Semi-Coercive Imperialist

The downtown area of Verkina.

I purchased the prime land in the heart of the bustling street entirely and immediately began construction.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

Heavy machinery powered by mana stones operated tirelessly. The business model I planned to launch here was based on Canilan’s latest clubs. Mana stone speakers, outer walls finished with transparent glass… It would become a uniquely special space for pleasure in Verkina.

“A club.”

Julian muttered as he looked up at the construction site.

“Have you ever been to one?”

“Yes. Once, in Canilan.”

Drugs ultimately lead to pleasure. If I create a flashy and provocative playground in the very center of Verkina, the cartel’s executives will swarm to it like moths to a flame.

Tracking their movements, seizing their weaknesses, and if necessary, abducting them without a trace—there’s no better trap than this.

“I’ve also purchased the entire stretch of this street from end to end.”

“I see.”

“An underground hideout will be built beneath the main road. Armory, prison, communication room included. This entire place will likely become our command center.”

In truth, it didn’t cost much. It was the equivalent of buying two or three buildings in the central wealthy district of the Empire.

I took out a bearer bond from my pocket and handed it to Julian.

“Take it. Julian, you’re the owner of this club. I’m too busy with Imperial affairs to stay here full-time, so I’ll entrust the management of this place and the organization entirely to you.”

Julian nodded as he accepted the bond.

There was no doubt about his abilities, so I just needed to be his backing.

“However… before I leave, I’d like to see the friend you’ve taken note of.”

The only unfortunate thing was that Julian lacked the ability to distinguish Ezenheim.

…….

A tavern near the border of Verkina.

Kalo, who ran a cartel subsidiary using that place as his base, bowed deeply to someone.

“I’m sorry!”

The person was Luka, an enforcer under the Parmano Cartel.

“You think saying sorry fixes everything? The tribute’s short, you bastard.”

Tap. He pressed the muzzle of his gun against Kalo’s forehead. Kalo quickly dropped to his knees.

“I’m sorry! If you give me three days, just three—”

“Two days.”

Luka cut him off with a sharp smile.

“No, tomorrow. If you can’t bring it by tomorrow, this kid here will be taking your place. Understand?”

He patted the shoulder of the young boy standing beside him.

“……Yes.”

A boy who hadn’t even reached twenty yet. Though the punk looked down at him with eyes even more arrogant than Luka’s and giggled, there was nothing Kalo could do. He just buried his head deeper, hiding his expression.

“Well then, see you then. Be ready, you worthless piece of shit~”

Luka and his men left. Kalo’s subordinates hurriedly ran over and helped him up.

“Boss. Are you okay?”

“…….”

Kalo clenched his teeth silently. More than anger, he was flustered. There was no way to come up with that kind of money by tomorrow—

Clink.

Just then, the tavern door opened, and two people entered.

“We’re closed.”

A subordinate stepped in to block them, but the visitors paid no heed.

“Hey. I said we’re closed.”

“Kalo.”

One of the guests called his name. Kalo flinched and looked up.

A familiar face. It was Julian, a knight of the Empire.

“……Let them through. You all, get out.”

Kalo quickly pulled a few bills from his wallet and dismissed his subordinates.

Step. Step.

Julian and his companion walked in and sat down on the chairs.

“Looks like things are tough.”

“It’s nothing. Not a big deal.”

Kalo forced himself to look composed. He glanced at the man next to Julian. A man with black hair and sharp eyes. He looked Kalo over coldly.

It was a gaze that felt like a blade passing beneath his throat.

“Is it him?”

The man asked. Julian nodded.

“His name is Kalian Ross. Goes by Kalo. As you can see, he’s a capo of a minor cartel. Though his influence is too weak for a capo, there’s always a capo above another capo. That’s how it works.”

“Hmm.”

The man looked at Kalo and smiled faintly.

“Looks like you’ve racked up a lot of debt.”

“…The tribute suddenly skyrocketed, so I h⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠ad no choice—”

“Can you pay it off by tomorrow?”

“…….”

Kalo fell silent. That was his answer.

Thud.

The man lifted a bag and placed it on the table.

“Take it. Three million Imperial dollars.”

“…What?”

“On top of that—”

He set a duffel bag on the floor. Its contents spilled out. It was filled with firearms, ammunition, and various other weapons like grenades.

“These are exactly what you need right now.”

The money alone was astonishing, but the weapons—those were even more valuable. In Verkina, lower-level groups had no way of obtaining such arms. The cartels watched each other with hawk-like vigilance.

“Huh?”

Kalo’s head tilted involuntarily.

Was this a dream?

Did Luka just kill me, and is this the afterlife?

As Kalo stared blankly between the money, the weapons, and the two men—

“Kal⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠o.”

Julian placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke.

“From now on, you will act as a collaborator of the Empire, and you will carry out missions for the Empire.”

…….

Verkina’s night market.

We were sitting side by side at a street stall, eating. The presentation was rough, but the local flavor, heavy with spices, was quite the treat.

“Do you like him?”

Julian asked as he tore into a piece of chicken.

“Yes. I like the look in his eyes. Seems you’ve found the right person.”

Kalian Ross. It was a name I knew. Right now, he was just a average cartel officer, but someday he would unify the chaotic territory of Verkina and become the drug kingpin.

“He lost his parents and younger sibling to the cartel. He’s good at handling mana and fluent in Imperial language. More than anything, he’s strong-willed.”

“He seems like it.”

Backed by my funding, Kalo would quickly grow his power and influence. And when the time is right, I would use Eshton as kindling.

With the corpse of a knight, I’ll incite the Empire’s fury and establish a pretext for a full-scale cartel purge.

Once most cartels except Kalo’s suffered near-total devastation, Kalo would fill that void.

“The operation’s name is ‘Path of Dreams’. What do you think?”

It was the name I would write in the report.

“Not bad.”

Right on cue, our order arrived. It was Verkina-style chicken, deep-fried whole and coated in a spicy sauce.

I took a bite.

Crispy skin and juicy meat.

Delicious.

“This is good.”

I devoured the drumstick in an instant.

Should I order another one?

“Owner. One more.”

“Eat as much as you want. Verkina is famous for its food. You’ll miss it once you return to the Empire.”

─Crunch. Crunch.

That sound came with every bite of chicken.

─Crunch. Crunch.

After finishing the meal, I stood up from my seat.

“Well then, take care of yourself.”

It was time to part ways.

I had to return to the Empire, and Julian had to stay here.

“You take care too.”

***

Just as Julian has his dream, I too have mine.

It isn’t personal, but the survival of humanity, and it requires a deeply complex effort. Sometimes it must be etched into a sword, sometimes into a gun, and sometimes onto paper…

──Meeting Room of the Imperial Ministry of Finance.

Before the National Assembly could propose it, I officially submitted a tax reform plan that included ‘withholding tax’. There were many documents. Dieter handled the review and refinement based on Johann’s ideas.

Since the thoughts of two geniuses were combined from the start, it would be far more sophisticated than before my regression.

“…So in the end, you’re saying we should collect more taxes?”

Minister of Finance, Oscar, adjusted his glasses and asked.

“On the contrary.”

I firmly shook my head.

“Rather, taxes for low-income households and families with multiple children should be drastically reduced.”

“Ha. And where do you plan to find such massive funds? Dig it out of the ground?”

“You already know. The Empire has numerous corporations that exploit the Empire itself.”

The Empire must secure its finances for war without fail. Even while waging war, it must not struggle with money.

However, this must not be achieved through the exploitation of its citizens.

I handed over another document.

“Foreign corporations are remitting massive profits earned within the Empire back to their home countries. This is, in effect, a drain of national wealth.”

Capital from several Western nations had infiltrated the Empire, along with comprador capitalists parasitizing off them.

“We must impose a complete ban on the overseas transfer of profits, and if violated, apply punitive taxation. Furthermore, surplus profits above a certain threshold must be used to purchase Imperial government bonds.”

“…….”

Minister Oscar’s expression went blank. The other officials looked the same.

It seemed the Empire’s bureaucrats were still somewhat naive.

Well, all the outrageous and bizarre laws of that era had originated from the Imperial Guard—more specifically, from Johann’s head.

“Even the Arans, who own businesses yet do not serve the Empire, are no exception. They too must be ‘advised’ to purchase Imperial bonds with a portion of their profits.”

Oscar let out a baffled, disbelieving laugh.

At that moment—

“─If that happens,”

A deep voice echoed from the head of the table. It was Chancellor Ken Steiner.

“All the corporations and factories under Sir Maximilian’s control, including Aternum, would be subject to taxation as well.”

Ken Steiner.

He is a noble. Among nobles, a noble of the highest order.

But unfortunately, he was also someone who had already fallen out of the Emperor’s favor.

“Aren’t you an entrepreneur yourself? You’ll suffer the greatest losses.”

“Yes. And I am saying I would gladly accept that.”

I had no intention of keeping my money. In a world facing annihilation, profit margins were nothing but pointless flailing.

“You seem unaware of how massive an administrative undertaking this legislation would require. Corporate backlash, diplomatic friction, market chaos… Can you handle all of that?”

“I simply place my faith in His Majesty’s will.”

Ken Steiner’s brow f⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠urrowed.

“…His Majesty’s will?”

“Yes. I am thinking of the great endeavor the Empire seeks to achieve.”

Every word spoken here would be conveyed to the Emperor.

The Emperor of the Empire believes himself to be a god—and possesses an authority close to it.

A legitimacy as if bestowed from the heavens. A human bearing a bloodline seen only a few times in the Empire’s thousand-year history.

He was prepared to do anything for his legacy, therefore—

“For His Majesty the Emperor, the true and rightful heir to the throne, the most perfect and noble sovereign.”

I would become his most loyal servant.

“The Empire must secure war funding and unite its strength as one. I have been prepared solely for that—”

“I do not share t⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠hat view.”

Ken Steiner shook his head.

“There are still unexplored territories on the continent. Consider the resources buried there. The Empire can achieve prosperity again without resorting to the uncertain means of war.”

This was the reason Chancellor Steiner would be removed. The reason the Empire hadn’t gone bankrupt until now was thanks to this Chancellor’s excellent economic policies, but the Emperor would cut him down.

Because he was unambiguously anti-war.

“…….”

I silently looked around the room. Though I had fully expected Ken Steiner’s opposition, I stiffened my expression to appear appropriately angry.

“…That is most unfortunate, Chancellor Ken Steiner.”

At my words, the officials licked their lips.

“It is deeply unfortunate.”

Their heads slowly bowed.

But Ken alone did not avert his gaze from mine.

***

As darkness settled over the night.

Maximilian’s radical tax proposal had, overnight, spread throughout the entire Imperial Palace. Largely because Reutern II, that loose-lipped magpie, had spent the entire day chirping about how, “This is a policy truly for the Empire!”

“…It can’t be helped now.”

In the innermost chamber of the Imperial Palace, the Emperor was enraged.

And at the same time, pleased.

He was pleased with Maximilian’s loyal legislative proposal—and enraged by the ever-cowardly conduct of Ken Steiner.

It was unavoidable.

The Emperor had favored Ken Steiner for decades, but the two had aged in different directions.

“That man has grown old.”

The Emperor’s confidant, Chief of Staff Grossman, murmured quietly as he smoked a cigar.

Before him stood Werner, the Director of the Intelligence Bureau, a direct Imperial agency.

“His Majesty was very pleased with Maximilian’s proposal. With his loyalty as well. So we, too, must follow His Majesty’s will.”

Grossman exhaled a long stream of cigar smoke.

In truth, Maximilian’s meteoric rise was threatening enough to warrant some caution, even from Grossman.

But if the Emperor’s favor was tilting toward that side, there was no reason to resist. Rather, riding that wave and eliminating his political rival, Ken Steiner, would be to his advantage.

After all, power in the Imperial Palace was still fragmented beneath the Emperor, and Grossman was just one of many players.

“Handle it quietly.”

An order to fell Ken Steiner, the great tree that had sustained the Empire’s economy until now.

“Yes.”

The Intelligence Director bowed. He retreated backward out of the office.

─Ssshhh.

Grossman stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray. He gazed at the dying embers, lost in deep thought.

“Maximilian…”

The son of Sebestian, the heir of Ebenholtz.

Until now, Grossman had never tried to keep Ebenholtz in check. There had been no reason to. Sebestian had been a loyal retainer who moved only on the Emperor’s orders—the Emperor’s sword.

But what about Maximilian?

Would that young knight be like his father—or was he harboring something greater?

“I’ll have to keep an eye on him for now.”

Grossman was not one to let his guard down.

Gazing out at the darkness blanketing the Empire beyond the window, he simply pondered the future in which his own influence would be most secure…….

…….

Late one night.

K⁠⁠⁠‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌‌‌⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠‌‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠⁠‌‌⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠⁠⁠⁠‌⁠‌⁠‌‌‌‌‌⁠‌⁠⁠en Steiner left the Imperial Palace. These days, the National Assembly had him working relentlessly from dawn till dusk.

“Thank you for your hard work, sir.”

“You all worked hard as well.”

Receiving tired greetings from fellow Finance Ministry officials equally worn out, he dragged his weary body into the car.

“We’re departing now.”

He sank into the seat and headed back to his residence.

─Srrrrrrk.

The black sedan glided smoothly onto the road.

The same familiar route he’d taken for decades since his starting days in the ministry.

While thinking about the future of the Empire, they reached a dark and narrow path where streetlights were sparsely scattered.

─Screeeeech!

Suddenly, a car in front of them stopped and blocked the road.

“…Hm?”

The driver furrowed his brow. He tried to reverse and turn around, but another vehicle was now right on their tail.

“What the…”

They were completely boxed in.

Ken silently bit his lip.

“What, what the…?”

As the panicked driver fumbled, someone stepped out from the car in front.

“…….”

Ken Steiner stared at the man through the window.

Under the fragmented glow of the streetlights, a blond knight came into view.

Maximilian.