Ch.203The Sixth Entanglement – Bebop with the Sun God (1)

“Seems like you’ve got connections, if not popularity.”

War mocked the detective. It was a reaction to being treated like a mere bodyguard. He was someone who bowed to no one except the God-President.

The detective didn’t particularly mind. War wasn’t completely unreasonable. He already knew well enough that this was just a minor unpleasantness.

He had never, unpleasantly enough, been distant from War. That’s why he could comfortably mock him back. There was a certain boldness in his insult, but Agent Warren was the type who appreciated such boldness.

“Well, how else would this detective nonsense make a living without connections, Agent Warren? And even then, it’s nothing special. The only people I can call on the phone are prostitutes.”

War spat out the curse without real hostility. It was more of a habit than an expression of displeasure.

“Irreverent bastard… Anyway, the old man will bring the basic plan today. Wait for it. The rest of the agents are almost all recruited, so you’ll be able to meet your team members soon.”

The detective poured a glass of whiskey from the pint he’d been given for medicinal purposes and handed it to Agent Warren. They were close enough to share a drink. Neither War nor the detective would get drunk from just one glass of whiskey.

“Tell me honestly. Does the God-President really believe I can succeed with just one scholar and one driver? Or does he need sacrifices for some greater plan?”

Agent Warren took the whiskey glass and took a sip. The warmth of alcohol resembled the warmth of life. And War was never one to mince words anyway.

“If our esteemed superiors believe it, then so it shall be. But one thing’s for certain—even the Divine Protection Agency screws up sometimes. If our plan isn’t perfect, they’ll screw it up. We don’t always operate under perfect grace either. I imagine it’s the same for you Argonnies.”

The detective took a sip of his drink as well. He thought to himself that he’d expected that pragmatic god would somehow tie together coincidence and necessity to get things done one way or another.

“So that’s why I’m stuck in a hospital with Divine Protection Agency agents playing nurse. But you know that’s not what I was asking.”

War extended his glass again, and the detective paid for the answer with another half glass. Only after payment did the answer come.

“It’s not hard to shoot and kill a god who isn’t worshipped, kid. Even if they have worshippers, it’s not easy to draw real worship from them, so it’s unlikely they’ll become a worshipped god anyway.”

So worship wasn’t as easy as he thought. The detective only knew hatred for the God-President, so he didn’t know much about gods. He had thought that simply proclaiming belief was enough for worship.

“And if they do become one?”

War smirked. His expression suggested he was returning a very obvious statement. The detective knew that when words like “unlikely” were used, it meant one should hope such things never happen.

“If you die giving the middle finger to a worshipped god, maybe the God-President will save you. If you don’t die instantly, find a way to kill the apostate bastard first. Worshipped gods are fucking killing machines, true, but even they need the gasoline of devotion to move, soldier.”

“Huh, I’ve thrown people into meat grinders a few times too. But at least I don’t think I’ve ever said… try reaching your arm in there and pull the lever.”

War emptied his glass and reclined in the hospital chair. He gestured at the air, then, finding no way to answer, decided to respond like one of the God-President’s fanatics.

“He is our esteemed superior because he does what humans cannot.”

Even the detective responded as if he found this ridiculous.

“Is that really the right thing to say at a time like this?”

Fortunately, War didn’t need to fumble for an answer. Death opened the hospital room door and entered. He gave a brief nod to the detective, who was lying in bed just passing time.

“The Divine Protection Agency has located Sol Invictus’s current position, Michael. He’s traveling by train. His current location should be around here.”

He spread a wide map on the hospital bed and pointed to a railway line running from California along the southern United States near the border. He must be traveling somewhere up there.

It seemed the God-President hadn’t lent his eyes this time. If he had, he would have pointed to exactly where on the railway the target was, but this time he just tapped the name of the railway. The detective thought to himself.

“Destination?”

“Pennsylvania. That was the destination on the train ticket. If he’s going to Pennsylvania…”

Pennsylvania. The detective knew that the last person Sol Invictus met before leaving was a journalist. If that woman was introducing a destination to the departing war god, there was only one place.

“He must be going to meet Gremory. He knows the journalist who interviewed that war god. Gremory is the only person that woman knows in Pennsylvania. Or she might have wanted to show him the atmosphere of Pennsylvania. Either way, he’ll stay there for quite a while. But do we really need to wait for the train to reach the city? It might be better to ambush him at an intermediate point.”

The detective wanted to prepare for the worst. If he became a worshipped god in the city center, that would be beyond what the detective himself could take responsibility for or resolve.

Death didn’t deny this. When thinking about bringing Sol Invictus to the city center, a smell similar to what he himself emitted when using his power wafted heavily. There would be more than just one or two names added to the book of the dead.

“That’s a very wise thought. If we could stop the train at a station where few people live and evacuate the passengers, we would do so… but seeing that the God-President wanted to hunt him, he must have a separate destination in mind. He’s probably going to find a devotee who has sworn to worship him. We’ll look into that location a bit more.”

He was already speaking as if he had taken on the job, but there was no other option anyway. The God-President had already marked the detective himself, and the promised money was already being paid while he was in the hospital.

So there was nothing to do but try to do the job, live or die. Work is work. When he habitually tried to check his physical condition by straightening his back, his side started to ache again.

“Right. I just hope preparations are finished before Sol Invictus reaches Pennsylvania.”

The detective sighed and briefly held his aching side before letting go. He still had to endure considerable pain to move properly. But his body was gradually recovering.

More important than anything else was the fact that he wasn’t someone who waited for others. He was the type of person who would rather be out and about than lying in such a comfortable place.

That’s why Sol Invictus, who was occupying two seats with his legs up on the opposite seat, raised himself up. He asked the woman sitting in front of him:

“Why has the train stopped? As I recall, it was always moving.”

The woman tried to ignore the man who was rudely occupying four seats. Moreover, though large in stature, he was shabbily dressed with wildly grown hair and beard.

So I’m not even treated as an unworshipped god anymore, thought Sol Invictus as he moved his hand to his waist. Soon, a freshly heated gladius was touching the train passenger’s neck.

“Don’t make me ask three times. Why. Has. The. Train. Stopped?”

Drawing a sword after being ignored once was incomprehensible to modern people. Moreover, it made no sense that a sword that had been hanging at his waist for so long could emit such heat.

The passenger began to sweat coldly. She now realized she was facing someone who couldn’t be reasoned with normally, and said in a trembling voice:

“T-the… those commie bastards in the railway union are on strike! In this great era! They’ve occupied the tracks and are protesting, so the hired men are suppressing them and told us to wait a bit!”

What’s a commie? Red is the color worn in battle. On strike… that was also an unfamiliar term, but suppression meant they had rebelled. Rebels who had even occupied territory!

Sol Invictus pounded his palm with his fist. There are warriors outside. There is a battlefield outside! He smiled pleasantly through his dirty beard and withdrew his sword. He walked down the corridor with the sword in its sheath.

The corridor was too narrow for him to walk comfortably, but that didn’t seem to be a problem for him. Sol Invictus unfastened the latch on the door at the end of the corridor and jumped out into the wasteland.

A human ran toward him. Blood was flowing from his head, and on his back he wore a flag with a red-colored map of the country like a cape. A red cape. The mark of a soldier!

The human, who seemed to have been severely hit on the head with a blunt object, grabbed Sol Invictus’s heavy hand. In a trembling voice, he said:

“Please, p-please… help me…”

He didn’t know who he was asking for help. He simply believed that someone so large and strong would help him. One should be careful who they wish to when making a wish.

Sol Invictus held back tears of joy. There was a warrior seeking him. He gladly drew his gladius. Soon, other warriors chasing that warrior came running.

Or rather, hired men chasing a striking union member ran toward the union member who had fled to Sol Invictus. Sol Invictus neither understood nor tried to understand such facts.

They said things to Sol Invictus that he couldn’t understand:

“What’s this, a vagrant who hitched a ride on the train? Hey, leave that bastard and get back in the car! We’re here to protect the train passengers. Those bastards were trying to block the train by tying themselves to the tracks!”

“Then would this metal thing overturn?”

Sol Invictus had already made up his mind but asked innocently. And when those hired men lowered their weapons to explain to a vagrant who didn’t even know how trains run, he started running.

He was as huge as an ogre but as nimble as an elf. With his enormous stride, he took two steps forward and pulled the gladius held at the hilt close to his body. He extended and withdrew it nimbly, like a boxer throwing a weak punch.

The hired man who was about to explain felt the hole just below his neck with his hand, then fell forward. Another hired man hurriedly tried to raise his club, but the war god didn’t know how to stop.

Holding the gladius that was too small for his hand like a knife, he thumbed one of the double edges and slashed from the upper left to the lower right. He flicked his wrist, threw it high, caught it in reverse, and slashed down.

A hand was swung to somehow block the blow, but that hired man sat down on the ground with deep lacerations on the left side of his neck and the inside of his left thigh. He lost consciousness from excessive bleeding before he could cover the wounds.

He wanted war. Whatever these red-caped warriors wanted, he hoped they would achieve and win it. So, he stole a piece of flame from his gladius with his finger.

He grabbed the head of the warrior who was about to faint from blood loss. He used the divine healing power he had long ago on him. There was still some divine power left.

“Rise and take up your weapon, warrior. Can you move? Can you hold a weapon?”

The striking worker picked up his tool. Sol Invictus let the flame stolen from his weapon flow into that tool. At first, he dropped the heated wrench, but soon picked it up wearing gloves.

Flames flickered inside that wrench. The sunlight that Sol Invictus had preserved to the end was surging. It could now be called a divine treasure.

Sol Invictus grabbed the striking worker’s forearm. With manic eyes, he looked at him and shouted. With the corners of his mouth raised in a maniacal laugh, he said:

“Do you have something you want? Something to fight for! Go. Go and beat all your enemies to death and get what you want! I am war. I am struggle. If you fight for your life, the undefeated sun will dance behind your back. Yes, yes… The undefeated sun loves you. Go! Kill them all!”

Sol Invictus recalled the glorious empire. He recalled himself looking down on all the gods from the top of the pantheon. He remembered the times when he made someone his great warrior like this.

It was a good time. It was a time when everyone could fight for him! The tide of war could be changed by the power of one person, and so could the world! Sol Invictus would bring that era back.

The hired men had almost completely subdued the striking union, but when one coward who had fled to the side of the train returned, the situation was reversed. A hired man hit by a train rail wrench that had to be held with both hands caught fire.

That union member charged without stopping despite being stabbed with knives and beaten with clubs. He showed courage worthy of the name of a god’s great warrior.

Sol Invictus finally headed toward the battlefield created for him. Now the hired men were being pushed back. Sol Invictus took the hand of a dying hired man who was burning.

“Do you want to fight more? Do you want to kill all of these? Yes, yes. If they used strange tactics in the fight, they must be punished! Yes, that’s the right mindset, warrior!”

Sol Invictus shoved more divine healing power into his body. He saved him from the pain of burning with Apollo’s sunlight. The hired man screamed, but his flesh was gradually filling in.

He was forged in fire! Although he forgot to wear the red cape, the mark of a warrior, that wasn’t important.

What was important was that he wanted to fight, and Sol Invictus could make him fight. He stole another piece of flame from his gladius and injected it into his club.

He didn’t know what the source of power was, but he knew his body was overflowing with strength. And if he was overflowing with strength, there was something to be done.

“You, you fucking! Dirty spell-using commie bastard!”

He bravely charged at the union member who stood at the front. He struck his head with a club flowing with Sol Invictus’s flame, hard enough to break his skull. He struck hard enough to break the club.

What would have been a suppressed strike after one union member fell became a bloody battlefield with forty-seven dead and sixteen injured. It turned into a word utterly unsuited to the 20th century.

He gave strength to those who fell. He gave them the strength to rise again and fight for their lives and what they wanted. Everyone was fighting for him. Divine weapons and divine warriors were clashing!

Sol Invictus laughed until his lungs ran out of air at the sight, then returned to the train. When he saw everything he had created from inside the train, he felt unparalleled satisfaction.

The world should be like this! Gods should rightfully respond to people, and people should rightfully live in the paradise given by gods! Sol Invictus passed through the traces of that battlefield and strengthened his resolve again.