A new journey

On a train to Calico City.

A small boy looked out the window like a puppet, while the other person, an elegant young gentleman with his legs crossed, stared intently at the newspaper in his hand.

The young man in the professional black vest is Althur, a recent graduate of the Isandros Academy. The one who left the capital the night before.

In his hand was a newspaper about yesterday's events, his eyes darting to the striking headline, ghastly designed to highlight the headline "A mysterious disease", printed by The Daily Telegraph. The contents of the newspaper, a faithful description of what was left at the scene, and an incomplete list of those who died at the time.

Thanks to the Telegraph, journalism became much busier. After just one night, information about the horror spread to many places.

Althur saw some sketchy pictures and vague information published. He looked at the person in front of him and said, "Frial and the others seem to be trying to attract attention.

"How?" The boy turned his head and asked.

"They leave too many traces, unlike usual."

"The current cults no longer operate just below the surface. They are eager to spread fear in many parts of the real world."

"Many riots and revolutions seem to have an extraordinary trail."

"Reports of demonic infiltration and cult manipulation seem to have increased."

"Not just in the capital." The boy spoke in an inquiring tone.

Brahms, who is free at home, receives some materials about the supernatural world, cults and criminal organizations to prepare himself to be a useful assistant. According to what he read, in addition to wandering spirits or malevolence, some evil gods' minions also tried to fascinate humans.

"Yes, not only in the capital, but in many other places, perhaps in High Hamston, Breval, or even Calico, where we are going." Althur replied.

"Don't say bad luck." The boy is depressed.

"Don't worry, probably nothing big will happen there."

Althur stopped thinking, put down the newspaper and looked out the window. For a moment, he seemed to remember the days before he left his capital. The telegram had arrived at the OSPIS office, with calls for help and the announcement of the mysterious death of an exorcist. As a recent graduate, Althur accepted the offer and agreed to travel north to assist in the investigation.

He continued. "Even though the capital is not the stronghold of the strongest factions, they must still watch for any signs of heresy."

"Like the use of rituals."

"Yes. Seeking evil is what the God of Justice does best. The temple has a special ritual that can detect the fluctuations of evil energy in the area."

"And the church can detect things that affect life, right?"

"That is correct. The church has various aspects. They use a special kind of goddess realm that can sense the life force of living beings. They can sense when someone is using powers that harm life."

"How can they not find them?"

"To make such a scene, the heresy pays quite a lot."

"What do you think?"

"Um... secret weapons." Brahms used a new term when he read it in a newspaper.

"Oh, yes, a secret weapon. That's why I said they were making special preparations. But not every secret weapon can be used to influence the divine consciousness of priests."

"The leaders of these two in the capital must have an upcoming Attainment Status. Therefore, there must be a stronger power to influence them. But it certainly can't come from a god."

"A higher power," Brahms whispered. "The boy exclaimed, "A Holy Walker!

His round eyes softened as he uttered a difficult word. These are the levels an individual can reach.

However, according to him, because of some special laws, they are not able to appear in the physical world. The one who had attained this power was a direct descendant of the gods or evil gods, and he did not know whether others could reach this level or not.

It was a phrase that intrigued him. Because these people have extraordinary powers beyond the imagination of others. A holy walker brings with it the ability to change their concept, so once they master their concept, they will receive the corresponding name, similar to how a holy land is called.

"Perhaps this has the hand of a holy walker. They can summon it through a secret ritual. But He or She cannot descend directly."

"Let us assume. Frial is strong in spreading pestilence. Her symbol is weakness. And her blessing can weaken many things. Even the divine perception of the priests, the masterminds, must surely carry a weakened curse to do this, to evade the control of the various powers."

"Wow." Brahms exclaimed as he looked at Althur with admiring eyes, "but what are they doing that scene for?" Brahms noted.

"Yes, it's a mysterious motive. Surely, they want to achieve something. You can't just waste things like that to get on the front page of the newspapers."

"But what is their purpose?" Brahms asked curiously.

"Haha. Don't worry about that. That is for them to find out. We don't have to think about it." Althur and Brahms looked at each other for a moment before falling silent. The only sound was that of the train hurtling towards its destination.

Althur stopped talking, put down the newspaper and looked out the window, Brahms did the same.

For a moment, the young man seemed to remember the days before he left his capital. The telegram had arrived at the O.S.P.I.S. office, calling for help and announcing the mysterious death of an exorcist. As a recent graduate, Althur accepted the offer and agreed to travel north to assist in the investigation.

...

After a while on the train, the landscape and vegetation outside began to change. The smell of cold wind mixed with fog wafted through the ship's walls, combining with human fumes and waste to make the air asphyxiating."

The train's last stop was the town of Calico, a rich town because of the railroad that leads to the capital, and where endless mineral deposits run through the ground. It is rumored that veins of gold flow like a river here. Even the oldest dragons must covet them.

As the train's windows continued to reflect the soft light of the setting sun, the last station was revealed. A rudimentary terminal, with a slightly curved dome, had been built simply to shelter the passengers from the weather outside. When the train whistle finally sounded, everyone knew a new show was about to begin.

Calico's station, called New Gate, was filled with the sound of hurried footsteps. He heard pleas in his ears, instructions from local attendants, and a smoky smell in the air that seemed to be a mixture of iron and coal at the beginning of a new journey.