How Talula Found and Adopted Me

"Although some unforeseen circumstances arose midway through this plan, there will be no problems overall. The news has already been sealed off, and the variables among the mercenaries have been dealt with. Andreyevich, head of the Rostov family, is nothing but a merchant. He has no military authority and knows nothing about politics. His backer, Marquis Boris, was dealt with long ago, and that daughter of his called Natalia poses no threat either."

Baikal swirled the wineglass in his hand, brought it close to his nose, and took a light breath.

"As for the other families, they have already chosen to stand with the old nobility. Once Rostov dies, we will have ample time to assign those fools all manner of crimes."

Baikal was just about to drain his wine when the radio crackled, interrupting Grand Duke Baikal's enjoyment of it.

"You should learn to choose the right time to talk... What? The Enforcement Team received orders—what do you mean, those nobles chose the Rostov family?"

Grand Duke Baikal knew about the Northern Border Passage Act that had been passed earlier. Since the nobles still nominally held control over Chernobyl, his access to information was slightly slower.

"They are merely cornered beasts struggling in vain. It is completely meaningless. The army group will crush that rabble. The plan remains unchanged."

After a brief moment of surprise, Grand Duke Baikal raised his wineglass again, looking utterly confident of victory.

"Once war breaks out in Chernobyl, no one will care how the fuse was lit. The current Emperor will understand eventually. Only war can make Ursus prosper."

"One thing about people like you that I truly admire is your ability to solemnly speak lies that even you do not believe."

"—!?"

A woman's voice came from the doorway, startling Grand Duke Baikal. Instinctively, he gripped the sword at his waist.

"Who goes there?!"

"It has been a long time, Grand Duke Baikal. Do you still remember me?"

The leader of Reunion—Talula—pushed open the doors and walked straight up to Baikal.

"You are... Duke Koschei's daughter? Why are you here? Guards! Where are the guards?!"

Baikal frowned at Talula. He recognized the girl who had followed Koschei at a banquet several years ago, then immediately began shouting for the guards.

"Your guards are probably too busy to pay attention to you right now, Grand Duke Baikal."

Talula replied with a smile. At the same time, outside the castle—

"Did you hear something just now?" "It sounded like Grand Duke Baikal?"

The two guards near the room exchanged glances. Just as they prepared to head toward the room, a hooded shadow suddenly flashed out behind them.

Clang!

The two guards were instantly knocked to the ground. JunJun, the culprit, adjusted the brim of her hood. An order sounded through the earpiece nestled in her fluffy ears, and JunJun quickly slipped back into the shadows.

Elsewhere, in the surveillance room.

"There is a patrol near the windows on the third floor. Move close to the cover on the right. Watch the sewer opening on the ground, and do not fall in again."

Alina sat before the console, operating the various surveillance systems with her left hand while muting every radio channel. She left only one special frequency for directing JunJun.

The facts proved that JunJun, who had once endured humiliation and traveled to Siracusa to train under a master, was indeed extremely skilled at infiltration and assassination—provided someone reliable planned her route and pointed out the traps beforehand.

And Alina, who was also highly skilled at stealth in another sense, was perfectly suited for that role.

Working together like this, the two of them had forcibly cleared a route straight to Grand Duke Baikal for Talula without alerting the alarms.

"Tch... Fine. What do you want, Duke Koschei's daughter? A share of the spoils?"

Grand Duke Baikal clicked his tongue before questioning Talula.

"Have you heard of Reunion? A rising force in the Northern Border—and I am its leader."

Talula spoke calmly, while Baikal's expression visibly twisted.

The Infected faction currently opposing his forces throughout the city was precisely the group that called itself Reunion.

"Ridiculous... You gave up your position as a duke's heir just to play house with those lowly inferior wretches?"

"Who is truly lowly here?"

Boom!

Talula raised her hand and unleashed a torrent of flames at Grand Duke Baikal. A surging heatwave blasted forth with enough force to scorch everything in its path.

"Ugh!?"

Baikal raised his arm in terror, but the flames were abruptly scattered midway.

"We gave you an opportunity, Duke Koschei's daughter." The person who had remained silent in the shadows all this time—an Emperor's Guard—suddenly appeared, standing between Talula and Grand Duke Baikal.

"So you have finally shown yourselves, the executioners raised by the late Emperor. I do not need your so-called opportunity, and I will not give you one either."

Talula looked at the guard without the slightest fear, her voice firm and resounding.

"You maggots who cover your atrocities with righteousness, wave Ursus's banner, and incite soldiers to wage endless wars just to fill your own pockets—you deserve to burn in hell."

Boom!!

The second burst of fire ignited half the house, but the Emperor's Guard still blocked it, preventing it from reaching Baikal.

"You... you bastard...! Kill her for me, Lord Guard!"

Baikal placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, but after merely touching it, the old noble finally turned away. He cried out for help to the Emperor's Guard while pushing open the window and clumsily attempting to escape the castle.

"You cannot defeat me, young dragon."

The Emperor's Guard stood before Talula, one hand resting upon the sword at his waist.

"We assessed you once before, and you escaped death then. Even now, you show no intention of repenting. It is completely clear now that Duke Koschei's game has failed utterly. As his legacy, you are nothing more than a defective product."

The Emperor's Guard spoke in a deep voice like something from hell, while Talula merely shrugged without wavering.

"You are right about one thing, executioner—that black snake truly did fail."

The temperature inside the room rose sharply. The surrounding air instantly turned into scorching currents, and searing flames that stung the face gathered before Talula. Their radiance alone was enough to burn the retina.

Boom!!

Flames capable of devouring everything roared toward the Emperor's Guard, but he merely lifted a hand lightly. Mist instantly appeared before him, forcibly neutralizing Talula's Originium Arts.

Too immature, Koschei. Is this the successor you chose? How disappointing.

The Emperor's Guard gripped his saber. He had already guessed Talula's next move.

The intelligence reports showed that this fledgling dragon knew virtually nothing about combat and wielded her Originium Arts with extreme crudity.

Next, she will grip that greatsword and swing it at me. Then her head will be severed.

The Emperor's Guard foresaw Talula's movements, and Talula did indeed reach with her right hand toward the greatsword hanging at her waist—the greatsword that had once pierced Koschei and bestowed the curse upon her.

"It is over, young dragon."

The Emperor's Guard drew his saber as well. However, his "foresight" remained accurate only up to that point.

During a sparring session in Reunion some time ago, Orson had effortlessly knocked Talula down as usual. She had been extremely annoyed, even accusing Orson of cheating, saying he was too slippery to take her Originium Arts head-on.

"If I took that, I'd turn into light, Sister Talula... But honestly, while your Originium Arts have terrifying power, their startup is still a little slow. In a one-on-one close-range fight, you might run into enemies like me who can interrupt you before your Originium Arts finish gathering."

Orson seriously analyzed the flaws in Talula's combat style.

"Then what should I do? I do not think there will be another terrifying person like you who can silence Originium Arts... but no one can guarantee I will not encounter such a situation in future battles."

Talula set down her greatsword, dusted off her clothes, and asked Orson.

"That greatsword at your side is way too eye-catching, Sister Talula. But thinking about it, maybe we can make use of that conspicuous sword somehow...?"

Orson pondered, the image of a certain Ashina Sword Saint appearing in his mind.

Back to the present—

"Yes, it is over."

Contrary to the Emperor's Guard's prediction, Talula's right hand did not grip the hilt of the greatsword. Instead, it reached for an inconspicuous object behind the sword.

When Talula held that object and aimed it at the Emperor's Guard, he finally saw it clearly. It was a weapon not commonly seen in Terra—a single-shot gun favored by Laterano.

Unlike Laterano guns capable of firing continuously, the one in Talula's hand resembled a hand cannon more closely. It had a terrifying caliber, a chamber that could hold only one round, and a receiver whose strength and hardness had been altered by Orson using Black Score.

"The times have changed, Emperor's Guard!!"

The flames of Originium Arts that the Emperor's Guard had dismissed as "crude and unbearable" no longer sought to burn everything. Instead, they rapidly gathered within the barrel, compressing and compressing. The heat capable of incinerating an entire building was forcibly concentrated at a single point, becoming the propulsive force behind the round in the chamber.

Then, with the pull of the trigger, that force, transformed into raw impact, roared forth in a single blast.

Bang!!!!

The ear-splitting explosion startled everyone in the entire villa. It was said that more than thirty percent of Chernobyl's citizens noticed the dazzling flash that erupted from Duke Baikal's villa that day.

"Orson really was right... This thing is way more useful than a staff."

Talula looked at the Emperor's Guard before her, whose upper body had completely vanished, then weakly tossed aside the hand cannon that had entirely exploded in her hand.

So this is the power of the Dragon Strike Gun, named by Orson. Terrifying...!

Next comes the last step, Grand Duke Baikal.

Talula steadied her breathing and headed toward the command tower controlling Chernobyl.

"We are the Empire's Fist! Your friendly big brothers from the Enforcement Team!"

"Damn dragon girl... How did she get in?!"

On the street, Baikal had lost his usual arrogant and hypocritical demeanor. He was panting heavily and looked utterly disheveled, while his expensive suit carried a faint burnt smell.

That damned fledgling dragon tricked me... But it does not matter. The Third Army Group has already joined this battle under Kerk's and my guidance. Whether it is Reunion or anything else, those Infected lowlifes cannot possibly make any waves.

As long as Chernobyl is successfully activated, no one will be able to stop it! Everything that happens here will become meaningless once the full-scale war against Yan Country begins. Victory will still be mine!!

Baikal viciously tore off his coat and flung it aside, then ripped off his tie and threw the entire outfit representing the "old nobility" to the ground.

He should have been sitting in his castle, leisurely drinking wine while waiting for his plan to reach completion... not fleeing down the streets in such a pathetic state!

Grand Duke Baikal was heading for Chernobyl's command tower. According to the original plan, he would never have gone there, since someone might obtain evidence against him, and silencing them while destroying that evidence would require additional effort.

But the current situation had left Duke Baikal nowhere else to go. Only after fleeing the castle did he discover that the army group originally under his command within Chernobyl had been completely tied down by the so-called Reunion and a group of Infected who had appeared from nowhere. There were no soldiers left for him to use.

Having never considered the possibility that his castle could be infiltrated without a sound, Grand Duke Baikal suddenly realized that the only piece he had left was the unit of Sarkaz mercenary Garson, which had gone to the command tower to carry out its mission.

"Bastard. I will hang that man afterward—no, I will tie him to a warship and drag him to death."

The command tower was right before him. As Baikal rode the elevator toward the top floor, he took out his radio and contacted Garson.

After three rings, the radio connected.

"Mercenary boss, how are things on your end? The plan has changed. Activate Chernobyl immediately!"

"Oh? Are you looking for that annoying Sarkaz? Sorry, he is not in the command tower right now, and it does not look like he is in any condition to answer the phone either~"

"—"

Baikal frowned. The voice on the other end of the radio did not belong to Garson, but to a woman speaking in a lazy, mocking tone.

"Who are you?"

"You forgot me so quickly? Well, I suppose it cannot be helped. I am just a second-in-command working for pay."

"Where is Garson?!"

Grand Duke Baikal loudly demanded an answer from the woman on the other end of the radio.

"Where? Hmm, he is right beside me. But like I said, he is not in any condition to take calls right now."

On the other end of the radio, W wore a mocking smile. At her feet lay a Sarkaz mercenary whose left arm and half his chest had been completely blown away. It was Garson.

Almost the moment the all-out war began, W had started her revenge. Fortunately, finding Garson had not been difficult. As a Sarkaz mercenary herself, W did not even need to question Garson's soldiers to guess where the mercenary boss would be.

W was near a hidden safehouse belonging to the Sarkaz mercenaries. The wounds of varying sizes across her body, along with the corpses of Sarkaz warriors around her—so mangled that it was impossible to tell whether they belonged to W's faction or Garson's—showed that a brutal fight to the death had just ended here, and W was the final victor.

"In short, it was just the kind of infighting that is incredibly common among Sarkaz. Please do not worry, just transfer the remaining payment to my account, dear employer—ah, he hung up."

W looked at the radio in her hand with a bored expression before casually tossing it into a corner.

"So—have you made up your minds to follow me?"

W rose from beside Garson's corpse and asked the Sarkaz who had survived the brutal battle behind her.

"We are not following you, W. We merely... are tired of living without names. Promise us that you will lead us to find names of our own."

The Sarkaz mercenaries replied calmly.

"Ha, is that not obvious? Ah—but there is one name, only one name, that you cannot use, okay?"

W raised a finger and stuck out her tongue.