Trapped in Another World With No Magic
Chapter 177: He Shall Fear No Evil…

KABOOM!

A powerful explosion forward of the bus carrying the Fievegal’s inner circle shakes everyone just as Daniel and Thymeria were discussing the implications of an assassin attempting to use a rifle, intercepted by Neith.

Hekate yells out, “What’s going on now!?”

“Magic!” cries out Doephluev. “We’re under large scale attack!”

As everyone’s making sense of the suddenness, Thymeria yelps and suddenly freezes up unnaturally. The same thing happens to Vaergraes and Aoloan, though the ground rumbles again.

Roeta yells, “Use your barriers! Magnir and I will go!”

The two dragons dive out of the side door meant for their immediate deployment, and Senn stands up, casting a barrier. “I thought the Fievegal’s technological superiority was going to make my life easier.”

“What’s wrong with Vae, Thymeria, and Aoloan!?” asks Hekate urgently.

Before anyone can answer, their physical forms flicker, and golems are left behind in the same posture as them.

“What!?” exclaims Yanidere. “What happened to them!?”

“They were illusions,” replies Doephluev, and the group braces themselves as the bus rattles from another explosion.

Jieka and Tekten are crying as they cling to Daniel, and he murmurs quietly, “I’m sorry, everyone.”

“Sorry? For what?” asks Hekate. He keeps holding the princesses, but he seems to become suddenly distant.

Almost soulless.

Doephluev and Ryuogriar glance at each other, and then they look to Senn. The elven sage remarks bluntly, “Of course I noticed immediately. More surprising is that most of these explosions are the Stalvaltan Guards.”

“You can tell that?” asks Yanidere as Geirahoel looks ready to attack something.

“I wouldn’t be a very good sage if I couldn’t tell who was using magic around me,” replies the elf. “Grand Duchess Aramellianna, do you know where Sir Helbeit is located?”

Aramellianna shakes her head, nervously clutching Wenlianna’s hand while trying to keep her own composure. It wasn’t long ago that she was caught in an attack involving explosive magic, and hear the rumbles is rattling her nerves more than she would have expected, even though she has the greatest magical powers of the world gathered around her.

Seeming to sense this in her descendants or their mother, Reignelif stands up and moves to sit between Aramellianna and Yanidere, the acting Grand Duchess until an official turnover takes place. She calmly states, “Mukori has much to answer for once again, but he acted with safety in mind.” She gestures at the fake Daniel’s hip, where Nemaisol is fastened to ‘his’ belt.

“Nemaisol?” asks Wenlianna quietly.

“It is likely how he was able to hide us from being detected, allowing his farce to play out.”

“But… Why isn’t Vae or Aoloan here?” asks Hekate, still trying to understand.

Kera’tai, having paid enough attention and mostly laid low, replies, “They’re tied to Thymeria.”

Gold, growing tired of listening to Jieka and Tekten crying, finally stands up and approaches them, scooping them both up from the lifeless doll that appears to be Daniel. “Come here, Gremlins. Auntie Gold will show you something cool.”

The two goblin princesses cry, and Ryuogriar warns, “Gold…”

“They need some fear if they’re going to understand the real world,” retorts the more brazen dragon matron. “Especially as the current Heiress and her immediate successor.”

The others try to urge her not to do anything, but Gold takes the two princesses outside.

“Hekate, stay with her and look after the princesses,” urges Ryuogriar. “We’ll protect everyone here if anything happens.”

The feldrok girl jogs after Gold, who is carrying the crying princesses together. “Gold!”

The dragon is walking fearlessly through a strange battle zone. The Stalvaltan Guards are in full attack mode, while strange creatures spring out of a mist that has appeared. Thankfully, the elite spellswords that escort the Stalvaltan family are among the best of the best. Even Magnir and Roeta are simply providing support, since their fire breath could do far more collateral damage than necessary.

The beasts are bright red and purple canine-like creatures with pitch black eyes and ghastly, smoke-like fur as they viciously and fearlessly try to swarm the circle of warriors defending the caravan, seemingly emerging from the smoke.

Gold approaches one of the knights calling out orders and providing magic artillery support from the bed of one of the actual troop transports. “Captain!” shouts the dragon as the goblin princesses cling to her. She has both of them seated on her left arm, and the Stalvaltan officer notices her. “L-Lady Gold? Please return to the-...”

“This is a summoning spell. Do you have soldiers searching for the summoner?”

“Yes, my Lady,” replies the Captain without missing a beat. He is quick to accept that arguing with Gold is pointless, though he does look at the princesses. “We don’t have specialized mage hunters in this detail, but one of our senior Guardsmen recognized the summoning mist right away. The two best ways to deal with it are to drain the mana by slaying the beasts in massive numbers, or kill the summoner himself. A strike squad is searching.”

“Good. I’m going to check on the Emperor, then.”

“Th-The Emperor?” asks the Stalvaltan soldier. He glances at the vehicle, which Hekate only now notices that it looks like it’s one of the troop trucks, complete with the backs of soldiers visible between the ‘gaps’ in the ‘fabric covering’ of the truck.

He didn’t tell me any of this… thinks the feldrok girl to herself.

She suddenly perks up, and her ears go rigid. She tilts them carefully to pinpoint the faint voice she just heard.

Meanwhile, Gold is already walking in a direction, and one of the wolf-like beasts leaps out of the mist straight for her.

Jieka and Tekten both scream, prompting Hekate’s defense mode to kick in, but the wolf yelps once before hanging limply in Gold’s iron grip of her free right hand. While it’s ‘alive’ for the moment, as much as a magically summoned artificial beast can be, it is paralyzed by a magical attack simple enough that the dragon doesn’t even need to chant.

“Why are you girls screaming?” asks Gold confidently. “I don’t call just anyone my Gremlins. So long as I live, I will protect you. Were it not for fear of the Harbinger’s wrath, I would keep you as my own little ones. But alas, you are the daughters of the Harbinger. If you wish to stand alongside your Papa, you have to become strong and brave. These weaklings should be nothing to you when you become stronger.” She flexes one finger noticeably, and then ‘taps’ the monster’s head, causing it to evaporate. “That wasn’t even a fraction of my childhood’s power. If you do not become at least this strong, your Papa will get hurt someday.”

This final sentence causes both goblin girls, who are clinging to Gold’s chest, to open their eyes wide. They surely don’t understand everything she said, but the last part hits home.

Gold says gently, “Thankfully, you have me and lots of others who will happily help you…”

SLAM!

The ground quakes as a body lands in front of Gold, compact from landing in a crouch, but having created an indent in the solid ground. When he stands up, his grey armor, steel-like horns and tail, and imposing posture denote him as the highest ranking person of the Fievegal, other than Daniel, the Empresses, and Aramellianna and Gold.

“Sir Neith, it would have been far too late if this were a real emergency.”

Neith growls in retort, which startles Gold a little, “I have chosen to protect my Liege and his loved ones, which are many. Bringing them out here was reckless and distracting to those of us charged with protecting our lords.”

Gold was going to tease him and be indignant, but she can sense the genuine anger and sincerity in his words. He truly does live to serve as the Fievegal’s most trusted knight, and because of the slip-ups that he has been part of, he takes it even more seriously.

“I’m sorry… There is nothing here that could threaten me, and I intended to protect them, but I didn’t think about the implications on the rest of the guards and knights. Please forgive me, but I did have a good reason for doing this.”

“And what is that?” growls the dragon, keeping an eye on the situation by listening and glancing around. “The girls were frightened, but they are his daughters. They need to have at least a taste, and to know that they can rely on us. They need to rely on us, until they’re stronger.”

“They are less than a year old…!”

“Did that stop what they did!?” shouts the blonde in reply. She can feel the princesses squeeze her dress more tightly, and she forces herself to relax. Neith, thankfully, notices as well.

“Shouldn’t you be watching over your Liege, anyways?” asks Gold bluntly.

“I was told to intervene only once I have my targets captured,” replies the knight. “Daniel is wearing his armor, so he will be able to endure for a time.”

“Where is he?” asks Hekate.

Bang!

While not deafening, since it’s a little far away, the distinct sound of a different weapon than the rifles the golems and Stalvaltan battlemages are using stands out to Hekate, as if to serve as a beacon of where her favorite person in the world is.

“Daniel!” exclaims Hekate. She starts to run that direction, and Gold says confidently, “Return to your tasks, Sir Neith. I’ll sincerely apologize at length for disrupting you, but I’ll look after the Gremlins and the Harbinger.”

“Do not play any more games, Lady Gold. Please.”

She bows her head, and Neith takes off, flying back into the obscuring mist.

Gold hears one of the Stalvaltan men shout, “West side across the river! We need the Dragonslayers!”

She isn’t sure if they’re talking about the rifles, or the two Stalvaltan Knights who helped bring down Yaulwembor. Since they’re effectively one in the same, though, it’s probable that they want a sniper to take out the summoner keeping the group under attack.

I COULD take him out myself, but the battle is under control to an almost laughable degree. No, I better keep my basic promises and focus on making sure the Harbinger hasn’t gotten himself into more trouble than he can handle.

Gold walks briskly after Hekate, then lifting into flight when Hekate scans the cliff ahead for Daniel and the wreckage of the attacked bus.

Just as she’s about to jump down, Gold snatches Hekate by the collar of her dress, saying, “That dress you’re wearing costs more than the castle we’re going to, your Greatness.”

“But, he’s down there!”

“Yes. And, look at him. He seems fine.”

Hekate, Gold, Jieka, and Tekten all watch as Daniel faces off against three people, with Thymeria bound and gagged in a blanket on the ground behind him, and Aoloan and Vaergraes hidden inside the bus. Since Gold can’t specifically sense any of them with mana, Daniel obviously used anti-magic materials to entrap and disable Thymeria.

As anyone might expect with anything, though, there’s a time-limit on Daniel’s mana negation. It’s hardly an exact science, since even Daniel doesn’t know entirely why it works, speculating that it has something to do with wavelengths and resonance, or something similar. There are times when Gold can do nothing but listen and stare when the human from another world speaks. She does admire him and his ability to adapt his own world’s clearly superior technology to the vastly different magic systems of this world.

But, he also knows when to separate them and exploit those differences to destroy his enemies.

Gold adds, “If you were to ruin your dress, the Harbinger will scold you. Trust our allies he willingly turns his back to. It’ll be fine.”

Hekate reluctantly relaxes, her ears and tail drooping, while Jieka points and exclaims, “Papa!”

“That’s right, Princess. Papa is going to show you why you don’t need to be afraid.”

Both girls watch, though no matter what, Hekate knows it’s probably not for the eyes of children.

***

The assassins meant to target Daniel have shown their true faces, and Daniel is unimpressed. He pulls the trigger of the revolver, and the hammer strikes, doing nothing else. With only a light flinch, the assassins realize Daniel has lost his ability to attack at range. Since it’s widely known that his power as ‘the Harbinger of Calamity’ is a rumor only because his weapons weren’t understood at the time, they are reassured in the fact that they can kill him.

After all, they all specialize in melee combat, while Daniel fights at range and using surprise attacks. Not only do the assassins have the element of surprise, but they have the skill advantage as well.

It is a perfect matchup for them.

Or, so the assassins believe.

“I hope you’re ready to have your guts spilled on the ground, ‘Harbinger of Calamity’,” threatens the bearded lip-licker assassin.

“Yeah. And, one by one, your tainted harlots will be defiled and killed by us. Oh-ho-ho! How I can’t wait to slit their throats and taste their blood myself,” taunts the tall skinny man. He hangs his tongue out of his mouth like a panting dog, laughing as he does.

“It probably tastes like the trash they are,” retorts the short brickstack as he prepares the final straw for Daniel in this moment, his dagger looming in front of his face as the man makes no effort to hide his malicious grin.

“Are you done?” asks Daniel, holstering his revolver. He reaches to the back of his belt, where he has a dagger, but instead, he starts giving a simple hand signal.

“What?” asks the bearded man.

“Well, your threats are empty. I’ve already killed people and creatures far more powerful than you, so you’re really just wasting your time and mine. One of them was even a suddenly-shounen clown like you three.”

All three of the assassins laugh together before the bearded man warns deviously, “You should watch your tone with us.”

The shorter man takes a jab next, “Or maybe you’d like to test your skills against our Sturykanu!” He twirls a dagger in each hand, making sure to lick each one with a big, malicious grin.

“Oh really? ‘Stir-canoe,’ you say?” asks Daniel with feigned interest. He whips his arm up to reveal the double-barreled shotgun placed in his hand behind his back by Aoloan, and the three assassins only have time to flinch before the terrifying report of both barrels thunders out.

The combined blast of the conjoined 8 gauge scattergun nearly knocks Daniel’s arm out of its socket, which is nothing compared to the devastation inflicted on his targeted assassin, the knife-licker, sending him flopping backwards in a spray of blood.

“Doesn’t matter,” finishes the mechanic as he breaks the barrel open. The spent shells spring out with trails of smoke following behind them.

“You bastard!” screams the lip-licker, and Daniel calmly takes two more shells from Aoloan, feeding them into the breech of the shotgun as the assassins rage at their deceased comrade.

The signals he gave moments ago started with a finger-gun after she whispered for his attention, telling him, “Daniel! Double-staff!” Thankful for her involvement, he prayed Aoloan was paying attention to his own signals. He started a countdown from three with his fingers, and as soon as he felt the grip land in his hand, the battle became his.

The shotgun kept in the cabin of the buses is a double-barrel, which have advantages and disadvantages over tube-fed pump-action or semi-auto models. For starters, his is a double-trigger, partially because he’s not sure how the mechanism of a single-trigger double-barrel works having never disassembled one, and also because it allows the shooter to discharge both rounds with virtually one trigger pull, which is what he did to get the loudest sound he could possibly generate with the tools on hand.

Double-barrels are also relatively quick to reload at the cost of only having two shots to fire.

And now, Aoloan is already holding up a pair of shells for Daniel as he flips the weapon open, ejecting the smoking spent shells between. He takes the shells from the succubus, who is bruised and a little weary, but doing the best she can to help. If she was a part of the conspiracy, she would have bided her time or continued to feign unconsciousness until she could escape or finish Daniel herself. She even could have used the shotgun to shoot him in the back, since it would pretty easily incapacitate him at a minimum, even if his armor withstood the shot.

The mechanic is pretty happy with the outcome, even if he might’ve been screwed without Aoloan’s help.

However, as he pondered before, he’s thankful that he pays attention, since he noticed a very obvious and almost gaudy glimmer of gold from the clifftop, adorned in a fancy blend of golden-green that goes well with her colors, or the vivid blue worn by the highest sovereign of the Fievegal standing next to her, accented by black hair and ears, and a big black tail.

Gold, I’m going to punch you really hard during our next duel. I swear it.

The mechanic closes the barrels of the shotgun to cock the weapon and finish the reload, taunting the surviving assassins with a dry tone. “He was as stupid as you look, licking a knife blade like an idiot. Though, I guess Suddenly Shounen characters are meant to look stupid.”

The bearded man is enraged and frustrated, and he demonstrates that perhaps his habit of licking his lips for no reason has become a sort of mental tic because he became so habitual about it. Daniel is the furthest thing from a psychologist, and he loathes the field of study, even if it has its merits, which caused him to begrudgingly pay even a little attention. So, he can’t diagnose these three men as anything other than what he already knows; suddenly shounen villains. Daniel is rapidly becoming an expert in the field of ‘Suddenlyshounenology’, topical name pending.

So, when the bearded man licks his lips in his angry state, Daniel chalks it up to them simply being disposable NPCs and takes aim. “You won’t get away with this!” screams the man, feinting to the right before he darts forward. He uses magic to create illusions and flickers of light, but Daniel’s helmet has his newest prototypical visor, which he hasn’t used much yet. He doesn’t entirely know how polarization is achieved on Earth, but he knew how to describe the idea, and Xyreko, Ahok, and the manufacturing teams worked together to develop a few different attempts. The light is bright for the human, but far from effective.

And, three, two, and one.

Suddenly, the illusions cease, and the man stumbles, as if he got a sudden cramp or a bout of lightheadedness swooped over him. His angered and malicious expression turns to horror as the realization comes over him, and he looks at Daniel only to find the twin maw of a ‘demon staff’ much larger and more powerful than the pistols the assassin and his comrades are carrying.

“Mer-” BANG!

The man is cut-off and forever silenced by the doom-bringing report of the huge shotgun, which even one barrel is enough to stumble Daniel slightly from the recoil. Considering he’s using #0 buckshot with a short barrel, sometimes referred to as ‘single-aught buckshot’, it would be fair to describe his weapon as a cone of death. It’s not quite the master of destruction that the likes of the SPAS-12 or even more formidable AA-12 would be considered for their time, but his gun contains almost twice as many buckshot pellets as the equivalent 12 gauge load at a mean 27 pellets, meaning that death is almost guaranteed for most humanoid targets caught in the Cone of Death.

And, the assassins appear to be nothing more than humans.

Daniel aims at the third assassin, the tall and skinny man with the spiky ‘tribal’ tattoo, as the Earthling mechanic would describe it, and the man manages to laugh at the unfortunate fate of his comrades. His tongue is still hanging out of his mouth in his manic and gleeful expression, but Daniel can only think one thing.

Is he trying to catch flies like that?

The mechanic-turned-emperor taunts the dead bearded man, “You should’ve taken better care of your lips.”

“What?” asks the tongue-hanging tattooed man as he cocks his head, reaching behind him for his own pistol.

“Hmm? Oh, I was talking to him.” Daniel shrugs towards the bearded man. “He was obviously licking his lips because they’re chapped, right? I mean, otherwise he, along with you, also looked like a complete moron. Not the edgy badasses a more youthful writer might think you are.”

“Ke-hee!” scoffs the lanky assassin. “You truly are an arrogant one. There must not be an abundance of skilled fighters in your world. But let’s see how you handle this!”

The assassin whips his hand out from under his cloak, aims, and pulls the trigger. Daniel doesn’t move.

It’s not that the human from Earth is such a giga-chad that he would bravely face down being shot at without even a single flinch. It’s rather a combination of fear and bracing himself to enact what he knows.

And, he knows that the earliest firearms, especially muzzle-loaded, single-shot, flint-lock pistols, are horrendously inaccurate at the distance the two are standing apart. Minie ball-designs alleviate this to some degree, but even a practiced fantasy-world assassin hoping to outshoot an American is going to struggle to make an unrifled weapon hit its target at ten-plus yards. The pistol booms and white smoke erupts from the barrel, and Daniel twitches, clenching his eyes closed with gritted teeth. Even if the bullet hits, his armor should protect his most vital points.

He hears metal-shriek against metal as a fairly light knock glances his outer left-thigh, and he lets out a sigh, though he can hear Aoloan and Vaergraes both scream in surprise. Hopefully, neither of them has been hit, but their wounds should be relatively minimal as long as it wasn’t an immediately fatal shot. Daniel cheated with his first rifle and revolver to emulate the magic of the modern age producing FMJ, or full metal jacket rounds that use precise tolerances in their designs to ‘squash’ the bullet itself against the rifling of the barrel and force spin of the projectile. He accomplished this initially using a softer ‘jacket’ for his bullets, as well as a paper sabot for some bullets, which granted him the same advantages without needing quite so precise machine measurements.

With his Citadel ‘summoned’ parts, he was able to have Xyreko produce those machine tolerances, allowing for the precision of modern weapons, which are in effect on the shotgun.

All that is to say, even if Rikuto can explain the principles of projecting a chunk of metal at roughly supersonic speeds, no one in this world can yet go toe to toe with Daniel’s intimate knowledge of modern weaponry, and what makes them as effective as they are.

The mechanic joined the US Navy for a reason. And, though he was disappointed by the true nature of being a ‘dirty blue shirt’, according to certain officers he dealt with, he truly and continues to believe in the principles the military is supposed to uphold, not least of which is the right of every citizen to protect their Constitution-given rights of and via speech, privacy, and the right to bear arms. He has and will always believe in the right to self-determination the United States provided, especially at its best of times. He tries to take a mostly libertarian approach to running the Fievegal; where the Fievegal’s government minimizes its own presence and impact in the lives of the citizens, and in turn, he hopes for, and has not yet been disappointed, that when the Fievegal calls for service, the willing will fight for the Fievgal.

Standing at the pinnacle of the Willing is a human mechanic of Earth, aiming a roughly 8-bore shotgun at an assassin trying to kill him because of his steadfast desire to bring peace and equality to a war-manipulated continent.

But, Daniel expects one more thing to happen, since of course it has to happen that way.

Should I gamble with myself? thinks the mechanic as he steadies his aim on the last remaining assassin in play. Sure. Why not. ‘Thousand bucks says this guy survives.’

Daniel pulls the remaining trigger on his double-barrel shotgun, and the barrel spits a massive burst of fire, just as the other shots did. A spray of metal pellets is cast forth with ballistic speeds, spreading rapidly in a wide field as they reach for the lanky tattooed assassin with the unfeeling fury of Death himself.

And, either because he thought it and jinxed himself, or because the assassin is actually competent, or even because he’s simply a suddenly shounen villain, the pellets ricochet off of a previously invisible barrier.

The assassin flinches back a step, which is a natural response to a clap of thunder that is known to elicit the icy touch of the Grim Reaper. But, he is unscathed from the shot due to the barrier and his distance from the bus and the people who emerged from it, because Daniel used polonium powder to negate Thymeria’s magic. Beard-man fell for the ruse, closing the distance on Daniel and losing any protections he believed he had, while Stocky-man carved his own face under his own strength.

“Yep. Typical shounen villain. Unkillable because the story needs it to be so.” While Daniel teases the idea every now and then, he’s not actually convinced he’s some protagonist of a story being posted on the internet. If that were the case, he’d hope he would be one of those protagonists that is overpowered with all kinds of cheat skills and doesn’t need to have any personality, personal skills, or any real intelligence whatsoever to be the coolest and bestest ever of all the things.

And yes, he knows that’s a poor-grammar way of looking at it.

All of that said, he’s certainly going to call out nonsense when he sees it.

The assassin recovers his posture, realizing that he hasn’t been killed in spite of the dramatic splash of sparks caused by the metal pellets hitting his magic barrier. It’s testament to the fact that most people who have ANY knowledge of what a firearm can do are instinctively programmed to fear gunshots aimed at them, even if they have the means to survive. Some can withstand this, but neither Daniel nor the tongue-hanging, suddenly-shounen villain he’s facing are among those people.

Regardless, the assassin recovers quickly, and his psychotic grin grows even wider. “Keh-heh! So, this is what the mighty ‘Harbinger of Calamity’ really amounts to?” He snickers in a devious and evil-sounding way. “Ke-... Keheeheeheehee!”

“What, are you a villain in a pirate anime?” asks Daniel dryly.

The assassin doesn’t care about Daniel’s reference. After all, he has no context for it.

Instead, he tosses his own useless spent pistol to the side and draws a second dagger. “You may have anti-magic around you, but you’ve also spent your [gun’s] loading.”

Daniel might’ve been surprised by the man using the English word for the weapon, since he rarely speaks his native tongue around anyone other than when he’s grumbling, cursing, or very occasionally, with his consorts. But, Rikuto knows at least some English as a Japanese man, since, as far as Daniel knows, rudimentary English is taught in many, if not most Japanese schools. And, on top of that, Rikuto was granted even more comprehensive English ‘understanding’ with magic when they first met. As far as the American knows, the spell has a time-limit, but he also wouldn’t eliminate the possibility that Rikuto was able to continuously keep himself capable of English using magic and any manipulation of how the spells work. Just off the top of his head, Daniel would have someone close learn English -or, more applicable, Japanese- from himself by having them use the spell and ‘steal’ the language from himself, and then ‘steal’ it back when his own effectiveness of the spell were to expire.

And, if that were the case, Daniel would be, and is, unsurprised by the assassin knowing even singular words that might’ve followed the ‘invention’ of rudimentary firearms in this world by a Japanese man that might’ve already known the katakana, or ‘loan word’ translation of the English words, or, using some method to preserve his comprehension of English, still knows the English word for ‘gun’.

So, Daniel is unfazed by the assassin trying to rattle him with English words. After all, English was one of the most widely used languages in the entire world on Earth during the time Daniel was there.

He’d be more surprised if the assassin spoke Russian or Spanish, since the mechanic might recognize the sounds and pronunciation, but otherwise wouldn’t expect to hear them on Zenkon.

With all that needs to be said having been spoken aloud, the third assassin flops his tongue out once more, dashing sideways to swoop in from Daniel’s flank, as if there is currently anyone to catch him off guard while his attention is on the tattooed man.

With Hekate and Gold apparently spectating, Daniel would be surprised if there are any other enemies alive at the moment.

Hekate may be a teen girl by Daniel’s standards, but she has killed many more ‘people’, since it’s arguable whether or not feral goblins, or ‘dumgobs’, count as ‘people’, than Daniel has to date.

The battle is between the Harbinger of Calamity and an assassin belonging to whatever mysterious group opposes the idea of peace in favor of puppeteered war profiteering.

Not that anything of the sort ‘ever’ happened on Earth, so Daniel is ‘completely’ caught off guard by the idea.

And by that, of course, the meaning is that he was expecting it all along. Thymeria and the backup suddenly shounen assassins only proved someone is working directly against the notion of peace, or even the bare minimum of a cease-fire.

Daniel flips the double-barreled shotgun open, ejecting the shells. Right on cue, the assassin restores his own predatory grin, only adjusting his tongue from the left side of his mouth to the right side.

With a ferocity characteristic to an assassin trying to complete the mission, the tongue-hanging member of the trio of ‘Loose Tongues’, as Daniel envisions them, launches himself forward.

***