Clunk— Screech...
An unsettling noise emanated from the engine.
"What's going on! Why are we slowing down!"
"Uh, Your Highness, it seems there's a problem with the engine!" The driver anxiously tried to shift gears and step on the gas, but the vehicle's response was sluggish.
This luxury vehicle from the Porsche factory, always known for its sturdiness and durability, had appeared unscathed in the impact of the previous explosion. However, that shockwave had clearly left hidden damage within the engine.
It looked perfectly fine on the outside! Could it be that it took the impact from the bottom of the chassis, so it wasn't noticed at the time?!
The nearly stagnant speed made Karl's heart tighten. He reached his hand into the inner pocket of his suit while alertly turning his head to scan the surroundings.
And then—
He saw a face that couldn't be more familiar.
Gavrilo Princip.
The name destined to be written into every European history textbook—the young assassin who was originally meant to change the course of world history today—was now locking eyes with him.
Without a moment's hesitation, Karl pulled a pistol from his coat.
Bang!
Before Princip could fully raise his pistol to aim, Karl struck first. The bullet hit the other man's right arm which held the gun; Princip let out a miserable cry as the pistol slipped from his hand and fell.
Did I do it?!
I saved Franz Ferdi—
"Karl! Watch out! Get down!"
The moment Karl's mind relaxed slightly, Archduke Franz Ferdinand's roar of shock and anger rang out beside him. Simultaneously, a massive force pushed him down toward the bottom of the seat.
Boom—!!!
A roar even more intense than the previous explosion swept in from the other side of the vehicle. The world collapsed in a cacophony of thunder, and Karl lost consciousness.
Boom—!
Observing from a distant rooftop, Danilo Ilić couldn't help but let out a silent sigh of admiration as he saw the rising plume of fire.
It seemed the assassination was finally successful. The will of the Serbian people would finally, finally spread throughout the entire world!
At the very beginning, when the first bomb-thrower failed and was arrested, he thought the entire plan had been thwarted and that Archduke Franz Ferdinand would successfully enter City Hall and leave safely.
But an unwilling Ilić, along with several companions, lingered near the main road instead of immediately evacuating as planned. He always felt there might still be a chance.
Just then, a chance truly descended in an unexpected way.
The car carrying Franz Ferdinand sped through the streets but suddenly slowed down at a street corner for some reason. The narrow streets, the chaotic crowds, and the last-minute change in the driving route left that vehicle—a symbol of imperial power—briefly exposed to danger.
The assassins who had long been standing by nearby did not let this fleeting opportunity pass.
One of them (Princip) was about to raise his gun to fire but was shot and wounded first by someone (Karl); however, another assassin lurking even closer seized the gap and violently hurled a bomb.
Amidst the light and dust of the explosion, Ilić's thoughts involuntarily drifted back to the days and nights spent planning the operation.
Whether it was the radicals in Serbia proper or the Slavic youth and students in Bosnia, they felt the invisible pressure and "threat" from the Austro-Hungarian Empire much more strongly than the outside world imagined.
That empire—which in people's impressions was financially strapped, internally bickering between Hungary and Austria, and possessed an aging military—seemed to have suddenly become stable and tough in recent years.
It had not only built brand-new dreadnoughts but had also engaged in large-scale construction in the northern region of Galicia, building railways, factories, and fortresses. This brought earth-shattering changes to that formerly backward border region. It had even formed an elite new force called the "Imperial Guard" to protect the imperial power and flex its muscles.
Although the physical sensation of this change wasn't as direct or strong in the southern Balkans as it was in the north, people's words are fearsome, and public opinion has always been thus. People were more willing to talk about and believe in those uncertain rumors of the future than the oppressive present.
In the cafes and universities of Bosnia, more and more people began to envision a "tolerant empire."
They whispered that perhaps under Habsburg rule—especially if the influence of that reformist Archduke Karl continued to rise—Bosnia would be transformed by railways, investment, and "modernized order" just like Galicia, thereby achieving development.
In fact, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, whose financial situation had indeed improved due to a series of operations by Karl, had also symbolically invested some funds into Bosnia for infrastructure construction in recent years. Even if it was just a drop in the bucket, it was enough to make some people waver and develop the thought that "perhaps a compromise and coexistence is possible."
In such a context, it was almost an inevitable result for the Kingdom of Serbia to feel squeezed and marginalized.
—Not enough people, the success rate is too low. I can provide support, double the size of the action group, and I'll find a way to handle the weapons. How about trying again?
The leader of the "Black Hand" organization, Colonel Dragutin Dimitrijević, known as "Apis," had once said this to Ilić.
This man, who wielded immense influence in the Serbian military intelligence department, was precisely one of the main behind-the-scenes pushers driving radical nationalist actions intended to strike at Austria-Hungary.
Apis placed his hand on Ilić's initially somewhat crude assassination plan. He not only recruited more personnel for the action group—including stateless individuals, radical Serbian youth, and Bosnian students—but also managed to smuggle pistols and bombs all the way into Bosnian territory under Austro-Hungarian jurisdiction through secret military intelligence channels.
In the Balkan Peninsula of that time, such an underground network with a military background had power almost equivalent to another shadow army.
Sharp police whistles and the startled cries and wails of the crowd suddenly rang out, pulling Ilić back from his memories to reality—
He saw the companion who had thrown the bomb being pinned to the ground by the angry crowd and the quickly arriving police. Startled, he immediately lowered the brim of his hat and turned to make his escape.
The assassination of the imperial family, whether successful or not, meant that the situation in Sarajevo had completely changed.
The Sarajevo of this moment was about to become a giant prison and search site; it was no longer safe.
He had to flee as quickly as possible before the military blockaded the entire city and began a house-to-house search.
However, just as he lowered his head to blend into the panicked, scattering crowd—
"Stop! You there in front, wait a moment!"
His footsteps came to a sudden halt.
"Yes, I'm talking to you, the one in the gray trench coat." A stern voice with a Bosnian accent came from behind him.
Ilić's heart tightened suddenly, almost stopping.
"You look a bit flustered. Turn around and submit to an inspection."
He had run into a perfectly ordinary routine check.