Chapter 427
Chapter 427
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 20
Chapter Title: Offroad (1)
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Chik-chik-chik-chik-chik!
A day and a half after fleeing Wigen, on the tracks heading toward the old Lordric region.
Hyde narrowed his eyes, scanning the surroundings from atop the speeding train.
Corpses not yet reduced to bones littered the cracked earth, alongside half-smashed crates and a single furry-footed rabbit adapted to the soggy soil.
But what Hyde sought wasn't traces of warlords or dinner for the evening.
He was hunting for a specific spot marked on a grimy scrap of leather with handwriting and doodles that defied comprehension.
The cramped script spiraled inward from the edges—not horizontal, not vertical.
At its center, a tiny sketch—whether to aid understanding or sow confusion, who could say.
"Let's see. Left of the tracks: a rock like a troll's snout and dark elf claw-shaped debris. Stop where the faintly visible peak straight ahead and the fanciest rock on the right are both in view..."
.
.
.
.
"Same old crap! Calling this trash a 'map'!"
Paak!
Hyde hurled the damned "map" to the floor with all his might, but soon scooped it up from the dirt and groaned in frustration.
For directions meant to guide someone, it demanded far too much imagination, but considering who had given him this leather scrap, this was already a remarkable act of kindness.
"Hoo, think. Think like that guy. Faintly visible peak, fancy rock, troll snout..."
Hyde desperately needed someone else's help right now.
Because the speakers on the train he'd stolen were blaring the Wigen guard's official magical broadcast.
Chijik-
『We repeat: 'Pathfinder' Hyde. You have violated Wigen's security laws, caused chaos in the city, and stolen the magitech train—our city's lifeline—and frontline supplies bound for the front.』
『All stations and fortress cities along this train's route have pledged to cooperate in handing over the criminal and the stolen city property. You have nowhere to go.』
『Surrender, Pathfinder. Return the train and cargo undamaged, and your sentence will be greatly reduced. Fail to do so, and it will increase by the value of the losses. Lord Abaiyel Wigen, who holds your fame and skills in high regard, promises to commute any punishment—aside from financial restitution—to labor...』
Chijik-
"Labor, huh? Like they'll slap a slave collar on you and work you to death."
Penalties for theft varied by city, but the baseline was fifty times the damage.
If he got caught like this?
He'd have to pay fifty times the value of Wigen's magitech train—a behemoth with two heavy magitech engines, eight alchemy-alloy armored cargo cars, and three passenger cars—plus the mana stones and volatile fuel stuffing those cars. Can't pay? Work it off with your body.
Even if he scraped together the cash, they'd never let him go. It was their turf, after all. They'd claim the train's price was based on the latest model, or that an amateur's handling jacked up repair costs beyond the train's worth—some bullshit excuse to inflate it until he defaulted.
Surrender? Permanent slave in Wigen.
Keep going? Captured by city guards and knights lying in wait, same outcome.
That's why stealing a train from a major city hub like Wigen had been easy. Train robbers hit the outskirts, snatching small shuttles between outposts to fence. But in a fortress-city cluster like Wigen? Steal one, and there's no track out.
Magitech trains ran on rails. One leaving the city had only one path: straight to the next.
"Pablo, that punk. Wouldn't be in this mess without him."
The newsboy had him running unplanned errands to find a route, and now his escape was totally screwed.
Thanks to that, he and his stolen train were trapped between Wigen and the opposing fortress city. Stuck on a single track, no way forward or back.
That's why he was embodying the owner of this cursed leather rag, stretching his imagination.
After half an hour of agony, he spotted the rock like a troll's flat snout. Using that as a marker, the rest clicked into rough place.
Dark elf claw: The depraved elves addicted to blood and slaughter were infamous for ripping out their own claws to move silently. It pointed to an empty lot beside the snout rock, like something had been there and vanished.
The faintly visible peak? Where the tracks met the horizon, touching a distant mountaintop. About twenty-five paces from where he stopped the train.
The fancy rock? Thinking of the mapmaker's build, it was no rock—a pillar. Remnants of a house once built on solid ground by the tracks, now just broken stone stubs waist-high.
"Stand at the center of the three landmarks, then pull one of the surrounding rail joints..."
"Keruzaru, you bastard, who could make sense of this crap?"
Kkiririk-!
"But I did."
He doubted even after finding it, but amid the uniform rails, this was the only odd one.
Between joints with two bolts, this one had three.
A light touch revealed not rusty metal, but the eerie smoothness of a mana stone bolt. Probably hiding the magic circuit's mana beneath the head.
"Building something like this right under a big city's nose without them knowing."
Bold or insane, it was impressive either way.
Cheolk! Cheolk!
Groooong—clack!
From the ground rose a standard station rail switch lever and a small wooden sign.
[Private Hidden Rail]
[Entry fee: 100,000. Maintenance: 100,000. Comfort fee for startling the owner: 300,000!]
[No money? Counted as volunteer for experimental explosives! Squeak!]
"Always obsessed with money, those guys."
The sign matched the leather map: horrific handwriting and crude doodles.
As a green cockroach-like thing on the sign vanished behind the rising dust-choked rail, Hyde sighed.
"Last thing I wanted: tangling with goblins."
Goblins. More precisely, goblin magitech engineers.
Pioneers of magitech, clinging to "free magitech"—the wild precursor humans had scrapped after "leyline twisting." In a world of racial unity, they were one of the few shunned races.
Cities killed them on sight, or nobles kidnapped them for their tech, enslaving them.
The few surviving goblins hid like this, using their inventions.
Surprisingly, Hyde was one of the rare few with a "goblin magitech engineer friend." This spot's location came from Keruzaru, met years ago.
=========
'Go here! Go here!'
'Not going anywhere you pick, even if beaten. Ever.'
'My place, no! I live here! Go alone! Go alone!'
'....Why?'
'Pathfinder! Inevitable Overspending Human! You live! We die!'
'What?'
'Helpful guy! Squeak! Eek-eek!'
'What's there?'
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"Dammit. 'Inevitable Overspending Human'!"
The leather map from parting: three sheets.
Remembering one near Wigen, he stole the train despite knowing it led nowhere.
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'Swallows anything! Makes anything! Buys anything! Sells anything!'
'With money, anything—any amount—imported! Any amount!'
=========
As the goblin said, this was a hub for scattered goblins—a gathering spot and trade center for their kind.
A hidden lair collecting the greedy race's goods, blessed with clever hands and sticky fingers.
Krggrk-
Cheolk!
Hyde confirmed the switch connected perfectly, boarded, and gunned the engine.
The train veered sideways off the straight path.
"Wonder what they'll pay for stolen goods here."
As it entered the glowing rail, Hyde indulged in happy fantasies.
'No way forward or back? Side track it is.'
Never planning to ride to Lordric anyway, he'd stolen the egg-stuffed Wigen regular to sell whole.
A "Inevitable Overspending Human" like his goblin pal, he was lenient with mildly illegal deals if they paid.
****
Clunk-clunk.
Clunk-clunk.
"Woooow...."
The "side track" wasn't long.
Key point: it plunged underground.
Hyde marveled at the goblin-lit tunnel, their "finely crude" mana lamps illuminating the way.
'How is this possible?'
Tech was one thing, but carving a safe bedrock route? Monumental.
Linking cities with straight rails cost fortunes. Year-long plans, dwarf builders, earth mages, alchemists for chems, and more.
'Keruzaru said village-sized...'
Outposts held forty souls, so this was smaller.
Even small-scale underground habitats boggled Hyde's mind.
Moreover,
Kwaang-!
Kuuung-!
Distant blasts proved residents specialized in burning, smashing, exploding research.
Ting-ting!
Snapping him from thought: metal scraps dangling from the ceiling, scraping the train roof.
[Train: Nice and slow, polite speed!]
[Know a goblin? Strip in the cab. Don't? Strip and prone in passenger car!]
"Uh... slow down?"
The scraps drew attention to the sign, goblin-style.
Racing humanity's pinnacle, yet such facilities? Pure goblin.
....Clunk. Clunk.
Minutes past the slow sign, through dangling leather strips.
"Kyaak! Stop! Stop! Hands up! Ass out! Smile and exit!"
Kwoong!
The crawling train hit something soft and halted.
Hm. Let's see.
'Five presences. Footsteps: kid-heavy. Raspy breaths from unique nasal structure. All goblins.'
'Excited, alert. And... curiosity? Thrilled?'
He couldn't parse their squeaks fully, but excitement was clear.
"You! Who! New face!"
"Not regular trader? +10% psych alert fee!"
"Why, how here? Spill white as snow!"
"Money first! Entry 550,000 sil! Entry!"
Ugly as sneering goblins, rude and pushy, but Hyde complied: hands up, grin, crouch-ass-back, and stepped out.
Because real monsters loomed behind the green runts, eyeing him and the train.
'What the hell are those...'
City defense artillery bases, maybe?
Torpedo-sized barrels festooned with sub-barrels, lion-mane cables, coolers, mana crystals jury-rigged with cords—dozens dangling.
Frankenstein wall guns to turret arcane shooters poked from the tunnel, so politeness was key. Or die.
As a magitech user substituting for aura, he knew mishandling meant no bones left. So he behaved.
"Business! Busi-ness!"
"Sell! Selling stuff! Train behind me, everything inside—all!"
"....Train too? All?"
"You walking out?"
"Eh, probably."
Kyaak!
Keeik! Kyaak-kyaak!
Whole train for sale? They hopped in place. Impressive: guns steady mid-jump.
"....Approved! How! How!"
"That's... uh, pocket hand okay? Got proof."
"Ohooo. Subspace pouch. Raaare item! Sell that too!"
"Can't sell this."
"Can! Price negotiate! More money! More value! Sell! Sell!"
Hyde handed the tantrum-throwing goblin a item from his cloak.
Silver Tickle, used yesterday on Wigen druggies—flings razor wire everywhere.
"Said this proves it? Goblins know goblin work."
"Eek-eek. Yes. Goblin-made."
"Keruzaru. Pretty knuckles."
"Eek-eek. Loved opal."
Nostalgia in slit eyes, he stroked, glared, licked the silver orb, then turned.
"You! Approved! Customer!"
Shouter got the orb; another hung a junk necklace on Hyde—customer tag, apparently.
Relief as rumbling death-cannons quieted.
"Welcome to Kai Buen's Junk Rebirth Shop!"
"Kai Buen?"
"Me! Now boss of this workshop!"
Gesturing, Kai Buen parted the big guns, revealing inside.
Giant scrap piles, artfully crammed with trash.
Oddly homey, yet disconcerting.
"Cool, right! Cool!"
"Yeah. Nice."
Ghastly to normal eyes, but Hyde loved it sincerely.
A man who breathed easier hunting oddities, unfamiliar spots soothed him most.
Hyde strode into their village, buzzing beside the chittering goblins, quite uplifted.
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