When Dito and Anna first heard the older man speaking in Russian, the thought of replying in the same language crossed their minds.
However, acting like they could magically master it properly felt a bit unethical.
“Спасибо (Thank you).”
Instantly, Vladimir and Anna were utterly shocked.
Dito had suddenly spoken in Russian, even if it was just a single word, and his pronunciation and intonation were crystal clear.
Vladimir offered a faint smile.
“It’s been a very long time since I’ve met anyone who speaks fluent Russian,” Vladimir remarked.
“First time?
Is this the first time you’ve ever heard an outsider speak Russian?”
“I suppose…
that’s fair to say.”
Ultimately, Vladimir lowered his AK-47, unwilling to keep it trained on two unarmed teenagers.
He turned around, sliding his pistol and sniper rifle into his waist and back holsters, and walked into the L-3 Soviet submarine.
Once inside, the interior was spacious and completely unstaffed except for a blank-faced woman.
Her hands were busy typing out messages, tapping away rhythmically on the telegraph machine.
A monitor flashed to life, displaying the rewards earned from wiping out the band of outlaws: dozens of rounds of ammunition for an M1907 Carbine, two missiles as a bonus, and a tidy sum of fifty-three silver coins.
It was a rather fantastic payout.
Beside them, the party Vladimir had rescued stood gaping in disbelief, looking as though they had just crossed paths with a dangerous mob boss.
“I can’t believe this,” Damon muttered.
“You think this is unbelievable?
I’m just as shocked!” Christa chimed in.
“Well, it’s not like this ship is a bad thing, right?” Emily countered, trying to bring them back to reality.
Albert, however, didn’t seem swayed by Vladimir’s hospitality.
What really baffled him was the sudden appearance of these two mysterious newcomers—one wearing oddly patterned glasses, with some kind of metal contraption strapped to their waist.
Who on earth were they?
And why did they seem to know the old man?
I need to find out, Albert thought to himself.
“If you’re so curious about him, why don’t you just ask?” Dito said, casually checking the six-round cylinder of his revolver.
Can this guy read my mind?
Albert thought in a panic.
Before Albert could say anything, Dito cut him off.
He had zero interest in letting anyone pry into his and Anna’s history.
“Oi!
You’ve leveled up.
Time to spill your dark secrets.”
“Dark secrets?
What do you take me for, a lunatic?” Dito grumbled, pushing his glasses up.
In the end, Dito played his trump card, even though the look on his face made it clear he wasn’t happy about Anna blowing his cover.
“Fine…
I unlocked a new skill called [Mind Reading].
To be honest, it’s basically in the experimental phase—I just started using it.
But my range is pretty limited because my level is still so low.”
“No way, that’s impossible!
That’s way too bizarre!
As far as I know, [Mind Reading] isn’t a skill you can just toss around casually.
Even if someone does use it, the side effects usually drive them insane or kill them outright.
Why do you look totally fine?” Albert blurted out, completely stunned.
“About that…”
Anna herself wasn’t sure how to answer, and neither was Dito, the actual owner of the skill.
Slowly, Anna drifted away, her eyes scanning the submarine’s crew compartment.
She noticed that one of the operators was entirely automated, while a swarm of miniature robots scurried across the floor, running diagnostics and repairs on the systems.
“If you’re planning on playing the antagonist toward that man, you’d better give up now.”
“What do you mean?” Emily asked. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
“Look, that man holds soldiers and personal honor in the highest regard.
As long as you show him respect, he’ll respect you right back.
But the moment you act hostile, he’ll treat you like a prisoner of war.
I guarantee it…”
Everyone fell silent at Dito’s warning, leaving the five adventurers thoroughly bewildered.
Meanwhile, Dito walked off in the opposite direction from Anna, gently running his hand along the cold steel walls of the submarine cabin.
“Besides…
the machinery used in this L-3 submarine is absolute top-tier.
I have no idea why he chose this specific model, but honestly, its speed is phenomenal,” Anna observed.
Dito and the others turned to look at Anna, utterly baffled by her random burst of technical praise.
They had no idea how to respond to the bespectacled girl’s commentary.
“In other words, this ship is designed to be the toughest vessel anyone could ever step foot on.
Am I right?” Christa concluded.
“Spot on.
That’s why you five should consider yourselves lucky to have been saved by an old-timer like Vladimir,” Anna said, her expression hardening.
“And besides, he’s just like us—from the exact same world, just a different era.”
“A different era, you say?” Damon frowned.
“To put it simply, he comes from a time of war, whereas we come from an age of peace.”
~o0o~
Outside, Vladimir pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and took a slow drag as he gazed out over the waters of Roseldt.
He knew this region was dominated by the deepest stretches of the ocean—territory even he couldn’t fully predict.
He just hoped his systems would stabilize soon.
His mind flashed back to the moment he had slaughtered the soldiers and bandits blocking his path.
As he had turned around, his eyes had locked onto the five adventurers he’d inadvertently rescued, right in the middle of a tense conversation with one of them—a young man named Albert, if memory served him correctly.
Suddenly, an AI-modified drone hovered over to Vladimir to report on the battle results and the status of the ship.
As Vladimir twisted his torso to face it, his body suddenly seized up.
His blood vessels felt like they were freezing solid.
Clenching his teeth, Vladimir fought through the sudden wave of agony.
What is wrong with my body?
Why am I seizing up out of nowhere?
I don’t understand!
he groaned inwardly, pressing a heavy hand against his forehead as his jaw locked tight.
“Are you alright, Admiral?”
“I’m fine!
Escort them inside!
I’ll be there in a moment,” Vladimir ordered tightly.
“Understood, Admiral!”
The AI drone immediately complied, guiding the group inside while making polite conversation.
Vladimir couldn’t catch the details of their chat, but one thing was certain: he could vividly feel the intense hostility radiating from that one young man.
Albert had kept staring daggers at him the entire time.
His companions had looked exhausted, silently praying Albert wouldn’t do anything reckless.
The elderly officer pulled out his M1907 Carbine.
After using the AK-47, his accuracy with the rifle felt remarkably sluggish.
Even though Vladimir’s muscle memory was still there, he somehow needed to readjust, to ensure his preparation was airtight.
He refused to let a repeat of his fight with the black-armored man happen ever again.
Vladimir squeezed the trigger, firing a shot out toward the open sea.
The harsh cawing of distant seabirds shattered his focus, as if nature itself was trying to interfere with his training.
He let out a long, heavy sigh and shook his head sharply, forcing his eyes back onto his target.
Before starting his live-fire drills, he had instructed the AI to clear the submarine’s upper deck so he could practice in peace. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Bang!
Bang!
Gunshots echoed repeatedly across the metal hull as spent casings rained down onto the deck plates.
His targets were holograms—a brand-new technology to him, but one he was quickly learning to exploit.
Even so, Vladimir struggled to steady his vision.
His sight blurred, and his left hand trembled as he gripped the M1907 Carbine.
“Dammit!
The side effects are still lingering,” he cursed, gripping his arms tightly after slinging the rifle over his shoulder.
“Admiral, your blood pressure has spiked to 187, and your heart rate has surged to 130 and is still climbing toward a projected 147.
It is strongly recommended that you take deep breaths and rest,” the AI stated in its flat, synthetic tone.
Reluctantly, Vladimir heeded the advice.
He lowered his weapon and took a slow, deep breath, keenly aware that his psychological state was under abnormal strain, driving his heart into a frantic rhythm.
Slinging the M1907 Carbine back over his shoulder, he initiated a slow-breathing exercise.
He drew air in through his nose and exhaled steadily in a clockwise rhythm.
Gradually, the panic began to recede.
Not everyone walked away from these kinds of harrowing experiences unscathed, but Vladimir was determined not to let himself succumb to full-blown PTSD.
Fragments of the past haunted him, clawing at the edges of his mind.
He tried desperately to erase the memories of World War II and the harrowing days that followed, but it was all for naught.
If anything, it only brought back vivid memories of his younger days.
~o0o~
Back in his youth, Vladimir had meticulously cleaned every single part of his rifle, wiping away the lingering dust with a rag.
As he moved to step inside, a man in a sharp suit appeared, barking orders at his bodyguards to protect him.
One by one, however, the guards were picked off.
A sniper rifle cracked loudly in the distance.
Vladimir had moved with lightning speed, setting up the bipod of his M1907 Carbine in a flash.
His right index finger brushed the trigger, his right eye pressed firmly against the scope as he locked in his target.
The suit-clad man spotted the flash of reflection coming from the submarine and broke into a desperate sprint, abandoning the men trying to pursue him.
A corner of Vladimir’s mouth curled upward in an amused smirk, thoroughly impressed by the man’s frantic survival instincts.
“Impressive.
I didn’t expect to find someone so determined to outrun a crowd.”
Suddenly, the pursuers lunged toward Vladimir.
Gripping his M1907 Carbine with iron strength, he fired a warning shot right past the running executive.
The bullet clipped the ground and grazed one of the pursuers’ legs, a piercing shriek of pain echoing through the air.
The heavy armor they wore wouldn’t save them, and Vladimir knew it.
That first shot was purely a warning.
“First shot,” Vladimir murmured.
The man in the suit scrambled up the iron ladder, rushing past Vladimir and diving behind the steps to hide.
The old soldier adjusted the medals gleaming on his chest, curled his index finger around the trigger, and fired.
The bullet tore through the air, piercing clean through the helmet of an armored knight.
To Vladimir, such things were secondary; the only thing that mattered was keeping his target alive.
His subsequent shots were lethal.
Just like his previous targets, there was not an ounce of hesitation in Vladimir’s eyes.
To him, anyone who stood in the way of his primary mission was merely an obstacle to be cleared.
“Thank you for the rescue.
I don’t even know what I would have done once my guards went down,” the man in the black suit said, catching his breath.
Vladimir glanced at him.
The man was impeccably dressed, sporting neatly waved hair, a white bowtie, and a charming smile that radiated an aura of confidence.
The man clearly realized that his savior was none other than Vladimir himself—sharing the same name, though hailing from a different family branch.
The younger Vladimir stood frozen for a second, staring at the hand extended toward him in a gesture of unexpected camaraderie.
“No need to be afraid.
I was assigned here to help you…
Vladimir Konovalov.”