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“Stop right there, criminal scum!”

With her feet firmly planted and a heavy weight bearing down, Camila aimed her magic at her opponent.

The wind that collided with her howled ominously. A chilling warning echoed across the rooftop, amidst the wails and cries, standing at its fringe was a peculiar figure.

Wrapped in tattered cloth, the figure hid their face deep within a hood. It seemed as though they were trying to conceal their existence from the world, inciting a mix of discomfort and distaste within her.

“……”

As the flames flickered like echoes, her piercing blue eyes began to gauge the mysterious opponent.

From their appearance, she could surmise that the peculiar being was male. Fortunately, they didn’t seem to be a Dark Magician or a Demon. The source of her strange aversion stemmed from the unknown identity being hidden away.

However, one peculiar point was noteworthy.

-Thunk.

Unfazed by the warning, the cloaked figure continued to advance. Holding a staff in one hand, they walked lightly on the rooftop, resembling someone out for a casual stroll.

This made it even stranger.

“…Huff-”

With her index and middle fingers extended, Camila adopted a focused stance, ready to strike. The long, ominous wail gradually faded, turning into a purple hue.

A moment that felt eternal passed.

Just as her outstretched fingers connected—

“-Polgor.”

Flash!

The darkened world was illuminated by a purply flash.

Crackle! The opponent, hit by the sudden jolt, murmured softly in a smooth, low voice.

“Oh dear.”

As they slowly rolled up their sleeve, a small bell began to shake within the folds of their tattered garment.

-Ding…. Ding….

The slow chime blended into the purple-tinged world around her.

—

**Episode 20 – Who Threatened with a Knife?**

The biggest problem with movies and dramas is that they instill a false sense of fantasy.

What is that fantasy? It’s glamorization.

Portraying things that are realistically impossible or exceedingly difficult as achievable. Taking messy situations and seasoning them with MSG to sculpt a classic scene. This glamorization manifests across sectors and is particularly rampant in action scenes.

Isn’t there something like this? A movie where someone wields a knife and dices up thugs in a Turkish bath, or another where a guy shoots his way through a runtime just to catch someone who killed his pet dog?

Sometimes, people who can’t distinguish movies from reality (like Mr. “Ka” from London) ask, “Is that actually possible?” Lost in the cinematic dream, I would always respond in kind.

Please, view movies as movies.

“…What the hell!”

I dodged the opponent charging at me, then grabbed a handful of their hair.

The immutable laws of physics had long since toppled their center of gravity. As I kicked their knee sideways, the joint twisted in an unnatural direction, and I promptly slammed the knifed-up blade into their side.

“Hiyaaah!”

The silver blade gleamed as it grazed just above their brow, continuing its course over their head.

I deflected the wrist wielding the knife and forcefully slammed my elbow into their joint, breaking it.

Familiar screams echoed for just a moment. Snatching the knife that fell from their grasp, I drew a straight line across their throat and carotid artery.

“……”

No more screams erupted from the gaping mouth.

This was a classic reaction from someone whose vocal cords had been severed—a sensation quite familiar to me.

It was a principle to always cut the vocal cords when dealing with guards and sentries.

I learned this technique from my senior who honed knives in the office and practiced a bit of blade dancing back in Central Asia, honing it until it became instinctive.

I pushed my fist, still gripping the knife, forward, rolling my eyes to scan the surroundings.

“Hmph…”

I dealt with those trailing me amid the chaos. After knocking the first through the restroom door to knock them out, I stabbed them.

The problem was that the tails I had stepped on did not die quietly, garnering attention.

Hearing the last screams, my colleagues began to swarm in.

“Blood!”

“That bastard killed the kids! Get him! Hurry!”

The band of miscreants, reminiscent of the forty thieves (except for Alibaba himself, of course), confirmed my expectations—they were armed.

– ratatatatat! ratatatatat!

-Bang! ratatatatat! ratat! Bang! Bang!

Sparks flew in every direction as flashes flickered.

The exchange between the armed police and the thugs turned the passenger carriage into a smog of gunpowder.

The remaining thugs in the front continued to battle the police behind a wall, while those at the rear were closing in on me.

The civilians, startled by the sudden gunfire, shrieked in terror and fled. In their hurried panic, they were pushed and shoved repeatedly.

As I stole a glance at the chaos, I picked up a rifle from the floor, holding a couple of magazines in my left hand while retreating.

– ratatatatatatat! ratatat! ratatatatat!

The blood-soaked rifle erupted fire amidst the swiftly moving shadows.

The rifle hanging near the shoulder of the fallen had a shattered wooden cover, yet its trigger continued to press with fervor regardless of its ghastly appearance.

– clunk, clunk, kaboom…

Just then, the interior of the carriage plunged into darkness as we seemingly entered a tunnel. With sounds echoing all around, it appeared so.

In that pitch-black carriage, only flashes shone brightly.

The figure lurking in the darkness revealed only their contours when lightning flickered.

Leaning against a firm cover, I kicked a steel cart abandoned by the stewardess. The clattering wheels echoed loudly, followed immediately by a chorus of growls from the darkness.

Humans and objects blurred together, and not a single person could discern where the gunfire was headed in the swirling chaos.

In that ominous vortex, weapons sang a fierce tune of rage.

I sprung up and pulled the trigger towards the hazy shapes ahead. Moments later, a terrifying silence enveloped the surroundings.

“……”

The fighting had ceased, but I could still hear gunfire echoing from somewhere. It felt akin to tinnitus.

It seemed as if someone would leap out from the darkness at any moment. The air was thick with an atmosphere so tense that it felt like pure dread.

When the eternally long moment finally passed, and I emerged from the lengthy tunnel, holding a rifle stained with blood, I exhaled a sigh of relief.

“…Damn it.”

No one stood there. Well, no one except me.

I separated the magazine and tossed it beyond the seating, then discarded the rifle, hastily moving to the next carriage.

—

Whether it’s fortunate or unfortunate, the ruckus hadn’t spread throughout the entire train.

The passengers in the back carried on utterly unaware that a gunfight had erupted ahead. They could only watch in confusion as others fled in fright.

I was no different in that regard.

“…Not hearing anything?”

In this area, gunfire hadn’t been audible at all. My bewilderment blurred my thoughts, but after taking a deep breath and calming myself, I figured it out.

Not hearing gunfire from the other carriages indicated two scenarios.

First, the train was too noisy for the sound of gunfire to be heard.

Second, the thugs had somehow used some magical tool to block the noise.

Common sense wouldn’t dictate that gunfire could be muted by the noise of the train’s movement, so it was more logical to assume something had silenced the sounds.

…Damn.

“It’s a world where anyone can wield magical tools now.”

I had no idea how the world was turning.

I pressed on through the aisles to avoid being tracked. I witnessed various passengers crying and struggling in shock.

Amidst the chaotic situation, I kept pushing forward, pulled out my mobile phone, and quickly pressed the call button to bring it to my ear.

“Please, pick up…”

The call tone rang through.

Through the sobs and shouts, the noise that traveled across the train cars came and went about four times.

– Click.

Finally connected, a familiar voice flowed through.

-‘…Hello?! Frederick!’

“Are you okay?”

-‘I’m safe!’

I took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, nodding my head.

Clunk clunk. My body swayed side to side in tune with the train’s movement. Perhaps it was due to an awkward release of tension, or maybe the train was just shaking too much.

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

I leaned against a nearby seat to check on her. Initially, I planned to locate Camila and find her once I disembarked.

However, the answer that came back was completely unexpected.

-‘I’m on top of the train!’

“…What?”

-‘I’m still on the train!’

“Why haven’t you gotten off?!”

Momentarily stunned, I readjusted my grip on the phone and questioned her. Yet, Camila’s voice remained as lively as ever.

I felt like giving her a good slap for how carefree she sounded.

“Oh! But that’s not the important part!”

“What’s important then!?”

“Move out of the way there!”

“What did you just say—”

“Aah! I said move from where you’re standing! Hurry up!”

It was such a ridiculous situation. I was bewildered, but I stepped back as instructed.

“I’ve stepped aside. But what exactly are you planning to do—”

-BOOM!

“…Well, that just happened.”

As I muttered into my mobile phone, I turned my head toward the direction of the noise and found the ceiling had collapsed into my view.

No exaggeration— the ceiling had genuinely fallen.

“Cough…! Cough…! What in the world is that smell?!”

“…….”

“Ugh… I certainly shouldn’t be welding. What is this odor, good grief….”

On a piece of metal that was glowing red hot, someone familiar lay sprawled out. I was left speechless, my mouth moving but no words coming out.

In the midst of it all, she, who was coughing incessantly, locked eyes with me.

Waving her hands frantically, Camila broke into a bright smile and cheerfully said to me,

“…I’ve inhaled a lot of dust, so I guess I should go to the hospital to get checked, right?”

Upon hearing that, my neck stiffened as if trapped in petrification magic. It was the spell known as high blood pressure.

As I trembled while looking at the cheerfully smiling Camila, I raised my fist in preparation to smack her on the head.

Just then—

“Even if you have grievances, is it right for comrades to resort to violence?”

Someone grabbed my wrist.

The owner of the soft, low voice was a man with striking blue hair. He looked like he was only in his thirties, wrapped in unique clothing styled from a large piece of fabric, wearing a gentle smile on his face.

Who on earth is this guy?

“…….”

I shot him a look that silently said, “Who do you think you are?” The man let out a hearty laugh, glancing back and forth between me and Camila. At that moment, Camila suddenly realized something and hurriedly opened her mouth.

“Oh! Please don’t misunderstand. He’s not a bad person. He happened to promise to help us.”

“…Who is he?”

“He’s someone we stumbled upon earlier. I didn’t catch all the details, but he’s a friend of the professor!”

I looked at the man with a quizzical expression. Could he really be someone with connections to the Duke?

Understanding the significance of my gaze, the man smiled mysteriously, bending slightly at the waist and placing his hand on his chest.

Then, he introduced himself succinctly in a short sentence.

“I heard my old friends are in need. On behalf of the Holy See, I express my gratitude.”

The master of all Inquisition Officers and exorcist priests.

The living history of the Cult.

He was the High Priest.

*

At first, I didn’t believe it. To be more precise, I doubted whether he was really who he claimed to be.

Even though the High Priest was a well-known figure, I had never seen him in person before. There were hardly any common photographs of him; most depictions remained as portraits, to say the least.

“Is it really you, the High Priest that I know?”

The doubt I couldn’t hide seeped through in my question, but the High Priest simply chuckled lightly, as if he understood my skepticism, and nodded in agreement.

“Keep doubting and questioning. It’s a good attitude. Certainty arises from doubt. When we lift the doubts from our hearts, we finally harbor greater certainty.”

His response strayed from my intended question, yet his demeanor remained incredibly relaxed.

He didn’t lose his smile, still glowing subtly as he added,

“Many would vouch for my identity. Among them, the most trustworthy is undoubtedly Duke Smirnoff.”

“Are you expecting me to listen to him directly?”

“Isn’t it the slowest yet most reliable way to receive answers?”

I shot a glance at Camila, who shrugged her shoulders once. It seemed like a gesture to take a leap of faith and believe him.

“There doesn’t seem to be anyone hurt….”

The High Priest, with a gentle smile, held his staff and slowly walked past the people.

Then, when his gaze suddenly lingered on the front train car, the High Priest halted in his tracks.

“Hmm.”

He seemed to be observing something. Suddenly, a curious smile appeared on his face.

The staff in his hand lifted high into the air, and as he brought it down to strike the floor—

– ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ ̶ !!!

Brilliant light filled the passenger car.

The train, which had been racing along the tracks, suddenly swayed violently.

Like a rope tied to a pillar being shaken vigorously, the train rocked up and down before continuing down the rails as if nothing had happened.

“It’s done now.”

Leaving behind the passengers with wide eyes, the High Priest turned to look at us.

“We’ll travel quietly until the next station.”

Still with his gentle smile.

*

To cut to the chase, the man was not just the “High Priest’s messenger,” but truly the High Priest himself.

“Is it really the High Priest?”

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

The Duke Alexandra Petrovna, whom I met at the next destination, confirmed his identity.

Perhaps he had just caught wind of the news that a band of rebels was hiding aboard the train, for the Duke rushed over teleporting long distances, displaying a rather intense affection for his disciple.

“When you tapped the ground with your staff, the train began to rock like a suspension bridge!”

“The divine and magical powers are meaningless on their own, but they can manifest as physical force depending on the user’s intent, much like how a child’s magic transforms into flames.”

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

“Are you a fire-type or an earth-type? If you want to move the train, you should learn a different elemental magic.”

As Camila excitedly recounted what she had just witnessed, she became disheartened when her master’s reproach felt more like a scolding than praise.

The Duke, ignoring such a disciple, approached the High Priest and greeted him.

“My disciple has received your help. Thank you.”

“I merely did what any person would do; please do not mention it.”

The High Priest declined the thanks with a bashful smile.

Upon which, the Duke abruptly discarded his courteous demeanor and began to complain with an exasperated expression.

“Your speech hasn’t changed. Have you ever been told to fix it?”

“Is my speech hard to listen to?”

“Of course! You speak in a form that went out of style centuries ago.”

“My apologies. If it troubles you, I could offer you a needle and thread to sew your ears shut.”

“Would it not be better for you to keep your mouth shut rather than forget how to properly converse with people after wandering the remote parts for so long? Or is it more beneficial for me to sew your ears together?”

“…….”

Hmph. As I was testifying to the police, I glanced at the Duke and the High Priest with a perplexed expression, contemplating their connection.

Are they really acquainted? There seems to be some familiarity, but they don’t quite seem like friends.

Anyway.

The train, having reached its destination, was set to remain there for a significant period of time. All services, including the line ‘Al-Laed,’ were temporarily out of operation.

By the way, the rebel combatants who were apprehended by the local military during the border crossing had come over as mercenaries sent to collaborate with the local warlords, according to the embassy’s report.

Their illegal entry was dubious, and the armed police who boarded the train were killed by them; even the person who died from hitting the tank cover on the train was also a part of their actions (I heard they took their fingerprints right after capturing them), and they were to be executed soon, not just sentenced to death.

“Why did they kill that person? It’s puzzling… What does the embassy say?”

“They said they killed him because they thought their identities would be exposed. The victim lived in the middle of a civil war, so they must have recognized some kind of tattoo on him. They thought it was suspicious to be talking to a stewardess and went after him to kill him.”

“Really? That’s unfortunate….”

Of course, what kind of conversation the stewardess and the victim had, and whether the victim really figured out the identity of the rebels remains uncertain.

Even the embassy couldn’t grasp that aspect. I thought it was likely that they wouldn’t delve into it and would just wash their hands clean.

Anyway, the highly anticipated seven-day, six-night journey had evaporated in less than a single night.

Along with newfound connections.

“So, where exactly are we going that made you buy an expensive train ticket?”

I lightly tapped the Duke on the shoulder while thinking about the report I’d submit to my company.

While she was busy bickering with the High Priest, she regained her composure and began explaining the destination.

And I—

“Ah.”

Muttered softly with the gloomiest face in the world.

“Dammit….”

Why, of all the many possible countries, did it have to be there?

 

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