After the Spetsnaz group Rys-21 returned to the Russian capital, they reported to the General Staff that the assassination mission had been completed, and the death of Emperor Papaldia had been concealed under the guise of an internal opposition assassination. To add weight to this lie, they provided forged documents proving that political factions within the imperial court had long conspired to seize power.

  In Papaldia, news of the emperor's death spread quickly. The top generals, believing in the emperor's "final words," convened an emergency meeting. The atmosphere in the room was tense. Some supported launching a full-scale counterattack to defend the empire, while others called for surrender to avoid destruction.

  A key figure, General Velious, declared himself the "loyal successor to the emperor" and quickly mobilized forces to maintain control of the military. However, another opposing faction, led by Admiral Rakius, vehemently opposed him, arguing that Velious was unfit to lead.

  Within just a few days, new powers emerged within the capital, with many factions vying for control, but all were suppressed by the two groups led by Velious and Rakius. However, despite being the two strongest factions with the highest authority currently in the provisional government, both sides were essentially in a standoff and needed a mediator—someone like the Spetsnaz group, whose previous reputation and highly neutral style made them the perfect intermediary for exchanging information between the two sides.

  That was the internal political situation, which was essentially stable and could temporarily function as a provisional government for a short period—able to adjust the number of troops withdrawing to the capital for a last stand while still gathering garrison forces in the East. This was the final strategy to hope for negotiations with Russia before being swallowed by the blazing steel army.

  Meanwhile, the people in the capital had a completely different perspective from the provisional government. With the emperor's final will left behind, the people were unwilling to accept such a humiliating defeat before the enemy—those barbarians who were tearing them apart like a cake and savoring its flavor without a care for their lives. Every citizen was armed with flintlock muskets and bayonets, always in a state of readiness to fight to the death.

  Daily, the militias moved around with deadly weapons in hand, unafraid to use them on anyone, even themselves. The number of militias had increased astonishingly—from a few hundred to thousands of people with a high fighting spirit; including regular soldiers, the capital now had nearly 500,000 armed individuals.

  In a market where armed citizens were going about their daily activities—trading, forging, and laboring—everything proceeded naturally, to the point where one wouldn't think they were in the midst of a war. Among them, two grown men were chatting:

  "Hey Mork, you look great today, especially with that thing," the man pointed at the other while laughing.

  "Thanks, Rock. I feel like I could take down tens of thousands of enemies," Mork said confidently, smirking while gripping his flintlock musket tightly.

  "Yeah. Ever since the emperor was assassinated by those barbarians, we've had no one left to protect," Rock said with a disappointed look, raising his hand to his forehead. "What is the provisional government thinking? Negotiating?"

  "That's cowardice, Rock," Mork said, "And I won't let that seep into the spirit of our people!"

  Rock flicked Mork's forehead, causing him to step back. Mork glared at Rock but was stopped before he could speak. "Empty barrels make the most noise, huh? Worry about the forge, break time's over. We won't let those Russians step into the palace."

  "Got it," Mork slung his musket over his shoulder and returned to the forge. "I want to think about how we'll achieve a glorious victory." Both continued on their way, still dreaming of the best possible outcomes in their heads.

  Back to the Spetsnaz group, since Rys-21 had been redeployed to Russia with the documents they had collected so far, they were now the only group here and were still funneling information about the Empire's previous projects—many of which were classified documents collected from other nations, including Milishial, showing that Papaldia had previously had tense relations with higher-ranking nations.

  At this moment, they were still deeply researching those documents. But why hadn't anyone discovered them? Simply because there weren't many left with the ability or courage to monitor them as before. Thanks to what had happened earlier, their reputation was also considered high, and they were acting as intermediaries. But the truth was... why hadn't they been able to leave with Rys-21? It was an order from above; they wanted absolute chaos across Papaldia's entire territory, and this was also part of the agreement with other rebel groups across this vast land.

  From the perspective of strategists in Moscow—younger nations would be easier to control, combined with the title of liberator spreading to many places, such a decision was surely correct. For the members of Voro-12, that wasn't as important as their current missions.

  Lise sat in a corner with books she had chosen for entertainment while watching the burly men immerse themselves in their research. She truly couldn't understand how these ruthless killers could delve into things she was sure ordinary people wouldn't be able to comprehend—questioning what kind of background these people had to be so skilled. But the fear of their actions still hadn't faded, no matter the angle; she was still aiding these bloodthirsty devils.

  If it weren't for this slave brand, she could have escaped already. That Vorosimorsk guy had brought her to this state. Initially, she had tried to get close to them, both to understand them and to save her life and body. But nothing turned out as she expected, except for Rompev—the only one who spoke kindly and properly, always asking her questions in the clearest way. The others, according to Rompev, all had families, so their aloofness was understandable, but treating her like an outsider was another matter. Rompev said not to worry about it, that they would grow closer over time. She decided to trust that for now, so she didn't bother them and still treated them well, since they were good people... in some sense.

  Lise sighed, flipping through the pages of the book she was reading—Things to Know Before Joining the Edinburg Academy, an introductory book for new students every year. This was the most trusted book.

  But she truly thought there must be some way for these people to trust her more; no matter the angle, she couldn't escape, so this was the only way left. Initially, she had just compromised with the situation, but now it would be a way for her to survive these people. Who knew what they would do to her if ordered by those above? Even if it was Rompev, he wouldn't be able to stop it.

  Lise looked straight at each person, all busy with their work. Just as she was about to stand up and walk over to them, the large library door suddenly opened—it was Feldor, the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Papaldia, a rare sight in the palace as he was usually abroad more often than here—he must have just returned.

  Feldor stepped in, glanced at the Spetsnaz soldiers, then looked at her in the corner. He didn't say much, just briefly: "Come to the central hall later, there's an announcement there I want everyone to know, you included, don't be late."

  With that, he left, not caring about the reactions of those inside. She didn't understand the purpose of this, she secretly glanced at the group on the other side but there was no significant reaction. Suddenly, Kamarov stood up and shouted: "When are we going to get out of here, and when will we escape this information-gathering job!?" He threw one of the books at the wall, then slammed the table.

  Petrov beside him irritably reminded: "Don't break things, we're not done with that yet."

  "I know," Kamarov ran his hand through his hair, smirked, then turned to Vorosimorsk. "Boss, are we leaving soon?"

  Vorosimorsk calmly put the papers down, calmly looked around the room. "It seems a bit early, we need to clean this place to avoid revealing our purpose."

  He spoke briefly then stood up to rearrange the papers. Rompev and the others followed suit. She thought this was also a way to increase goodwill. With that thought, she stood up and went to help them.

  She walked over to them, softly saying: "Let me help everyone."

  Two people, Kamarov and Petrov, stood silently looking at each other, naturally not understanding Lise's actions, as she usually didn't have the interest to do anything with them, so feeling confused was normal; Rompev understood what she was trying to do, he just smiled slightly at her, being with them was already stressful enough, plus having to constantly see the gloomy atmosphere here was also understandable.

  Vorosimorsk didn't pay much attention, he didn't want to bother Lise because at her young age, keeping up with their discipline was quite difficult. He just nodded slightly and said: "If you feel it's necessary."

  "Yes," Lise became more cheerful, she stepped forward with a smile and started rearranging the papers. The other two didn't care much and got to work. Vorosimorsk didn't say more, he just felt Lise was a bit different than usual.

  After cleaning the library, the group walked through the palace corridors and observed it again. Many things had changed, of course for the worse. The provisional government had basically taken control of most administrative work despite still being divided. There should have been chaos throughout the palace, but it seemed they had underestimated this machinery.

  They arrived at a place—an old classroom for noble children that had long been abandoned, still dust-free inside. Kamarov glanced in—no one was there, suitable for the group to sit and wait before the main task.

  "Why don't we... go inside for a bit?" Kamarov smiled, pointing inside the room.

  The group stopped, looking at him with confusion. Kamarov explained: "Ah, it's still a bit early... Plus, we should clarify our attitudes towards each other more."

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  He looked at Lise, making her flinch, she turned her head away as if she hadn't heard anything. Such a reaction made the group feel a bit awkward. But this was also an opportunity, both sides would talk to get closer; since arriving here, the time the group spent talking intimately was quite little—probably because the Kavkaz group had somewhat influenced the whole group.

  "Lise, do you have anything to say?" Petrov asked, he cared about the feelings of the people in the group, even though Lise was a special case as she was forced into the team—the team leader had done it quite unexpectedly. At that time, he didn't show any emotion but also saw Lise's resistance from the start, and when they showed the true nature of their work, Lise's face was very bad.

  A young girl doing this dangerous job should have seen more blood than this, or maybe it only applied to real people? But anyway—Vorosimorsk—the boss would do what?

  Vorosimorsk looked at Lise's expression—it was quite shy, but mostly worried, he wasn't sure what Lise was feeling right now, she might be feeling uncomfortable or... the reason lay with them. He thought, understanding that he had forced her into this journey and he didn't want her to experience their life either. But, perhaps... it was time to look back and talk.

  Lise glanced at Vorosimorsk's expression—completely indifferent, which was what he had shown from the start. She wasn't sure if they really cared about her. Or was this just a facade to make them more credible before other figures? Just as she was about to mention Feldor's matter, he spoke up, surprising her greatly.

  "Alright, perhaps everyone should talk to each other as: teammates," Vorosimorsk said, his voice deep and warm but his face stiff.

  "Then, let's go." Rompev patted Lise's shoulder, then followed the others into the classroom.

  Inside, it had to be said it was very similar to a standard classroom of any university. Kamarov whistled, showing his appreciation for the place. Lise stepped in last, also feeling this place was quite different from the other rooms they had been in. It was luxurious, but also strangely simple—a rather peculiar artistic style.

  The group stood in front of the lecturer's desk and started looking at each other. Kamarov was the first.

  "Alright, Lise, your actions lately have been strange," he scratched his head. "Is something wrong? If so, speak up so we can find a solution."

  "It's not nothing, but... it's related to trust issues," she paused for a moment. "But nothing noteworthy."

  "Trust issues? Do we have a problem or something?" Petrov kindly asked, trying to read Lise's constantly changing expression. "You can be straightforward, we always respect your decisions."

  Lise remained silent, still not saying anything, her face growing more anxious as she was stared at. Many emotions were running through her mind but couldn't be put into words—fear was overwhelming her. She wanted to speak out but found it strangely difficult. She just looked at the four men in anxiety, feeling immense pressure.

  Petrov could only scratch his head helplessly, seeing Lise's reaction made him not know what to do more, after all, the two sides hadn't had much real interaction. He was about to step forward to face Lise directly when Kamarov did it first.

  Kamarov stepped forward, closing the distance between them, making Lise feel flustered. Kamarov glanced at her for a moment, then stepped back, gently saying: "Are you afraid of us?"

  "..."

  "Clearly so," Kamarov continued. "Then what's the issue? Did we do something to scare you? Speak up, anything. Bad treatment, lack of communication, or anything you think is most reasonable."

  Lise looked straight into each person's face—faces covered by a layer of cloth and protective goggles. No one was heartless, but to her, these people were almost heartless. She was afraid that what she said would be seen as opposing them—the people currently having the upper hand over her.

  She took a deep breath, gathering all her courage to speak: "You guys... are too cruel."

  "Cruel?" Rompev muttered, not understanding the meaning here.

  "Since coming here, almost none of you have... acted normally in my view," she said, still timid but had spoken out. "All of you rarely talk, so I've had to go outside to chat with the other team or people in the palace while we were the first to meet. Although, it wasn't a pleasant meeting."

  "Besides..." she continued, "you're too cruel, the people you call assassins or not, that's not the point, what I want to say is: The way all of you work is too rigid, that's not something a normal or righteous person would do. After all, they're just people standing up for their own freedom, right? Why do it like this when we could do it ourselves? I don't understand if your country is hiding something or not. But, what I see is just four puppets fighting meaninglessly..."

  "Except Rompev," she pointed at him while continuing, "is the only one with real emotions, it's so fake and meaningless. Why do I have to endure this just because of this slave brand?" she pointed to her left shoulder while her face started to flush red. "For what?! Why do you treat me like this!? Forcing me to come—I accepted, but then ignoring me like I don't exist is too much. You can consider me a tool to fight, but you can't treat me like a moving vase! It's enough already!"

  She breathed heavily, then continued to prevent anyone from interrupting. "Back at the academy, I was already looked down upon enough, I was abandoned by the teacher, left to survive in that harsh environment. After trying so hard, I failed the final subject—the most important one! That's why I had to retake it; I'm doing this job for money—to pay tuition that my parents had struggled so much for. Being looked down upon just because I couldn't graduate—something everyone at the academy considered a failure! All I want is respect, not to be seen as useless."

  Her eyes swelled, reddening, with tears streaming down her face. The team could only stand in shock. Initially timid, she immediately exploded with her past. No one spoke, all four looked at each other, not knowing what to do in this situation. Petrov saw Lise leaning on the table then sitting down on the floor while still trying to wipe her tears with her hand. He immediately turned to his close friend, pushing him forward.

  "You!" Kamarov was suddenly pushed forward, he opened his eyes wide, glaring back at Petrov, but he also understood why he was pushed. He slowly stepped forward, knelt down, and gently brushed Lise's hair aside. That pained face made him feel heartbroken—like when he saw his wife struggling with depression. So many sleepless nights to ensure the woman he loved wouldn't abandon him in any way. Now looking at the person before him, he could somewhat understand how she was feeling.

  Kamarov reached down to her cheek, wiping away the remaining tears on her face. His sudden action made her flinch slightly, but Kamarov's gaze was no longer cold and rigid as before. Instead, it was gentle, with a hint of sympathy.

  "Lise," he said softly, his voice low and warm, "we're not puppets, and we're not heartless. I know we're not good at communicating or showing emotions, but that doesn't mean we don't care. Perhaps our way of doing things made you feel abandoned, but I promise to change that."

  Lise looked up, her eyes still red but somewhat calmer. "You say that... but you've never really paid attention to me. I just feel like a burden in the team, like a useless thing thrown aside."

  "That's not true," Kamarov replied immediately. "You're not a burden. We just didn't know how to make you feel like you belong here. That's our fault, not yours."

  Lise remained silent, staring at Kamarov as if trying to read if he was sincere. She didn't know if these words were just temporary comfort, but at least they had touched her heart, even if just a little.

  Rompev, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "Lise, I... apologize if our behavior hurt you. But you also need to understand that we're used to fighting in coldness and discipline. That's the only way to survive in this world. But that doesn't mean we can't change."

  Petrov nodded in agreement. "That's right. Lise, if you need us to talk more, be more open, we'll try. But you also need to help us understand you better. We can't read each other's minds, right?"

  Lise looked at each person in the team, feeling the sincerity in their words. She didn't know if things could change, but this was the first time she felt she wasn't completely isolated.

  "Alright," she whispered, her voice still trembling. "I'll try... but you have to keep your word."

  "Of course," Kamarov said, a slight smile crossing his face. "We're a team. If one person isn't okay, the whole team isn't okay."

  Lise lowered her head, not saying more. In that moment, the tension seemed to dissipate. The team had begun to understand that sometimes rigidity and discipline weren't the answer to everything. These people, no matter how cold or tough, were still human—and they needed to learn to treat each other as such.

  Rompev stepped forward, squatting down beside Lise. He wasn't like Kamarov—he didn't have that stern yet gentle demeanor—but his eyes were full of concern. "You know," he said, "if you want to scold us or say something to wake us up, go ahead. But give us a chance to change. We're not your enemies."

  Lise didn't respond immediately, she just nodded slightly. This, though small, was a step forward for her—and for the team.

  Vorosimorsk, who had been silent from the start, suddenly spoke. His voice was deep and calm, carrying a characteristic coldness: "I'm not good at comforting or making someone feel at ease. But if you want straightforwardness, I can say this: we don't see you as a tool. We're just... not used to working with people unlike us. This isn't an excuse, just the truth."

  He paused, looking at Lise seriously. "I won't promise that I'll completely change, but I'll try not to make you feel overlooked anymore. If you feel abandoned or need to talk, come to me. I'll listen, even if I'm not good at responding."

  Lise looked up at Vorosimorsk. There was something in his gaze that made her feel his sincerity, despite his cold exterior. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft but audible to the team.

  Kamarov laughed loudly, breaking the heavy atmosphere. "So that's settled, right? Everyone understands the issue now, let's get back to work! But first..." He stood up, pulling Lise up with him. "You need to rest a bit. We can't do anything with someone who's just cried their eyes out like you."

  The group chuckled lightly, a rare moment among people who were always serious and rigid. Lise wiped her tears one last time, offering a faint but genuine smile. "Alright," she said. "I'll try... try to trust you all again."

  After Lise left to rest, the group returned to their work. However, the atmosphere had changed. Kamarov, the unofficial leader of the group, turned to Vorosimorsk and said: "What do you think, boss?"

  "About her?" Vorosimorsk shrugged. "We don't know anything about her, and that's our mistake. If we don't change, her choosing extreme methods is inevitable. Especially when she feels she doesn't belong to the team, that's the key point."

  Rompev nodded. "That's right. We need to do something to make her feel like part of the team, not just someone dragged along by circumstances."

  Kamarov, with his optimistic nature, suggested: "How about we organize a small gathering? Doesn't have to be formal, just a chance to talk more freely."

  Petrov thought for a moment, then agreed. "Good idea. We need to understand each other better. If we want to work effectively, we first need to be a real team."

  "Perhaps," Vorosimorsk looked outside. "I should be the one to talk to her directly. But not now, it's too early. For now, let her spirit settle."

  He continued. "Now let's go, we still have one more thing to do."

  Meanwhile, Lise lay on her bed in her room. She stared at the ceiling, feeling lighter than before but still with many chaotic thoughts. "Can they really change?" she whispered to herself. But for the first time in many days, she felt she wasn't alone in this team anymore.

  ...

  In the capital Moscow, inside Valery Gerasimov's room, he was reviewing documents sent by Spetsnaz scouts on the battlefield—almost all of Papaldia's actions had stalled, no longer showing signs of counterattacking, more like gathering troops in one place for defense.

  The documents were numerous, but the information didn't bring much strategic value. The war was in its final stages after so many mistakes by Papaldia in assessing how to deal with them, though there were still some effective aspects in its operation. He reviewed each document sent back, the most notable being a group named Voro-12 operating right in the enemy's heart, their actions almost not interfering with what was happening inside the machinery.

  Even so, the information they brought was valuable. He read each word inside, the sense of relief helping him relax. "So gathering forces in the capital and the port of Atlanda, it'll be relatively easy to deal with, now just need to inform the front commander and see how this battle ends."

  Finally, about that Spetsnaz team, there was a notable change in personnel within the team—a local resident was forced into the team and currently both sides were stuck with each other—a girl with just enough combat ability to defend herself so it didn't affect the mission. Really interesting—the history of this special forces team wasn't outstanding, but almost always produced quite talented commanders in some aspect.

  This team was established under the command of Colonel Solomon, considered the least serious of all teams. That made him feel so amused he had to sarcastically say: "Least serious but brings back the most gold of all. Really illogical."