Ch.205The Sixth Entanglement – Bebop with the Sun God (3)

Dr. Albert, who had rushed over immediately upon receiving the summons from the God-President, looked over the man sitting on the hospital bed who didn’t actually appear to be ill.

He was a robust young man. Apart from giving off a somewhat inexplicable eeriness, he was quite handsome. If the God-President had molded him, it seemed as though He had shaped him from a block of iron.

It wasn’t a good first impression. Though young enough to be Albert’s son, he was the type of person one wouldn’t want to encounter on a dark street. Either a thug or a detective. If a detective, he’d likely be from Blingkerton.

Albert tried not to be prejudiced. If the God-President had summoned him, there must be a reason. He extended his hand first with a friendly smile.

“I’m Dr. Albert Pfeifer. I research the preservation of divinity, so I know quite a bit about unworshipped gods. I heard I was the first one recruited for the hunt against Sol Invictus…”

The detective had better social skills than Albert’s first impression suggested. The two shook hands briefly.

There was no childish attempt to establish dominance by squeezing too hard, but Albert could still feel the substantial strength in the man’s grip.

“Michael Husband, Doctor. And I don’t think the order matters much. Without any one of the three of us, the job can’t be done, which is why senior agents from the Divine Protection Bureau are running around.”

He might not have appeared particularly polite, but he knew how to be courteous. Albert now displayed a genuine warm smile rather than a manufactured one.

“It’s always pleasant to work with someone who doesn’t pull rank. Especially for someone like me who usually works with people who correct you, insisting on being called ‘Doctor So-and-so’ rather than ‘Mister So-and-so.’ I see a map spread out—were you working on a hunting plan? Would you mind sharing it?”

The detective took a moment to choose his words. About two seconds, to be precise.

“There’s no real plan yet. The gentlemen at the Divine Protection Bureau are looking for the person who wrote to Sol Invictus. Once we find them, we can make plans to preempt or whatever else needs to be done.”

It was an honest answer. Yet Albert wasn’t worried. The God-President desired an Iron Age. He provided only the vision and wanted people to forge their own paths.

It wasn’t an easy task. The world contained much misfortune. That’s why the God-President, with exquisite care, sought to alter the course of fate by touching just one or two insignificant parts, changing direction little by little.

There would likely be that much help this time too. Or perhaps this man’s presence here was already the result of that delicate intervention. Albert had faith.

“Still, we can prepare in our own way. Are you particularly skilled with words?”

If the detective respected boundaries, Albert had no intention of meddling in matters that were the detective’s responsibility. He simply wanted to fulfill his own role. That was how the world worked.

The detective, or rather the Argonian present, responded with a slightly mocking jest. His attitude wasn’t aggressive.

“I’ve never suffered from a lack of verbal skill.”

Yet simultaneously, the detective faced problems that couldn’t be solved with words alone. He recalled the veteran he’d met in early March. He remembered the comrade who had lost his way in life.

If he could just hunt down this god, he might receive answers from the God-President as compensation. He might be able to get answers from the unresponsive deity to help his comrades. He might be able to fulfill his responsibility.

Better not to imagine further. The future was too sweet, so he decided to merely taste it on the tip of his tongue rather than roll it around in his mouth. Falling into delusion and blind faith would only ruin the mission.

Nevertheless, Albert noticed the detective’s fingers tensing. He vaguely realized that this man wanted something from this mission too.

“Just remember this if you end up facing Sol Invictus alone. He’s not a war god. He also possesses aspects of healing, but he’s not a healing god either. His essence consists of just two things: he is a sun god, and he is a god who craves worship. Because Romans glorified war, the sun god became a war god, and to care for the wounded, he stole the divine healing powers that other sun gods possessed.”

That’s what Agent Warren had said, the detective thought to himself. For Warren, the idea of Sol Invictus parading around America claiming to be a war god must have been deeply offensive.

“Isn’t craving worship just an instinct for gods? That sounds about as obvious as saying elves have sensitive senses when asked about their characteristics.”

Albert nodded. It was certainly instinctual. Even gods adapted to modern life like The Morrígan and Balder still welcomed worship and respect. Despite their agreements, they enjoyed that sweetness.

But Sol Invictus took it to excess. He spoke and acted as if he still remembered sitting atop the pantheon and anticipated returning there someday.

“That’s true. But there’s an important difference. Other gods are content with respect rather than worship, but Sol Invictus alone questioned whether receiving respect wasn’t breaking the agreement, citing the promise. What kind of child can resist eating the candy right in front of them and wait patiently?”

The detective had seen The Morrígan, brimming with excitement at the gathering of authority for resistance, spreading illusions around her.

That wasn’t all. The Morrígan couldn’t resist her instincts from the beginning. She could barely contain her excitement when the detective himself approached her, carrying the scent of death and war that had once been her domain.

If a god could forcibly suppress that, they would certainly be suspicious. And if they were suppressing it to that extent… they were a cunning god. No wonder he was a war god. The detective finally responded.

“Only a child who chooses two candies in the future. So Sol Invictus is now going after those two candies. Were you the first to report him, Doctor?”

Dr. Albert nodded as if it were obvious. The detective finally began to understand the purpose of one card in the deck. A scholar who could detect Sol Invictus’s abnormal reactions would be useful.

“He’s cunning enough to hide his desires, but for a god who craves authority and worship so much, the memory of having to bow his head must be shameful. And while Sol Invictus may be a god who can suppress his desires, he’s not one who can endure insult. He’s old. An old man drunk on past glory.”

It was a ridiculous statement coming from a human who must have been at least sixty, so both the detective and Dr. Albert burst into laughter. Albert genuinely laughed, while the detective’s was more of a sneer.

At least the doctor no longer felt that eerie sensation from the detective. If he could laugh properly, make jokes, and show courtesy, then the eeriness must have been a misunderstanding.

Given that the doctor had identified the early signs of Sol Invictus’s abnormal behavior and knew so much about him… the detective immediately thought of something to ask him.

So far, they had only been chasing Sol Invictus’s trail. Even with the doctor joining them, that fact wouldn’t change. However, they might be able to close the gap a little more.

“If Sol Invictus, who had been suppressing his desires, has started to act, it’s probably because someone is offering him worship. And remember what I mentioned about the Divine Protection Bureau tracking down the person exchanging letters with Sol Invictus? In my opinion, they’re likely the same person. What do you think?”

If something was growing in a field, seeds must have been sown. The chances were higher than it being just weeds. And if there were seeds, someone must have planted them. Dr. Albert didn’t let the detective’s words go in one ear and out the other.

“It’s natural to think that way since there can’t be many apostates. Considering that Sol Invictus also possesses divine healing powers… it’s likely someone with an incurable disease or their family.”

These were the people who most desperately wanted a response from the God-President. Yet the God-President didn’t respond to them either, citing the need to be fair to everyone.

The detective held his tongue. There was no need to spew more hateful words in front of a devout believer in the God-President, especially someone he needed to work with. He was as cunning as Sol Invictus.

The despair such people felt was quite substantial. The feeling that the supposedly omniscient and omnipotent God-President was ignoring problems He could solve with a single gesture was quite bitter. The detective knew this well.

So they beg another god for healing? He condemned it as though it were absurd despite understanding it. Half would come to hate all gods like the detective himself, while the rest would naturally seek alternatives.

Theory was Dr. Albert’s domain, but beyond that was the detective’s. When it came to incurable diseases, tuberculosis came to mind first. And there was only one place where tuberculosis would be common.

Even during the mine strike where the detective had rescued the kobold from the tobacco shop, the miners were suffering from tuberculosis. The acrid air that allowed kobolds to breathe comfortably made humans sick.

“Agent Desmond, this is just a personal suggestion… but are there mining towns in Columbia County? I’m not wealthy enough to travel across America like Sol Invictus.”

Dr. Albert looked at the pale old man. Death briefly met his eyes, then answered without looking at the detective.

“Quite a few. Are you thinking incurable diseases would be common in mining towns?”

“Any detective who’s been deployed to crush mining unions would never forget the sound of miners coughing. Do you think there’s a possibility?”

Instead of answering, Death cleared his throat to summon Conquest, who had brought in the professor. Conquest, who spread like disease, was also well-versed in illnesses.

“Tuberculosis is indeed common around mining towns, Agent Desmond. If we can narrow down the investigation even slightly, following this intuition might not be a bad idea.”

Death always made the final decisions. He nodded while maintaining eye contact with Dr. Albert.

“It was wise to bring you in, Doctor. You’ve already found a lead after just a brief conversation. I’ll deploy personnel to the areas Mr. Michael mentioned.”

Whether the guess was right or not, they had at least taken a step forward. Rather than running around everywhere looking for useless evidence without knowing where to start, it was faster to make an educated guess.

Death left the hospital room with Conquest. War was asleep with his hat covering his face, just as he had been when watching the detective from afar. Silence returned instantly.

Dr. Albert broke the silence first. If it wasn’t a situation where only his words would echo, he was willing to speak up.

“That passed like a storm. But do you know anything about the last person? From what I heard, they were sending a hunter, an expert, and a driver.”

Did they tell everyone something different? The detective wondered. If so, he would have seen the most, having directly read the God-President’s official document. The detective recalled the lengthy explanation written there.

“I saw the official document sent by that venerable higher-up directly. It said to find a detective with war veteran experience, some doctor who saw a star… and a guide who would drive into hellfire itself for the right price.”

This time the detective couldn’t hide his speech habit. And Dr. Albert wasn’t so insensitive as to miss it.

“Venerable?”

Having hatred was fine, but too much of it would ruin the job. Realizing his slip of the tongue, the detective clicked his tongue once but didn’t bother making excuses.

“The Divine Protection Bureau believes none of us three will apostatize, but the reasons aren’t the same for all of us. As for me…”

Dr. Albert wore a sympathetic expression. Before blaming a non-believer, he first felt compassion for someone who must have experienced great misfortune to lose their faith.

The doctor didn’t know what to say to such people. Having never experienced misfortune himself, securing a good position at a good university, he felt that anything he might say would be meaningless.

So he let it go. It was a wise approach in its own way, since he couldn’t offer a better solution.

“While I am a devout person, right now… the objective takes priority. What matters isn’t how faithful you are, but that you won’t betray us.”

And he naturally shifted the topic of conversation. If the God-President’s document mentioned that he had seen a star, it must be the Star of Bethlehem. The Star of Bethlehem was a reason to serve the God-President.

He hesitated a bit. Explaining reasons to believe in the God-President to a lapsed believer and non-believer didn’t seem like a good idea. Swallowing his words once more, he moved on to the next topic.

“More importantly, driving into hellfire? That sounds rather ominous for people going to meet an unworshipped sun god, doesn’t it?”

The detective wasn’t stupid or insensitive enough to miss the consideration. If he were, he wouldn’t be here.

“If we really fall into hellfire, Sol Invictus will be right there with us. Personally, I think it would be quite amusing to see a sun god and war god getting roasted to a crisp. Quite an entertaining sight, I’d imagine.”

If I were Sol Invictus, I’d rather be chased by senior agents of the Divine Protection Bureau than by a human like this, Albert thought behind his smile.

Immortals had their own kind of cheerfulness. They possessed the unique vitality of beings who don’t die, and the peculiar foolishness of those who couldn’t even comprehend the concept of losing their lives.

But this detective had none of that. He made jokes and laughed… he seemed like someone with no objectionable qualities despite being a non-believer, yet Albert felt that inexplicable eeriness returning.

An inexplicable eeriness. No, that’s not it. Dr. Albert recalled his youngest brother’s son who had fought in the Great War. He thought of that boy who still occasionally behaved incomprehensibly, as if his mind had been carved away by the sound of artillery.

This detective is the same. He’s making someone who left something on the battlefield hunt down Sol Invictus who calls himself a war god. Dr. Albert misjudged. It wasn’t that far from the truth.

Everyone was making their own noise. Nothing cohered, just parallel improvisations continuing one after another. Yet no one had strayed from the path to their destination, nor could they.