Ch.535Episode 20 – Who Threatened You with a Knife?

“Stop right there, criminal scum!”

With her feet firmly planted, Camilla aimed her magic at the opponent.

The colliding winds howled with an ominous sound. Across the rooftop where the howling echoed, a chilling warning continued, and at its edge stood a strange figure.

Its entire body was wrapped in rags like a beggar, and its face was hidden deep under a hood. She felt an emotion—whether discomfort or revulsion, she couldn’t tell—at this figure that seemed to be trying to hide its existence from the world.

“……”

As flames scattered like lingering echoes, blue eyes began to measure the opponent.

Judging by appearance, the strange figure was male. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to be a dark mage or demon. The source of the alien revulsion wasn’t some inexplicable disgust, but rather stemmed from the thoroughly concealed identity.

However, there was one peculiar thing.

-Thud.

Despite the warning, the figure with the hidden identity kept approaching. With a staff in one hand, he tapped lightly across the roof, looking as if he were out for a stroll.

That made it even stranger.

“…Hup-“

Camilla spread her index and middle fingers, taking a lightning-fast stance to aim at her target. The flames that had wavered in the long howl gradually faded, turning purple.

A moment that felt like eternity passed.

And just as her outstretched fingers touched…

“-Polgor.”

Flash!

A violet lightning bolt cut across the darkened world.

With a crackling sound, the opponent facing the rushing electricity suddenly muttered. It was a very soft, low voice.

“Oh my.”

As he slowly rolled up his sleeve.

A hand began to shake a small bell from between the rags.

-Ding… Ding…

The slow bell sound overlaid the world that was turning purple.

Episode 20 – Who Threatened You With a Knife?

The biggest problem with movies and dramas is that they create illusions.

What illusion? Beautification.

They depict things that are realistically impossible, or extremely difficult, as possible. They take situations that would be terrible in reality and sprinkle them with MSG to create iconic scenes. This beautification happens across all fields and ranges, but action scenes are the worst.

You know the type—movies where someone slices through gangsters in a Turkish bath with just one knife, or spends the entire runtime shooting people just to avenge a pet dog.

Occasionally, people who can’t distinguish between movies and reality (for example, a certain “K” from London) ask questions like “Is that actually possible?” After being immersed in a film, and whenever that happens, I always answer like this:

Please, just watch movies as movies.

“…Oh shit!”

After dodging an opponent who lunged at me with all his might, I stepped back and grabbed him by the hair.

The inescapable laws of physics had long since destroyed his center of gravity. When I kicked the side of his knee, the joint bent in the wrong direction, and I immediately stabbed my knife into his side, holding it in reverse grip.

“Hyaaaa!”

The silver blade flashed. The knife that grazed just above his eyebrow went straight past his head.

I struck down the wrist thrusting the knife, then used my elbow to forcefully push the joint until it broke.

The familiar scream echoed in my skull, but only briefly. I snatched the knife that fell from his grasp and drew a straight line across his vocal cords and carotid artery.

“……”

No more screams came from the wide-open mouth.

It was the typical reaction of someone whose vocal cords had been severed, and simultaneously a very familiar phenomenon.

When cutting the throats of sentries and guards, severing the vocal cords was always the rule.

It was a technique I learned from a senior who used to bend knives in the office every day, and as someone who had danced with knives in Central Asia back in the day, I learned it diligently. Now it had become a habit.

I thrust forward with my knife-gripping fist, then rolled my eyes left and right to clear my vision.

“Hiss…”

I’d dealt with the men who were tailing me during the commotion. It was good that I’d first struck them through the bathroom door to knock them senseless before skewering their necks.

The problem was that the attention had been drawn because the guys whose tails I’d stepped on didn’t die quietly.

The screams of the last man I’d dealt with had brought his comrades running.

“Kopi!”

“That bastard killed the guys! Kill him quick!”

Ali Baba and the 40 thieves (though Ali Baba himself was nowhere to be seen) were, as expected, gunmen. When the armed police arrived, they pulled out their hidden weapons.

-Ratatatatat! Ratatatatat!

-Bang! Ratabang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Sparks flew everywhere and flashes blinked.

The firefight between the armed police and the gunmen instantly filled the train car with the acrid smell of gunpowder.

The gunmen at the front continued fighting with just a wall between them and the police, while those waiting at the rear came after me.

Civilians startled by the sudden gunfire screamed and fled. People ran in panic, pushing and shoving each other. Watching the chaos from the corner of my eye, I picked up a rifle from the floor, grabbed a couple of magazines in my left hand, and backed away.

-Ratatatatat! Ratata! Ratatatatat!

The blood-soaked rifle spat fire amid the quickly passing shadows.

The gun that had been hanging near the dead man’s shoulder had its wooden cover smashed, but despite its wretched appearance, the bolt was repeating its vigorous cycling.

-Clack, clack, rattle rattle…!

In the midst of sharp gunfire, suddenly the interior of the car was enveloped in darkness. It seemed we had entered a tunnel, judging by how the sound echoed from all directions.

In the pitch-black darkness of the car, only flashes blinked.

The opponents hidden in the darkness only revealed their outlines when the flashes lit up.

Leaning against solid cover, I kicked a metal cart abandoned by a crew member. The sound of wheels echoed loudly, and then dark muzzles roared in unison from the darkness.

In this whirlwind where humans and objects couldn’t be distinguished, and where no one knew whose bullets were flying where…

In that pitch-black vortex, weapons were singing with fierce anger.

I sprang up from my position and pulled the trigger toward the blurry forms on the other side. And not long after, an eerie silence arrived.

“……”

The firefight had stopped, but gunfire still seemed to be coming from somewhere. Like tinnitus.

It felt like someone could jump out of the darkness at any moment. The atmosphere, which made me feel I should breathe carefully, was indescribable terror itself.

When we finally emerged from the long tunnel after what seemed like an eternity…

I, backing away with the blood-soaked rifle, finally breathed a sigh of relief.

“…Shit.”

No one was left standing. Except for me, that is.

I separated the magazine and threw it over the seats, then tossed the rifle aside and hurriedly moved to the next car.

*

Fortunately or unfortunately, the commotion didn’t spread throughout the train.

People in the rear cars had no idea that a gunfight had broken out up front. They were just confused by the passengers fleeing in panic and screaming.

I was in the same boat.

“…Can’t hear it?”

The gunfire couldn’t be heard at all from here. I was so dumbfounded that my brain wasn’t working properly, but after taking a deep breath and thinking calmly, I came up with a rough estimate.

Not being able to hear gunfire from another car meant one of two things:

First, the train was too noisy and the gunfire was drowned out.

Second, the gunmen had blocked the sound through some method like a magical artifact.

Logically, gunfire couldn’t be louder than the sound of the tracks, so it was more accurate to assume something had blocked the sound.

…Damn.

“Now we live in a world where every Tom, Dick, and Harry uses magical artifacts.”

I really don’t know how the world works anymore.

I moved forward to avoid pursuit. Everywhere I saw passengers sobbing and panicking, not knowing what to do.

As if blending into the chaotic situation, I continued moving forward and took out my mobile phone.

I quickly pressed the call button and put it to my ear.

“Please answer…”

The call connection tone continued.

Amid the sobbing and shouting in my ears…

As the noise of moving between train cars repeated three or four times…

-Click.

Finally, a familiar voice flowed from the connected phone.

-‘Hello?! Frederick!’

“Are you alright?”

-‘I’m safe!’

I took a deep breath, then exhaled with a “whew,” nodding my head.

Clack, clack. My body swayed left and right with the train’s movement. I couldn’t tell if it was because my strength had subtly drained or if the train was shaking too much.

“Where are you? Did you get off the train?”

I asked about her whereabouts while leaning against a nearby seat. I planned to find her as soon as I disembarked, after first determining Camilla’s location.

However, the answer that came back contained completely unexpected content.

-‘On top of the train!’

“…What?”

-‘I’m still on the train!’

“Why didn’t you get off?”

Momentarily dumbfounded, I readjusted the phone and demanded an explanation. But Camilla’s voice remained as lively as ever.

Enough to make me want to give her a good flick on the forehead.

-‘Ah! That’s not the important thing right now!’

“Then what is important?!”

-‘Move out of the way!’

“What did you just-“

-‘Aack! Move from where you’re standing! Hurry!’

It was an absurd demand. I wondered what was going on, but I stepped back as instructed.

“I’ve moved to the side. But what are you planning-“

-CRASH!

“…to do.”

While muttering into my phone, I suddenly turned my head toward the source of the noise and saw a collapsed ceiling in my field of vision.

Literally, the ceiling had caved in.

“Cough…! Cough…! What is this smell?!”

“……”

“Ugh… I’m definitely not cut out for welding. The smell, it’s just, ugh…”

On top of the red-hot metal piece with glowing edges lay a familiar person sprawled out. I could only gape, forgetting what to say.

In the midst of this, as she continued coughing, she met my gaze.

Flapping her hands wildly, Camilla smiled brightly and…

Said this nonsense to me:

“…I inhaled a lot of dust, so I should probably go to the hospital for a check-up, right?”

As soon as I heard those words, the back of my neck stiffened as if under a petrification spell. It was a spell called high blood pressure.

I trembled while looking at the thick-skinned Camilla, and raised my hand to bring it down on her head.

Just then.

“Should violence be used between comrades, no matter how deep the grievance?”

Someone caught my wrist.

The owner of the soft, low voice was a man with striking blue hair. The man, who looked to be barely in his 30s at most, wore peculiar attire with his body wrapped in a large cloth, and had a gentle smile on his face.

Who is this guy?

“……”

When I looked at him with an expression that said “who are you to interfere,” the man let out a good-natured laugh and looked back and forth between me and Camilla. Then Camilla, belatedly realizing something, hurriedly opened her mouth with an “oops” expression.

“Ah! Don’t misunderstand. He’s not a bad person. He actually promised to help us.”

“…Who is he?”

“We just happened to meet a little while ago. I didn’t hear the details, but he seems to be an acquaintance of the professor!”

I examined the man with a puzzled expression, wondering if he really was acquainted with the Grand Duke.

Understanding the meaning behind my gaze, the man smiled mysteriously and bowed slightly with his hand on his chest.

Then he introduced himself with a short, concise sentence:

“I heard my old friends received help. On behalf of the Vatican, I express my gratitude.”

The teacher of all inquisitors and exorcists.

The living history book of the church.

It was the High Priest.

*

At first, I didn’t believe it. More precisely, I doubted if it was really him.

Although the High Priest was famous, even I had never seen him in person before. There were hardly any photos of him to begin with, with only portraits remaining, so how could I not be skeptical?

“Are you really the High Priest I know?”

It was a question tinged with undisguised doubt, but the High Priest nodded with a light smile, as if he understood even that.

“Doubt, and doubt again. A good attitude. Certainty comes from doubt. When we remove the doubt in our hearts, we can finally embrace greater certainty.”

It was an answer that deviated from my intention, but his attitude was very relaxed.

He maintained his gentle smile and added:

“There are many who could vouch for my identity. But the most reliable among them would be the Grand Duke of House Smirnov.”

“Are you saying I should ask him directly?”

“It would be the slowest but most trustworthy answer, would it not?”

When I glanced at Camilla, she shrugged once. A gesture suggesting we should trust him for now.

“It seems no one is hurt…”

The High Priest, wearing a subtle smile, slowly passed through the people with his staff.

Then suddenly, when his gaze lingered on the front train car, the High Priest stopped walking.

“Hmm.”

After observing something as if examining it, he suddenly smiled strangely.

The staff in his hand was raised high, and then as he struck the floor once…

– ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ !!!

A dazzling light filled the car.

The train racing along the tracks swayed greatly, like a wave.

As if someone had forcefully shaken a rope fixed to a pillar, the train rocked up and down before continuing to race along the rails as if nothing had happened.

“That should do it.”

Leaving behind passengers with rabbit-like eyes, the High Priest removed his staff and turned to us.

“We should have a quiet journey to the next station.”

Still with that subtle smile.

*

To conclude, the man was not “someone pretending to be the High Priest,” but truly the High Priest himself.

“Was he really the High Priest?”

“Yes. It seems you’ve finally met him, child.”

Grand Duchess Alexandra, whom we met at the next stop, confirmed his identity.

Having belatedly received news that a bunch of rebels had infiltrated the train, the Grand Duchess had rushed over, even using long-distance teleportation repeatedly. Her love for her disciple was quite intense.

“When he tapped the floor with his staff, the train swayed like a suspension bridge!”

“Sacred power and magic have no meaning in themselves, but depending on the user’s intention, they can manifest as physical force. Just as your magic turns into flames.”

“But I’m not strong enough to lift a train off its tracks…”

“Are you a fire wielder or an earth wielder? If you want to move a train, learn magic from another elemental category.”

Camilla, who had been excitedly explaining what she’d just witnessed, shriveled up like dried fish in disappointment at her master’s admonishment.

Passing by her dejected disciple, the Grand Duchess approached the High Priest to greet him.

“My disciple received your help. Thank you.”

“I merely did what any person should do, so please don’t mind.”

The High Priest smiled as if embarrassed and declined the thanks.

Then the Grand Duchess threw aside her dignified attitude and suddenly started grumbling with a disgusted expression.

“Your manner of speech is still the same. I told you to change it.”

“Does it disturb you?”

“Of course. You babble in literary style that was only used centuries ago.”

“I regret to hear that. If it bothers you, I shall provide thread and needle so you may sew your ears shut yourself.”

“Would it be more beneficial for you, who wanders remote places and forgets how to interact with people, to close your mouth? Or for me to sew your ears shut?”

“……”

Sssip. I was giving my statement to the police when I pursed my lips with an ambiguous expression, watching the Grand Duchess and the High Priest.

Are they really acquainted? They seem to know each other, but they don’t look like friends at all.

Anyway.

The train that had reached its stop was scheduled to remain here for quite a long time. It was the result of all routes of “Al-Raed,” including the train we had boarded, temporarily suspending operations.

For reference, the rebel combatants who were subdued by the High Priest while crossing the border were handed over to the local military.

According to what I heard through the embassy, they were combatants from foreign countries—essentially mercenaries—who came to cooperate with this country’s warlords.

Their purpose for illegal entry was malicious, and they had killed quite a few armed police who had boarded the train for inspection. They were also responsible for the death of a person who was hit by a water tank cover on the train (I heard they took fingerprints right after the arrest), so they were planning to execute them soon. Not just capital punishment.

“I wonder why they killed that person… What did the embassy say?”

“They said they killed him because they were afraid their identity would be discovered. Ugh, the victim lived right in the middle of a civil war zone, and apparently they recognized some kind of tattoo on his body. They thought it was suspicious that he was talking to a crew member, so they followed and killed him.”

“Really? That’s sad…”

Of course, what conversation the crew member and the victim had, and whether the victim really noticed the rebels’ identity, remained questions.

Even the embassy couldn’t figure that out. I thought they would likely drop the matter without investigating that part.

Anyway, the long-awaited 6-day, 7-night journey had vanished before even a single night had passed.

Along with the new connections we’d made.

“So, where exactly were you going that you bought such expensive train tickets?”

I tapped the Grand Duchess’s shoulder, thinking about the report I would submit to the company.

She, who had been bickering with the High Priest, cleared her throat with a composed expression as if nothing had happened, and began to explain our destination.

And I…

“Ah.”

With the most dejected face in the world, I muttered quietly.

“Fuck…”

Why, of all the many countries, did it have to be that one?