The Assassination War (6)

Freugne and I maintained similar yet subtly divergent perspectives regarding the future itself.

I viewed the future as something perpetually fluid, ever-shifting.

At this very moment, instead of haggling over Belfast’s surrender with the Dark Lord as her original visions foretold, Freugne now reclined backstage.

Freugne too acknowledged the future’s malleability.

Understandably so, given her previous experiences glimpsing futures that ultimately diverged.

‘I’m so sorry, this is my fault.’

‘No, you have no need to apologize–’

‘If I had scrutinized the future more meticulously, this would never have happened… Right?’

‘Truly, I’m alright. You’re safe, and I’m healthy now – that’s all that matters.’

‘…Heh.’

‘Why that reaction suddenly?’

If any unbridgeable gulf existed between Freugne and myself, it concerned her approach towards the futures she witnessed.

For most, the future represented an inevitability requiring constant adaptation.

While Freugne provided real-time briefings, I never considered myself an exception – past events could recur, laws of probability notwithstanding.

Yet to Freugne, glimpsing imminent futures required mere casual effort akin to evening strolls.

Hence Freugne meticulously designed and redesigned the futures she foresaw, repeatedly revising them.

This approach had yet to prove erroneous. If anything, foreknowing impending crises enabled the most optimal solutions.

However, I remained unconvinced this could persist indefinitely.

Humans invariably err, whether through lapses or accidents – oversights were unavoidable.

“It seems prudent to withdraw our frontlines slightly. Securing those southwestern hills would increase our odds of victory.”

“No, unexpectedly that terrain is too swampy to offer significant advantages. Rather, being so terrain-dependent would disadvantage us as humans. Ugh, pressing further would jeopardize securing that foothold…”

“Ah, re-evaluating the scenario reveals an eastern detour. Rallying nearby units for an envelopment could suffice.”

Above all, it was physically taxing Freugne herself.

Her expressions alternated between anguished and elated with each pronouncement, her gaze fixated on the maps.

While her fatigued countenance filled my vision, she claimed glimpsing up to five futures daily, potentially seven if abbreviated overviews sufficed.

Yet her strained smiles betrayed an underlying obsession.

I understood that obsession’s origins all too well.

Hence directly dissuading her would have proven futile.

But someone had to prepare contingencies.

-Click-

Withdrawing a sidearm I never imagined utilizing, I chambered a round. Compact enough for portability yet hardly lacking potency.

As I strode past them wordlessly, the previously cowering operatives tentatively straightened.

These high-ranking members lacked substantive combat prowess.

This was hardly a medieval knighthood where martial might determined promotions – the organization prioritized administrative and political acumen over brawn.

Hence most were either self-made entrepreneurs inheriting parental businesses or elite-tracked corporate elites excelling through academic credentials.

While minimally versed in magic by virtue of their education, having not specialized in offensive disciplines precluded expectations of extraordinary feats.

“Er, does anyone happen to have a weapon? Even a bladed instrument would suffice!”

“In broad daylight at a meeting venue? Who would ever arrive armed…?!”

“…Ahem.”

As if by unspoken consensus, the converged gazes scattered with that awkward cough.

Unlicensed firearm possession constituted a brazen illegality hardly worth addressing – they could scarcely be deranged enough to carry defensive armaments here.

While security personnel had been stationed nearby, their arsenals extended to batons at best, or perhaps pocketknives for the exceptionally well-equipped.

Thick plumes billowed from the windows amid flashing flames.

Evidently Sithe was engaged, though fortunately not alone – the absence of Demon battalions invading Londinium implied human traitors remained scarce, small consolations amidst this chaos.

Amidst shattering glass, a severed head abruptly emerged.

An unconscious Demon, identifiable by those pointed ears and tattered, singed coattails trailing vestigial wings.

‘They’ll be entering soon.’

While preferring to retrieve Freugne first if feasible, too many individuals now required safeguarding.

Unlike Belfast, alerting the Dark Lord ensured the Demons would simply massacre the remaining operatives upon my departure.

I addressed one petrified operative.

“There should be a room backstage behind that podium.”

“Yes? Ah, yes!”

“Retrieve Freugne and bring her here.”

With Sithe and myself present, remaining alongside us would prove safer than fleeing.

Who knew which Demons or even the Dark Lord himself lurked outside? Maintaining them within my line of sight would provide reassurance.

That operative, responding belatedly, gesticulated frantically while retreating backwards.

Perceiving others surreptitiously attempting to follow suit, I called out:

“Remain in position! Dispersing needlessly only increases your peril.”

“B-But…”

“Sithe is outside handling the situation. With unknown Demon numbers remaining, this location offers maximum security if you lack combat capabilities.”

Eventually, the initial explosion’s battered remnants – the entryway barely clinging to functionality – collapsed with a final agonized creak.

Beyond streamed hordes of soot-stained entities masquerading as humans – unmistakably Demons flooding the premises.

Amidst crashing bodies, Sithe’s alarmed voice faintly intermingled:

“Wh-What?!”

-Kwaaang!-

“Demons?!”

“Kyaaaaah!!”

“So the one called Edan is here!”

“Kyaaaaack!!”

“That’s him, his face matches perfectly! Very well, why don’t you brazenly enter then?”

The Demons brandished blades clearly procured from nearby residences or shops – axes, knives, anything but actual manufactured weaponry.

One, seemingly having run out of options, even carried a saw, blurring whether they intended combat or merely attracting maximal aggro.

And just as those Demons anticipated brawling or knife fights, another fiery blast erupted before them.

-Pisiing!-

“…..!”

Trailing that crystalline chime, the first Demon’s head to profane these premises vaporized.

If fashioning customized defensive armaments, why would I neglect crafting personalized offensive variants? Utterly unacceptable.

---

Freugne, admittedly in a somewhat embarrassing situation, had dozed off due to exhaustion from glimpsing the future the previous night.

Since Edan had presided over such meetings frequently himself, she had deemed him sufficiently trustworthy.

She could simply rest while he handled the proceedings, awakening her if necessary.

-Rustle-

“…Who’s there?”

Freugne’s eyes fluttered open from her light slumber.

Evidently this was the very moment necessitating her presence. Blinking away the haze, a youth came into focus – likely a venue staff member.

“Lady Freugne.”

“Yes. How may I assist you?”

“Lord Edan has summoned you. Please follow me.”

“For what purpose?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know the details. He insisted on conveying them directly, as it is not information for others.”

With a soft yawn, Freugne rose.

“Very well. Please lead the way.”

“Understood.”

As Freugne turned her back, the Demon guide suppressed a sinister chuckle.