The Imperial Hunter

I walked forward within the shaking vehicle. The driver’s seat and the passenger seat erupted into chaos as they detected my approach.

What should we do? What should we do, damn it?! I don’t know, you bastard!

The two men, exchanging words like this, breathing heavily, made them resemble sacrificial lambs in a cheap horror movie trailer.

As if trying to knock me down, the swaying of the vehicle to the left and right sent the wounded gunner tumbling away from the turret seat.

Slide, thud.

He was a would-be corpse that had been gasping for breath since clutching his wounds, clutching them since I had trampled his throat and kicked it repeatedly, and then I used my telekinesis to levitate two grenades, removed the safety pins and held them in mid-air, the pins not yet released.

Clang-

“You monster, die!”

A hail of heavy .45 ACP bullets poured out from the open small steel sliding window facing the driver’s seat, but I defended against this short submachine gun volley. I projected the two grenades, crossing them, as my opponent was reloading the magazine. The grenades, entering through the narrow window, struck the front armor of the driver’s seat and bounced off, causing two Sicarios to duck for cover.

“Ugh!”

Concise last words. As the Sicario in the passenger seat frantically tried to grab the grenade, a pair of explosions swept through both seats. The faces and limbs of the two were torn apart as well as the external observation monitor, which also sparked and lost its screen. Nevertheless, the accelerator pressed by the corpse continued to propel the truck into a rampage. Now, there was no magical field enveloping the driver’s seat. Instead of braking the vehicle, I remotely turned the steering wheel, changing the driver, and then rushed to the rear exit, pushing it open and leaping onto the road.

Boooom-

As it swerved and accelerated, the Narco Tank charged fiercely toward my subordinates, who had been resisting with sporadic gunfire. A relentless onslaught, pushing aside three vans in succession. This was a disaster for the armored Sicarios, who were used to absorbing gunfire with their bodies and crawling on all fours.

Ku-gung, thud!

The sound of heavy human bodies colliding like deer. Three of the armored Sicarios became sacrificial lambs for the monster truck, as it passed over them.

“My legs, my legs!”

Despite being hit by the monster truck’s collision and twice by the large tires, one Sicario, thanks to his thick armor, managed to cling to life, but the joints below his waist were twisted, rendering him immobile. Another, sinking into the water, had no time to struggle and was submerged without a trace, while one, after being struck, immediately spat out blood and died. The charging truck, now without magical fields around the driver’s seat, charged into the dock, crushing the main yacht, and plunged into the water, disappearing.

Thud!

Cartridges flew out from the rifle’s chamber. The one with a twisted lower body bled from his eye sockets as he lay motionless. As I turned away from the shooter, the last surviving members of the Plaza elite who had been leaking water from their groins, no longer had the strength to resist. Like the ability users from the Narco Tank, they had felt my presence long ago. Unlike the previously frenzied resistance, they now knelt side by side, laying down their weapons. Like the Narco Tank’s occupants, the awakened ability users had probably sensed my presence long ago. They were on the verge of accepting their fate, unlike the Sicarios who had been charging forward.

Of course, it wasn’t because of strong determination, but rather because my mind was blank, and I mindlessly continued firing my gun. It was a common occurrence when an accident left you paralyzed.

“I-I surrender, boss! Please spare my life!”

Bang!

A metallic flame burst from the guy who had called me boss. The relatively small gunshot echoed near the shattered dock.

“Who do you think can surrender on their own? Fight, fight, you scoundrels!”

This young woman’s cry, mixed with 80% fear, 10% anger, and 10% venom, was directed at the two Sicarios with steel-clad heads and bodies who had wasted bullets uselessly on her before. She, who had a golden gun in her hand, struggled to change the magazine with trembling hands and then aimed the muzzle at me.

This was true determination.

“Die!”

Bang!

With a single shot, the woman’s head exploded. Her long hair scattered like chaff in the sea breeze. She might or might not have realized it, but she was also an awakened ability user, albeit with very weak power.

“Ugh…”

The Cartel local lord, clutching his pierced calf, turned away with an expression of disdain as his lover’s head exploded.

Combat members under Kyung-tae and others emerged from hiding spots along the roadside, bushes, and storefronts that had turned into a battlefield. The recent sniper shot had been fired by Kyung-tae. He extended a gun with traces of warmth left and bowed his head towards me.

“You’ve really been through a lot, hyungnim!”

“You’re the ones who went through it. Compared to the previous fights, this was nothing.”

The difference between combat members who had to conceal my identity as a mage and those who didn’t was too vast. If the Narco Tank had been manned by British agents with communication equipment, the fight wouldn’t have been as easy as it was now. It would be nice if I could magically interfere with communication devices. No, if I did that, they would track me down as the source.

I pushed aside these distracting thoughts. I aimed the rifle at the eye sockets of the two Sicarios who had surrendered and pulled the trigger one by one. Those who had lost their will to resist died lifelessly. Their bodies fell with a dull thud, making a dull sound.

“Get the keys. All three of them.”

“Yes.”

Kyung-tae, in response to my words, pointed to two nearby subordinates, and they immediately moved. One of them aimed a gun at El Juego’s head, while the other disarmed him and searched him for the yacht keys. Other subordinates had already secured two keys from the bodies of the dead bosses. Their names were Kolako and Guayo.

The weapon my subordinate had taken was a golden pistol that seemed to pair well with the dead woman, a classic model (M1911) that had been around for over a hundred years. Normally, it should weigh around 1.3 kilograms, including the magazine, but it felt quite solid due to the excessive use of gold, adding an unusual weight to it when I reached out to take it.

“What’s your identity?” 

El Juego asked us in English, his pronunciation was strong but somewhat awkward.

“No matter how you look at it, you’re not British… Are you Chinese? Triad guys?”

Despite his pale face and trembling body, his words remained brazen. He listened to our conversation in English and seemed to be guessing our identities. He might still think there was a reason for keeping him alive; the spark of cunning in his eyes began to flicker.

Unfortunate.

“Stand up.”

“Sir, judging from the state of my legs… um…”

The absence of a magical field meant that there was no basic safety distance to reject magical interference from others. It was different from corroding the flesh touched by others, but using telekinesis to manipulate the body like a doll was relatively easy. El Juego panicked as his body was lifted up.

“What, what is this?”

Whether he was trying to figure out our identities or not, I turned to Kyung-tae.

“I’ll take care of this guy. You can take care of the rest yourself.”

“Alright. Can I use some drugs? My subordinates are trying to make it look like they were shot.”

“That should be fine.”

After giving instructions, I moved ahead and forced the doll-like body to follow me toward the anchored yacht. Long crimson footprints stretched along the pier and the deck. Looking at the traces, anyone would think of the limping gait of someone with an injured leg.

“What… what in the world is this…”

El Juego’s crotch became a little damp. Originally assigned to guard the front, he now boarded the yacht, witnessing cocaine fly into my hand from the large stash of drugs and money, and then another one landed in my hand. He looked even more frightened. My cursed eyes even turned that hot glow into visual information.

Once in the cabin, what I did next was to cut open the cocaine’s packaging. A knife that happened to be stuck on the cabin table floated up as if possessed by a ghost and slashed the plastic packaging of the cocaine vertically. The clumps of cocaine fell onto the floor.

“Wa-wait…”

Trembling, El Juego tried to talk to me. He had become much more polite in his approach.

“What, what do you want from me? Are you even human?”

Ignoring his questions, I opened the wallet of the Plaza leader and pulled out a banknote. At the same time, on the cabin table, a line had been neatly drawn with high-purity cocaine, ready to be inhaled. The 1,000-peso banknote with Miguel Idalgo’s portrait on it served as a perfect tool to snort the cocaine, which had turned into a fine powder in mid-air.

“Please… what do you want…”

Thud.

I forcibly seated El Juego in a chair and placed a knife and a banknote straw in his trembling hands. His shaky hands grabbed the two tools, despite my control. As a result, his fingerprints were left on the knife handle, but I couldn’t control his breath.

“Do it.”

With a nod of my chin, I granted El Juego the freedom of his upper body. He hesitated for a moment, stiffening up and swallowing saliva. But as I pointed the golden pistol at his forehead, he finally leaned forward.

Snnnort!

Cocaine was drawn into his nostrils through a rolled-up banknote. El Juego tried to maintain his composure, sniffling a few times. Then, he spoke to me again.

“Look here. Sir? Or Boss? It seems like you want to… kill me, but if you’re a human, let’s, well, negotiate. I have a card in my wallet, a white card. It’s a secret account card in the Virgin Islands-“

“Bank with a secret account, right?”

“Yes.”

“I’m not interested.”

Secret accounts, where customer information was only referenced by numbers, were known to be provided only by Swiss banks to the public. However, in reality, various banks in different countries, including the UK’s Crown Dependencies, Monaco, Luxembourg, Singapore, Ireland, Hong Kong, and more, were competitively offering similar products.

Oddly enough, Switzerland prohibited the legal opening of anonymous secret accounts. Banks were required to know the exact identity of their customers, and they had an obligation to confirm that the customer’s money was not of illegal origin.

At least that’s what the law said.

El Juego’s secret account in the Virgin Islands was one of the Crown Dependencies, a dark economic hub where black money from all over the world flowed in. The Queen of England was a monarch who traditionally infringed on the public interest for the sake of her and the royal family’s private interests.

The keys for the yacht fit perfectly into the wheel next to the helm. While my subordinates were bustling back and forth on the yacht, El Juego, who still couldn’t let go of the remnants of life, whispered temptingly from behind me.

“The, the money inside is around five, five million seven hundred thousand dollars…”

I’m not interested. Banks had their own standards. When a customer disappeared, some banks were more like institutions with entirely different public images and realities. Banks that dealt with criminals were especially so. I didn’t recognize the format of El Juego’s card number. Banks I didn’t know couldn’t be trusted.

I could hear the busy footsteps of my subordinates going back and forth between the yacht and the pier. El Juego shook his head. His pupils were dilated, and it was getting to the point where it was okay to kill him. If I killed him too quickly, his heart would stop before the drugs had fully taken effect, so I waited for a moment.

I placed the pistol on the table and exited the cabin. The door closed by itself, and the self-locking mechanism engaged. In the sealed space, El Juego was left alone, and once again, against his own will, his hand gripped the golden pistol. He screamed.

“No, no, no!”

Desperate cries from the cartel regional lord who had a premonition of death. His brain was colored with intense nerve signals, and every muscle in his body struggled to resist the force. Despite his frantic resistance, his index finger entered the trigger guard, and the muzzle pressed against his temple.

“Save me!”

Bang!

A gunshot echoed, and through the hole that the bullet made, bits of brain and brain matter sprayed out. It was a sealed-room murder with no room for suspicion, as the evenly distributed magical force wouldn’t leave any specific marks. I completed the job by sabotaging the yacht’s engine.

With this, all the hunting in this harbor was over.

My body was weary, my mind sluggish, but a strong hunger gnawed at me. Should I sleep first, or eat first? I looked at the piles of cocaine scattered on the deck with a slightly numb mind.

In the meantime, near the southern naval base, a series of explosions occurred. The early morning darkness was illuminated by the shaking red light.

Disclaimer:

This novel is a work of fiction! While it may incorporate elements inspired by our "real" historical world, including historical events, settings, and cultures, it is important to note that the story and characters are entirely products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real persons, living or deceased, or actual events is purely coincidental. This work should be enjoyed and interpreted as a work of fiction and not as a representation of historical facts or reality.

Also, if you find some error in translation please do let me know by tagging me (@_dawn24) in our Discord server. Since this series is kinda hard to translate. But I'll try my best to make it at least readable :)

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