“Ambush the deal itself, huh.”
“Yes.”
Deals like this never involved large numbers. Bring too many guards, and the City Guard might notice.
So only the branch boss and a handful of lieutenants would show.
Even if the assassination failed, it was the perfect setup for an all-out assault.
“Who’s the client?”
“Unconfird. Likely a proxy.”
“Shady bastards.”
Why use a proxy? Because exposure would ruin them.
‘Well, drug deals are like that.’
Anyone dumb enough to reveal their real face at a handoff wouldn’t last long.
“The location?”
“A derelict warehouse on 8th Street, District 4.”
Number 21 passed photos and a map.
A cluster of warehouses, built for corporate expansion back when companies still dread of developing District 4.
Now, no corporation dared touch the area—only gangs squatted there.
“Contact is set for 0300 inside the warehouse. Strike when the goods are exchanged.”
“…You’re not coming, are you?”
“Correct.”
You’ve got to be kidding.
I glared; he rattled off an excuse.
“As stated, Number 21 is not a combat model. I will remain on comms, relaying intel.”
If that was his skill set, I couldn’t force him.
Better no help than a liability.
“Fine. Then we hit them mid-deal.”
Pre-laid traps would’ve been ideal—alter the layout, plant explosives. If the branch boss died in the blast, we could vanish clean. Even if he didn’t, the chaos would work in our favor.
“Impossible. The 85th controls the site. We can infiltrate day-of, but not beforehand.”
“That’s a sha.”
I clicked my tongue.
Paranoid gangsters—or maybe this deal really mattered.
Either way, a simpler plan went out the window.
Pity.
Still, when we worked through the details, Number 21 delivered.
Routes, patrols, contingencies—he answered everything instantly.
If his intel was sound, the odds were good.
After hours of planning, we split, promising to et on the day.
District 4, 8th Street—warehouse row.
Once ho to vagrants and drifters, then to squatters and gangs.
Graffiti scrawled across walls, trash heaps reeked in the alleys.
Signs of long gang occupation.
But tonight, the area was unnaturally still.
Only faint biker laughter in the distance, the crackle of a barrel fire nearby.
A strange quiet, alien to a gang’s usual nocturnal chaos.
The Brotherhood’s rookies weren’t used to such silence.
“Yaaawn.”
“Did you just yawn?”
“S-sorry, sir!”
A cold steel pipe tapped his shoulder—enough to kill the drowsiness.
“You little shit. Eyes up! What if soone walks in? You think you’ll take responsibility?”
“Who’d co here, sir? Everyone knows this is our turf.”
“Oh, talking back now? If we weren’t short-staffed, you wouldn’t even be here tonight.”
The rookie bit back his frustration, muttering.
“But it’s true. Who’d be dumb enough to—”
“Idiot. Even if you’re right, we still keep watch.”
“…Huh?”
“Who’s the client tonight?”
The rookie faltered.
“…I heard it’s a big company?”
“Exactly. Imagine word gets out they’re dealing with us.”
The rookie shrugged. “Everyone does backdoor deals.”
“Blockhead.”
The vet nearly cuffed him again.
“Even if everyone does it, appearances matter. If a rival company rats them out, then what?”
“Oh.”
“That’s why security matters. Nobody’s coming—but we make it look airtight. That’s what tonight’s about.”
The rookie finally lit up with understanding.
The vet puffed his chest. Respect earned.
“Besides, I heard this one’s important. Boss said they’ve been talking a lot. Might squeeze them for plenty.”
“…You don’t think it’s, uh… a gacorp?”
Whack.
The rookie clutched his head.
“Why the hell would a gacorp bother with us? Shut up and keep watch.”
“Ugh…”
Grumbling, he trudged back to his post.
The vet snorted, but soon enough he yawned himself.
“Maybe I should’ve kept him chatting. Boring as hell.”
Through the broken window, the world was still.
Too still.
He tapped his boot idly—
“…Hm?”
Sothing soft, yet firm shifted underfoot.
He blinked, thinking trash had blown in.
Shrrrak!
“Mmph!”
By the ti he realized, vines already coiled around him, choking tight.
Through the window, a figure vaulted in, hood slipping back as he moved.
“Target secured. Move in.”
Moonlight frad a face like carved marble.
“Kyaa!”
Hauling herself up the wall on a vine-rope, Lailla squealed anyway.
Even in stealth, she couldn’t hide her clumsy nerves.
Her foot snagged on the high sill, and she tumbled headlong through the window, freezing in place.
“…How’s your side?”
She must’ve been mortified to be caught like that. I ignored it and asked Number 21.
Monts later, his voice ca through the earpiece.
「All identified lookouts neutralized.」
We had split into two teams—Lailla and I, Collad and Number 21.
Each group infiltrated from different directions, securing the floors above the first. From there, we would monitor the exchange and strike mid-deal.
“No one spotted you?”
「My calculations don’t allow for mistakes.」
I took him at his word and pressed on inside.
The bodies were dragged aside, and the place fell silent again. Looked like the other team had finished their entry as well.
All thanks to Number 21’s timing. Without combat skills, he still pulled his weight.
“There, over there.”
Lailla, sha faded, pointed toward the open center of the warehouse.
A group waited in the cleared space.
“See the one in the chair?”
「Confird. Brotherhood 85th Branch Leader, Malay Krector.」
A wiry man with a beard covering half his face, a scar slashing across his shiny forehead.
Didn’t need Number 21’s confirmation. I’d seen the photo in Hartig’s dossier.
「Hey, why not just drop him now? They don’t even know we’re here.」
Collad.
His eager voice trembled with excitent. I cut him down flat.
“Open your mouth again, you’ll get beaten again.”
「……」
The man begged for punishnt every ti he spoke. His teeth ground, but he held his tongue.
“We hit during the deal. That way they panic and turn on each other. Don’t move until then.”
This was all business—no trust.
Ambush them mid-trade, and suspicion would rip through both sides. It would cover our retreat better than any plan.
“You rember your part, right?”
“H-huh? Ah, yes! Once you signal, I’ll cast right away.”
Lailla nodded frantically, clutching her staff.
She was the opening move—Smash.
Only another mage could trace magic, and there wouldn’t be any at so petty 80s branch. By the ti they realized, it’d be too late.
“Still, stay sharp. If it doesn’t land, we’ll need follow-up.”
「You’re nagging my ears off. I’ll handle it.」
Collad’s turn would co next. He’d said he had ranged weapons built into his body besides that chainsaw.
He’d scarred the World Tree’s vines before—enough proof of his firepower.
「Arrived.」
Number 21’s voice ca just as patience wore thin.
Skreeech!
Tires cut through the silence.
Headlights flooded the warehouse interior.
The car coughed to a halt. Ard guards ringed it, opening the back door.
Click.
Out stepped a middle-aged man in a spotless suit, sunglasses on despite the hour.
He strode across the warehouse.
“Brotherhood?”
“Malay Krector, 85th Branch. You the proxy?”
“You can tell.”
The smarmy reply twisted Malay’s face before he smoothed it.
“The goods?”
“…Well? Bring them out!”
His n dragged sacks from the corner.
“Purity’s guaranteed. You can sample a pack.”
“No need.”
“Hah, turning it down? Don’t you know what this is worth?”
“Better to protect my body. Besides, my employer said you wouldn’t try tricks.”
He snapped his fingers. Guards pulled a hardcase from the trunk.
「How long are we watching? Let’s hit already!」
“Wait a little longer.”
Collad bristled, but I narrowed my eyes.
Not yet.
Better to see what was in that case first.
“The item you requested. I trust you won’t cheat us?”
“Of course. You’ll be our valued client from here on.”
‘So this isn’t just a drug deal?’
Malay’s flattery to a re proxy—backed by the weight of the company behind him—reeked of sothing bigger.
‘Might be worth stealing, if I get the chance.’
A little side profit.
“Ready.”
A ripple of mana answered.
Lailla raised her staff, whispering incantations.
“Shall we open it?”
“Of course. Exchange together.”
They faced each other, Malay’s hand stretching boldly toward the case—
“Now.”
“Smash.”
BOOOM!
Air collapsed inward, slamming Malay like a hamr.
(End of Chapter)
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