Ch.233The Seventh Entanglement – Variations on a Blind Revolution (3)

“The Demigod Party’s New York headquarters has gathered a significant number of people who haven’t been mentally assimilated, Inspector Senoy. Please head to the headquarters to rescue the council members as well. We’ll send support to the headquarters.”

After receiving the communication, Inspector Senoy spat out the cigarette he’d been smoking. The Hive Mind communists were at least something he could shoot and kill, but now they wanted him to protect demons? It was beyond absurd.

Like Inspector Senoy, older angels never viewed demons favorably. And that leader of the Demigod Party was… forget it, forget it. Inspector Senoy irritably scratched the back of his head where his halo encircled it.

He could just leave the job to those Blingkerton fellows who had joined the riot suppression at the scene. He only needed to stay outside and shoot the Idealist terminals.

He called over the most reliable Blingkerton detective. No, he couldn’t be a Blingkerton man. A detective who could shoot and kill human-looking terminals with an ’18 model automatic rifle without blinking couldn’t possibly be that young.

“Hey, human! People are gathering at the Demigod Party headquarters, so we’re heading there! I’ll provide air support, so handle things as you go. You two, just follow that human’s lead! With support coming, it should be easy!”

“You’re staying in the air because you can’t stand the sight of demons? Fine. Just keep a proper watch from up there if you don’t want to see these two turn into terminals.”

The operative sneered. He seemed confident that he himself would never become a terminal. All these street types were the same. Once they climbed up a bit, they thought they could never fall.

This operative was better than most street types. He truly seemed like someone who couldn’t fall. It was almost curious how one person could appear more capable than two Blingkerton detectives.

Inspector Senoy took a light running start and flew up. Watching him, the detective gestured to the Blingkerton detectives who were resting after handing over an ogre factory owner to the angels.

The Demigod Party headquarters… that’s where the reporter was. The demons might have opened the doors themselves, but more likely the reporter had made them open the doors. That was the obvious conclusion.

To figure out who was behind this Hive Mind, he needed to assess the situation first. It would be nice to see a familiar face in the process. He switched the safety back to full automatic, having temporarily set it to safe.

The factory district was filled with smoke. From the attacked factories came the unpleasant sound of Industrial Spirits crushing terminals—the sound of human bodies being pulverized. Everyone was fighting, but in too fragmented a manner.

For now, he followed the main road. Even the Hive Mind terminals knew that police and Blingkerton detectives with guns were hunting them. That made the main road safer.

The angel who had flown into the sky circled once before returning. He shouted loud enough for the detective on the ground to hear.

“A group of people just came out of a building two blocks ahead! Can’t confirm if they’re terminals or not. Make them speak to verify. Understood?”

Seeing terminals still rampaging suggested this new Hive Mind was managing multiple terminals simultaneously. That meant it couldn’t selectively make just one terminal speak with an individual voice. Voice was the verification method.

After a while, even through the smoke-obscured view, he could see people running toward them, trying to escape the factory district. They all looked terrified, though two or three with tightly pressed lips appeared expressionless.

They stopped in front of the detective, seemingly having followed the flying angel. They tensed up at the sight of his gun. Their reactions seemed human, but verification was necessary.

He wasn’t a Blingkerton detective, but there was no need to explain that in the current situation. The detective spoke without even clearing his throat.

“I’m a Blingkerton detective cooperating with the New York police. Please speak one by one. Those things have been using so much magic in the factory district that the ozone smell is overwhelming, making it difficult to verify by scent.”

People get angry when suspected. These people, having been gathered in one building, had developed some kind of camaraderie, and one man angrily confronted the detective.

“We were all gathered in that flour mill over there, and if you suspect one of us, you’re suspecting all of us of being with those commie bastards! Even if you’re working with the police…”

His face was rather square, with ashen gray hair that looked dry and unkempt. The oil stains on his face suggested he was a worker. Indeed, he was wearing work clothes. There was no time to waste with these people.

The detective lightly flipped his gun and struck upward into the man’s solar plexus with the butt of the rifle, just as he would during a strike-breaking operation, though with less force.

Still, with double the strength, the man exhaled sharply and fell to his knees. The detective readjusted his grip on the gun and pointed it at the rest of the group.

With good reason, people could be persuaded… but with good reason plus violence and an ’18 model automatic rifle with the safety off, persuasion became much easier.

“In this situation, with your rebellious attitude and work clothes, you could easily be lumped in with those Idealist terminal bastards and shot dead without consequence. I’m asking questions to avoid that. Now, the rest of you.”

Their attitude to protect the group wasn’t wrong, but now wasn’t the time. Time was precious now. One by one, they stated their names. There were no terminals among them.

Twelve people in total. If he could just get them to the Demigod Party headquarters, that would be enough. Even if the “support” from the police station didn’t include angels hanging all over the place, it would be better than three detectives and one angel.

Twelve people should be manageable. They continued past the building the people had run from. Their pace was quite slow due to the number of people, but with the angel scouting ahead, there was nothing to worry about.

However, while the angel was scouting ahead, a group of people ran out from what looked like a warehouse. There was an orc in work clothes accompanied by people in suits.

The orc’s forearm showed faint wounds. Was this a worker rushing over to protect his office colleagues? The orc shouted from a distance. Judging by his voice, he wasn’t a terminal.

“I don’t know where you’re going, but let’s go together! We were too scared to come out even though there are no terminals on the street, but we saw the angel flying and armed people walking!”

Not many people referred to the Idealist terminals as “terminals.” He remained cautious. The fact that none of the other people with the orc were speaking also kept him on edge.

If this truly was the work of the Idealists, certain things could happen. Some might believe that the revolution the Idealists had so desperately wanted had finally begun.

He assessed their numbers first. Fourteen people. He had three full magazines, enough to handle them all no matter what happened. The returning angel was also eyeing them suspiciously.

Despite approaching quite close, they weren’t slowing down. Their goal wasn’t to join up. The people in suits running behind the orc all had terribly blank expressions. They were all terminals.

“Fall back! They’re all terminals!”

He aimed first at the head of the orc running in front. With that massive body, it seemed he was trying to shield the terminals running behind him from bullets. That might have worked before machine guns were developed.

The detective, with double strength and double vitality, suppressed the recoil and pulled the trigger. The smell of gunpowder joined the ozone and smoke in the air. The .30 caliber rifle bullet easily penetrated the orc’s skull.

The orc, who had been charging forward with momentum, fell backward without even realizing he was dead. Maintaining his breathing rhythm, the detective swept his fire across the head height of the approaching terminals. The two Blingkerton detectives were shooting at their bodies.

When dealing with humans, shooting the body might be easier, but to prevent the Hive Mind from controlling terminals, you had to destroy their heads. Not that shooting the body was entirely useless.

While shooting the body wouldn’t kill a terminal, it was more than enough to stop them from advancing. Terminals made from office workers weren’t very sturdy.

By the time the magazine was empty, all the terminals were rolling on the ground. The angel who had been shooting from above landed heavily on top of them, crushing the remaining debris underfoot.

The people following the detective no longer expressed any complaints. They had realized that instead of pulling the trigger on them and creating ear-splitting gunshots, he had attempted dialogue.

Inspector Senoy shook off the crushed remains and mysterious mechanical fragments stuck to his feet and spoke. He forcibly suppressed the flames of anger that had been blazing around his eyes.

“Fucking commie bastard thinks his world has come… Are you alright?”

The detective lightly tapped the ’18 model rifle in his hand. The more he had to shoot, the more he sneered.

“Thanks to Old John. The headquarters?”

Not much further to the headquarters. This was the first time a twenty-minute walk had been so tense. He ejected the magazine and loaded a new one from inside his coat. Two left.

Inspector Senoy wiped his face with his hand, crafted of gold. They were approaching just as he had flown far for reconnaissance… they were closer to guerrillas than rioters.

“Nothing much except for Hive Mind commie bastards’ heads rolling around up ahead. Support has already arrived. Let’s go again.”

The orc who had willingly thrown his company’s office workers to the terminals died with his eyes open.

Even when his eyes were open, he lacked the ability to recognize whether the person before him was the Idealist he so respected, so there wasn’t much difference from dying with his eyes closed.

Inspector Senoy crushed the orc’s head under his foot to prevent it from being controlled as a terminal.

The detective could now see the corner of the factory district, which had become an awkward location where the factory district, the dock area, and the upscale streets met due to the demons’ redevelopment.

He didn’t feel relieved at the sight. Relief would come after hearing that woman say something foolish. As the Inspector had said, two angels were flying around near the building.

The new Hive Mind wasn’t stupid. Seeing the number of dead terminals around the headquarters, it had apparently concluded that poking its head into this headquarters would be foolish, as no more terminals were emerging from the surroundings.

The twelve people following the detective entered the Demigod Party building. Inside, there were already what looked like a hundred people gathered… and in the distance, an elf familiar to the detective was waving.

Inspector Senoy, having tied back his curly blonde hair and readjusted his halo, approached the other angels flying in the sky. The communication had clearly mentioned rescue as the objective.

“This is Inspector Senoy. The personnel seems small for a rescue mission.”

The angel flying in the sky was momentarily flustered by the unexpected appearance of a superior. He was an archangel. Saluting with his right hand crafted of gold, the angel shouted:

“Ah, Inspector! We have two angels plus eight civilians who came to the police station offering to help the angels, making ten in total! And rather than taking these people to police headquarters, the objective changed from rescue to securing and guarding, as the Demigod Party headquarters is spacious and advantageous for defense!”

So we have to sit here with the demons, thought the Inspector. He climbed onto the elegantly decorated window ledge of the headquarters, wiping his face again.

“Understood. If there are any messages from the Demigod Party, receive them. I’ll rest briefly and then patrol the area. Understood?”

Officer Suriel thought the Inspector was someone who never let his guard down in such situations, but he simply hated demons. Human communication often misses the mark. Sometimes these misunderstandings have little impact.

The detective finally set the safety back on. He slung his rifle over his back and approached the reporter to greet her, when a familiar-looking Blingkerton detective approached him. He wore a fedora but was bald.

His eyes had focus, but it was clumsy. The familiar detective—or rather, the Hive Mind controlling a Blingkerton terminal—whispered in a voice that only the detective could hear, an emotionless chorus of countless people’s voices:

“Haven’t you found that contractor?”

The detective took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it by gathering mana at his fingertips. To verify if this was truly the Idealist Hive Mind, he asked one question:

“What’s my name?”

If it was the Idealist Hive Mind, it wouldn’t remember such content. Names are personal things. The Idealist Hive Mind was a consciousness that had abandoned individuality.

“We don’t usually remember names. You are a detective. A worker who makes a living through murder. Is anything more necessary?”

The detective pushed the gun he had been holding inside his coat back into its holster with the same hand that held his cigarette. He hadn’t particularly wanted this encounter, but here they were. There probably wasn’t anything to learn, but he asked anyway:

“So it is you. Then, do you know who’s playing house with terminals over there?”

The Idealist Hive Mind spoke as if the detective had forgotten, only confirming his negative premonition had become reality.

“Of course it’s the human contractor of the Industrial Spirit King. We thought we made that clear, didn’t you hear?”

Now he finally had enough breathing room to put his thoughts together. The detective exhaled a sigh, releasing the frustration and fatigue that had been steadily accumulating all day.

“I checked directly with the Industrial Spirit King. That human contractor died ten days ago. Either you misidentified the species, or you’re lying to me. Make it clear.”

The Hive Mind couldn’t understand the detective’s words. He had definitely been attacked by a human. Judging by how skillfully they used magic while riding the Industrial Spirit King, they had to be a contractor.

“We didn’t misidentify the species. And we didn’t lie. Both were true. Dead, you say… no, you’re not someone who speaks of uncertainties. What is this? Is a ghost really wandering around?”

“If I pointed out the window and said ghosts did all this, would everyone believe me? Go outside, smoke a cigarette, and wait. The woman who went with me to the Industrial Spirit King is here too, so the three of us… let’s have a proper talk.”

The detective patted the back of the Blingkerton terminal of the Hive Mind as if he’d been chatting with an old colleague, then headed toward the reporter.

The situation was already hopelessly tangled. The only stroke of luck the detective had was that the woman who seemed to complicate matters twice over whenever he tried to resolve something was now capable of being one and a half people.