Chapter 388: What Do You Mean ‘Entering Combat While Stepping on Someone’s Back’?

After confirming to continue the operation, several “waiters” in the staff corridor began making their final preparations.

“Use the opportunity of serving drinks and snacks to remember the box numbers of your respective targets.”

The head waiter, adjusting his bow tie, spoke in an extremely low voice: “Don’t waste time identifying targets when the moment comes…”

“Understood.”

The others nodded. Then, like veterans who had been in this line of work for decades, they wore humble and professional smiles, carrying trays as they dispersed towards the VIP areas on the second and third floors.

The remaining member of this action group walked to the back door of the theater.

Security in this era was obviously not that tight. Furthermore, the Semperoper was not hosting members of the royal family today, so the Imperial Guard was not deployed.

Security for the entire theater was handled by some burly bodyguards hired by the theater itself, and police temporarily called in to maintain order nearby.

Most of the security personnel were concentrated at the main entrances and exits of the opera house.

At this back door, usually mainly used by cleaners and porters, only two theater-hired bodyguards were stationed at the moment.

These two burly Saxon men were hiding in a wind-sheltered corner, smoking and chatting about some trivia from last night.

“Hey, my two friends, mind if I borrow a light?”

A man, also wearing a waiter’s uniform, pushed the door open and walked out. He held an unlit cigarette in his hand, his face bearing the exhausted expression of someone who finally had a chance to “catch a breath.”

One of the bodyguards glanced at him. Seeing it was a non-threatening waiter, he casually offered his own cigarette: “Those noble lords upstairs start acting up again?”

“Tell me about it~”

The waiter smiled helplessly, then lowered his head to light the cigarette in his mouth from the other’s lit one. He took a deep drag and then showed a look of enjoyment.

“Some old hag complained that the pastries we sent over had a weird smell and insisted I change the plate. These were pastries just delivered today… What the hell!”

“Ha! These rich people are just fussy.”

The other bodyguard exhaled a cloud of smoke, his tone full of complaints about these upper-class people: “If I had that much money, I wouldn’t come to this kind of place to suffer. I’d go straight to the best tavern and book the whole place.”

The waiter chimed in with a smile. The face they had seen multiple times over these past few days, as well as his local accent, made the two bodyguards completely let down their guard.

In this heartland of the Empire, who would suspect a waiter whose tone of complaint was so “Saxon”?

And in fact, these personnel participating in the operation, in terms of bloodline and legal sense, were indeed out-and-out Saxons.

As the massive machinery of the Empire rumbled forward, there would always be some people thrown out from under the wheels.

They might be due to the decline of their families, or because they were swallowed by giants in commercial competition, or perhaps just ordinary commoners…

And the Holy Britannia Empire, as the true super-empire at present, coupled with some perfectly pitched propaganda, clearly made many people among the various nations on the Europa continent yearn for this “beacon.”

Under the careful operation of the Britannia General Directorate of Military Intelligence, these people were influenced, brainwashed, and ultimately turned into a group of fanatical “spiritual Britannians.”

They firmly believed the Saxon Empire was a symbol of barbarism and backwardness, and what they were undertaking was the great cause of “liberating Saxony.”

To accomplish this “great cause,” they wouldn’t hesitate to turn their guns on their own compatriots…

Under these circumstances, it wasn’t difficult for Britannians infiltrating the Saxon Empire to recruit a batch of loyal Saxons.

Among them were even some professionals with long-term military service experience.

For various reasons, they harbored unrealistic fantasies about the Holy Britannia Empire and ultimately accepted the Britannians’ recruitment.

The most loyal group among them was also selected to receive professional training from infiltrators of the Britannia General Directorate of Military Intelligence in the countryside and remote areas.

The Holy Britannia Empire could be considered the earliest country to establish a professional intelligence agency. Although the General Directorate of Military Intelligence had failed in multiple operations before, their infiltration into various Europa countries before the war had yielded some minor results.

They had established liaison stations in almost every country, to varying degrees.

And the assassination incident involving Queen Victoria, who had just ascended the throne, in the North American colonies back then, while serving as a wake-up call to everyone, also made some high-level Britannian radicals realize the effectiveness of assassination.

So not long after the General Directorate of Military Intelligence was established, a dedicated “Special Operations Group” was formed to plan and execute targeted eliminations of important figures from other countries.

It was just that until the outbreak of the war, based on some other considerations, the Britannians hadn’t done so yet.

This waiter was clearly a skilled conversationalist, so in the time it took to smoke a short cigarette, he had already drawn closer to the two bodyguards.

After chatting for a bit, the topic quickly turned to how to elegantly “blow smoke rings.”

“Come, let me show you a neat trick.”

The waiter deftly twirled the cigarette between his fingers, then took a deep breath, his lips slightly parted.

“Hoo—”

A perfect white smoke ring emerged from his mouth, drifting slowly upward in the breeze.

Followed by a second, a third…

One large, two small, three consecutive sets.

“Whoa! That’s pretty interesting, buddy!”

The bodyguards watched with bright eyes, and one even tried to mimic it, only to blow out a shapeless cloud of smoke, drawing a burst of mockery from his companion.

The waiter smiled as he watched their interaction, but from the corner of his eye, he glanced at another man smoking in the shadows of a street corner in the distance.

He saw that man take a sharp drag of his cigarette, blow out a large cloud of smoke, then stomp out the butt and turn to leave.

That was the feedback confirming the backup team had received the signal and started executing the mission.

And the rhythm and number of smoke rings he just blew meant—”Targets confirmed, initiate Plan B immediately, all hands press the attack.”

According to the original plan, if the targets were scattered or security was tight, they would choose to abort or act in batches.

But today, this group of big shots gathered together as if by prior agreement. This once-in-a-lifetime opportunity made the operation commander decide to go all in.

“Alright, my two friends, chatting with you was simply too pleasant~”

The waiter tossed the cigarette, smoked down to the butt, onto the ground and stomped it out, then smiled and bid farewell to the two bodyguards.

“I have to go back, otherwise that old hag will go crazy again…”

“Go on, go on, don’t keep that bunch waiting.”

The bodyguards waved their hands, completely unaware that a covert command had just been issued right under their noses.

The waiter turned and pushed the door to enter. The ingratiating smile originally on his face vanished without a trace the instant the door closed, replaced by a heart-stopping coldness.

He reached out to touch a hard object at his waist and walked quickly towards the staff corridor.

Meanwhile, on the third floor of the opera house.

Morin suddenly found his vision abruptly entering the “Combat UI.”

Normally, when away from the battlefield, Morin’s vision was actually no different from an ordinary person’s.

But once encountering combat, his vision would also enter a combat state, displaying “Combat UI” elements like a mini-map, a spell buff status bar, and visual threshold icons for shield-type spell defense.

Just like his current state.

Although he didn’t know what had happened, Morin knew it was highly likely some unexpected situation had occurred.

(Censored content removed)

The two quickly cleaned themselves up in the washroom, then left with composed expressions and returned to the box.

Along the way, Morin, who had inexplicably entered a combat state, also remained alert to his surroundings, but hadn’t discovered any anomalies for the time being.

When they returned to the box, “The Barber of Seville” on stage was reaching the climax of the first act.

The female lead, Rosina, was singing that famous aria, her clear voice echoing throughout the theater.

“You two sure took a long time getting fresh air,” Patricia complained without turning her head upon hearing the door open.

She was engrossed, holding a delicate pair of opera glasses, seeming… seemingly completely unaware of the subtle atmosphere between the two behind her.

Helga was completely immersed in the plot, even gently swaying her head to the rhythm… um, like a silly goose.

Morin didn’t reply to Patricia’s comment, but lowered his voice and said to her and Cecilia: “Lock the door. Do not open it for anyone except me before I come back… not even if the theater manager comes.”

Patricia was stunned for a moment. “Morin, where are you going? The opera isn’t over yet…”

“Something suddenly came up that I need to handle.”

Morin didn’t explain explicitly, but Cecilia and Patricia both keenly sensed something was amiss.

However, these two trusted Morin immensely, and their minds worked quickly. The women didn’t say anything, but nodded and gave Morin a reassuring look.

As for why Morin didn’t give instructions to Helga…

Well, this girl was leaning on the railing watching with great enthusiasm, so it was better not to disturb her for now.

Morin quickly left the box. After confirming the people inside had locked the door, he also switched from a genial expression to a “combat face” in a second.

Being interrupted when fully engaged in a happy and joyful activity would certainly make anyone angry.

The young upstart who navigated Vanity Fair with ease disappeared, replaced by the “Mage Killer” who struck terror into the hearts of Gauls and Britannians in the trenches of the Western Front.

Morin reached out and pressed his hand against the medals on his chest to prevent them from clinking, then moved silently toward the stairs.

The box he and Cecilia were in was on the third floor of the Semperoper. Since the audience was all focused on watching the opera, or doing private things in their boxes, there was no one else in the circular corridor.

He pretended to casually bypass more than half of the circular corridor to the stairs on the other side. After confirming there were no anomalies on the third floor, he went down the stairs to the second floor.

At this time, the corridor was empty. Most of the waiters were busy in the pantry, or serving in various boxes.

The crystal wall sconces cast mottled shadows, cutting the long corridor into intersecting squares of light and dark.

Morin didn’t go directly downstairs, but circled to a corner of a gallery on the second floor.

This place had a wide field of view, allowing him to overlook the entire hall, and also observe the unavoidable paths leading to various boxes.

Soon, he saw a waiter delivering drinks to a box.

This was originally a very normal behavior, but it instantly made Morin vigilant.

Because on the system map, a red unit card representing an enemy unit clearly appeared in front of him.

[Holy Britannia Empire – Military Intelligence Bureau – Free Saxon Alliance On-Site Operative: Hans Berger]

[Threat Level: Low]

[Status: Concealing weapon, approaching target area]

At the same time, new entries refreshed in the [Intelligence] and [System] tabs.

However, Morin didn’t check them immediately. Instead, clutching his medals, he slowly retreated into the stairway.

Only after confirming there was no one else around did he quickly glance at the newly refreshed content.

“…”

“…How is it a bunch of ‘traitors’…”

Morin obviously didn’t expect that the Saxon Empire would already have a group of “traitors.”

What surprised him even more was that these “traitors” were actually willing to participate in specific operations…

…After all, in the world before his transmigration, the “traitors” he had seen were only brave enough to shoot off their mouths on the internet.

“These are no ordinary ‘traitors’, I must strike hard!”

At the same time, the [Intelligence] tab mentioned that these on-site operatives were likely planning to carry out a large-scale assassination today.

Because the play being performed at the Semperoper today was very popular, and “The Barber of Seville” hadn’t been performed for a while.

So many upper-class people from Dresden were present today, including leading figures in various fields.

In Morin’s view, this also meant that Cecilia, as the “Radiant Crystal Queen,” was highly likely also on the assassination list.

Morin swept his gaze over the second floor again, and then discovered that besides this Hans Berger, in another corner of the second floor, a new red unit card appeared on the system map.

More than one…

He noted the direction the waiter went—that was the VIP box area on the second floor, seated inside were either bankers or senior military advisors.

The Britannians obviously wanted to take this opportunity to wipe out a wave of the Saxon Empire’s rear elite class.

If they succeeded, it would obviously create considerable chaos for Saxony, even affecting subsequent strategic judgments and combat operations.

Morin’s brain spun rapidly.

Charge up directly and kill this Hans Berger?

Not a good idea…

This might alert the enemy, causing other hidden assassins to strike early.

And once gunshots rang out, the crowd in the theater would inevitably flee in panic, and the number of casualties would only increase.

It would be best to notify official forces first, blockade the exits, and then conduct targeted eliminations.

But ordinary police couldn’t deal with these professionally trained desperadoes, who might even be carrying weapons and magitech equipment… Other support units must be mobilized.

Morin glanced at those two red unit cards that were still slowly moving, memorized their positions, then turned and sneaked towards the first floor.

He remembered there was an administrative office in the side hall on the first floor; there must be a telephone connected to the outside there.

Morin moved quickly, and soon arrived quietly in the lobby in front of the main entrance. However, he didn’t reveal himself directly, but hid in the corner and secretly scanned the outside.

Units were also marked on the system map accordingly.

After confirming there were no red unit cards representing enemies among them, nor any unknown yellow unit cards, Morin also breathed a sigh of relief, then walked quickly to an administrative office on the first floor of the opera house.

And without hesitation, opened the door.

“Who is it?!”

Inside the office, a few theater staff members who were slacking off and drinking coffee were startled by the figure that suddenly barged in.

A middle-aged supervisor wearing thick-soled glasses was just about to flare up, but upon clearly seeing the military rank on the intruder’s epaulets and the dense row of medals on his chest, the reprimand that reached his lips instantly turned into a stuttering greeting.

“Lieu… Mr. Lieutenant Colonel? Is there anything I can do for you?”

“There should be a telephone here, right?”

Morin didn’t waste words. He closed and locked the door with a backhand motion and strode to the desk.

“I need to use your line, immediately.”

That murderous aura he brought from the mountains of corpses and seas of blood made the supervisor subconsciously shrink his neck, trembling as he pointed to a black telephone on a desk in the distance.

“Please… please go ahead.”

“Thank you for your cooperation~”

Morin nodded, then walked quickly over, picked up the receiver, and turned the crank.

Soon, a pleasant female voice sounded in the receiver.

“This is the Dresden Central District Operator, how may I help you?”

“Please connect me to the Imperial Army General Staff.”

“?”

The operator on the other end was obviously a young lady, and was stunned upon hearing this request.

She looked up at the machine. After confirming the lit lamp and the label below saying “Semperoper,” she said somewhat uncertainly: “Sir, your line is the Semperoper administrative line. Is there a mistake…”

“I am Imperial Army Lieutenant Colonel Friedrich von Morin.”

Morin interrupted her, his speech extremely fast but every word clear: “There is an emergency here now, please transfer me to the Army General Staff operator immediately!”

“Lieu… Lieutenant Colonel Morin?”

The operator had obviously heard of this name, that “Mage Killer” who had been hyped to the skies in the newspapers recently.

And obviously there were no telecom scams in this era, and even if there were, they wouldn’t scam an operator… Impersonating a senior military officer during wartime was simply having a death wish, so the operator didn’t dare to be negligent at this moment.

“Yes! Please hold on! Transferring you immediately!”

A burst of noisy static and the click of the transfer sounded in the receiver.

These few short seconds were simply longer for Morin than waiting for artillery bombardment in the trenches.

But fortunately, a steady male voice finally sounded.

“This is the duty room of the Army General Staff.”

“This is Friedrich von Morin… connect me to Department III, find Major Nicolai, or anyone in charge.”

“I am currently at the Semperoper. A group of hostiles disguised as waiters have infiltrated. Their targets are the important figures watching the performance tonight.”

The sound of a chair overturning came from the other end of the phone, obviously, the other party realized the severity of the matter.

“Lieutenant Colonel Morin? I am the duty staff officer of Department III… Please confirm the situation, is it an organized armed infiltration?”

“Highly confirmed. They are disguised as waiters. The exact number is still unknown, there might be backup teams.”

Morin watched the red unit cards on the map, which had stopped refreshing their positions due to a lack of observation, and spoke rapidly: “I’m not sure if they are carrying weapons, but the hostiles might already be in position in the box areas on the second and third floors…”

“I need backup, immediately! Preferably the Imperial Guard or your special team from Department III. Bringing my instruction unit over works too… if there’s enough time.”

“It will take the Imperial Guard about fifteen minutes to assemble and arrive. The instruction unit’s station is too far…”

The staff officer’s voice on the other end of the phone was somewhat anxious.

“Lieutenant Colonel Morin, can you control the situation?”

“Fifteen minutes?”

Morin glanced at the wall clock; the second hand was ticking mercilessly.

“In fifteen minutes you can only come collect their corpses.”

“We will try our best to speed up! Until then, please…”

“Enough, I know what to do.” Morin hung up the phone directly.