"This isn't just a mission," he realized, his pulse quickening. "I've been sent to a specific point in history. Or is it a parallel world?"
Arthur's mind spun as the weight of the situation hit him. The briefcase sitting just a few feet away wasn't some random object—it contained critical documents tied to one of the most pivotal moments in history.
The mission wasn't just about stealing some briefcase for a reward; it was about ensuring that the right people got the evidence. If the men standing before him were successful, history itself could be altered.
At least that's what someone in Arthur's position would think, but Arthur just... didn't care enough. The world had never been nice to him anyway, if it was up to him he would not have even gotten involved in this mess. But the system had other plans, and he needed the rewards.
"Berlin will be ready," the first man continued, oblivious to Arthur's presence. "The Third Reich's secrets are buried with Valkyrie. If this gets out, the Americans will exploit it, and the truth will destroy everything we've worked for."
Arthur slowly shifted his weight, preparing to make his move. He kept low, creeping around the corner of the crates.
"I don't care what happens as long as we get paid," the third man muttered, lighting a cigarette. "The war's over. This is just about making sure our version of the story is the one that survives."
The words hung in the air, heavy with implications. Arthur understood what was at stake.
If the contents of this briefcase were altered or destroyed, the true details of one of the most daring assassination attempts in history would be lost forever.
It was more than just an operation—it was an event that could have changed the course of World War II.
"History isn't fixed. It's alive, fragile." he thought, his heart racing. And he was now part of it.
He glanced again at the briefcase, mentally mapping the room. The men were distracted, but that wouldn't last long. Arthur knew he had to move fast. He crouched lower, inching toward the table, his fingers brushing against the cool metal of the briefcase.
One of the men shifted, turning slightly. Arthur's heart skipped a beat, but the man didn't notice him. Instead, he continued his conversation.
"Once we hand this off, we're ghosts," the first man said, a cold smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "No one will ever know we were here. The world will believe what we want them to believe."
These men were just trying to protect themselves—they were trying to manipulate the truth, to bury the facts of history in their own version of events. And Arthur was standing at the very crossroads of that moment, tasked with stopping them.
His fingers closed around the handle of the briefcase. He lifted it slowly, making sure not to make a sound. The conversation continued, the men oblivious to his presence as he began to retreat.
But as Arthur backed away, disaster struck.
"Dzzn-Dzzn" His phone alarm rang and vibrated in his pocket. The sound reverberated through the warehouse.
"Shit." Arthur thought as he prepared to dash.
"Hey! Who's there?" one of the men shouted, spinning around, his gun already drawn.
Without thinking, he bolted toward the door, the briefcase in hand. Shots rang out behind him, the bullets whizzing past his head, narrowly missing him as he darted through the narrow corridors of the warehouse.
"Get him!" the leader of the group barked. Heavy footsteps echoed in the warehouse as they chased after him.
Arthur's breath came in ragged gasps as he sprinted through the maze of crates and machinery, the briefcase banging against his leg with every step. His mind raced, adrenaline surging through his veins. He needed to get out—now.
He spotted a side door and hurled himself toward it, slamming it open with his shoulder.
"Hsst" Arthur breathed in a cold breath, as he felt pain all over his weak shoulder.
He kept running, his legs burning, his lungs screaming for air. He could still hear the men shouting behind him, but they were getting farther away.
"They probably lost track of me due to the stealth skill." He thought as he kept running.
Arthur ducked into a narrow alley, pressing his back against the wall. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath coming in harsh, shallow bursts.
For a moment, he thought he might pass out from the sheer intensity of it all.
But he didn't. He forced himself to focus, clutching the briefcase tightly in his hands.
The system had sent him here—not to some fantasy world, but to a critical moment in the real world's timeline. And he had succeeded. He had retrieved the briefcase, but now, he had to get it out safely.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and Arthur pulled it out, his hands shaking slightly. The screen glowed with a new message:
> Mission Complete: Return Briefcase to Safe Zone for Extraction.
Arthur's brow furrowed. Safe zone? He glanced around the dark alley, his pulse still racing. He hadn't noticed any kind of "safe zone" on his way in. But the map on his phone updated, showing a small green dot just a few blocks away.
"I need to get there before they catch up".
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. The men would be searching for him, but he couldn't afford to waste time. The truth—the real truth—was in his hands, and if he failed... he would lose on the rewards.
Arthur adjusted his grip on the briefcase and started running again, sticking to the shadows as he made his way toward the safe zone.
His body ached from the effort, his legs screaming with every step, but he pushed forward.
The streets were eerily quiet, the city wrapped in darkness, but Arthur knew better than to let his guard down.
Finally, he reached the marked location. It was a small, run-down building—an old mechanic's shop, by the looks of it. The door was ajar, the interior shrouded in shadows. Arthur hesitated for a moment, then stepped inside, his heart still pounding in his chest.
"He's over here!" one of the men shouted as he spotted Arthur, his gun already raised.
Arthur didn't hesitate. He bolted toward the entrance of the building ahead, every nerve in his body screaming for him to move faster. His heart pounded in his ears as the sharp sound of gunfire echoed behind him. A second later, the bullet hit.
"CRACK!"