On a train to Calico Town.

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

This young man wearing a professional black vest is Althur, a recent graduate of 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, designed ghastly 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 has become considerably busier. After just one night, information about the terror spread to many places.

Althur saw some scant images and vague information released. 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 are left too many traces, unlike usual."

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

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

"Reports of demonic infiltration and sectarian manipulation seem to have spiked."

"Not only in the Capital". The boy spoke in a questioning tone.

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

"Yes, not only in the capital but 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 the newspaper aside, and looked out the window. For a moment, he seemed to recall the days before leaving his capital. At the OSPIS office, the telegram appeared, with calls for assistance 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 with this investigation.

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

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"Like using rituals."

"Yes, seeking evil is what the god of justice is best at. The Temple has a special ritual that can detect the fluctuations of evil energy in the vicinity."

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

"That's right. The Church has different aspects. They use a special kind of goddess realm that can sense the life force of living beings. They can sense if someone is using powers that harm life."

"How do they not find them?"

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

"What do you think?"

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

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

"The leaders of these two in the capital must have a forthcoming notion level. So, to influence them, there needs to be a stronger force. But that certainly can't come from a god."

"A higher power," whispered Brahms. "A Holy walker!" the boy exclaimed.

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

However, according to him, because of some special principles, They cannot appear in the physical world. The one who attained this power was one of the direct people of the gods or evil gods; whether others could reach this level or not, he did not know.

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

"Maybe that has the hand of a Holy walker. They can summon Them through a secret ritual. But He or She cannot descend directly."

"Let assume. Frial is strong at spreading plague; her symbol is weakness; and her blessing can weaken various things. Even the divine perception of priests the masterminds must certainly carry a weakened curse in order to do this in order to bypass the scrutiny of the various forces."

"Wow." Brahms exclaimed as his eyes, filled with admiration, looked at Althur, "but what do they do that scene for?" Brahms noticed.

"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 newspapers."

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

"Haha. Don't worry. That is what they have to find out. We don't need to think about that." Althur and Brahms looked at each other for a moment before they fell silent. The only thing that lengthens is the sound of the train barreling towards its destination.

Althur stopped saying, put the newspaper aside, and looked out the window, Brahms does it, too.

For a moment, the young man seemed to recall the days before leaving his capital. At the OSPIS office, the telegram appeared, with calls for assistance 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 with this investigation.

...

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

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

When the train window continuously reflected the soft sunset light, the last station was revealed. A rudimentary terminal with a slightly curved dome was simply made to help isolate passengers from the weather outside. When the train whistle finally sounded, everyone knew that a new show was about to begin.

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