Chapter 411
Chapter 411
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 411
Chapter Title: Chapter 18. Railed (15)
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****
Static, crackle—
[Soulmancer Gilderda here. Can you hear me? Can you reply?]
“W-whoa! A sudden voice...!”
[No mana interference device, it seems. Don’t make a fuss. I told you I’d contact you via magic.]
Deep into the night. Amid the clamor of rail ship engineers busily performing maintenance, the soulmancer’s sinister voice echoed.
[I’ve confirmed you’ve safely taken position among the engineers. The catalyst—the catalyst, what did you do with it? Did you take it out of your pocket?]
“I hid it in the spot the train folks said was Lord Volteus’s seat... Deep inside the small drawer by the bed, just as promised, taken out of my pocket...”
[Hmm. Drawer by the bed...]
The conversation paused for a moment, and from beyond the mana communication, voices of several people discussing could be heard. Mostly positive tones mixed with a hint of concern.
[You weren’t spotted by anyone, were you?]
“Yes. I don’t know what happened, but suddenly everyone got busy and the train emptied out...”
[Oh ho. Suddenly busy, were they? The rail ship crew?]
“Yes.”
[What’s that elf, Naelda, doing?]
“Uh... She was closing some wide-open engine.”
[The tender car—what’s the status of the tender car?]
“What’s a tender car?”
[You useless—!]
The soulmancer’s curse, thick with tension. A voice holding someone back, then Gilderda’s voice, as if composing himself.
[...No. If you can see the engine, it must be the head car. Right behind the head car, there’s one train car attached directly to the mana engine. A car that’s essentially one huge tank, with no passageways.]
“Oh, I know that one.”
“Good. Go up to it and knock on that wall with your hand. What sound does it make?]
Thung—thung—
“Uh... Like knocking on a slightly dull metal plate.”
[...They’ve filled it with water. They’re preparing to depart.]
[That vulgar elf must have caught on to something...]
“I-I didn’t say anything! Really!”
“Don’t panic. Train crews are sharp by nature. They know people in every city. The fact that they’re preparing to flee but left you alone means they still don’t know the specifics of our plan.]
“W-what do I do now? Should I... run away?”
[No, if you vanish now, that suspicious elf might catch on. Act natural. Completely natural. Like a boy with little time left before the city departs.]
[I’ll contact you if we need anything else.]
Static, crackle—
The communication ended abruptly after saying only what needed to be said, leaving the anxious boy behind.
...Mmph, mmph!
“You can breathe now, sir.”
“Phaaa!”
“Hoo!”
While the soulmancer and I were communicating, the engineers huddled around finally exhaled the breaths they’d been holding.
“What’d they say? They’re gonna kill us all?”
“Brastol’s strike team is coming?”
“Uh... For now, it seems they’re sticking to targeting Lord Volteus first.”
“Then... we’re safe for the moment.”
“Damn it! My heart’s gonna explode! Why not just sneak out quietly? Why tip them off that we’re trying to escape?”
Why, indeed.
“Because not everyone in the Brastol House is an idiot.”
They’re doing it to escape a little more safely.
It’s basic strategy: never assume the enemy is a fool.
Most things in the world don’t go your way, after all?
‘This city is Brastol House territory.’
The rail ship came to this city as a target of the Brastol House from the start, so they’re surely monitoring our movements.
If they’re moving stealthily to deceive us, and something unexpected happens, they’ll think ‘Something’s wrong!’ and mobilize immediately.
‘Even today, during what should’ve been rest time, they claimed emergency maintenance and cranked the engine full blast.’
Watching the prey, and suddenly they do something unplanned? Huh? What’s this?
With incomplete intel, it’s natural for the Brastols to feel uneasy.
So, we leaked it on purpose.
That we’re preparing to bolt.
“Dwarf uncles, come on! You heard earlier! It’s all deliberate—they’re letting them know! Naelda and Lord Volteus approved it too!”
“So what’s the difference? Them figuring it out and coming to stop our escape, or us telling them and them coming to stop us! The latter’s even faster!”
“Of course! It’s about their mindset toward us!”
“Mindset?”
“What good’s that? Does it block mana shells?”
“Argh, you rock-headed fools! How do you not get this!”
To the dwarves—even elves and beastkin understood, yet they kept asking—I explained the plan one last time, thinking this might be it.
In short, we’re escaping while making the Brastols feel like ‘They’re dancing in the palm of our hands.’
That’s how it is when you’re the one scheming from behind the scenes. Everything rolling out right in front of you feels so reassuring, but any unseen corner feels like sitting on pins and needles?
“Even if we sneak out without detection, there’s only one exit: the tracks. So the chase starts the moment we leave the city, right?”
“Exactly.”
“But if they already know the rail ship’s escape plan and have a solid grip on the soulmancers—who are handling countermeasures—they’ll see us heading out and think, ‘Stupid engineers. Go on, run as hard as you can.’ Right?”
“Uh... yeah?”
They’ll prepare to pursue, but not as frantically as if the rail ship suddenly fled.
We have Prakchi (Professor) feeding real-time intel from inside, and preparations for Volteus are flawless.
The difference in mindset toward us: frantic ‘If we lose them, it’s over! Ram straight in, consequences be damned!’ versus ‘Still in our grasp. Squeeze slowly and capture.’ The urgency levels are worlds apart.
And now, finally, if the soulmancers—the source of their complacency—fall apart? If even the internal spy (me) stops listening?
That’s when it becomes ‘Wha—what?! Grab them! Catch that bastard!!!’
But unlike getting caught at the city gates while sneaking away, by the time it all unravels, we’ll be aboard a mana train at full acceleration, far across soft terrain.
“Got it?”
“Uh... huh?”
They don’t get it.
“It’s like a shell game scam. You know that? Three cups, ball under one, shuffle them, guess which has the ball.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“Same thing. They chase the cups with their eyes, thinking ‘I know it’s here!’ but the ball’s long been palmed under the table. Make them confident, then use that confidence to fool them. A tactic used in tons of wars...”
“Uh... huh?”
Yeah.
Even explaining it this way, they don’t get it.
I gave up on the dwarves’ blank stares as my explanation dragged on.
“We’re fooling them.”
“Oh!”
“So that’s it!”
“Should’ve said that from the start! You humans talk way too much!”
...No wonder they have that rock-origin myth.
I sighed as the satisfied dwarves returned to work.
For now, this is all I can do in the current situation.
Just a nine-year-old boy with talent but no real power yet.
Anti-mutant mana firearms for trains are too much for this body. Even firing at lowest power at Gary mindlessly, the recoil sent me flying farther than him.
A body that can’t fight. Frustrating despite the potential, but...
‘So I gotta hustle harder.’
Which means being even more thorough in preventing fights and blocking variables.
‘The engineers are handling their part fine. Maintenance has them glued to the train, no time or need for extras. So... what’s left...’
Among enemies and allies, one remaining variable.
“Even if I handle the visible soulmancers or Brastol House, this one... if it goes south bad, what then.”
With my current lack of power, some parts I just have to hope go smoothly.
For example... our shard knight, shoved far in the tail car, away from the soulmancer’s catalyst.
“Ah, Lord Volteus? Can you hear me?”
[No need to shout. I can hear you.]
Hearing the calm voice over the receiver, I let out a tense sigh.
“I’ve got some Brastol House stuff to ask. Mind if I come by? The catalyst’s in your bedroom.”
[...Do.]
Volteus’s voice was as calm and low as ever.
The serene, static shard knight. From what I’d observed, a pretty decent guy.
“...Hope it’s not the worst case.”
I recalled the questions prepared for him and took heavy steps.
Worst case: Shard Knight Volteus was already a mutation lord.
In that scenario, my survival odds after questioning were near zero.
If he were, my future on the rail ship was nil anyway.
****
Clunk! Clunk!
“Lift it! Heave!”
“Hrah!”
Click!
Passing engineers maintaining the train with all sorts of tools and those loading a massive, brutish arcane shooter about a meter long onto the train’s mount, I arrived.
Tail car. Behind a single passenger compartment, this sturdy, sealed space stored criminals or cautionary explosives cargo.
Equipped with physical defenses and some blocking against various magical attacks, it was the spot for Volteus, the soulmancer’s target.
Clink. Clink.
Volteus sat there, away from the noise, assembling a massive arcane shooter that seemed to be his.
“You’re here.”
“Yes. Got something to ask.”
Clink. Click.
In the dim solitary room lit only by the blue mana glow of the custom cartridge, his calm voice took on an eerie tone.
Hmm, intimidating.
‘This is a gamble.’
No power to control variables. The plan’s core, central to both sides.
The question itself a knife to my throat, but necessary to plan ahead.
Volteus. Our shard knight.
“Where did the lord’s shard go—the shard of the subjugated mutant lord ‘Cool Phag.’”
Are you truly an ally?
Before rail ship engineer, what kind of man is human Volteus?
In the faint light, Volteus raised eyes glimmering with light unlike the mana glow.
In the darkness, him rising while gripping his gun felt like a crouched beast slowly standing.
His mouth opened, his hand moved with it.
“...First, I’ve got one to ask.”
Click!
The shooter, internals exposed mid-assembly, lifted.
Scraaape!
Crunch, scraaape!
From Volteus’s shoulder grew iridescent transparent crystals, enveloping his arm and massive weapon, linking them.
The essence of a shard knight. Iridescent shards that plunder memories, revealing the power paid as toll.
“Professor Brastol. Who are you?”
Click.
The moment the barrel, fused to his arm, touched my forehead,
Whoooosh—!
The weapon activated like awakening from slumber, emitting light.
The cartridge’s heavy blue mana glow tangled with the orange from Volteus’s iridescent shards inside the grown crystals, illuminating the tail car.
Like a horizon cutting the dim sky—truly fitting ‘Dawn’s Fragment’—and the crystallized armament’s awkward yet familiar pull.
“...No.”
“What are you.”
Volteus, steadily kindling killing intent.
Volteus felt the fully activated shard and its custom weapon vibrate.
First meeting the boy, he thought it was just poor health.
Second time, the boy’s talent was insanely exceptional.
So he brought him. To make a shard knight.
A talent incomparable to any mage’s, to lead the boy from corruption in similar straits.
But. This reaction wasn’t mere talent.
A shard that chose its master, activating from mere contact with another.
Whoooosh—
As far as he knew, no such being had been reported.
...Among humans.
Volteus now clearly knew the faint evil he sensed from the nine-year-old boy.
“I’ll ask. Mutant.”
“Eh... yes? Wh-what?”
“Who sent you? Weeping Tebeus? Vast Heaven’s Autam? Or... from the mainland? To recover the lord’s shard?”
“W-wait, I came prepared for various answers, but this is totally what the—...”
“Maintenance ends in two hours. We asked for twenty to interrogate suspicious visitors during the remaining eighteen. Expected someone to sneak in during alone time.”
Scraaaape—!
Sharp crystals grew from the barrel tip toward my eyes.
“Activating another’s shard is a rare talent even among lords. A direct descendant? Then losing an eyeball or two, a few fingers won’t kill you?”
“W-waaah! W-wait! I’ll talk! Anything, just this—!!!”
Volteus coldly looked down at the boy throwing up both hands. A mere nine-year-old, not crying even now.
‘Suspicious indeed.’
Volteus heightened his guard against the boy. Finger on the trigger, ready to pull if needed.
****