Ch.22Blasphemia Branch (2)

Blasphemia’s branch forms are quite varied.

From ordinary setups disguised as paper companies to logistics warehouses that can store various goods without arousing suspicion, where they keep weapons and confiscated contraband.

More uniquely, there are traveling theater troupes. To easily access underground rumors, some branches masquerade as taverns, urban troubleshooter guilds, or in other words, mercenary associations.

Among these, I preferred the warehouse-type branches.

They were good for raiding. When I was on the run, breaking into a warehouse could sustain me for about a week.

However, the “branch” Niobe guided me to was completely different from what I knew.

“Is this really the place?”

“Yes! Just wait here.”

It had been three days since we left Etna City. I was at a station on an abandoned railway line with no people in sight.

Trains powered by magic cores and magic stones played a significant role in large-scale logistics in this world. The main reason was, of course, the extradimensional magic.

Extradimensional magic corrodes beings who cannot wrap themselves in some form of magical field, such as mana or fighting spirit.

Even those with magical fields would be corrupted by the extradimensional forces if they depleted all their abilities. However, even a newly awakened primitive magician’s recovery ability could sustain them outside the city for about a week.

In abnormal situations, like high-risk areas where the boundary with the extradimensional realm has weakened, things become quite different. In such neighborhoods, it’s common to see corrupted murderous squirrels or stones trying to kill everything in sight.

To prevent such situations where inanimate objects or flora and fauna run wild, cities are equipped with magic towers.

Magic towers purify extradimensional magic, converting it into power while creating a magical field that prevents contamination within the city.

Therefore, magic towers are essential for human survival, and travel between cities typically requires groups of magicians moving together.

It’s for the same reason that most members of the Bicada Traveling Troupe were magicians, albeit primitive ones. Those who cannot resist the extradimensional magic seeping into their bodies become mindless mutants.

This creates a problem. How do you prevent contamination of mass-produced goods that don’t possess their own magical power, except for rare items made from special materials?

Individually packaging each item with magic stones? Having magicians enchant them? Neither option is economically viable.

That’s where the magic-powered train came in. A train using the same magic cores as magic towers for power. Functionally, it could be considered a mobile magic tower.

The idea was simple: if miniaturizing magic cores is difficult, why not create massive transportation vehicles for large-scale shipping from the start?

Though this track was clearly unused, I could hear the noise of an approaching train in the distance.

“Look, there it is!”

Niobe was unmistakably pointing at the approaching magic-powered train.

‘These guys.’

They must still have plenty of money. Even after all my raids.

I felt deep envy toward Blasphemia, a secret organization enjoying prosperity with powerful backing despite their clandestine nature.

***

Nardanit, the manager of Blasphemia’s mobile branch train Charlotte, frowned.

“A returnee.”

The CCTV showed a man standing beside Charlotte. His image was somewhat blurry, as if an artifact interference phenomenon was occurring.

The suspicious report transmitted by K17 returning from a mission. A notification about finding a lost agent from the previous generation.

Lost? What nonsense.

A few years ago, when Blasphemia fought their decisive battle against their greatest enemy, most elite agents were summoned. If someone was returning only now, they were either incapable of participating in that war or had hidden out of fear.

Though the current Blasphemia policy was to accept those returning with various excuses, it was still ridiculous.

The incompetent, the cowards, and—with extremely low probability—the truly unfortunate who experienced exactly what was written in the report.

Nardanit hoped this one wasn’t the third type. Even after decades, loyalists returning to Blasphemia were nothing but obstacles.

***

As I boarded the train, a green light scanned my entire body. It was checking whether my muscle tissue had undergone Blasphemia’s distinctive modifications.

Divius’s work must have been perfect, as no alarm sounded and no red lights flashed.

‘A train-type mobile branch. I knew about it before, but they must really have a lot of money.’

It made sense, though.

If it could transport large quantities of goods, it could also transport large numbers of people. They could rapidly deploy personnel or distribute supplies.

Compared to the airship that Carisia and I saw wandering in the desert, operating a magic-powered train was a minor undertaking.

“This is quite a unique branch. Did you train here?”

“No? This was my first assignment after graduating from training. Charlotte Branch. I heard it was established to easily track the movements of superstition followers, who tend to be nomadic?”

I counted the compartments in each car. Judging by the lack of presence, most agents must have been deployed elsewhere.

“The conductor, or rather, the branch manager, is in the engine room!”

So they’re in the head car. Considering communication with Blasphemia headquarters, other storage devices including the database would likely be there too.

Not revealing my complex feelings, I naturally followed behind Niobe.

Knock. Knock.

“Branch Manager? K17, returned from mission. I’m with a lost agent.”

“Enter.”

Niobe’s posture as she reported her mission was quite different from the impression of an ignorant kid she had given until now.

She seemed to have graduated from a Blasphemia applicant to a passable trainee agent.

“…Are you the lost agent Niobe brought?”

“Yes. I’m Ortes.”

What reaction would they show?

Before arriving at the branch, I had planned two approaches. Plan A: my excuses and improvisation work perfectly, allowing me to plant Arabel’s drone and leave without incident.

It was a hopeful plan, but not impossible. I knew quite a bit about Blasphemia from our frequent clashes.

The code name I was impersonating, L13, belonged to an actual missing Blasphemia agent. More precisely, they were deceased because I had dealt with them.

But since no report had been made to Blasphemia headquarters, the identity I was using would be classified as missing.

Plan B was simple: engage in all-out battle if Arabel’s infiltration is detected or my disguise is exposed.

In this case, I would need to minimize the number of people who saw my face, likely requiring the destruction of the entire branch.

What reaction would the branch manager show?

***

Nardanit emotionlessly reprimanded Ortes.

“So, you’re the straggler. Have you forgotten even the basics of Blasphemia? You should state your assigned serial number, not an alias.”

“Wouldn’t that be in Niobe’s report?”

“You…”

Nardanit rose. At first glance, they had a thin, delicate impression. The long black hair gave them an androgynous appearance.

But Ortes knew that the long hair wasn’t grown merely for aesthetic purposes.

Though it looked like ordinary hair, it was actually a type of biological fiber that integrated with the user. It was closer to an assassination tool that could be manipulated freely.

“Leave, K17.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave.”

At the lowered voice, K17—Niobe—hurriedly bowed her head and left the engine room. As she left, she cast a fearful and concerned glance at Ortes.

Feeling her gaze, Ortes merely shrugged once.

When the door closed, Nardanit growled.

“Don’t you understand the situation, straggler? You could be charged with defection. Answer properly.”

“Hmm. If I remember correctly, agents who have achieved sufficient results are permitted to use their names.”

It was true. Regular agents were called by code names because their positions could be replaced at any time. Agents who had achieved results and secured their positions, like branch managers, were permitted to use their names.

Nardanit snorted. Ha, a cold sneer filled the engine room.

“I looked up the code name L13 from the report. You don’t have the achievements to be so arrogant. Show respect to your superior, straggler.”

“It’s natural that they wouldn’t be recorded.”

Ortes’s calm retort. Nardanit’s biological fiber hair rippled. Though not actively using magic, charged mana was seething.

“If the personal information of a secret inspector could be accessed, would it still be a secret?”

“What?”

Ortes tilted his head.

“You said Niobe’s code name is K17. Has investigating cultists become such a low-difficulty mission that it’s assigned to a newly graduated agent alone? Since when?”

For a moment, Nardanit felt as if only a smile remained in the empty air. In the blurred presence, only the cold smile was clear in their vision.

Seeing Nardanit’s expression clouded with bewilderment, Ortes’s smile deepened.

***

Did you think I chose just any agent to impersonate?

The original owner of the L13 code name was particularly strong, and when I looked into it, they turned out to be an inspector.

“I question whether mission assignments and performance evaluations are being properly conducted in this branch. I demand access to the database.”

In other words, it was the perfect identity for pulling rank.