Into the Holy Federation

"Reporting in, Director."

Click.

The man called Director drew a fresh cigar from his case, clamped it between his teeth, and lit it. Hazy smoke curled upward, and the darkness of the underground chamber receded to reveal his face at last.

A vicious twist at the corners of his mouth, eyes that gleamed like polished blades. His pupils pointed in different directions, as though the focus of each had given up on the other, and the long scar visible through his cropped hair carried a chill that went beyond mere menace.

Rate, Chief Inquisitor of the Heresy Inquisition.

Head of the notorious order of inquisitors—and the priest who had slaughtered more necromancers than anyone else in the world.

Hoo-

He exhaled a mouthful of smoke, lips quirking into a smile. His subordinate bowed his head and spoke.

"Might I suggest you leave the torture to those beneath you and rest a little, sir?"

"Even having climbed this far, I'm still happiest with fieldwork."

He smiled thinly as he pulled a black glove over his hand. Between his parted lips, the flat cross-section of a severed lower tooth was visible.

"Torture, execution, heresy interrogation—none of it settles my blood unless I do it with my own two hands. So. What's the report?"

"As I mentioned before, the situation along the Dark Alliance border is deeply troubling."

The man continued in a voice that settled quietly into the room.

"According to the Saintess of Judgment's intelligence, necromancers will be attacking this facility."

Rate turned his head, gnawing on his cigar.

An old four-story building.

It was disguised as a civilian facility, but in truth it was the covert operations bureau of the border front. The recent fighting had netted several heavyweight necromancers, and the inquisitors were even now wringing information out of them beneath the building's floors.

"Necromancers don't abandon their comrades easily, so we expect movement soon enough."

"So the bitch dragged me all the way out to this backwater just to sit on my hands? Is that it?"

"……"

There was likely no one else in the entire Holy Federation, the man thought, who could summon 'the Saintess of Judgment' like a common errand runner—whether in official capacity or private.

"The defenses are more than sufficient, no?"

Rate murmured the words as he glanced back. Fifteen layers of holy barriers, with priests patrolling every floor in an airtight defensive posture.

Yet the man bowed his head as though offering an apology.

"Even so, the 'Nearest Daughter' insists the facility will be far more secure with you present, Director……"

"Dammit all."

He crushed the cigar between his lips. It buckled, and its contents spilled out and scattered across the floor.

"If the Alliance's heretic dogs show their faces, I will act separately."

"Separately, you say…?"

"Sitting on my ass playing defense doesn't suit my temperament. When an assault team breaches a facility, there's always a command post lurking somewhere close by. Crush them, interrogate them, and seal off their retreat—that's the perfect picture."

Rate had never been a man built for listening to others in the first place.

And the Saintess of Judgment had surely known that full well when she sent him here regardless. The man simply nodded.

"If an incident occurs, I will report that you departed to strike the enemy's rear."

"And what about that whore of peace, Israfil? No chance she'll get in the way, I trust?"

There were limits, surely, even to blasphemy.

The crude words, unfiltered by anything so merciful as a brain, nearly made the man's mind reel—but he kept his expression carefully managed as he answered.

"The Saintess of the Holy Sea is currently occupied with quelling the civil unrest in the south. Even if she were watching this region, so long as our objective is crushing enemies who cross into our territory, there should be no grounds for interference."

"Perfect."

Rate spat on the floor and walked off.

"Time to loosen the body up, I suppose."

Outdoor life meant one thing: unending training.

The students were put through grueling mission simulations, one after another. Subduing a priest. Breaching a building. Scouting the perimeter using summoned creatures.

The thrill of playing necromancer field agent lasted only a moment—after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a full day of running themselves ragged, the whole sky had gone a hazy yellow before they knew it. In the evening they focused on recovery while drilling their summon control, then staggered back to their quarters and dropped like stones.

And then—the small hours of the morning of the operation itself.

"Everyone up! Wake up, now!"

Teaching assistants went door to door, rousing the students from their rooms.

Simon, Loraine, and Serne—assigned to the defense team—had risen thirty minutes early to prepare. Serne had yawned her way down the corridor before slipping off somewhere to play hooky, while Simon and Loraine went around waking the others.

Perhaps it was the tension of knowing they would soon cross the border into the Holy Federation, but the students snapped awake and dressed without needing to be shaken.

Before long, the students were outside in full combat gear waiting, and Grelion and the assistants appeared.

"Get ready! The mission begins shortly!"

He pulled a pocket watch from his coat. From what Simon could glimpse, its hands were pointing in a direction unlike any ordinary clock.

Then, the moment the two hands met—

KUUUUUUUUNG—!

FWAAAAAANG!

A ferocious chain of explosions began to roll across the distance.

It was the sound of the necromancer agents assigned to this operation assaulting the border barrier. The blasts had erupted from so far away that the sound arrived muffled and heavy, like thunder behind a wall.

"We move too! Everyone board the chimeras!"

Grelion had the transport chimeras waiting at their side. Each had a long, centipede-like body bristling with countless legs, crowned with the head of a massive toad.

Though "boarding," as Grelion put it, was a generous word for it.

When the students took their positions, the chimeras simply yawned their jaws wide and swallowed them one by one. Each student was then flung tumbling into the creature's vivid crimson innards. The passage was long, so there was plenty of room.

"It's like a land-based Nether Whale!"

Eshu murmured, tapping the glistening crimson flesh of the chimera's inner wall.

Soon every student had boarded, and Grelion and the assistants climbed in after them.

"We depart!"

The instant Grelion issued the order through thought-transmission, a tremor rippled up from beneath their feet.

From inside the chimera's organs they couldn't see the passing landscape, but the constant shudder told them they were hurtling forward at tremendous speed.

Simon, Loraine, and Serne stayed close to Grelion and the assistants. The other students could do nothing but wait anxiously at the back, but Simon was able to follow the flow of the operation through Grelion's half of the communications.

The situation was moving at a breakneck pace.

The agents poured firepower into the barrier until it tore open, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠then neutralized the priests guarding the far side of the border with curses. Before long, word came that they had successfully breached the interior.

The chimera carrying Grelion and the students held position in front of the border barrier.

If the situation turned even slightly dangerous, or if the barrier showed any sign of regenerating, the mission would be aborted—Death Knight materials be damned.

But the operation was unfolding flawlessly.

At that, Grelion made his call.

"We're going in!"

The chimera shot forward at a staggering speed. Whether it was undulating its centipede body left and right as it ran, the walls never stopped shifting and churning.

A student dozing against the wall was thrown loose and cracked his head on the floor. He clutched his skull and leaned against the opposite wall—only to be flung again and bash his head the other way.

"Passing through the breach in the barrier! All of you, brace yourselves!"

"Wha—?"

In an instant, the chimera's walls, ceiling, and floor all converged, and the space itself began to shrink. The flesh pressed tight against their bodies.

Everyone squeezed inside the chimera's frame let out strangled, wheezing sounds. Not a single finger could move.

"It's too tight! I'm dying here!"

"Can't— can't breathe!"

Just hold on a little longer! Grelion's shout rang out through the crushing dark.

Amid all of it, Serne let out a gleeful "hyah!" and wrapped her arms around Simon—and as the space continued to shrink, the two of them ended up pressed together so tightly that neither could budge an inch.

Simon shot her a flustered glare, but Serne only answered with a smiling look from the corners of her eyes, laughing as though she were having the time of her life.

A short while later, Grelion bellowed:

"We've crossed the border!"

The crushed space yawned back open, returning to its original shape. The students collapsed where they sat, heaving sighs of relief in perfect unison.

"Welcome to the Holy Federation!"

Simon turned his head, feeling somewhat dazed.

So they'd crossed into the Holy Federation—but from inside a chimera, there was nothing to confirm it. It didn't feel real at all.

"Professor, we'll head out first."

"Go get 'em!"

The chimera's jaws parted, and light spilled in.

Simon saw the Head Assistant and the rest of the assistant staff, dressed for combat, leaping down outside without ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a moment's hesitation. They would go ahead to the site and deal with any straggling guards.

Soon they had vanished, and the chimera's mouth closed.

All that remained was Grelion and a single aide.

And everyone else was a student.

Simon kept to Grelion's side with a heavier sense of responsibility than ever.

What followed was waiting, waiting, and more waiting.

An endless stretch of nothing but waiting. Being cooped up inside the chimera—even knowing it was safe—grew stifling. In the darkness, there was nothing to do but fixate on the situation at the site, relayed back and forth through two communication crystal orbs.

Astonishingly, Aaron's voice drifted through every now and then. The trademark drawl reporting the barrier's destruction was unmistakably his.

And when the follow-up report came—the target successfully extracted—the surrounding students all erupted in cheers of relief. At some point the students from the back had crept forward to listen in. An assistant chased them off once, but in the end he seemed content to simply let it slide.

The assistants reported the site secure. Grelion grinned wide.

"We move to the objective!"

They arrived without incident.

The chimera's jaws yawned open slowly, and sunlight flooded into the dark, cave-like interior.

Fear, worry, motion sickness besides—the students, worn ragged from the journey, groaned as they opened their eyes.

"Careful, everyone—climb down slowly!"

"Watch your footing and come down one at a time!"

The assistants guided the students out of the chimera in an orderly stream.

Simon hopped down just outside its jaws, then raised his head.

Only moments before boarding, they had been in a building near the border—yet the instant he opened his eyes, they had arrived somewhere deep within the Holy Federation.

Simon stared at the building before him.

Beyond the enormous statue bearing a cross, a white building came into view. It looked unremarkable on the surface, and yet a strange, ominous aura came seeping out of it all the same.

So this is the place.

One of Epnel's museum buildings.

And here, lying within, were the remains of a paladin.

"Attention! Safety briefing!"

Having checked their surroundings one last time, Grelion addressed the students.

"Inside that building are things too terrible for you to imagine. Don't fixate on them. Don't overimmerse yourselves. A sound mind is every bit the asset to a necromancer that a sound body is!"

Matt Comer tilted his head.

"Isn't it just a museum?"

Grelion shook his head with a grim smile.

The faces of the assistants who had gone in first to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠subdue the guards told the real story—they were frozen stiff. One of them was actively retching, while a colleague beside him pounded him on the back.

"Move out!"

Grelion took the lead, and the students followed behind.

To Simon, the entrance of that white museum looked exactly like some horrific monster, its jaws spread wide to swallow them all.