“d*mn it.”
Nardanit let out a curse. At this point, I sensed something was off.
‘Wait? When the inspection team shows up, they don’t usually start with curses─’
Don’t they typically try to flatter and stall for time?
Openly cursing at the inspection team like that…
‘This guy must really have something to hide in the back.’
It’s only when there’s undeniable corruption that someone reacts this way.
Nardanit looked at L13 – no, Ortes – who had revealed his identity.
A seasoned Blasphemia agent skilled enough to state his name outright. Yet, this person used the ridiculous excuse of being a fallen operative from an older era to request a private meeting.
What did that mean?
“…You already know everything, don’t you? To come here using the absurd excuse of a lost agent.”
“Haha, I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
The moment Ortes revealed his position as a secret inspector, Nardanit understood everything.
This man had come to uncover the Charlotte Branch’s betrayal.
‘But it’s unclear how much he actually knows.’
If he knew everything, combat would have started the moment they were alone.
However, just because the full truth hadn’t been revealed yet didn’t mean Nardanit’s predicament had disappeared. The moment he opened the database as requested, the inspector would detect anomalies in the budget through the gaps in the files.
What would happen next was obvious: Purge.
Nardanit had expected the agent sent here to be either incompetent, cowardly, or unlucky.
In reality, none of those applied. This was an executioner disguised as an unlucky individual.
An underperformer who wasn’t mobilized for the war against the monstrosities or a coward who fled could have been persuaded or coerced into joining his side.
Even if the unfortunate “accident-prone” agent discovered the betrayal, creating a “tragic accident” would have sufficed to eliminate one ordinary agent while covering up the truth.
But this was a prepared executor, one of Blasphemia’s finest, ready to engage in combat anytime, anywhere.
Nardanit slowly began to gather mana, minutely and carefully. He needed to deliver the strongest blow right from the start—for the sake of his comrades’ future.
Ortes merely looked bewildered at the branch chief’s suspicious behavior.
‘What is this? Is the branch chief secretly lining his own pockets?’
‘The loyalty I’ve seen in Blasphemia agents so far hasn’t been this shallow, has it?’
“Alright, Chief. Let’s calm down and talk.”
“Are you not tired of serving the old men of the Ten Towers? Must we live like this forever?”
Nardanit mocked the persuasion attempt, knowing well that there was no intention to spare him after all these years in Blasphemia.
The inspectors tolerate no traitors. Even if he confessed now and provided a list of collaborators, the best he could hope for would be a swift d*ath—or imprisonment in the basement of a magic tower to serve as a living computational device.
“The Ten Towers treat us worse than dogs. Whose bl**d was spilled fighting those monstrosities? Despite Blasphemia being wiped out generation after generation, no one offered compensation.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Shut up! You pretentious fool. How could someone in your position not know? That blasphemous monstrosity born from Baegwang—it’s why we—”
Nardanit vented his frustration. The Ten Towers, especially the White Light Tower, wanted to keep their disgrace hidden from the world.
The Ten Towers’ most covert force was naturally Blasphemia, but even they had missions to conceal the truth.
Such was the case with the mission assigned by the White Light Tower.
Blasphemia was deployed without full knowledge, told only that they were dealing with a divine avatar.
Most frontline agents perished.
It was only when the situation reached its climax that it became known the avatar had first been observed in the White Light Tower’s research facility—facts too significant to remain concealed even from other members of the Ten Towers.
The Ten Towers agreed that Blasphemia should dedicate all its resources to eliminating the entity.
After the great clash, the avatar’s life signs were no longer detected, but Blasphemia suffered irreversible damage in the process.
“Operation Golden Desert, correct? Many agents died.”
“Many agents died? They were the pride of Blasphemia! Are the old men dismissing the destruction of Blasphemia’s future so casually?”
I remained silent.
‘They didn’t d*e in such large numbers during Operation Golden Desert…’
They were merely made to disappear using an interdimensional storm that happened to pass by.
Those who drift beyond the dimensional barrier usually return to reality after some time due to the innate mana within them protecting them from the outer dimensions and drawing them back like a magnet to their original dimension.
While cases of panic attacks or memory loss upon returning are common, generally, the purer and stronger one’s mana, the less likely or severe the side effects upon return.
Hence, the vivid anger displayed by the branch chief surprised me. Blasphemia’s weakening to this extent was unexpected.
I needed to understand why traitors appeared within Blasphemia. If I could grasp the situation within Blasphemia and the Ten Towers, perhaps destroying the Ten Sages of the White Light Tower would become easier.
The best way to extract information at a time like this is to—
“Hmph, do those who returned say that? Surely you don’t believe they remained the same as before they disappeared?”
Throwing random statements.
By mentioning ‘those who returned,’ I referred to the eroded beings whose souls were tainted by the depths of the outer dimensions—one of the least likely identities of whoever was inciting rebellion within Blasphemia.
‘Magicians of that caliber would have taken care of themselves before falling into the depths.’
If they tried to use magic, the world would automatically pull them back; surely they wouldn’t have drifted so deep.
By throwing out such an obviously wrong answer, the opponent would mock my ignorance. From that dialogue, I could gather clues—
“Knowing all that, you still refrain from deploying magic? How arrogant.”
Except, it turned out to be true.
*
Nardanit seethed with calm rage. Having grasped all the facts, was he mocking us with this conversation?
“Our returned comrades told us. Strip away the hypocrisy of the Ten Towers and establish a new order.”
“How absurd. Surely you know that the eroded ones are no longer the same beings they once were.”
“No! Who warned about the dangers of the outer dimensions? Those old men of the Ten Towers! We’ve been deceived! By the deeds of the old men who concealed the truth!”
Ortes felt profound bewilderment. Could it be that among the individuals he fought in the desert, there were those who had returned as eroded beings?
Not just madly rampaging until captured and killed, but moving systematically to dismantle the Ten Towers, persuading and recruiting uncorrupted humans?
Nardanit noticed Ortes’ bewilderment.
Though Ortes maintained his composed smile, making it hard to read his emotions, it was clear that the secret inspector hesitated for some reason.
He immediately channeled his mana to construct a spell.
Cables from the engine room clung to his body, supplied directly with mana from the magic core of the magical locomotive, assisting in the casting of a grand spell.
His hair moved, tracing complex patterns, forming metaphysical symbols. Mana circulated through the adhered strands, constructing a spell of destruction.
The authority of the branch chief activated. The limiter on the magical locomotive’s magic core was unlocked, synchronizing with Nardanit. The spell he prepared expanded throughout the locomotive.
Nardanit’s best move.
To erase the truth of his comrades, he would destroy himself, the inspector, and this locomotive.
The inspector was seen wielding a high-frequency blade. A futile resistance.
Even if the blade could sever his neck, it would be too late. While the spell might be blocked, the command input into the magic core couldn’t be canceled.
Kwajik!
However, the high-frequency blade didn’t target Nardanit’s neck. It pierced the floor of the locomotive.
‘What is he doing?’
Ortes’ blade penetrated the pipeline circulating mana from the magic core. But attacking it now wouldn’t change anything.
Ortes inserted a magical inscription drive into the blade handle.
Only then did Nardanit understand Ortes’ intention.
“Magic interference? Ha!”
When a spell is cast, disrupting it by performing a similar type of magic at the exact same timing—a technique to disturb the spell’s structure.
But it’s impossible.
The effect of magic interference increases with perfect timing, but decreases with larger amounts of mana. To interfere with a spell powerful enough to destroy the entire locomotive requires casting another spell with absolute precision.
Nardanit entered the countdown to detonation.
‘Three, two, one.’
At the last moment,
Ortes opened his eyes.
