Chapter 32
Gatra’s story appears in the middle. This happened several years later. At that time, Gatra was investigating an illegal organization. On the surface, it was an olive oil distribution company, but in reality, it was involved in suspicious and dangerous trades. They sold illegal goods, and, as always with such things, huge profits were made. Those profits became the pocket money for the elders and the head of the cult, supporting their luxurious and debauched lifestyles. Why is it that when religious figures become corrupt, they seem to crave money several times more than ordinary corrupt people? Is it because the money isn’t earned by work, but just poured in for free? They are insanely greedy. No limits at all.
Anyway, while investigating the organization, Gatra discovered that behind them was the missing son of the duke. Persistent and capable as he was, Gatra eventually found Irix. He even succeeded in arresting him. Gatra intended to contact the duke after imprisoning Irix. But on that very day, a riot broke out in the city. Naturally, it was incited by Irix. All city offices were ambushed, and the headquarters of the Dongbaekdan, where Gatra was, was also attacked. Gatra died defending the city. No—Gatra was killed by Irix while defending the city. His corpse was left in the midst of the burning city. Even the report Gatra had written was burned by Irix.
Irix did not know, however, that a copy had already fallen into the hands of Duke Berkart. That incident finally marked the beginning of the confrontation between Duke Berkart and Irix. The duke finally learned what his missing son had been up to. Somehow, it seemed that anyone associated with the duke had a higher chance of death. No—cancel that. Since the duke is the prime minister, those connected to him are all in key positions, so they are more likely to encounter Irix.
I saw Irix. Irix, who had been looking at the sky, sensed my gaze and turned around.
“Why?”
“Behave yourself.”
Irix looked incredulous. 301 always had that expression too. Whenever I said something, he would look incredulous, then suddenly snap.
“I… Irix.”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t know when I’ll die.”
A coughing sound escaped.
“What nonsense is that?”
“So I try to say good things whenever I can.”
“Do you have a disease?”
“No, an accident.”
“Is that… a prophecy…?”
Irix asked cautiously. Ah, right. This is a fantasy world. Prophecy is an official skill here. One must not speak carelessly. But, strictly speaking, this is not a prophecy—it’s about past events.
“It’s not that.” Still, I pretended it was. Moments like this will continue to come.
“And I want you to be good while I’m alive. I hope you remain good even after I’m gone.”
“Senpai.” Irix spoke with a voice full of pity.
“Tired, huh?”
“……”
“You’re talking in your sleep.”
“Yes, talking in my sleep.” This world itself is a giant dream, so everything I say now is technically sleep-talking.
“If you’re tired, just sleep. I’ll watch over you.”
“Aren’t you tired too? You’ve been lying there since earlier.”
“Shut up.” Maimon raised his hand.
“I’ll keep watch. Lord Gongja, please rest as well.”
“You too,” Irix said curtly.
“You worked the hardest, after all.”
It was a very soft voice, but both Maimon and I heard it.
“No, it’s just a relief that everyone is safe. I wasn’t very helpful, but luck favored us. I’m grateful for that luck.”
Luck—you had great luck today. That’s why you survived. I cannot tell him that, so I just closed my eyes. I really felt sleep coming. The first sweet sleep I had in this world. Soft grass, fresh scent, stars swirling above my head, and a feeling of being watched… Who could it be? Irix, you? Or the mysterious white gentleman? Either one is fine. Right now, this sleep is too sweet. Lying on the Milky Way, looking down at the land, feeling like a god. That god is very satisfied and at peace today.
Gatra displayed contempt and anger with a calm face. Every word of the interrogator was nonsense. Contaminated-type beast. Blessing? Who are you trying to fool? First of all, those were not St. Pola’s birds but artificially created beasts. Beasts were used to make those birds. Contaminated-type beasts.
Contaminated-type beasts have short lifespans but incredible reproduction—or rather, replication—abilities. That trait multiplies when producing artificial beasts in large quantities. The problem was, there were contaminated-type beasts nearby. Judging that their territory was invaded, they ran rampant together. Two groups of contaminated-type beasts clashed, contaminating each other, quadrupling the contamination, and went completely berserk. Then suddenly, it was resolved. The beasts evaporated into dust in an instant. Even a train that almost caused massive casualties as it fell into the gorge returned to the tracks. How?
The cult didn’t do it. They must have just panicked thinking about what to do. And then, suddenly, the problem was solved. So the cult, despite it being their responsibility, pretended to faint. “We don’t know. A beast suddenly appeared. That’s all we know, so do what you want with our ship.”
“Even so, it’s no different from us stopping the beasts.” The interrogator spoke confidently.
“How?”
“Lord Laugina bestowed mercy. A miracle occurred through their blessing.”
Gatra calmly thought. What nonsense is this guy spouting?
“Who is this amazing person?”
Someone wielding divine power through a remarkable blessing could do that, maybe. But whether it’s truly a blessing is uncertain. The cult always called forbidden magic and sorcery “blessings.”
“There isn’t anyone, but a miracle is still a miracle.”
Gatra still thought calmly. These guys are losing it more and more.
At that moment, an arm suddenly appeared from behind and pushed the interrogator back. Gatra was about to meet a new person. Statistically, this one will surely make me exasperated.
“Hello, I am Crail Hartz.” Unlike the other interrogators, he didn’t hide his face. His youthful, slender face was fully visible. He wore thick-rimmed glasses on a clear face. He looked more like someone who should be in a lab, nose buried in books.
But one must not be careless. If someone can appear unannounced in this strict hierarchical cult, it means they are not low-ranking. This will be a trickier one to deal with.
“What do you do?”
“I am a researcher. I managed all of St. Pola’s birds.”
Gatra thought calmly. Ah, so you are the one. The bastard who made those damn birds using contaminated-type beasts.
“It was our oversight that the surrounding beasts were not properly searched. St. Pola’s birds are relics and extremely sensitive to the aura of beasts. That’s why they tried to eliminate the beasts, forgetting their original mission. But it went too far.”
“……” What is this pseudo-god saying?
“Too many worshippers were missed. They would try to enter the capital and perform rituals. Dangerous, right? If the beasts weren’t there, they would have finished safely.”
So it’s ultimately their fault for failing to subdue the beasts on time. I sincerely want to hit him with a staff. Bang, bang, bang.
“But, Sir Gatra, may I ask a personal question?” And he spoke before Gatra could answer.
“I heard you know Duke Berkart. He said you helped him during school.”
“There are many who had connections with His Grace besides me.”
Crail smiled. “Yes, I know. His Grace does so many good things. I heard His Grace’s son was on this train. You must have been quite surprised?”
Surprised? I wasn’t. Maybe he inherited from his father, maybe from his mother I never met, maybe it’s just a simple functional disability. He was always cold and calm. Even today, fine. Though a little tired. But I am concerned about what happened around that boy. Maimon had no magic, no fighting spirit. Even when the blessed cleric used power, there were no distortions. It just happened and vanished. Fortunately, the traces of disappearance remained, so the sequence could be read.
The beasts evaporated around the carriage Irix was in. Irix did something. Even if he didn’t, he was at the center. Zephyr explained it like this:
‘I don’t know.’
Not just Zephyr—no one saw. Even the priests were in the same situation, spouting nonsense. Zephyr said:
‘It’s like a page was torn out of a book. We can only read the next page.’
It’s as if the entire page disappeared. Is it a supernatural ability, magic, or divine power? No answer can be found. Nothing remains.
“Sir Gatra?” Crail asked with concern, almost artificially polite.
“Is Lord Gongja safe?”
“Yes, he is safe.”
“That’s a relief.” Crail smiled brightly. “I always respect His Grace. Truly an exceptional person. It’s a blessing for the country that he is the prime minister of this era. I am so glad his beloved family is safe.”
Don’t make me laugh. That’s exactly the thing I hate the most. That’s just to check that the cult couldn’t get Irix. Some cult executives must have known that Irix was here. They must have been excited like seeing a deer in the courtyard. But the accident happened, and they couldn’t act.
“I’ll tell His Grace. A priest named Crail is very concerned about Gongja.”
“I am not a priest. Just a lowly researcher.”
Of course, the beasts were made by you. Naturally, you must be curious now why the artificial beasts you made disappeared all at once.
‘It’s like a page was torn out of a book.’
And I’m very curious too.
