Then Archery is my path

February 22, 3108

I spent the last few days observing Mr. Gulian's life, and I can confidently say his days have been far from ideal.

If on the first day he received around 20 visitors, now none were coming. This lack of activity clearly stressed him out, and his frustration manifested in acts of aggression towards both his staff and his prisoners.

Three days ago, during his habitual abuse, one of his victims died. Surprisingly, this incident did not cause any panic in the household. The girl's body was thrown into a car, which returned two hours later, empty. It was evident this wasn't the first time something like this had happened, and the household seemed disturbingly familiar with the procedure for such situations.

There was, however, a notable shift in the household's routine. Decorations began to appear around the house, the prisoners were no longer restrained against the walls, and their body temperatures gradually normalized. Clearly, preparations for an event were underway.

15:00

An unfamiliar car arrived in the yard, and from it emerged a massive man—not tall, but broad and imposing.

As soon as the man stepped out, Mr. Gulian hurried to greet him. In all the time I'd been observing him, this was the first instance I had seen such deferential behavior from him.

The newcomer was escorted to the freshly prepared room, and over the next hour, more luxurious cars began arriving. Men of varying ages, from 40 to 90, stepped out, all dressed in formal suits and arriving in vehicles that radiated wealth and power.

16:16

Another car pulled into the driveway, and this one seemed to be of particular importance. All the guests who had previously arrived went outside to greet the new arrival.

The man who stepped out appeared to be around 85 years old. He had only a few strands of hair on the top of his head and leaned on a brown walking stick.

From the opposite side of the car, a woman emerged, and she was no ordinary woman—she was an elf. Her long blonde hair, elegant posture, and breathtaking figure exuded an otherworldly allure. She was a sight to behold, the kind of beauty that could drive men to desperate lengths just to gain her favor.

What is she doing in human territory? And in the capital, no less?

Even though the war between races was officially over, tensions still ran high. Skirmishes over territory occasionally broke out on the continents, making her presence here both intriguing and alarming.

I received an answer to my thoughts rather quickly. At one point, the elf collapsed to the ground, clutching her chest. Her previously closed eyes were now visible—or rather, the absence of them was.

For elves, eyes hold immense significance. Unlike humans, who can assimilate and manipulate aether internally, elves rely on their eyes to perceive and control atmospheric aether. An elf without eyes is akin to a human without martial arts—they can assimilate aether to some extent, but they cannot manipulate or wield it effectively.

What followed for the rest of the day was horrifyingly predictable. The prisoners from the basement—women, men, and even children—were brought out. What ensued was a grotesque display of cruelty, a scene that stripped any semblance of humanity from the perpetrators.

Late into the night, as I prepared to retreat, I saw the elf approach a window. She gazed into the distance, then turned her sightless face directly toward me.

"Impossible," I thought. She had no eyes—there was no way she could see me.

But then, I caught her lips moving. Through the binoculars, I made out the faintest impression of a word:

"R-U-N."

Before I could react, I saw movement through the thermal visor—guards were gathering near the house's exit. Their Mana Armis was already activated, and they were clearly guided in my direction. Though there was considerable distance between the house and my position, I knew they could reach me in moments.

I quickly packed my equipment into my case and took a deep breath.

Breathing Technique: Tempest Flow (4☆)

Stage 2: Wind Acceleration

Mana Armis: Left Foot + Hand – 2nd Form Condensation

This was what I had trained for—running.

The terrain was familiar to me, and I knew the most efficient routes. Still, I estimated I had no more than two minutes before they would catch me. If they did, I would vanish without a trace, just like the others who had disappeared before me.

1 minute remaining.

The highway came into view. If I could find a car to hide behind, I might have a chance to escape.

30 seconds.

I reached the edge of the highway but saw no vehicles. This wasn't a major road, and traffic was sparse. Then, in the distance, I spotted a truck. It was my only chance. Without hesitation, I sprinted directly toward it.

10 seconds.

As the truck's headlights bore down on me, I veered to the left at the last moment and activated my next technique.

Movement Technique: Wind Kingdom (4☆)

Stage 1: Territory Formation-10m

I propelled myself into the truck's gravel trailer, landing safely within.

I hope they will not chase me anymore

"That was close."

If the elf hadn't warned me in advance, I would have been captured. I had no time to spare.

"How did they find out about me?"

When the truck had traveled a safe distance, I finally stood up. Checking the time on my smartwatch, I realized it was 00:50. I was late submitting my report. Left with no other option, I sent it late, including the photos I had taken through the smartwatch's camera. I'd managed to enhance the images using the binoculars' magnification feature. Alongside the pictures, I explained my delay, citing an exceptional situation.

"Information has been received."

That simple message gave me a measure of relief. At least I wasn't considered dead. Not yet.

February 24, 3108

A day passed without any response from the agency.

I started preparing to return to Forest Elderwood, gathering my belongings and packing a few souvenirs for the Master. Just as I was finishing, I received an unexpected message:

"Come to the cafe at Str. Coalition 54/9."

"Strange," I thought. It would've been smarter to ignore the message and stick to my plan, but before I could dismiss it, another message arrived:

"Mr. Collins is waiting for you."

That changed everything. If Mr. Collins was involved, this was worth my attention.

The cafe was tucked away in an alley between two buildings, its style old yet inviting. I found the address easily enough using the online map.

When I opened the door, the rich aroma of coffee hit me immediately. My eyes swept the interior, noting the bar counter where a barista worked quietly behind the bar.

"Kail, come here."

A voice called out to me from one of the dimly lit corners.

A familiar voice called out to me from the corner of the cafe. It was Mr. Collins. Without hesitation, I made my way over and sat in the seat opposite him. On the table between us was a chessboard, the white pieces facing me, as they always did.

Without much thought, I made the move I always started with when playing against Mr. Collins: E4.

Predictably, his response was the same as always: E5.

Only then did I realize I hadn't even greeted him. I quickly corrected my oversight.

"Good morning, Mr. Collins."

"Hi, Kail."

"What was the reason for calling me here?"

"You've successfully completed your mission."

"Was that enough reason for you to call me personally?"

"Of course not," he replied with a faint smile. "I wanted to play a chess match."

"Well then, fine," I said, not wanting to push for unnecessary details. The less I knew, the safer both of us would be.

We continued the game in silence for a few moments before Mr. Collins spoke again. "What did you think about the mission?"

"It was fairly easy," I replied. "Only on the last day did I run into some difficulty."

"You know the usual reaction of most people in missions like this?"

"Not entirely, but I can guess how the majority would act."

"In these types of missions, 70% of beginners fail. Do you know where they go wrong?"

"When they choose to do something unnecessary."

"Exactly," he said, nodding. "Whether it's trying to save prisoners or killing the perpetrator of the crime, most of them do succeed in those goals. However—"

I cut him off. "That makes sense. The house didn't have any major security measures. The only significant challenge was the Guards, and even they moved predictably during the day. If I'd wanted to, I'm sure I had at least a thousand ways to pierce his skull with a single arrow."

Collins raised a finger. "But here's what happens: people who decide to intervene typically don't live more than three or four days afterward."

This surprised me. "Why?"

"Kail," he said, leaning forward, "those who hold major positions in the state's leadership have a specialized defense unit: the Special Forces for Authorized Persons, or S.F.A.P. You've already encountered two of them."

"The security at the Ministry of Economy?"

"Exactly. S.F.A.P. protects high-ranking officials and, when necessary, cleans up their messes. These are the people you don't want to cross."

"From what you're saying, should I assume they're after me now?"

"No, you're not a target."

"But they clearly knew I was monitoring the building—they even sent Guards after me!"

Collins shook his head. "They didn't know about you. One of my people reported that one of the prisoners escaped. That's why the Guards were deployed."

My grip instinctively tightened on the knife in my pocket. My mind raced as I began planning how to leave the room as efficiently as possible.

"Calm down," Collins said, his tone steady. "Put the knife away. It won't do you any good here, anyway."

Then, I felt an immense pressure radiating from the Barista, who was calmly grinding coffee beans at the counter.

"What the hell is a Grandmaster doing out here?"

Realizing there was no viable escape, I reluctantly loosened my grip on the knife and shifted my focus back to the chessboard. I made another move, more out of habit than strategy.

"Why?" I asked.

Collins leaned back, his expression unreadable. "We still had to test your skills somehow. Besides, you lied."

"It wasn't anything major," I countered.

"It's not about the importance of the lie," Collins said, his tone sharp. "It's the fact that you transmitted false information at all."

"And now what?"

"Nothing. You completed your mission excellently," he said, his tone softening slightly. "For seven days, you sent qualitative and accurate reports. You followed the rules, didn't overstep, and even managed to evade six ManaWarriors without being a ManaUser yourself. That's more than enough. Your account has been authorized. Congratulations—you're now considered a temporary agent of the Surrounding Darkness agency."

I leaned back, absorbing the information. "What will my next missions be like?"

"Once a month, you'll receive mission details. If you don't respond within two days, it will be considered a rejection. For now, your assignments will involve tracking and gathering information. Later, perhaps after you turn eighteen and officially become a ManaUser, you might be offered assassination missions. If you're interested, you can eventually become a permanent agent. Should you choose that path, all information about you will be erased—your fingerprints, the shape of your ears, the alignment of your teeth, even your sinuses will be altered to give you a different voice."

"No thanks," I said flatly. "I'm only doing this to repay my debt."

"Debt?"

"For the things I took four years ago."

Collins chuckled faintly. "Well, those were bought with Evans' money."

"Wonderful. So, I did this out of my own desire, not even knowing it myself," I thought, rolling my eyes internally.

Standing up, I extended a hand politely. "Thank you for your time."

"Thank you for the game," he replied with a faint smile.

This match, like many before it, was yet another loss for me.