Part Thirty-One

Shimonoseki, Japan. Kyushu Defensive Line Headquarters……..

“D-Director! What the hell is this about Ouka being detained!?”

Chris's relatively peaceful morning was shattered by the over exuberance of youth. Or rather, by Saito Takanashi charging into his office first thing in the morning. He was a day later than Chris had expected, but he’d finally heard the news and had stormed to headquarters to get to the bottom of it.

“Saito, calm down. I understand your anger, but we have to follow protocol in this situation. There’s too much riding on this to foul things up at this stage.”

“To hell with protocol! How am I supposed to remain calm when my best friend is being treated like a common criminal!?”

“Saito, she deserted. Regardless of the circumstances or her reasoning, the fact remains that she left her post without permission. She needs to be punished.”

“Even though the information she brought back could save countless lives?”

“Even then. Letting her off the hook here would set a precedent, something the JSDF and the Committee are hoping to avoid. I doubt her punishment will be all that severe, but she’ll probably need to attend a tribunal at the very least.”

“Damnit. Even though….”

Whatever the rest of Saito’s sentence was faded away behind his bitter expression. The current problem, the latest in a loooong line of them, started a few days ago, when Ouka had unexpectedly shown up at headquarters, looking to be on the verge of death. How she’d gotten past all three defensive lines was a mystery, but she claimed to have brought important reconnaissance from deep into Kyushu, information which could very well save lives.

However, her desertion had already been reported, and so Chris, as the public face of the Kyushu Defensive Line, had no choice but to apprehend her. Ouka had understood, and gone willingly, so Chris was hopeful that she’d be given a lightened sentence.

Still, this was unfortunately happening at a time when several other issues had decided to rear their ugly heads, turning a bad situation down-right shitty. First, the opposition party in the Diet had decided to use this opportunity as an attack on the current administration, claiming that recruiting the youths who’d survived the disaster was a mistake.

Then there was the other issue. Some of the mercenaries who’d participated in the Ethiopian Dungeon had managed to learn to use magic, and they’d spread that information to the general public. Which now meant that there were a number of people attempting to enter the zones just so they could try to unlock their own mana. Granted, this wasn’t exactly the biggest issue, but it was just adding stress during an extremely difficult time.

This, combined with Ouka and the information she’d brought back, had been bad enough to give Chris an ulcer. Not even twenty years of running one of the world’s largest shipping companies had managed to do that.

Seeing that Saito had managed to get his emotions in check, Chris let out a sigh of relief. He needed the youth on his best behavior right now. There were some in the government who were saying that Ouka was lying about the source of the Gluttonists as a way to escape punishment. He needed Saito, who was actually well-regarded within the JSDF, to vouch for her character. If he caused an issue now, it could endanger any chance they had of heading this off.

“Saito, I promise you I’ll do everything in my power to help her, but you need to behave for now. If we’re going to conduct Operation Cleansing Purge, we need the support of the JSDF. Acting up now could jeopardize that.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t like feeling powerless like this.”

“No one does Saito. No one does.”

Unfortunately, the pair's trials and tribulations would continue for quite some time. And they’d only get worse as a result of this incident.

***

Somewhere along England's eastern coast. Ixan Isphael's secret manor……….

“Hey Clint, that psycho bitch is here. Go take care of her.”

“Wait, already? Fuuuuuuuck. Fine, I’m going. Shit, she wasn’t supposed to get here until next week.”

“I don’t know what to tell ya. She’s waiting outside the manor with more of her ‘pets'.”

Clint had been in the manor's weight room when one of his subordinates came in to inform him of an unwelcome visitor. And while he wanted to opt-out of this meeting, he knew he very well couldn’t. While this particular visitor was rather unpleasant, she was also the one who supplied most of Ixan's personally forces. Which meant that Clint couldn’t afford to offend her.

Damnit, damnit, damnit! Why the hell am I the one who has to deal with these psychos, huh!? Michael was always the one who could talk or threaten them enough to back down. Why couldn’t he have gotten mixed up with these people?

Back home, Clint had a bit of a reputation as a player. Despite his…eccentricities, he was strangely popular with women. Unfortunately, his luck with them was abysmal, as he only seemed to attract the crazy ones. If he had a dollar for every time he’d been chased by a jealous ex-girlfriend, he’d be much richer than he currently was.

And ironically, it was his borderline anti-social friend who was the most adept at handling them after the breakups. Despite all he said, Clint knew Michael well enough to know that he could handle social settings when he had to, he just didn’t want to.

Emerging from the manor, Clint saw a number of trucks parked out front. He knew from the last two times they’d bought merchandise from this woman that those trucks contained what they’d purchased. And it sickened him.

“Aaaah, there you are. I was beginning to worry that you weren’t going to show up, darling. Is your master home?”

“Tch, Camilla. Yeah, he’ll be out shortly.” And I’m stuck with her until then.

Flanked by two heavily armed guards, the woman who was only known as Camilla approached him, covered in the same bulky armor as the last two times he’d met her. And just like those times, he found her presence highly disturbing. It was like being faced with some alien predator. Like the slightest sign of weakness would cause her to pounce on him.

While trying to keep her in direct sight as much as possible, he also noticed something rather odd out of the corner of his eye. Camilla normally only brought along her two bodyguards for these meetings, a sign of good faith, or so he assumed. However this time, she’d brought a third person. A rather haggard man, with what looked like a dog collar around his neck. The second he realized that, he tried to ignore the man, but it was too late. Despite the fact that Clint was wearing his own helmet, Camilla had somehow caught on to where his gaze went.

“Ohoh? Admiring my newest pet? My, my. I never would’ve pegged you as an enjoyer of that sort of thing. What a lovely discovery.”

Clint felt a full-body shiver go through him. Camilla had just barely hidden her true meaning. The thought of ending up like that poor man was enough to frighten Clint half-to-death. But fortunately, this particular conversation wouldn’t be allowed to continue.

“That’s enough Camilla. I don’t want you getting ahead of yourself.”

“Oh boo. You’re no fun darling Ixan. Can’t you let a girl flirt in peace?”

“Not when it puts my chief of security on jeopardy of being poached. He’s done excellent work around here, and I’ll need him for what’s to come.”

Ixan’s sudden appearance saved Clint from having to respond to that last barely concealed innuendo, and it also freed him from having to talk with the woman at all.

At Ixan’s command, Clint led several of his men over to the trucks to unload their cargo. And upon opening them, Clint felt like cursing, though he managed to hold it in. He’d know what was inside, but it still bothered him to see.

Inside the trucks were men and women, all of different ages, ethnicities and backgrounds, though they all shared the same trait: A blank, unseeing gaze. These were the beaten and downtrodden of the world, and they’d all undergone the same ‘conditioning’ to make them into puppet soldiers.

Clint didn’t know the particulars, and he had no desire to learn them, but he knew Camilla belonged to a secret criminal syndicate, one that had been around since WWII. This group dealt in any and all crimes, including human trafficking, of which Camilla was in charge of. She used her connections to round up people who wouldn’t be missed from around the world, and re-educated them into cheap, disposable labor. Ixan had thus decided to use these puppet soldiers as the backbone of his personal army, at least for now.

All this went through his head as he watched the newest ‘recruits' be taken away. Getting them settled in wasn’t his job, but training them would be. The thought still sickened him, even though he’d also gotten used to it. But he’d have to stomach it for now, if for nothing else but to help build Ixan’s ideal world.

***

Kenya. Roughly one hundred kilometers from the Ethiopian border…..

“GRRRRRAAAAAGHH!”

“HOLD THE LINE, YOU SORRY BASTARDS!”

A group of men were desperately struggling against the bulk of an enormous rhino-like monster. The creature attempted to use its enormous bulk to push the men off of it, but they held fast, praying that those stabbing the beast would fell it even one second faster. Unfortunately, the hard plates covering its body could repel even the sharpest blades. The shoddy spears they were using weren’t going to cut it.

It wasn’t until the group’s leader stepped up that the situation changed. The man brandished the massive hammer he wielded, covering it in Aura so thick, it was visible to the naked eye. He then charged straight at the beast, swinging the weapon down.

Sensing danger, the rhino-like monster tried to back out of the way, but the other men had it pinned down far too well for it to escape. The warhammer struck it on the top of its head, snapping its horn and caving in its skull. The monster wasn’t dead yet, but it soon would be.

“Woo, that’s the Boss for ya! Always takin' names and kickin' ass!”

“Damn, how’d he get so strong?”

“SHUT IT! Finish this damn thing off already!”

Sampson didn’t let the adulation of his men go to his head, instead preferring to keep an eye on their surroundings. They’d been on their way back to Ethiopia when a pack of those rhino Beasts attacked them, and while they’d escaped the majority of the group, this one had been too fast and too persistent to avoid. Dealing with it had taken the better part of an hour, putting Sampson in a bad mood.

“Tch, where’s my lieutenant!?”

“On the truck Boss!”

Sampson whirled around. Sure enough, Jansen was perched on top of the truck, his bow nocked and ready. He was looking skyward, his attention fixed on something far above them. But just before he could ask him what was up, his question was answered for him.

“REEEEEEEEIIIIIIIHHHHHHH!!!”

It was a bone-chillingly familiar cry, one that all the men standing there had heard at least once, if not multiple times. And that was the only reason no one was killed by the resulting fireballs.

“WYVERN!”

Multiple balls of fire crashed into the ground, causing the mercenaries to scatter in all directions. The Wyvern, far enough in the air that they could barely make it out with their eyes, raised another cry before launching more fireballs.

“Jansen!?”

The archer merely shook his head, indicating that the monster was out of range. This was a rather familiar scenario to them, but there was a much easier solution this time around.

“Tch. Back in the trucks! It’s after the corpse!”

Wyverns are, by nature, cowardly creatures. They prefer to scavenge or steal prey rather than hunt themselves, and will only attack from extreme heights, thus ensuring that they can’t be retaliated against. Before, the mercenaries had been forced to fight a battle of attrition, either waiting for the Wyvern to give up or run out of mana, since the corpses the monsters were targeting were the very thing they were here for. But the rhino wasn’t on their list, so they could easily abandon it.

A few minutes later, and they were heading north again, leaving the Wyvern and its meal behind. Though Jansen, a rather spiteful person now, had cursed the corpse. If the Wyvern was unlucky, it would soon die.

It’s a shame to leave it behind, but I’m not risking my life when I don’t know if I could profit off that corpse. We’ve already secured everything we needed to, so all we’ve got to do is turn it in and collect our payment. Heheheheh, this is only the beginning. Fun times are ahead.