Reincarnated with a Country Creation System

The blinding spotlight pinned Johannes and Anya against the brick wall. The authoritative voice barked once more.

"Drop your weapon! Surrender now!"

Johannes's mind raced. They were cornered, their escape routes severed by the encroaching soldiers. But surrender wasn't an option—not with Anya, not with the revolution depending on him.

He leaned closer to her, his voice low but firm. "When I move, you run. Do you understand?"

Her eyes widened with panic. "Johannes, no—"

"Do you understand?" he repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Tears welled in her eyes, but she nodded.

The soldiers were closing in. Johannes's sharp eyes caught movement in the shadows beyond the glaring light—a second unit preparing to flank them. There was no time for hesitation.

"Now!" he shouted, shoving Anya toward the narrow alley on their left.

As she darted away, Johannes turned and fired, his pistol cracking sharply in the cold night air. The first shot shattered the spotlight, plunging the alley into chaotic darkness. Shouts erupted as the soldiers scrambled for cover. Find more chapters on empire

Johannes ducked behind a pile of crates, reloading his pistol with practiced efficiency. Bullets whizzed past him, splintering wood and ricocheting off the cobblestones. The soldiers' voices rang out, coordinating their movements.

"Push forward! Don't let him escape!"

Johannes took a deep breath, calming the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He leaned out briefly, firing three more shots. One struck a soldier squarely in the chest, sending him crumpling to the ground.

The others retaliated with a hail of gunfire. Johannes felt the sharp sting of a grazing bullet as it tore through his coat sleeve, but he gritted his teeth and held his position.

Anya sprinted through the maze of alleys, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Every sound—a distant shout, the crack of gunfire—felt like it was right behind her. She stumbled, nearly falling, but forced herself to keep moving.

In her mind, Johannes's voice echoed: "Run."

Tears blurred her vision, but she didn't stop. She had to find the safe house, or at least somewhere to hide. Johannes had bought her time, and she wouldn't waste it.

Back in the alley, Johannes's ammunition was running low. He counted his shots carefully, each one buying him precious seconds. He needed a plan.

The soldiers were advancing cautiously now, their rifles trained on his position. One of them called out, "We have you surrounded! Surrender, and you'll be spared!"

Johannes smirked grimly. "Spared? By the Tsar's men? I'll take my chances."

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, cylindrical object—a smoke grenade, one of the few tools he'd managed to keep hidden.

Pulling the pin, he lobbed it toward the soldiers. Thick, choking smoke filled the alley, obscuring their vision and throwing their ranks into disarray.

"Where is he?!" one of them shouted, coughing violently.

Johannes used the cover to move, slipping through the smoke like a ghost. He grabbed a fallen soldier's rifle and ammunition, his mind already calculating his next move.

From a higher vantage point atop a stack of crates, Johannes unleashed a barrage of gunfire. The soldiers, still disoriented from the smoke, scrambled for cover.

He fired in controlled bursts, forcing them to retreat down the alley. For a moment, it seemed like he had the upper hand. But reinforcements arrived—more boots on cobblestones, the metallic clatter of additional rifles being readied.

Johannes gritted his teeth. "They just keep coming."

A bullet struck the crate he was standing on, shattering the wood and nearly toppling him. He jumped down, landing hard but keeping his balance.

The sound of a truck's engine roared in the distance. Johannes's sharp ears picked up the telltale clatter of reinforcements. Time was running out.

He retreated deeper into the alleys, firing sporadically to keep the soldiers at bay. Each step was a gamble, each corner turned a potential death sentence.

Finally, he reached a narrow passage that opened into a secluded courtyard. He paused, his breath heavy, his limbs aching. The courtyard was quiet, the distant gunfire echoing faintly.

But he wasn't safe yet. The soldiers were relentless, and he knew they would follow his trail. He needed to disappear completely.

Spotting a loose manhole cover, Johannes pried it open with the butt of his rifle. The stench of the sewer below was almost overwhelming, but it offered his best chance at escape.

As the sound of approaching soldiers grew louder, Johannes climbed down into the darkness, pulling the cover back into place just as the first shadows appeared above.

In the labyrinthine sewers beneath St. Petersburg, Johannes moved cautiously, the water freezing against his boots. His briefcase was still clutched tightly in his hand, its contents untouched despite the chaos.

Above him, muffled voices and footsteps echoed through the streets. The soldiers were searching for him, their frustration palpable.

Johannes allowed himself a moment of relief. He had survived the firefight, but the night was far from over. Anya was still out there, and the revolution's survival depended on their reunion.

As he pressed deeper into the sewers, the faint sound of rushing water grew louder. He paused, his instincts prickling. Something wasn't right.

Then, without warning, a blinding flashlight beam pierced the darkness, illuminating his face.

"Freeze!" a voice commanded.

Johannes's heart sank. They had found him. But, his instincts kicked in.

Without hesitation, he raised his rifle, firing a shot into the flashlight's beam. The bullet shattered the light, plunging the sewer back into darkness. Shouts erupted as the soldiers fumbled, their vision momentarily blinded.

He used the confusion to dart down a side tunnel, his boots splashing noisily through the frigid water. The narrow passage twisted and turned, the walls closing in like a labyrinth designed to trap him. Every sound—the clatter of rifles, the shouted commands—grew louder, closer.

Johannes's breath was ragged as he reached an intersection. He hesitated for a split second, his mind racing. Left or right? Choosing instinct over reason, he veered left, his grip tightening on the briefcase.

A sudden burst of gunfire erupted behind him, bullets ricocheting off the damp walls. One grazed his leg, sending a jolt of pain shooting through him. He stumbled but kept moving, forcing himself forward through sheer willpower.

As the tunnel widened, Johannes spotted a faint glimmer of light ahead—a maintenance ladder leading up. He didn't slow down, his every step fueled by desperation.

He reached the ladder, gripping the rungs with trembling hands. Climbing quickly, he pushed open the heavy manhole cover, emerging into the icy St. Petersburg night. But as he stepped onto the street, he froze—a squad of soldiers was waiting, rifles raised.