Chapter 5
Igorvich Station was a small, quiet rural stop. It stood in an unassuming village whose sole purpose was to serve as the Krasilov–Droan border checkpoint.
Consequently, only a limited number of passengers ever disembarked there.
Local residents or logistics merchants.
That was about it.
Which meant—
‘They’re amateurs.’
The three men positioned around the station were unmistakably suspicious.
First was the man in the corner of the waiting room, glancing at the clock while pretending to read a newspaper.
He appeared to be checking the train schedule, but he was not. He had already let three trains pass.
Next was the man sitting with his arms crossed, nodding off.
He also looked as though he were simply passing the time, but that was not the case. Whenever Ivan stood up to head toward the restroom or the newspaper stand, the man subtly opened his eyes and watched him.
Finally, there was the man selling dried vegetables in another corner of the waiting room.
By this point, it was almost laughable. Not only had the man failed to sell vegetables to anyone in the waiting room, but who would even buy vegetables inside the waiting room of a deserted rural station like this?
Most decisively, Ivan, who had been born into a tenant-farming family, could tell what condition the vegetables were in.
They had not been dried for long-term preservation.
They had simply been left unattended for so long that they had shriveled up.
Beneath the newspaper, Ivan moved his hand and gripped his pistol.
The clock read nine.
The train carrying Princess Eshidis would soon arrive.
Well, it was worth checking.
He slowly rose, folded the newspaper, and walked toward the trash can.
Then, as he passed the dozing man, he pressed the muzzle of his pistol precisely against the base of the man’s neck.
“Wha—!”
“Quiet.”
The man’s eyes widened in shock. He tried to slip his right hand inside his coat, only to freeze at the cold touch of the gun barrel.
Good.
One pistol inside the left side of his coat.
And judging from how quickly he had reacted, he had received some training.
“H-Hey! What are you doing over there?”
“Stop!”
The other two men in the waiting room shouted simultaneously and sprang to their feet.
How amusing.
Ivan’s pistol was hidden beneath the newspaper, so from where they stood, it should have looked as though he had merely placed a hand behind the man’s neck.
In other words, all three of them were working together.
Still, there was one last thing he needed to confirm.
He had said he did not need support, but Elizaveta might have sent agents anyway.
“Where does your loyalty lie?”
“W-What?”
Had the man been one of Elizaveta’s agents and loyal to the Krasilov royal family, he would never have responded to that sentence with a question.
It was one of the first questions asked not only by the Extermination Unit, but also by intelligence agents serving the state.
It carried the same meaning as a frontline soldier shouting, “Halt! Move and I’ll fire!”
It was the first question they were required to answer, even if they had to lie.
And perhaps the last.
Therefore, this man was most likely nothing more than a mercenary working for money.
Bang!
A bullet erupted from the muzzle and severed the man’s cervical spine.
The man in Ivan’s grasp collapsed without even managing to react.
“You bastard!”
“Shoot! Shoot that fucker!”
The vegetable seller and the newspaper-reading man leapt up and hurriedly drew pistols from inside their coats.
That revealed several things.
First, they were working together.
Second, they were amateurs.
Third, they did not belong to the Krasilov monarchy.
And finally, they had never faced anyone who could truly be classified as powerful.
Bang! Bang!
The bullets they fired reflexively grazed past Ivan’s shoulder and the side of his head.
Their aim was decent enough to identify them as mercenaries.
But the fact that they knew nothing about sensing a line of fire meant they were truly cheap mercenaries.
By the time they steadied themselves to fire again, Ivan was already swinging his axe at the vegetable seller while simultaneously aiming his pistol at the man who had been reading the newspaper.
Slice—Bang!
“Aaaaaagh!”
The man whose wrists had both been severed in a single stroke collapsed with a horrific scream.
The other man, struck squarely between the eyebrows, did not even have time to cry out.
Ivan approached while wiping the blood from his axe blade on the fallen vegetable seller’s coat.
“Are you the only ones?”
“Ghhk… Ugh… Where did a monster like you…”
“A monster…?”
Ivan tilted his head, wondering whether he had misheard.
A monster?
Over something as insignificant as this?
Was that not an utterly absurd thing to say for men who had been planning to antagonize Einar the Berserker?
Had Einar come in person, there would not even have been a fight.
That madman would have sliced through the entire waiting room in a single blow.
“No one told me about someone like this…”
The bleeding was severe.
If the ulnar and radial arteries in the wrist were severed, death within five minutes was virtually guaranteed without proper treatment. And in this case, both hands had been cut off, making it even worse.
The vegetable seller’s face had already turned blue as his jaw trembled uncontrollably.
Ivan sighed and searched the man’s coat.
Since the man had no hands, Ivan had no choice but to do it himself.
A scrap of tissue, a few copper coins in a worn pouch, naturally no identification, and a small instrument panel fitted with a peculiar button.
The mana emanating from it was barely perceptible.
Most likely, it was a signal device.
“If the bleeding isn’t stopped, you’ll die within three minutes. Where are the others?”
“N-Near the tracks…”
“How many?”
“Fifteen… Y-You can’t do anything alone…! I-I’ll help you! P-Please spare me! They’re all armed, a-and our captain is there too! The captain is a real monster! If you let me live, I-I’ll distract them!”
The vegetable seller shouted with difficulty, trembling all over.
Of course he wanted to live.
That was only natural.
Anyone forced to watch their own blood pour out in real time would struggle to remain sane.
Ivan nodded.
The vegetable seller’s expression visibly brightened.
“You were left here to signal the ‘captain’ if an unexpected variable appeared. You’re the advance party.”
“Th-That’s right! I’m useful! I-I can be useful!”
This man had not known about sensing lines of fire.
That meant their captain was probably around the same level.
“Were you told who was aboard the train?”
“Th-They said it was carrying gold bullion…! They said it was a trade-goods train Droan was sending to Krasilov, b-but…”
“I understand.”
“Y-You’re going to spare me, right? I answered everything you asked! I didn’t lie!”
“No. There was a lie mixed in.”
“No! I really didn’t!”
Ivan looked coldly down at the man.
“You said you were useful.”
“What…?”
These men were nothing more than bandits moving for pocket change.
Even if he tortured them, there was no useful information to obtain.
The captain was another matter.
At the very least, the captain might know about their connections.
Crack!
Ivan rose and swung his axe down into the man’s head.
With a wet crunch, the man’s body went limp.
Ivan clicked the receiver and gauged the direction in which the mana line flickered.
Not far.
He wiped the axe blade against the hem of the man’s coat and returned it to his waist.
The time was 9:03.
If the train was running on schedule, it would arrive at the station at ten.
Within fifty minutes, the train attack would occur.
Which meant—
“Plenty of time.”
Ivan gave a faint grin and cleaned up the bodies.
Five minutes was more than enough to erase the bloodstains and signs of battle.
After all, one of the most important parts of Extermination Unit training was removing traces.
There was a reason Ivan could afford to remain relaxed.
According to the academy formula, a train attack could never truly harm the “protagonist and main cast.”
When the train was attacked, the protagonist would escape safely with someone’s help and arrive at the academy without issue.
Ivan had never intended to prevent the attack in the first place.
‘This is a tutorial.’
Ivan was running through the forest.
Whenever the mana line from the receiver grew faint, he pressed the button again and checked the direction of the signal.
‘A tutorial is a stage designed to help the player adapt to the game.’
That was probably why such incompetent bandits had been hired for a plan to ambush the “children of the Hero Party.”
It was a design intended to help players grow accustomed to combat from the low-level stages onward.
At first, Ivan had wondered which member of the Hero Party’s children was the “protagonist.”
He soon deduced the answer.
All of them.
Every single child of the Hero Party was a protagonist.
Suppose a player created a character at the beginning of the game.
They would inevitably be given a selection of archetypal characters—those with unique storylines tied to the setting.
And most importantly, characters who each possessed different traits or classes.
Isabel, the Hero’s daughter.
A dual-class warrior and mage.
Oskar, the Knight’s son.
A knight.
Elpheira, the Mage’s daughter.
A mage.
Eshidis, the Berserker’s daughter.
Presumably a dual-class bard and berserker.
Lucia, the Rogue’s disciple.
A rogue or assassin.
When a player selected one of these characters, their tutorial would likely require them to resolve the train attack.
That led Ivan to approach the situation from another direction.
‘If every character’s tutorial shares the same train attack, then the terrorist group can be identified in advance.’
Once or twice might be overlooked.
But if the same group committed the same act six times, they would inevitably leave a trail.
Ivan sprinted through the undergrowth and clicked the receiver once more.
This time, he felt the mana line flicker from somewhere very close.
‘I’ll leave the tutorial to the protagonists and eliminate the variables.’
He would not prevent the train attack.
After all, the attack itself was a “constant.”
If he stopped it beforehand, the incident might simply occur in some other form.
In that case, it was better to identify the group responsible for the attack.
Then, once they reached the academy, he would track down the group’s traces and eliminate them.
Avoid direct confrontation, conduct intelligence operations from the rear, and exterminate all threats.
That was the way of the Extermination Unit.