Chapter 176
Day 4 of the train journey.
Now, only a single day remained until their destination.
A lot had happened in the meantime.
Simon had taken a long nap in the middle of the day, and the three of them, including Ellen, had played card games. It seemed their game looked fun to others too, because people from other compartments joined in, and soon there were seven playing together.
When the train stopped at a station, they would step outside, stretch as much as they could, and buy various foods. The food served on the Holy Train was decent, but they were getting tired of it, so they bought lunchboxes from the stations instead, which were not only tastier but also came in larger portions.
Tasting the local specialties at each station, all unique, was a delight of its own. It was a flavor of travel that could only be experienced in the Holy Federation.
Wanting to enjoy train culture a bit more, Simon even visited the third-class compartments and mingled with travelers there. Though the culture was different, everyone was good people, the kind you could find anywhere.
With his naturally friendly and courteous personality, Simon quickly got along with anyone. Now, whenever Simon passed by, the older men would hand him rum, saying "Have a drink". After one night of heavy drinking, he stumbled back to his room, collapsed on the desk, and Lete had once patted his back with a disappointed look on her face.
And then there was Inquisitor Metin.
Even after being dragged away and beaten by Lete, he persistently continued interrogating Simon. Each time, Lete glared at him as if she'd kill him, but he paid no mind. The senior inquisitors caught in the middle were left in an awkward position.
Eventually, the seniors often had to step in to interrupt Metin's interrogations and drag him away.
Lete's wrath was frightening, but in truth, even among the inquisitors, Simon's reputation as a devout and polite individual had risen considerably. Now, no one sided with Metin.
"Hey, hey! Loosen up, rookie."
As Metin was being dragged away again after only asking two questions, a senior inquisitor threw an arm around his neck and joked cheerfully.
"Even if that guy really is a necromancer, shouldn't we acknowledge him at this point? You won't find someone that faithful even in the Federation."
"..."
At those words, Metin silently looked at the senior inquisitor.
This senior's name was Odel. A fourth-year inquisitor and the team's mood maker.
"Senior."
"Hmm?"
"You seem to know a lot about necromancers."
It was a sarcastic remark, but Odel burst out laughing loudly.
"Ah, of course! My job is to beat those guys down!"
"Necromancers are a vile breed who desecrate the dead, feel sexual urges toward corpses, and commit acts of terror for fun."
Odel grabbed the top of Metin's head and vigorously rubbed it back and forth.
"Ugh, that hurts!"
"Well~ I can't say I understand their tastes either. The ones who bomb cities and do evil things, those are the extreme types. Want me to put it simply? It's just 'only the ones who would do that do it'. Do you really think that sincere, kind guy would commit acts of terror and do evil things? You think that just because he's a 'necromancer'?"
"..."
At those words, Metin felt his resolve waver, even for a moment, and bit his lip hard.
"Whether they do evil or not, necromancers are unforgivable just by existing."
Odel chuckled.
"Sure, sure. What am I doing trying to reason with a devout youth like you? My point is, have some flexibility."
Before they knew it, they had arrived at the inquisitor lounge at the front of the train. Standing at the door, Odel dusted off Metin's shoulders and continued.
"There are a lot of ordinary people who dislike the Goddess. Their lives are miserable, and no matter how much they pray to the Goddess, not a single crumb of bread falls from the sky. And yet the monasteries talk about church taxes and the Twelve Laws, just collecting more and more taxes. If we labeled everyone disgruntled with the Goddess as a heretic and locked them up, there'd be no one left to farm, and the whole Federation would dry up and die."
"..."
"Alright, alright, I'm nagging too much. Let's go in!"
The two opened the door and entered the inquisitor lounge. Including the captain, Baccarat, five men were inside, laughing loudly.
"Oh, rookie! Got thrashed by that guy again today?"
"Look at that gloomy face, definitely!"
"Hahahaha!"
Metin ignored the voices and slumped into a seat at the end. Baccarat raised a hand to stop the others.
"Well done, Odel, Metin."
"Yes, sir, Captain!"
Odel answered with a broad grin.
"..."
Metin simply nodded with his hands clasped. Some senior inquisitors criticized his attitude, but again, Baccarat intervened.
'What do these guys know, just sipping wine on the Holy Train.'
Metin found the senior inquisitors here distasteful.
He and his original team had been assigned to the frontlines of the conflict zones. Those areas were soaked in the propaganda of the Dark Alliance, teeming with necromancer followers and heretics.
If someone was suspicious, interrogation came first, no questions asked. They had to enforce discipline through example, or it would be their own necks on the line.
But the inquisitors stationed on the train, working peaceful rear-zone patrols, were all indecisive.
From the good-natured Captain Baccarat, to Odel who defended necromancers, Metin found them all pathetic.
"Alright, alright."
Odel stood up and clapped his hands to lighten the mood.
"Today's schedule is over, and yesterday was Holy Day, but we just let it pass! Let's at least have a light drink to celebrate!"
On Holy Day, followers of the Church of Dave had a tradition of drinking red wine made in monasteries while praying to the Goddess. Odel said this as he pulled out a premium bottle of wine from his bag.
"Brought this from Banyard Monastery! Seventeen-year vintage."
"Whoa! That's an expensive brand, isn't it?"
"Nice, nice! We're priests too, after all—we've got to honor Holy Day."
The mood grew lively. Odel poured out glasses of the fine wine for everyone. Metin tried to refuse, but under the gaze and pressure of the seniors, he reluctantly accepted.
"What about Sarah?"
Baccarat asked. She was the only female inquisitor on the train team.
"Like always, went straight to bed in the women's car as soon as work ended. You know she can't even touch alcohol."
"Then let's just keep it low-key among us."
The group reached a consensus. Odel, the owner of the wine, raised his glass and led a prayer. Everyone closed their eyes and listened.
"Grateful for the blessing of the Great Goddess! Laus!"
"Laus!"
They all brought the glasses to their lips with gusto. Exclamations of admiration came from all around.
"Ahh! That's good stuff!"
"Nice… but it kind of burns going down..."
By the time they realized something was off, it was already too late.
"...Huh?"
The inquisitors looked down. Something red and sharp had burst out of their chests.
The walls of the train had turned red like living flesh, and thorns had sprung out from them. Their bodies froze the moment they swallowed the wine, unable to dodge or erect barriers.
Clink!
Odel, the only one standing, sneered and dropped his wine glass to the floor. The wine pooled like blood.
"You…!"
Baccarat's pupils trembled.
"You weren't… Odel…!"
Shlurk! Shlurk! Shlurk!
With a flick of Odel's hand, countless thorns erupted from the wall, piercing Baccarat's body.
"You were the trickiest one, so I had to make sure you were dead. But,"
Odel turned his head.
"How did you notice, rookie?"
Amidst the five inquisitors who had met their deaths, one alone had half-risen from his seat, grabbing at the thorns.
"You have no scent of Holiness or Darkness. Just blood."
Metin flared his nostrils.
"Such an overpowering stench of blood that it masks every other scent. The only ones who reek like that are the most notorious serial killers, but for someone like that, you acted far too normal."
"Huh, so that smell nonsense wasn't a load of crap after all?"
In truth, Metin had reported to the others that Odel smelled suspicious. But due to the Simon incident, his credibility had plummeted, and no one listened.
"Metin, Eastern Front Inquisitor."
Vwooom!
Metin spread his arms. Subspace opened, and torture devices clattered to the floor or mounted onto his body.
Metin took a battle stance.
"From this moment, I begin heretic interrogation. Reveal your true identity willingly."
"As a final gift, I suppose that'll do."
Fwoooosh!
A violent energy surged from his body, ripping apart his shirt. On his now-exposed upper body, crimson markings were painted all over.
"My name is Aloken."
As Odel ripped off the biotechnical mask clinging to his face, the face of a middle-aged man with long, slit eyes was revealed.
"I am a bishop of the Blood Heaven Sect."
* * *
The fight didn't even last two minutes. Metin, his body drenched in blood, collapsed against the wall.
"Weak."
He hadn't even been a distraction. Aloken bared his teeth in a smile and moved forward. After the inquisitor lounge was the crew room, and beyond that, the engine room.
When Aloken opened the door to the next car, the crew, who were busy preparing meals, froze in shock at the sudden intrusion. Aloken raised his arm.
Thud! Whack! Thump!
A force unknown in nature struck several crew members down, leaving them bloodied and lifeless.
"Kyaaaa!"
"Silence."
At Aloken's chilling words, the surviving crew covered their mouths and trembled. As he waved his hand, snares formed of blood shot out and wrapped around the crew members' necks.
"Gghk!"
Grabbing the snares, Aloken headed straight for the engine room, dragging the groaning crew along the floor.
The steel door to the engine room was firmly shut, but when Aloken placed his palm on it, blood exploded like a burst of arterial spray, and the door shattered.
"Gasp!"
The engineer stumbled back from his seat in horror.
Aloken looked around. In the center of the engine room, a complex, permanent holy magic circle was drawn, and tubes supplying holiness were intricately attached to it.
"From this moment on, this entire train is an offering to the Blood Heaven Sect. The inquisitors are all dead, so abandon all resistance."
At those words, the engineer's face turned pale.
The Blood Heaven Sect! The very same lunatic heretical group responsible for recent massacres.
"Change the train's course, engineer."
Aloken dropped a map at the engineer's feet, who trembled as he looked down.
"Slow the speed and head for point C, as marked on the map."
Looking at the map, the engineer saw a red letter 'C' clearly marked on it.
"T-that track's been long abandoned and is in ruins! If we send the train there—!"
"We've already restored the tracks."
Aloken spoke coldly.
"No more talk. Do as you're told."
The engineer swallowed hard.
"You're asking me to endanger the passengers? I absolutely can't allow—"
Thud!
Before he could finish, Aloken swung his hand back. One of the crew members he had dragged along collapsed in a spray of blood.
"Kyaaaaah!"
A scream tore through the engine room like shattering glass.
"Every moment you delay, one more dies."
Thud!
The second crew member's body exploded in blood and crumpled.
"Next, I'll bring in the passengers from the cabins and kill them all right in front of you."
Thud!
A third crew member burst. The engineer's body began trembling violently. Aloken stretched his arm toward the final remaining crew member.
"Please! Uwaaaah! Hrk! Engineer! Please save me!"
The last crew member sobbed and begged.
Tears welled in the engineer's eyes. This murderer was serious. He truly believed this monster would sacrifice the remaining crew and then start dragging in passengers too.
"...Fine."
At last, the engineer sat down and activated the holy magic circle.
Moments later, the Holy Train, now decelerated, safely veered onto the track segment labeled C. Aloken smiled in satisfaction.
"Excellent."
Thud! Thud!
The engineer and the final crew member collapsed, blood-drenched.
Now, no one could stop him. Laughing loudly, he took out a communication crystal orb.
"Just as planned. Begin."
* * *
"Everything is going according to plan~"
Lete, delighted after her dessert of cream cake, spoke in a soft voice.
"We're almost there. Once we get off at the station and head up, we'll find the Tree of Life. We can finally save Miss Anna."
"..."
Lete stopped speaking and looked at Simon.
"What's with that serious expression?"
"...Don't you smell something strange?"
Lete shrugged.
"Are you catching that Metin guy's paranoia or something? Smell? What smell?"
"Blood."
At those words, Lete's expression subtly hardened. Simon rose from his seat.
"There's a blood smell, stabbing my nose."