Ch.414Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

In cultures where honor is valued more than life, revenge carries immense significance.

Revenge to defend the honor of one’s tribe or family is considered righteous anger, and vengeance is praised as a just and honorable decision.

From that perspective, Sanya’s revenge against Asen was justified.

The chieftain’s nephew had first tarnished their honor by extorting money from merchants. For someone whose honor has been sullied, revenge is practically customary, making Sanya’s attack to preserve honor undeniably legitimate.

Thus, the locals praised Sanya’s revenge as a just and honorable decision.

In the same context, Asen’s retaliation was equally justified.

Since Sanya had first burned their drug cultivation facility, wasn’t retaliation necessary to maintain honor? When news spread that Asen’s forces had blown up Sanya’s ammunition depot, the locals unanimously declared:

Asen’s revenge was also a completely just and honorable decision.

It’s clear that the blood feud between warlords gifted the local community with both cathartic satisfaction and a touch of intimidation. Everywhere, people were talking about it.

“Have you heard the news? Sanya is gathering soldiers.”

“Isn’t it Asen?”

“Right. Asen was the last to attack, wasn’t he? Sanya must be grinding his teeth.”

“Oh my. This is serious. I wonder if this might lead to war.”

“…”

In a café crowded with people, I eavesdropped on the locals’ conversations while smoking.

They didn’t even glance at the foreigner dressed in traditional Moritani attire. When wearing men’s clothing that covered the entire body, it was impossible to distinguish between foreigners and locals.

A cup of tea and a cigarette enjoyed in a relaxed atmosphere. My brief peace away from work ended when a customer requested to join me.

A disheveled local in a worn suit sat down across from me. The man, concealing an old pistol in his chest, addressed me in awkward Kiyen language.

“Asud. Looking for. You. The Sheikh.”

“…”

I glanced at the warlord duo, stubbed out my cigarette in the ashtray, and looked up at the sky.

The clear desert sky without a single cloud.

I rose from my seat after painting that sky with pale smoke.

Time to get to work.

Episode 16 – The Six Million Dollar Man

The blood feud between Asen and Sanya had begun.

People under the warlords’ control were thrilled by the news. Since honorable revenge was welcomed rather than condemned, no one criticized the conflict between warlords.

Except for the parties involved.

When Asen and Sanya received the news, they couldn’t hide their bewilderment.

“What is this about! Sanya burned down our kitchen!”

“What nonsense! Asen suddenly blew up our ammunition warehouse. How does that make any sense?”

Without any warning, they had been ambushed by the opposing side. But upon investigating, they discovered they had apparently provoked the attacks themselves.

Asen and Sanya’s situation was like being slapped at the Han River for something that happened in Jongno. It was confusing and unfair enough to be suddenly attacked, but to hear the cause was their own doing? What nonsense was this?

Tension began to build between Asen and Sanya, each having received the first blow.

But in any organization, there are always cool-headed, rational advisors.

Some advisors who sensed something strange tried to calm the heated atmosphere.

“Please think calmly for a moment. Doesn’t something seem odd?”

“Asen has no reason to suddenly attack us. The issue with Jamila happened weeks ago.”

“It would be better to attempt dialogue first.”

However, where there is light, there is darkness; where there is cold, there is heat; where there is hardness, there is softness.

The hardline advisors stepped forward to criticize the softness of those advocating for dialogue.

The two positions began to clash fiercely.

Dialogue or retaliation? The doves had peace as their justification, while the hawks had honor. As the tug-of-war within the warlord groups continued, tension at the front lines increased, and the atmosphere gradually grew ominous.

At that time, foreign media began reporting on the conflict between Asen and Sanya.

At first, it was a brief article written by a war correspondent. The two-column article didn’t create much of a stir back home, but things changed when war correspondents began to swarm.

War correspondents roaming civil war zones quickly covered the blood feud between warlords in one country. As they moved, special correspondents also demonstrated their keen instincts and continued reporting intermittently.

When articles about them appeared in the media, the warlords began to waver.

“Look! It’s written in big letters that Sanya attacked us!”

“We can’t be certain whether it was Sanya, Hassan, or government forces behind the burning of the drug plantation. But we did lose our kitchen. Shouldn’t someone be held accountable?”

Of course, the person who released that article was neither Asen, Sanya, Hassan, nor government forces, but a foreign spy.

“‘Conflict between warlords over mines, will it lead to war…’ The title is naive. Who wrote this?”

-“There’s a new recruit at the news agency. Not much technique, but the kid’s sharp.”

“Hmm. I don’t know about sharp, but the article is well-written and concise. Good writing style.”

I informed the war correspondent through Dmitriev, the social affairs editor at Matap News Agency. The war correspondent, who had been wandering the desert looking for a story, eagerly grabbed his passport, rushed over, and enthusiastically wrote the article.

Other war correspondents and special correspondents followed up with their own coverage, but my involvement beyond providing the initial source was nonexistent. I figured they would eagerly come looking for a scoop anyway, so there was no need to feed information to the press.

-“Merlo, about this article. Are you sure a civil war is really breaking out? It’s pretty obvious whose work this is.”

“Only you would know that.”

-“That’s true… But if warlords fight because they’re manipulated by foreign intelligence agencies, war correspondents are just wasting their coverage expenses. Would that make for a sellable story?”

Dmitriev expressed concern that war correspondents with already precarious finances might be making a wasted trip, but I saw it differently.

“Well, I see it differently.”

-“What, in 3D?”

“No. Anyway, if warlords fight each other, the problem gets solved. Isn’t that what matters?”

What matters is that Asen and Sanya are at war, not that military intelligence is involved.

“Just watch. There will be spectacular fireworks.”

-“Alright. If you say so, I’ll believe you. By the way, do you have any other sources?”

“Articles? Hmm… A few days ago, a senior official from Sanya’s side was killed by a missile between Sanya’s territory and the local government’s jurisdiction. How about that?”

-“Oh, shit. Yes. That’s exactly what I need.”

The power of the pen, said to be mightier than the sword, was certainly effective.

But in my opinion, this was far from enough.

Dmitriev seemed to have similar thoughts and asked me:

-“But will they really fight?”

“They won’t be able to help it.”

-“Why?”

“Because I’ll make sure of it.”

-“How?”

Every organization has rational advisors. Among Asen and Sanya’s advisors, there were quite a few who argued that they should thoroughly investigate the truth behind this situation before making decisions.

However, decisions are ultimately made by people, and sometimes instinct prevails over reason.

I decided to stimulate that instinct.

-Bang!

As the gunshot crossed the quiet desert, a warlord commander fell. Soldiers rushed around the sniped commander, aiming their guns in all directions.

Watching through the scope, I removed the cartridge from the sniper rifle’s chamber and reported to Nasir.

“Abu Ahmed Al Asen. Just died.”

For the conflict between Asen and Sanya to escalate into civil war, a sacrifice of that magnitude was necessary. I selected targets from Hassan’s list of key Asen commanders and eliminated them one by one.

A drug export fundraiser. A commander who had distinguished himself in countless battles. A liaison trusted by the tribal chief. A security officer responsible for protection.

Anger is the most powerful emotion humans can experience—destructive and impulsive.

To provoke Asen’s anger, I sniped Group 1’s executives. Then, disguised as Asen, I launched identical attacks on Group 2 under the pretext of retaliation.

Anger is like a flame that can spread with just a slight breeze. A flame from a lighter can burn down a building, an ember from a cigarette butt can set a mountain ablaze, and a clown with a torn mouth can burn down a city.

Creating that breeze was my purpose.

And I succeeded.

The initial battle and black propaganda through foreign media. Surprise attacks justified as retaliation infuriated both Asen and Sanya.

Grudges had already accumulated over the past decades. And now honor had fallen to the ground.

The Moritani continent, where honor and grudges are clearly defined.

Warlords consumed by anger with their honor tarnished.

The outcome is easy for anyone to predict.

*

It began with Asen’s raid on Sanya’s marijuana plantation.

A motorized unit of trucks and cars breached Sanya’s territory and attacked the marijuana fields. Asen’s forces killed all of Sanya’s security personnel, drove away the workers in the fields, and set them on fire.

Having lost their marijuana plantation, Sanya mobilized forces to attack Asen’s military base.

A thirty-year-old retired armored vehicle crushed the outpost with its creaking tracks. As the medium machine gun spewed fire, fleeing Asen soldiers were instantly mowed down, and Sanya’s soldiers drove away residents with gunfire and looted weapons and ammunition.

Amid sporadic battles at each border, planned military operations were being executed.

And that evening.

Nasir brought good news.

“We’ve received messages from Asen and Sanya.”

“What kind of messages, Sir Nasir?”

“They told us not to interfere in the conflict.”

As expected, Asen and Sanya blocked Hassan’s involvement.

The message was clear: this conflict was their business, so stay out of it and remain still.

“Just as you said. Sanya seemed wary of our Hassan cooperating with Asen. They threatened that if we joined hands with Asen, we would face bloody retribution. Of course, they offered some benefits along with that.”

“What exactly are these benefits, sir?”

“We’ve received several coal mines near Hassan’s territory. Small but very good mines producing high-quality coal.”

Concerned about a joint attack from Asen and Hassan, Sanya sent threats along with a small gift—three mines not far from the border.

Of course, gifts didn’t come only from Sanya. Asen was also worried about Hassan siding with Sanya, so they provided quite a lot of specialty products as bribes to Hassan.

This was essentially an internal warlord matter, so Sheikh Nasir Al Hassan didn’t really need to inform me. But he called me in to share the “good news.”

The reason was obvious.

“You want me to convert these to cash, don’t you?”

“That’s right.”

For someone preparing for war, the more money, the better. And Hassan needed capital more than ever.

I converted the gifts Hassan received from Asen and Sanya into cash. More precisely, I passed the goods to an informant.

“Ah, Mr. Hormuz? It’s been a while. Have you been well?”

Hormuz, the dark elf at the top of the palm tree. A businessman who pioneered the northern black market with the approval of Grand Duchess Alexandra Petrova.

Having divided the black market with Francesca, he was my informant and collaborator.

I asked if he could distribute goods in the Moritani continent. Since Moritani was Hormuz’s homeland, I thought going through him would be faster than through Francesca.

Fortunately, Hormuz gladly accepted the proposal.

-“Coal and minerals. Very attractive commodities. Many regions in the Moritani continent still produce magic and electricity from coal, so we can make significant profits.”

“When can I receive the payment?”

-“If I contact the tribe, cash can be prepared immediately. Let me contact the elder first. Orcs with pack mules should have no problem with Moritani’s rough desert.”

Hormuz quickly converted the warlords’ goods into cash. Perhaps because dark elves, like goblins, dragons, and dwarves, can’t resist gold, he had plenty of cash. Like Jews, those guys.

Massive amounts of cash flowed directly to the Hassan warlord group. Having received this financial injection, Group 3 immediately began reorganizing. Some funds were used to purchase weapons and ammunition, train forces, and recruit informants within Asen and Sanya.

I took over some of the informants Hassan recruited to expand my intelligence network. Now I had informants not only in Hassan but also in Asen and Sanya.

Everything was flowing smoothly.

Asen and Sanya were fighting fiercely. Hassan was quietly growing stronger. And I could oversee the entire desert with a single finger.

A perfect situation.

But something unexpected happened.

“Hello?”

I received intelligence from an informant planted in the police. It was the police intelligence department chief I had shared cigarettes with before.

-“Asud. Foreign visitors I’ve never seen before have arrived here.”

The intelligence chief spoke urgently over the phone.

“Foreigners? Where are they from?”

-“Well… Looking at their passports, they said they’re from the Kiyen Empire.”

*

A machine filled with magic power spat out paper with a loud noise. I snatched the paper and buried my face in it to check.

Just now, I had heard from the police intelligence chief that suspicious foreigners had appeared in the jurisdiction. I asked him for a copy of the passport, and the chief secretly sent me a copy.

In the black and white image was the face of a foreign man. Next to it was text in Kiyen language. The passport’s anti-forgery pattern bore the flag symbolizing the Kiyen Empire.

After obtaining the ID copy, I opened the military intelligence database to verify the identity. There was a high possibility it was a forged passport, but given the imperial intelligence agency’s tendency to reuse passports for less important operations, I thought I might find a clue.

And shortly after.

Among the forged passports of the Imperial Guard and Reconnaissance Command, I found a passport that exactly matched the one in the copy.

“It’s the Reconnaissance Command.”

Two intelligence officers had been dispatched. They belonged to the Reconnaissance Command.

One appeared with a passport I hadn’t seen before, but the other’s passport was in the military intelligence database.

-“Reconnaissance Command guys appeared in the operation area?”

“Yes.”

-“Are you sure?”

“I’m certain.”

Military Intelligence was on high alert at the news of imperial intelligence units appearing. Military Intelligence requested information sharing from allied intelligence agencies, including the Royal Intelligence Department, asking if they knew anything about imperial intelligence operatives active in the Moritani continent.

The results were soon conveyed through Leoni.

-“I checked, and they are indeed from the intelligence unit. A captain and a sergeant from the Disruption Operations Department.”

I recalled the organizational chart of the Reconnaissance Command in my mind.

Unlike Military Intelligence, which simultaneously conducts domestic and foreign intelligence collection, counterintelligence, security, investigation, and counter-terrorism, the Reconnaissance Command has no investigative authority. Although it performs counter-terrorism missions, it only handles tasks unrelated to counterintelligence or military security.

The Reconnaissance Command is an agency specialized in foreign intelligence and operations. The Disruption Operations Department is a specialized division handling special operations—terrorism, assassination, kidnapping, bombing, and psychological warfare.

These were no ordinary guys.

-“Two intelligence officers from the Disruption Operations Department. A captain and a sergeant… It seems the Reconnaissance Command has come to support the Sanya warlord group.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

According to intelligence gathered by Hassan’s informants, the Sanya warlord group recently requested help from the Empire. They sent a call for help, asking for assistance in their war against Asen.

Normally, imperial intelligence agencies would have dispatched ample personnel and support.

The problem was the current political situation in the Kiyen Empire.

-“How long has it been since the devil caused that riot in the north, and they’re already dispatching intelligence unit officers?”

Due to the aftermath of the northern conflict, the military had lost much of its momentum. Although they had claimed victory, the damage was not insignificant.

It was only natural for foreign intelligence agencies to seize this opportunity and creep in. Plus, the Empire had hardly won any favors.

The Kiyen Empire is not only an international bully but also a neighborhood tough guy who bullies surrounding countries. Just as Russia played the bully in Eastern Europe, including Ukraine and the Baltic states, the Republic of Latuan and the Empire’s neighboring countries know all too well what jerks the Empire is.

That was the problem.

-“The border area with Latuan has been turbulent lately. The Imperial Guard and Reconnaissance Command are focusing on the eastern border. In a situation like this, it’s not easy to support a warlord across the sea while ignoring the dangers from neighboring countries.”

“Then can I understand that the movement of these intelligence officers is just a formality?”

-“They’re just saving face. According to the Royal Intelligence Department, these aren’t guys sent from the Empire but officers drawn from a team already active locally.”

“So they’re employees detached from the team.”

-“It means the Empire no longer has the capacity to provide personnel support.”

That doesn’t mean the Empire will just watch Sanya get beaten.

According to information provided by allied intelligence agencies, a ship loaded with weapons and ammunition recently departed from a western port of the Empire bound for the Moritani continent. Leoni judged that this ship carried support materials that the Reconnaissance Command was sending to Sanya.

Even if they can’t send personnel, they send supplies. A truly imperial decision. The Empire’s way of saving face usually involves money.

But Leoni was not the type to sit by and watch as help and weapons and ammunition from imperial intelligence officers flowed into Sanya.

She immediately issued an order.

-“Destroy the weapons and ammunition. Prevent Sanya from receiving the gifts sent by the Empire. Or break them before they can unpack and use the gift boxes.”

“Understood.”

-“The same goes for the intelligence officers. If we leave those bastards alone, who knows what trouble they’ll cause. Make sure to handle them thoroughly. Do you understand me?”

She was telling me to kill them.

Leoni gave the order. Then Clavins followed up.

Clavins, who contacted me after a long time, reinforced Leoni’s order to eliminate the Reconnaissance Command intelligence officers.

-“If the imperial intelligence unit starts moving in earnest, the operation will certainly face difficulties. I hate to admit it, but isn’t the Reconnaissance Command’s intelligence gathering capability in the field superior to ours?”

“That’s right.”

-“If they get involved, Sanya is likely to gain the upper hand. Of course, it might also expose the fact that Hassan is behind this conflict. Then you would be in danger.”

“…”

-“There’s no need to take that risk.”

It was hard to argue with that. In fact, there was no need to argue. I agreed.

Clavins urged me to eliminate the intelligence officers for safety’s sake. He also took some time to share news from home.

-“Your family says you should keep in touch. I know you’re busy, but at least contact them occasionally.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

-“See you when you return.”

Click.

The communication ended. I sat for a long time, staring at my mobile phone.

In the black screen was a foreigner dressed in traditional Middle Eastern—no, Moritani—attire.

I separated the alchemy card that stored battery and communication records and pushed it into the flames. The alchemy card, soaked in flammable material, instantly turned to smoke and rose into the sky.

Staring at the dispersing smoke, I took out a cigarette. I usually didn’t smoke much of the Moritani continent’s tobacco due to its distinctively strong taste, but today I inhaled more cigarettes than usual.

After quickly finishing half a pack sitting there, I returned to my lodging with my hands in my pockets. Old men sitting on the street smoking water pipes glanced at the sound of my dragging slippers, but soon lost interest and turned their heads to puff smoke.

“You’re back?”

Kamila greeted me cheerfully as I opened the door to my lodging.

Wearing an apron from who knows where, she smiled brightly and gestured toward the table.

“Come on in. It’s late, you should have dinner.”

“…Kamila.”

I called out to Kamila as she walked toward the stove.

And in a slightly hoarse voice, I added:

“Let’s talk for a moment.”