Reincarnated with a Country Creation System

Chapter 195 Going Insane

The frost-covered windows of the Tsar's study offered a view of the Winter Palace gardens blanketed in snow. Tsar Ivan III stood by the window, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression unyielding as he listened to the hurried report from Gregori Vasiliev, who stood rigidly at attention near the desk.

"Your Majesty," Vasiliev began, his voice steady but laced with tension, "the state police facility holding Johannes Krieg was attacked in the early hours of the morning. The prisoner has escaped."

Ivan turned slowly, his cold gaze fixed on Vasiliev. "Escaped?" His voice was low and measured, but the air in the room seemed to grow heavier with his words. "Explain."

"The facility was breached by a group of highly trained operatives," Vasiliev continued. "They neutralized the guards, bypassed security, and extracted Krieg with surgical precision. Our forces engaged them during the retreat, but they managed to evade capture."

Ivan's fingers drummed against the polished wood of the desk. "Who were these operatives? Valorian?"

"All signs point to Valoria, Your Majesty," Vasiliev said carefully. "The timing, the tactics—they align too closely with their known methods. However, they left no definitive trace. It's a masterful operation."

The Tsar's lips pressed into a thin line. "And the response of our forces?"

Vasiliev straightened. "State police units have mobilized to track the escapees. We believe they are moving west, likely toward a prearranged extraction point. Our patrols are closing in on the primary route."

Ivan nodded slowly, his gaze turning back to the frost-covered windows. "Mobilize additional units. I want Krieg and his accomplices captured. Alive if possible. If not..." He let the sentence hang in the cold air.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Vasiliev bowed slightly and exited the room, his mind already racing through the logistics of the manhunt.

The Valorian truck sped through the snow-covered trail, its tires kicking up slush as the team made their escape. Viktor sat in the passenger seat, his weapon resting on his lap, his eyes scanning the darkness for any sign of pursuit. Andrei gripped the wheel tightly, navigating the treacherous path with practiced ease. In the back, Lena tended to Johannes Krieg, whose bruised and bloodied face betrayed the severity of his ordeal.

"How far to the extraction point?" Lena asked, her voice low but urgent.

"Ten kilometers," Viktor replied. "If we keep this pace, we'll make it before dawn."

Johannes coughed weakly, blood flecking his lips. "And what if we don't?"

Viktor glanced back at him, his expression hard. "Then we fight."

The truck's engine roared as it crested a hill, its headlights piercing the thick forest. But as they descended, the sound of distant engines grew louder. Lena stiffened, her eyes narrowing. "They're coming."

"We don't have a choice," Viktor said. He turned to Johannes. "Can you make it?"

Johannes nodded weakly, his resolve unbroken despite his battered state. "Let's go."

The group stepped onto the ice, their movements cautious. The surface groaned under their weight, but it held. They were halfway across when the first shots rang out.

"Contact!" Viktor shouted, spinning around to return fire. The Ruthenian patrol had caught up, their rifles flashing in the darkness.

Lena dropped to one knee, her pistol barking as she picked off an advancing officer. Andrei hurled a smoke grenade, the thick plume obscuring their movements as they pressed forward.

"Keep moving!" Viktor ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos.

The ice cracked beneath them, spiderweb fractures spreading with each step. Lena reached the far bank and hauled Johannes to safety. Viktor and Andrei followed, firing over their shoulders as the Ruthenians closed in.

The team disappeared into the tree line, the sound of their pursuers fading as they put distance between themselves and the river. When they finally reached the extraction point—a waiting plane hidden in a clearing—Viktor allowed himself a rare moment of relief.

"Get him onboard," Viktor said, nodding to Johannes.

As the plane's engines roared to life, Viktor glanced back toward the forest. The Ruthenians were still out there, but they were too late. The mission was a success.

Vasiliev stood before the Tsar, his expression grim. "Your Majesty, they've escaped. We've lost them."

"Is there anything we can do?" Ivan asked.

"Unfortunately, there is none, Your Majesty."

"I can't let people like Johannes enter our country anymore. I will ban all foreign press, and since the revolutionaries want to have me deposed, then I will depose them first."

"Your Majesty...you are not thinking of waging war against the people?"

"Yes..."