in the crowd. Some, driven by loyalty and despair, began shouting, "Glory to the Empire!" Others, with skeptical eyes, silently watched, wondering if such grand words could really save anything.

  In a dark corner of the square, a group with the double-headed eagle symbol quietly observed. They realized Phillip was playing a dangerous game, inciting the people in a final effort to hold onto power before abandoning the throne. One of them whispered:

  "Inform Commander Makarov, he has acted," the person said. "There's no doubt, Phillip knows this is his end. He's just trying to keep the city stable long enough to escape."

  The group's leader, with cold eyes, replied, "We won't let him escape. Let him incite the people. When chaos erupts, that's when we act."

  Soon, the crowd surged toward the former embassy. Soldiers loyal to Phillip handed out weapons to civilians, but their eyes couldn't hide their fear. Whispers spread among the ranks that Russia was not an enemy they could defeat, that this resistance was just an excuse for Phillip to retreat with dignity.

  Meanwhile, Phillip was secretly preparing his escape plan. A discreet convoy was assembled in the underground tunnels beneath Velsai Palace, ready to take the emperor and his trusted allies out of the capital. All the empire's most valuable assets, from gold and jewels to important documents, had been loaded onto the vehicles.

  Phillip quickly gathered his closest confidants and some members of the royal family. They all stood before the now-empty table, waiting to hear what he had to say. The room was suffocating, filled with tension, fear, and a fragile hope.

  "You," Phillip spoke, his voice low but commanding, "are the ones I trust the most. We are facing the end of the empire. But make no mistake—this is not the end for me. We will retreat, but not to flee like cowards. We will rebuild, wait for the day to counterattack."

  A confidant, with a skeptical look, spoke up, "Your Majesty, do we really have any chance? Russia... they're unlike any enemy we've faced. Their technology surpasses even Milishial or Mu."

  Phillip narrowed his eyes, his lips curling into a cold smile. "No one is invincible. Not even Russia. They may be strong, but they don't understand this world like we do. We will wait, learn, and exploit what they don't know. This is not the end, but the beginning of a new chapter."

  Meanwhile, in another room, Rompev and his comrades were quietly studying some items—a few guns from Civilization Zone 1. Their designs were outdated, but what they fired was intriguing—a purple beam with enough heat to kill if hit, but with limitations—an effective range of only 200 meters and a maximum range of 700 meters. It wasn't ideal for snipers but was durable for prolonged battles, fitting Mu's tactical style.

  Rompev wasn't paying attention, instead looking outside where many servants and others were rushing about. He understood what was happening and wondered what the emperor would decide for them.

  "Don't just stand there staring out the window uselessly, Rompev," Kamarov suddenly spoke, startling Rompev slightly. His heart raced as he turned to Kamarov.

  Kamarov squinted at Rompev with no expression, saying softly, "You should get ready, PMC RIM has entered the city."

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "PMC RIM? What are they doing here?" Rompev asked, puzzled how extremists could be here and why Kamarov knew. Kamarov replied indifferently, "Vasha reported this to the boss before informing us."

  "Vasha? The one the commander mentioned?"

  "Exactly," Kamarov took a sip of water from a nearby glass and continued. "Vasha is close with the PMC's chairman. He's been here for a while—under GRU supervision. Basically, he's here to help us."

  "GRU cooperating with a terrorist extremist?!" Rompev was shocked, but Kamarov remained indifferent. "Hey, Makarov is still a GRU hero, not everyone can be that loyal."

  "And," Kamarov continued slowly, "the command wants us to handle the emperor. Their objective is complete; prolonging the war is unnecessary. And... they lost track of Orlov; he's gone off the radar, and we need to return to our original mission."

  "This is getting more complicated. Since completing training, except for small Western terrorist groups, the MIR organization is too difficult," Rompev complained, anger in his eyes. "Why didn't Orlov just die in Euromaidan?"

  "Come on, Euromaidan would've happened without him. We... should just do our job—for the Motherland."

  As they spoke, the door creaked open, and a voice said, "The emperor wants to see you, please follow me."

  It was time. The two stood up and headed for the door. Petrov stepped beside Rompev, offering advice. "You're young, still don't understand, like I once did. But in this situation, you'll soon figure it out."

  The four left the room with their gear, following the servant. They reached a tunnel, meeting Kavkaz and Lise's group. The two sides didn't speak—Kavkaz must've received orders from command. The two Russian groups arrived at a damp place, lit by oil lamps.

  The emperor was waiting. Seeing them, Phillip became more animated, approaching to speak with the leader—Vorosimorsk shook hands with Phillip.

  "You're here. Let's leave quickly. Things have worsened, but I still have a place in the south," Phillip said. "Just get there and keep everyone safe, your reward will be great."

  Vorosimorsk calmly but coldly replied, "I understand. We shouldn't waste time. Shall we go?"

  "Of course," Phillip turned to two carriages. "Here, get in. The journey will take a few days, and we'll be safe."

  The two groups split up and boarded the carriages. Lise sat beside Kamarov, looking at the four who seemed incredibly calm, making her feel uneasy. It was as if she was the only one who cared. Lise had been keeping up with the news, even though her "comrades" never mentioned anything. She knew Russia had achieved a brutal, overwhelming victory, and now Emperor Papaldia was fleeing—clearly because Russia was close enough.

  But there was more she found confusing—the rapid and numerous uprisings, as if someone was intervening—Russia was the prime suspect. She had suppressed her questions, but now it had become a major concern. Especially when she recalled the Russians' actions—everything executed with precision and calculation. In just weeks, the Papaldian army had disintegrated, cities were occupied, and now the emperor was fleeing in disgrace.

  Lise couldn't stay silent anymore. She leaned toward Kamarov, whispering tensely, "Don't you think this is too coincidental? The uprisings, Russia's rapid advance, and now the emperor fleeing? Don't you think it's all your plan?"

  Kamarov didn't turn, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his voice low and cold:

  "Lise, how long do you think we've been here? What you see isn't random, but not entirely as you imagine. We don't need to intervene much, just provide a little motivation... and the rest, the people will handle."

  Kamarov's answer only deepened Lise's suspicions. She frowned but said no more. She understood he wouldn't reveal more, and if he did, his words would only obscure the truth.

  The carriage rolled over rough stone roads, heading south. The air inside was heavy and silent, only the sound of wheels and hooves echoing. Rompev glanced at Kamarov, his eyes seemingly probing, but when Kamarov didn't respond, Rompev sighed softly, looking out the window.

  Exiting the tunnel, the light faded as the sun set, oil lamps sparsely lighting the countryside. Rompev felt a vague unease, as if everything was approaching a new turning point.

  And as predicted, the convoy suddenly stopped in a sparse forest. One of the lead soldiers reported urgently:

  "There's an obstacle on the road! It seems like a trap!"

  Kamarov stepped out first, followed by Vorosimorsk and the others. The tension was palpable. Kamarov drew a pistol from his coat, his sharp eyes scanning the area. Kavkaz's group also stepped out.

  "Be ready," he ordered, his voice icy.

  Lise felt the tension in the air, also grabbing her weapon, though her palms were slightly sweaty. She wasn't a fighter like them, but her instincts told her this night wouldn't be peaceful.

  And then, from the shadows, figures appeared. A voice, full of challenge, rang out: "You think you can escape so easily?"

  The figures gradually revealed themselves, surrounding them—their appearance almost identical to their own group. Phillip calmly stepped out, looking at them with disdain, shouting, "You Russian barbarians think you can do anything? At the end of this convoy are people you'll never defeat!"

  "Is that so?" the person snorted. "I think you're mistaken, kid. Who's your ally?"

  "Fools! Fire!" Phillip shouted, the royal soldiers and the other group opened fire simultaneously.

  Back with Rompev, the sounds of battle signaled what was happening. A royal soldier said while still looking at the group ahead. "Damn it, they were prepared. There's a spy among us!"

  The other group aimed their weapons but didn't fire, while the Papaldian soldiers were eager to shoot immediately. Just as it seemed another battle was about to break out, the Russians behind the Papaldians coldly and swiftly shot the group in front. In seconds, no one was left except the panicking servants. Kamarov turned to them, his face cold, ordering, "Get out of here. Now."

  Lise was in shock at what had just happened. She knew they would do this, but without a word, as always, left her unsure what to do—she sat down on the ground, sweat pouring like a stream. The group looked at her, then at Vorosimorsk, speaking in a language she couldn't understand.

  The Voro-12 members, except Rompev, approached them in a friendly manner. Rompev helped Lise up, his eyes calm but not entirely cold. He spoke softly, as if trying to calm her:

  "Get up, Lise. We don't have time to be afraid. This is just part of the job, you'll have to get used to it."

  Lise looked into Rompev's eyes, her heart feeling like it was choking. She saw in his eyes not just familiarity with violence but also deep exhaustion, as if he had been through this too many times to care anymore.

  Kamarov turned to Rompev, his voice low but commanding: "Rompev, focus. We can't let anyone in this area survive and jeopardize the mission."

  Rompev nodded, letting go of Lise, then turned to the surviving Papaldians. Without mercy or hesitation, the other members of Voro-12 and Rys-21 continued to thoroughly sweep the area to ensure no threats remained.

  A group moved forward, seeing Emperor Papaldia now kneeling with a gun pointed at his head. Phillip looked up, seeing their group approaching calmly while the other soldiers followed as if captured. "Damn it," Phillip cursed silently, he hadn't expected things to come to this. But he still had another way.

  "Please don't kill me. I'm not Emperor Papaldia," Phillip said with a trembling voice. "I'm just a member of the royal family, those people... they know. They know where the emperor is."

  "Stop talking nonsense here."

  Kamarov's voice cut him off, the following words making him more desperate. "This is the emperor, do what you want. We're done here."

  "Ah, who do we have here," Makarov stopped pointing the gun at Phillip, stepping forward to shake hands with each person, smiling. "Old man, where did you find this rose? Well done."

  Lise heard this, stepping back slightly, avoiding Makarov's gaze. Vorosimorsk shielded Lise, saying bluntly, "Enough, Makarov, we stop here. These are the necessary documents, here's the copy."

  "Oh. Thanks, I'll send the supply address, looks like you're running low on ammo, huh?"

  "You... know each other?" Phillip exclaimed in surprise, looking at each person, making the atmosphere tense. Kamarov squinted at Phillip, his voice even but with a clear threat:

  "So what? Surprised we can work with anyone if needed? You should understand, in this world, everything has its value—even your life."

  Phillip bit his lip, his eyes full of anger but not daring to resist. He realized he was in a situation where nothing he said would change anything, but his fury was rising.

  "You're monsters! We cooperated, we had a deal! You have no honor!"

  Phillip, now restrained by another member. Vorosimorsk stepped forward slowly, his eyes cold as ice. He stopped in front of Phillip and said, his voice like steel:

  "Honor? You think we fight for honor? We don't need such frivolities. Russia doesn't win with pride, but with efficiency. And you... are no longer of value."

  A hard blow to Phillip's head knocked him out cold.

  Meanwhile, Lise was still in shock at what had happened. The gunshots, the cold eyes, and the way these people acted as if others' lives were just a small part of a larger plan made her realize she was stepping into a world she had never imagined.

  "Let's move," Vorosimorsk ordered curtly.

  The group boarded the carriage, leaving behind a brutal scene. Lise, still trembling, looked back, feeling as if everything around her was tightening. She realized, in this world, things weren't just about right or wrong, but about difficult, sometimes cruel, choices to survive.

  For a moment, she wondered how long she could endure this. But when Rompev turned and whispered to her, his voice calm but weighty: "This is Spetsnaz, at least they still talk."

  Lise nodded slightly, but in her heart, questions still swirled. She couldn't understand how these people could be so indifferent to violence, but she also realized there was no turning back—it had started with the first assassination, even if she hadn't witnessed it directly, seeing it firsthand made her feel she needed to find a way to escape these people. However... the slave mark, it was a problem. She followed behind everyone, glancing back to see Makarov approaching the emperor.

  "All of you will regret this, no one can control my vast territory!"

  "Talk less," Makarov interrupted, his face cold, with a hint of anger. "You didn't even help your country sacrifice for any meaningful ideal. But it's all just a stupid ideology. I don't like to talk much."

  Makarov pressed his Makarov pistol to Phillip's head, his voice full of hatred. "Goodbye—Glory to Russia." And the gunshot rang out, leaving a corpse and a silent sunset.