"I can't leave civil service to join your organization." Her fist was clenched. She wanted to protect her people, but she couldn't abandon her duty as a civil service officer.
Mr. Ace looked back at her.
"Who said you need to leave civil service? You can work with me alongside your government role."
Anastasia's mind raced.
"Is that even possible? But I'll get suspended if anyone who knows me as a civil officer sees me acting like an assassin."
Mr. Ace sighed, then held his sword forward and dropped it on his foot.
Anastasia was confused—why did he do that? But before she could make sense of it, her body was suddenly covered in the same kind of black robes he wore. A black mask appeared on her face, with forty-seven written in red. When she looked up, instead of his black fedora, a black sun hat now sat on her head.
"No one will know who you are," he said. "You can work with me, and stay in civil service."
Anastasia examined her new appearance carefully.
"How did I get dressed in this? I don't understand."
"You don't need to." Mr. Ace was staring at her, but then something in the smoke caught his attention—people were approaching.
By their uniforms, he could tell they were officers.
"Let's leave before they see us," he said. He looked around, spotted a building, launched his hook, and flew away.
"Wait!" she called out. Her hand trembled—she had never used anything like that before. But she raised her arm, launched the hook, and when it locked onto the building, it pulled her away into the smoke.
Anastasia screamed as she soared through the air, pulled by the hook.
When she landed on the rooftop, she dropped to her knees, panting heavily.
"I thought I was dead..."
"Now, don't overreact," Mr. Ace said calmly, eyes scanning the surrounding buildings for any more assassins.
"Huh? What do you mean 'overreacting'?! That thing nearly ripped my arm off!"
He signaled her to stay quiet. His eyes locked on something in the distance.
Anastasia followed his gaze—a figure, nearly fifty meters away, wearing the same black robes and 'M'-patterned mask as the earlier attackers, was calmly walking across a rooftop.
"Enemy. Hide—or come with me. We'll take them down in a blink."
Without waiting, Mr. Ace launched his hook and vanished into the smoke, gliding to a nearby building.
Anastasia quickly followed, her grip firmer this time as she launched her own.
In the military headquarters of Germany
After receiving Adolf's command, the military general had immediately passed orders to the covert unit stationed in Russia: launch the missiles.
The world remained oblivious.
Inside a dimly lit command tent hidden deep in a Russian forest, a faint transmission echoed from a handheld transceiver resting on a metal table.
"Commander Armin of V-201 Blackfire, do you copy?"
A figure stirred on a worn-out cot, a handkerchief covering his face.
"Commander Armin? Do you read us?"
The man grumbled, slowly sitting up. "Fucking hell..." he muttered, dragging himself toward the table and picking up the transceiver.
"I can hear you. What's the command?"
"The order's from General himself."
"What is it?"
"To wipe out Petrogard."
Armin let out a long sigh. "Isn't it a bit reckless? Our supporting countries might cut ties with us."
"It's not up for debate. Orders are orders. Over and out."
Commander Armin placed the transceiver down, rubbing his forehead.
He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a thick black beard and sharp moustache. He wore a deep navy-blue greatcoat with gold-lined cuffs and eagle-shaped brass buttons. A crimson cravat peeked from his collar, and his trousers were tucked into polished black boots. On his left shoulder, a patch bore the emblem of a black lion gripping a sword—Proud German Union's insignia. A silver pocket watch dangled from his belt, ticking steadily as he checked the time without emotion.
Though gruff in manner, Armin dressed like a man born from war and tradition—flamboyant yet ruthless, and loyal without question.
"To wipe out Petrogard?" Armin smirked, his voice low with suspicion.
He turned his head, eyes landing on the symbol stitched inside the tent—of Proud German Union.
"The General's not this reckless... Adolf Kriegman... that bastard is behind this. What the hell is he thinking?"
---
Back in Petrogard, smoke still curled through the shattered rooftops. Mr. Ace launched his hook again—but this time, behind the assassin.
The enemy noticed the movement. Without hesitation, he fired his own hook toward a rooftop and vanished across the skyline.
"Come on, we're not losing him!" Mr. Ace yelled, launching again without slowing.
Anastasia didn't hesitate this time. She aimed, fired, and soared after him.
Her grip was firmer. Her aim more precise.
She was learning.
---
In the Church of Mother Goddess Arlshuwiya, the sages received the news that the German Republic was going to launch missiles at Petrogard—the holy land, already in a very bad state.
All five sages in the room discussed the matter urgently. Then, the huge doors opened, and the same man as before entered and knelt.
"What should we do?" he asked.
The sages whispered among themselves, then one of them spoke:
"Cast a defense spell all around Petrogard. Take ten Divine Mages with you."
The man left the room, closing the doors behind him.
It was clear now—this was going to take the shape of war.
And the man couldn't say what the future would hold.