The Train Assault
The protagonist hauled his heavy body upright and opened the door. “Which car was it again?” He searched his memory. Unfortunately, the exact number refused to surface. It was probably because Kyle’s memories had suddenly flooded in and left his head spinning. Still, it wasn’t a real problem. He didn’t need the precise number. The incident would take place in the front section of the train. Since the cars ran in a straight line, all he had to do was keep moving forward once he knew the direction.
He glanced at the number on his own compartment door. Sixteen. A middle car. For a moment the fact gave him pause. The lower the car number, the more expensive the ticket; the front cars cost several times more than the rear ones. The base fare was already steep, so only the truly wealthy could even consider the forward section. That was why the front cars were commonly called the “noble cars.” Their main passengers were nobles, after all.
Nobles cared a great deal about appearances. They paid the outrageous fares just to ride up front, and some even considered traveling anywhere else a loss of dignity. So the question remained: why had that man been in a middle car? Berwen, of all people. It was unthinkable for a noble of his standing.
…Well, it didn’t matter. The doubt was minor at best. It could wait until later; right now it wasn’t important. He left the room and started down the corridor. Except for the very rear, the train’s compartments were separated, so he was unlikely to run into anyone. That, at least, was fortunate. He kept moving, passing one car after another.
After several cars, habit made him reach for his waist. His fingers met only fabric. “…Hm.” Right. He had no sword. No wonder he’d felt strangely light. Checking his gear this late was something he would never have done before, but it was another side effect of the possession. Even he knew that this body had limits; it wasn’t like Gunter’s, honed to the extreme. Knowing that, he still didn’t stop walking.
“It’ll work out somehow.” He quickened his pace with that optimistic thought and, for the first time since possessing this body, encountered another person.
“Please stop.”
A man in a train attendant’s uniform blocked his way. He was a full head taller than an average adult male, with a massive frame that radiated pressure just by standing there. He was clearly one of the security attendants. From this point forward lay the noble cars. Because actual nobles used them, the service matched the clientele. The man’s job was to keep undesirables from entering.
“May I see your ticket?” he asked politely.
Without a noble-car ticket, no one was allowed past this point.
“How troublesome… Just a moment.”
The man’s request didn’t fluster him. He began rummaging through his clothes without hesitation. Speaking down to the attendant from their first meeting wasn’t because he lacked manners; it was deliberate. Nobles rarely bothered with polite speech toward staff like this. The lie would be exposed soon anyway, but he kept his expression calm.
He quickly found the ticket and held it out. Of course, it wouldn’t work. His ticket was for a middle car; the color was different, so the attendant would notice immediately and turn him away. Under normal circumstances, that is.
The moment the man’s eyes dropped to the ticket, the protagonist moved. Instead of his left hand holding the ticket, his free right hand shot toward the attendant’s jaw.
“……!”
The attendant’s eyes widened as he tried to react, but his response was a beat too slow. His attention had been caught by the ticket, and the protagonist’s natural movement had lowered his guard. Even so, the man wasn’t posted here for nothing; he tried to tilt his head away. Too late.
Whoosh!
The protagonist’s hand accelerated further, drawing on mana for an instant burst of speed. It was far faster than the attendant expected.
Crack!
The fist connected cleanly with the man’s jaw. That was all it took.
Thud.
The attendant collapsed. Looking down at him, the protagonist clicked his tongue. The sound wasn’t aimed at the fallen man, but at himself.
“Tch.”
“Just one punch and my body’s already creaking.”
It hadn’t been anything grand. He had only reinforced his body with mana and moved. Yet even that small effort made his muscles, bones, and organs scream in protest. The pitiful state of this body was lamentable, but there was nothing he could do about it. After all, one couldn’t expect much from a body that had literally died and come back.
He shook his head, then drew the sword from the unconscious attendant’s waist.
Shing—
He examined the blade. …Not bad. The quality was decent. It wasn’t a masterpiece, but it was more than capable of serving as a proper sword. He fastened it at his waist and opened the door ahead, stepping through.
He had cleared the first gate.
A lavish space greeted him. It wasn’t a passenger compartment so much as a lounge—an interior café carved out of the train car. Even at a glance, the fittings and furnishings were on an entirely different level from the middle cars. You really did get what you paid for. A quick look around revealed attendants stationed here and there. Since this wasn’t a sleeping car, their presence was only natural.
For a moment every gaze in the lounge turned toward him. He showed no reaction. It wasn’t strange for someone coming from the middle cars to draw attention. He behaved naturally, as though entering this section was the most ordinary thing in the world. Before long the stares drifted away. No one found him suspicious. There were several reasons: his confident, unhurried manner helped, but the biggest factor was probably the knowledge that a guard stood at the entrance. Of course, that guard was currently unconscious on the floor, but no one here knew that. Train cars were built so sound didn’t carry easily between them, and the noble cars were especially well insulated.
He continued deeper into the noble section without hesitation.
The noble cars were markedly different from the middle ones. Beyond the opulent interior, each individual compartment was two or three times larger. That explained the price, he supposed.
He passed several cars, glancing around without much interest, when he suddenly felt the atmosphere shift. Outwardly, nothing looked different, yet something had clearly changed. He could sense the faint tension hanging in the air.
Just then, an attendant approached from the opposite direction. The man spotted him and bowed politely. The gesture was perfectly natural, but the protagonist was certain: this attendant was no ordinary staff member.
He gave no outward sign of his suspicion. Ignoring the bow entirely, he walked past as though he were an arrogant noble heading for his own compartment. He crossed into the next car.
Click—
The door shut, completely separating the spaces. He stopped walking. Instead, he stood still and began counting to sixty.
“2… 1… 0.”
The moment the count reached zero, he opened the door he had just closed.
Then—
Bang!
Several men burst into view, smashing through compartment doors. Within seconds the carriage rang with the clash of steel.
“Block them!”
“Don’t fall back!”
“It’s started.”
This was the event he had mentioned earlier—the one that marked the beginning of the game Elion. The “Train Assault.”
From the outside it might seem like a grand incident right from the prologue, but it wasn’t quite that dramatic. The “assault” was limited to a single car, and that car was precisely where he now stood.
Even as the battle intensified, he remained motionless at the far end of the carriage, suppressing his presence while he watched. “They’re holding up better than expected.” The defenders were managing to resist despite the clear difference in numbers. Still… “How long can they last?” They were only holding on; they weren’t driving the attackers back. If this continued, they would suffer considerable losses. Knowing that, he still didn’t intervene. There was something he absolutely had to see.
After some time of shouting and ringing metal, a door on the far side opened and a single figure stepped out.
Even from a distance, the brilliant golden hair was impossible to miss. The young man possessed a striking beauty that stood out at a glance. The protagonist’s eyes lit up.
“Found him.”
That was the reason he had dragged this heavy body all the way here. The young man’s name was Elion Verdiel—the protagonist of this world.