Type-Moon Simulation: Starting with Conquering a Greek Goddess!-Chapter 534: Magi Are Also Different

"As for who we are?

We belong to an organization of the United States, but some of us just happen to be magi. From the very beginning, I was a spy planted by the United States in Britain.

However, the King of Britain is indeed remarkable, as dangerous as the legends say. He forced us to abandon all our pieces and choose to cut our losses."

"I see, you were a spy from the US from the start... I lost to you in terms of intelligence...

But do you really think you can stop anything? Don’t think that no one knows what you’re up to!

You’re not the only ones making moves!"

Langal smiled with blood in his mouth.

This made Faldeus uneasy.

The cold gaze contained fervor, as if the old man wasn’t looking at the disciple who betrayed him, but was instead looking up to worship some more sacred and inviolable existence in the distance.

"Hahahaha! You can’t win! You absolutely can’t win! You little punk! Soon, you’ll realize how ignorant and foolish you are!"

Langal laughed wildly.

He didn’t care about the large hole in his chest, and suddenly opened his arms to pull the transparent, sharp ether lines.

In an instant, the trees within ten meters around him were cut to pieces.

It was as if an invisible monster was closing its jaws, tearing and chewing a part of the forest.

"..."

Faldeus didn’t move.

Langal had already lost to the man before him in the mutual deception of magi.

At the moment when the ether lines were about to tear the man apart—

Suddenly, the old magus’s temple was shot with a slight impact, and everything came to an end at that moment.

Bang—!!

A heavy cracking sound rang out.

The bullet, which easily pierced the old man’s skull, scattered with the decelerating lead, burning through the sea of brain marrow while jumping and swimming.

The bullet, which did not penetrate, twisted and bounced repeatedly in the brain marrow, and the old man’s body immediately stopped moving.

Then—the old man clearly appeared to be dead at a glance, but dozens more bullets were fired again in a form of hot pursuit.

The directions did not come from the same place, which shows that they were fired in coordination with the firing interval, from more than ten snipers.

This was obvious overkill, an obstinate destruction.

The old body was like a marionette dancing to the rhythm, its weak limbs slowly raised.

With red splashes as the background,

it turned and danced with a rattling sound.

Finally, he fell into a pool of blood with wide eyes, motionless.

"..."

Faldeus didn’t say a word until the end.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to say it, but that he couldn’t.

Looking closely, one would find dozens of ether lines covering every vital point of his hands, feet, and neck.

If they got one millimeter closer, they would cut Faldeus into a pile of minced meat like cutting tofu.

The trees that had been chopped to pieces on the ground earlier were the best example.

"Damn it... these British monsters...!"

Without knowing when, Faldeus’s back was soaked with cold sweat, and his face turned pale.

He had prepared to this extent.

He had even taken the heart of the old magus, the source of his magecraft, but he still almost lost his life.

It was hard to imagine how many times he would have to die if he faced an Age of Gods magus head-on.

What was even more outrageous was that the person who was shot was just a puppet, not Langal himself.

Men in camouflage uniforms, in units of dozens, spread out in the forest behind Faldeus.

The unit uniformly wore black eye-revealing masks, and each held a crude but precise black object in their hands—that is, an assault rifle with a silencer.

The men didn’t show any expression, and it was impossible to even tell their race. One of them approached Faldeus, straightened his posture, and saluted him while saying, "Report, no abnormalities in the surrounding area."

"Ah, good work, but be careful. You don’t understand magi very well, and you don’t know what kind of existence British magi are..."

Faldeus said softly to his subordinates with a contrasting attitude.

He removed the ether lines from his body.

This was what it meant to survive a disaster.

The uniformed men who had been scattered around him were now lined up neatly, listening to Faldeus’s words without a word.

"Although ordinary magi are not mages, that only applies to magi outside of Britain. When dealing with British magi, you must be cautious, and then be cautious again.

Let me think... you can think of ordinary magi as serial killers. And you can think of British magi as demons and monsters from myths.

That’s how big the gap is between us and them. Even if they are beheaded or crushed to pieces, they may not die..."

Faldeus said as he walked to the old man’s body.

Then, he continued:

"Ordinary magi cannot withstand anti-tank rifles, and if they are directly hit by missiles, they will basically be confirmed dead. But these British monsters are an exception."

"...What does this mean? Mr. Faldeus."

Faldeus smiled and threw a part of the corpse to one of his subordinates who spoke in a stiff tone.

The subordinate caught the corpse without changing his expression, staring at what he originally thought was just a piece of fingertip.

Immediately, he said in horror, unable to speak: "Wh-!"

The cross-section of the meat block illuminated by the light was indeed bright red, and it did reveal white bones. However, there was a decisive difference.

The slender capillaries of the meat block and bones were like wriggling maggots and poisonous snakes.

They were still alive.

These blood-red nematodes were tearing at the man’s uniform.

This frightened the man and he subconsciously threw it away.

He was afraid that these blood worms would crawl into his brain through his eyes in the next moment.

"How should I put it, even the blood vessels other than the magic circuits have been tempered by magecraft. Mr. Langal really came to Snowfield City fully armed this time."

Faldeus squatted down to examine the old man’s body on the ground.

"However, this is just a puppet. After all, Mr. Langal belongs to MI5, a cunning intelligence agent.

He’s not the kind of idiot who would let his main body come to this kind of place. His main body is probably in a branch of the Association, or yelling in anger in his workshop."

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