Ch.26Blasphemia Branch (6)

Ortes looked down at the biofibrous hair in his hand. Cut off from its source, and with the original body already dead.

As the remnants of magical energy that had fixed the hair in blade form disappeared, the biofibers lost their cohesion and began to scatter strand by strand.

Niobe observed Ortes. The devastated magical locomotive and the branch director. Ortes standing before the director’s corpse.

She steadied her trembling voice and asked, “Why?”

Ortes shrugged. The branch director’s hair scattered from his hand, resembling the act of scattering ashes after cremation—a gesture of memorial.

“Someone who needed to die has died, that’s all.”

But his words conveyed something entirely different. His tone felt not merely cold, but cruel.

Niobe sensed the disconnect between the affable, smiling “dropout agent” senior she had known and the Ortes standing before her now.

What made this disconnect even more terrifying was Ortes’s characteristic faint smile. Whether during their meeting at the Vicada Traveling Troupe or now, Ortes’s smile remained unchanged.

“Well then. Everyone, please come out.”

When Ortes had boarded the Charlotte branch train, he had determined that there were “almost no” human presences in the passenger car. In other words, there were still a few.

Gradually, Blasphemia agents emerged from the chaotic passenger car, each firmly gripping their weapons.

Ortes thought to himself, ‘There are more than I expected.’

I thought there would be five or six at most. There are nearly twenty of them.

But showing bewilderment at this point would be amateur. A true master who knows how to pay a thousand-nyang debt with a single word never loses their smile.

Ortes’s smile was half a means of intimidation. When you’ve cornered an opponent in a deadly trap, yet continue smiling even after falling into it yourself, it naturally makes them think, “Did something go wrong?”

This was Ortes’s survival strategy—to induce that moment of hesitation in the midst of battle where a single moment’s doubt could mean life or death.

But the Blasphemia agents facing that smile now felt differently about it.

There’s a hypothesis that smiles originally evolved from predators baring their teeth as a threat. Ortes’s expression was exactly like that.

A madman who had brutally murdered the branch director, deliberately using the director’s own magic to stab him to death.

This fear was partly why the Blasphemia agents didn’t immediately attack Ortes.

There was another reason as well.

“I believe I owe you an explanation first.”

Ortes slowly scanned the agents who had revealed themselves. The agents tried to read his psychology from his face, but his nearly-closed eyes formed an impenetrable barrier.

“Blasphemia Charlotte Branch Director Nardanit was plotting treason.”

It was a calm yet shocking declaration. Hearing this, Niobe blurted out a short “What?” in confusion and betrayal.

But what bewildered her even more was her seniors’ reactions.

Half, or perhaps seventy percent of them, bit their lips upon hearing Ortes’s declaration. They had clearly already allied themselves with Nardanit.

“My, my. You shouldn’t let your expressions falter so easily when your scheme is exposed, juniors. It makes selection too easy.”

The lack of personnel at the Charlotte branch was Nardanit’s intention. Blasphemia agents are guaranteed a certain period of rest after completing missions for self-maintenance.

Nardanit had used his authority as branch director to subtly adjust mission assignment cycles so that the rest periods of rebel faction members would gradually overlap.

The plan was for the entire Charlotte branch to join the rebel faction once all recruited personnel had overlapping rest periods.

Now, seventy percent of the Blasphemia agents gathered at the Charlotte branch—those recruited by the rebel faction—were too bewildered by their leader’s sudden murder to decide on their next move.

Understanding the situation, Niobe asked in astonishment, “Ortes… who are you?”

***

Perfect. I almost shouted in joy. With this atmosphere, I can deceive them all.

The aftereffects of forcing my eyes open to block the self-destruction spell are still severe.

If it were 5 to 1, I could take them all down without much trouble. But 20 to 1 requires some serious consideration.

Besides, if an entire Blasphemia branch disappears, that creates its own problems. Even the high-ups in the Ten Towers’ retirement home would start paying attention to their underlings at that point.

It’s too early for a direct confrontation with the Ten Towers.

If I had to choose a time, it would be when the protagonist arrives. It would be more efficient to move behind the scenes when the resurrected Demon King appears and draws the Ten Towers’ attention.

“Well, I should first offer my apologies.”

I deliver my prepared response. Sometimes deception is more efficient than slaughter.

With Blasphemia already short-staffed, throwing in a traitor problem will leave them with no capacity to pay attention to a frontier city like Etna.

“My name isn’t Ortes, and this isn’t my real face.”

***

“An inspector wouldn’t reveal his real name and appearance, of course.”

Niobe stared blankly at Ortes—no, Inspector L13. Was the code name he provided even real?

“It’s quite regrettable that I had to use a false identity even when meeting old colleagues, but it’s part of the job.”

The inspector shrugged and added a few more details. He needed a pretext to infiltrate the Charlotte branch, so he decided to use Niobe, who was dispatched to the Vicada Traveling Troupe. As Hydra Sara, a rising organization, was monitoring the troupe, he disguised himself as an executive to approach them.

She had thought something was strange from the beginning. Blasphemia agents shouldn’t pursue personal gain, yet he held a high position in a magic tower.

Unless he was planning to betray the organization, it wasn’t the attitude of someone who wanted to return to it.

But to think everything from their meeting until now had been a disguise.

As Niobe was about to shut down her thoughts, her training as a Blasphemia agent held her back. The psychological analysis method that agents use to deduce the whole from small clues.

The technique of filtering out information closest to the truth by combining the subject’s words and actions.

The hair scattered like a memorial and his current mention of “old colleagues.” The branch director Nardanit and the inspector must have been acquainted.

“Nice to meet you, juniors. I am an inspector. I don’t think I need to tell you my name or code name. We’re the kind of acquaintances who are better off not meeting again. Forget my face too. It’s someone else’s anyway.”

Niobe thought she detected a hint of sadness beneath that playful tone.

“Charlotte Branch Director Nardanit conspired with traitors to offer the entire Charlotte branch to them. This situation has been reported to the Blasphemia Audit Office, and the entire Charlotte branch is under investigation.”

Of course, Ortes wasn’t sad at all.

“I will audit the database files and submit them as evidence, so any manipulation after this moment is prohibited. People from headquarters will arrive soon to handle the situation.”

This was to create a pretext for Ortes himself to manipulate the database. Video manipulation wasn’t his specialty, but Arabel would handle it well if asked.

“Those who cooperated with Nardanit’s plan should put on magic-sealing handcuffs and wait. That is all.”

As Ortes headed toward the database, he recalled Blasphemia’s audit reporting system.

It was natural for secret inspectors to erase their traces, but the question was how to guide the auditors.

He needed to summon the auditors without meeting them face-to-face. That would expose his false identity to everyone.

‘Usually these things involve a proper handover. I need a reason why the inspector had to leave urgently without meeting the follow-up team.’

Ortes decided on that “reason” without much deliberation.

‘They said survivors from the Golden Desert Operation returned corrupted by extra-dimensional forces? I’ll report that I left the scene to pursue leads on the corrupted ones.’

The fake report Ortes prepared was simple:

“Charlotte Branch Director Nardanit’s defection confirmed. Backed by extra-dimensional corruptors. Note: Corruptors’ identities presumed to be agents deployed in Golden Desert Operation. Leaving scene to track them. Send formal inspection agents as soon as possible.”

‘While I know quite a bit about this organization from having taken down many Blasphemia branches, I’m not familiar with their document formats. Rather than adding risky details, it’s more convincing to give the impression that I wrote concisely because I was in a hurry to chase rebels.’

Originally, the magical core and its surroundings were the vital parts of the magical locomotive. Special partitions are usually installed to conceal the core’s location.

But those special partitions and their inscribed spells seemed to have been destroyed in the battle between Ortes and Nardanit. Ortes could easily approach the database by following the magical energy emitted from the core.

Opening the database door and entering, Ortes looked around.

“It should be somewhere around here.”

He was searching for Arabel’s spider.

***

Meanwhile, Arabel had been perplexed for some time after seeing the message Nardanit had tried to send.

A secret inspector for Blasphemia? What on earth did this mean?

When she and Divius were summoned, there had been hints that both the boss and Ortes might originally have been high-ranking members of the Ten Towers.

But they weren’t exiles—they were active members?

A sound from beyond the screen intensified Arabel’s confusion. It was Ortes’s approaching footsteps.

“Director? There’s no one around at the moment, so could you come out for a bit?”

Though still conflicted, Arabel couldn’t delay any longer. The spider drone slowly crawled toward Ortes’s feet.

“I have a favor to ask. The stored surveillance camera footage…”

‘Huh?’

Arabel felt a different kind of bewilderment. The indignant confusion she had felt quite often these past few days.

“Could you please appropriately modify or delete all parts showing my face, and send a message to database internal BS 52: 5 as I dictate?”

It was the frustration of an office worker confronted with sudden overtime.