Chapter 33: The Transport Station

Chapter 33: The Transport Station

Sylen was dumbfounded, momentarily swept up in a tidal wave of joy. He had thought he was fighting alone, but here, beneath this city, there were so many like-minded companions!

Then he remembered the task on the Apostle Card—"recruit a group of companions." Could these be the ones they meant? Was this a mission from the gods, and also their guidance?

"We secretly rescue slaves and smuggle them to the coast," Thalassa added.

Sylen suppressed the turmoil within him and asked as calmly as he could, "Why is your hideout in the Dawn Church's chapel?"

Thalassa shrugged. "The Dawn Church opposes slavery, and Sister Pauline has agreed to help us. But if the rich higher-ups find out she's helping runaway slaves, she'll be in deep trouble. So we only borrow her space—she doesn't participate in our operations."

Sylen nodded thoughtfully. So that was why the sister had seemed a bit cold to them earlier. It wasn't that she was cold—it was their arrangement.

"So, what's your beef with Fergus?" Thalassa said.

Sylen decided to come clean. Running into these people here, at this time, had to be divine guidance. They were meant to become partners through thick and thin.

"My sister was sold to Fergus, and I'm going to rescue her," he said. "That's why I was tailing Fergus today, to learn his routine. But then..."

He gave Thalassa a reproachful look. Thalassa rubbed his neck sheepishly and muttered in his defense, "I thought you were one of Fergus's goons... Since Fergus is your enemy too, why not join us? He can join, right?"

The young man looked to Mare for a verdict. Sylen could sense that although Mare had said the "Transport Station" had no chief, this middle-aged woman had the most sway, and everyone went along with her calls.

This had to be a gift from the gods, Sylen thought. Earlier he'd been stressing over how to deal with Fergus's bodyguard and how to get his sister safely out of the city—and now he had run into the Transport Station. With help from these guys, all these problems should be solvable, right?

"I'm willing to join," Sylen declared his stance first. "I was planning to disguise myself as one of Fergus's servants and sneak in. Rescuing my sister, and maybe freeing some of our kin along the way, shouldn't be too hard."

As far as he could tell, Mare had no reason to turn him down. But the middle-aged woman didn't answer directly. Instead, she gave a wry smile. "Sure, Fergus is our common enemy, but our goals are a bit different. You're here to rescue your sister, while we—"

She looked around at the group. "Right now, our top priority is killing Fergus."

"So rescuing slaves is just a side thing?" Sylen was both surprised and confused.

Thalassa said angrily, "You don't get it—Fergus isn't just in the lumber business; he's a big owner of slave ships. As long as he's alive, who knows how many more of our people will suffer!"

A chill ran down Sylen's spine. Slave ships... just the thought of that word made him shudder.

Those iron hooks, those nets, those stinking, pitch-black holds... They were hauled like fish headed for the slaughter, and the awful conditions meant a third of them never made it to shore. The dead didn't even get to return to the sea—they were gutted, stripped of flesh, and salted.

How much would his sister suffer in that bastard's hands?

Sylen shook with rage, wishing he could sprout wings and fly to his sister that instant.

"Then we kill him!" he said through gritted teeth.

"It's not that easy," Thalassa said glumly. "When you were tailing Fergus today, you saw it too—he's got a bodyguard."

Sylen recalled. "You mean that man in black?"

Thalassa said, "He's a superhuman, and very formidable. You might not know this, but besides us, a lot of people want Fergus's head—business rivals, family enemies, and so on. But ever since he hired that bodyguard, who wasted a bunch of assassins, nobody's dared to mess with him."

"We don't have superhuman powers or relics—we're no match for the Black-Clad Bodyguard," Mare sighed. "So we can only hit them when they're apart."

Sylen thought it over. "So Thalassa was tailing Fergus to find out when he and the bodyguard split up?"

The young man nodded vigorously. "We were racking our brains when you showed up! This has to be fate!"

It's divine guidance, Sylen thought.

"Since I'm the only superhuman here, I'll take on the Black-Clad Bodyguard," Sylen said, looking around at everyone. "But I've never fought a superhuman before, so any intel would help. Does anyone know what the Black-Clad Bodyguard's power is?"

Seeing how determined and fearless he was, a strange thrill ran through the room. It was excitement, eagerness, and awe at fate—just when they were stuck against Fergus, this superhuman kid had dropped out of nowhere. Could some divine will really be on their side?

Mare shook her head. "Everyone from our Transport Station who went up against him is dead. But I've got a friend who saw the guy use his power once. I'll bring him by tomorrow, and you can grill him for details."

"Can't we do it now?" Sylen's heart was anxious. Every minute delayed meant his sister suffered another minute.

"He lives outside the city. The gates are already closed."

"Tell me where he lives—I can climb over the wall!"

A helpless smile appeared on Mare's face. "I know you're worried about your sister, but don't exhaust yourself either. A weary body can't win battles. And if you get hurt from recklessness, wouldn't your sister be even more heartbroken?"

Sylen hung his head in silence, forced to admit Mare was right. He had been running around all day and was indeed exhausted. He felt so useless—if only he were stronger...

Mare said, "Tomorrow I'll gather all our companions scattered around, and we'll have a meeting. Are you staying at an inn in the city? Would you like to move here instead, so it's easier to discuss plans?"

Sylen thought that since he had decided to join the Transport Station, staying at the church would certainly be more convenient. But he had pledged himself to the Lord of the Abyss, and staying in another deity's sanctuary felt inappropriate. So he said, "I'll stay at the inn."

Mare didn't press. "As you wish. Come back tomorrow at noon then."

She pointed at the corpse on the floor, looking somewhat troubled. "What about this thing..."

Sylen grabbed the body and stuffed it into the Divine Casket, planning to find a chance to bury it outside the city. He wondered if the corpse would rot and stink inside the Divine Casket, tainting the bread.

This masterful trick of "making a corpse vanish" drew another round of shock and admiration from the group.

The other Transport Station members bandaged Thalassa's wounds. Sylen, accompanied by Mare, climbed the stairs back into the church. As he was about to leave through the back, Mare called out to him.

"Have you had dinner? Let me get you something from the kitchen," she said with a smile. "Young people are still growing—you need to eat well."

She slipped into the kitchen, and Sylen stood in the corridor waiting for her. Bored, he mustered his courage and stepped through a side door into the sanctuary.

The first thing he saw was rows of neatly arranged seats. Countless lamps burned before the altar, illuminating the holy emblem above in dazzling brilliance. In front of the altar, Sister Pauline knelt on a cushion, hands clasped, head bowed, eyes closed, lips moving in prayer.

Sylen didn't believe in the God of Dawn at all, but the sister's devotion still moved him. He couldn't bear to disturb her, so he quietly stepped back and melted into the shadows.

Just as he was about to return to the corridor, something radiating white light suddenly thrust into his face.

Sylen instinctively stepped back, his back hitting the wooden door with a loud thud.

Steadying himself, he finally saw that the thing in his face was Xiaoqi.

The white creature floated a few inches from his face and asked urgently, "Sylen, what are you doing here? What's with the corpse? Blink if you've been kidnapped!"

Before Sylen could answer, Sister Pauline at the altar suddenly raised her head and shot a sharp glance in his direction.

"Who's there?"

Xiaoqi's expression was one of sheer terror: "Run, Sylen!"

Sylen raised a finger to his lips, signaling it to be quiet, then stepped out of the shadows.

"It's me, Sister," he said politely. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll be on my way."

Sister Pauline raised her lantern, illuminating Sylen's face.

"Are you alone?" she asked.

"Mare was with me a moment ago," Sylen replied.

The nun tilted her head, looking confused.

"Not her. I thought I saw..." her voice trailed off, and she shook her head, bewildered. "...Perhaps I was mistaken."

She set down the lantern, knelt back down on the cushion, and resumed praying as if no one else were there. For some reason, Sylen felt she was deeply melancholy, wrapped in a sorrow she couldn't put into words.

He couldn't help asking, "Sister, what are you praying for?"

"Praying for God to forgive us our sins," Sister Pauline said flatly.

"What sins?"

"Today, it's the sin of murder."

Sylen shuddered involuntarily. In front of Sister Pauline, he felt like a naked baby, with no secrets hidden from her eyes. The nun was indeed a Messenger of God—he'd only ever felt this exposed in the presence of the Lord of the Abyss...

Suddenly, someone patted his shoulder from behind. Sylen yelped and instinctively grabbed for his sword.

"Quiet, don't disturb the sister," Mare said, standing behind him. She had a basket on her arm with bread, cheese, and dried meat. The food was simple, but there was a lot of it—enough to fill the stomachs of three growing youths.

Sylen took the basket, politely thanked Mare, and agreed to meet her again tomorrow. As she watched him go, he left the church through the back door, his figure swallowed up by the thick night fog of Silvermist Fortress.

Xiaoqi floated beside Sylen, its small body giving off a faint glow in the dark, like a tiny fog light.

"What exactly happened?" it asked impatiently.

Sylen told him everything that had happened that day. When Xiaoqi found out the sister was part of the transport station, it let out a big sigh of relief.

"I thought you'd been arrested by the Dawn Church," it said. "Let me tell you, there's no one good in the Dawn Church—stay as far away from them as possible."

"But Sister Pauline seems like a decent person, even if she's a little... scary."

"Fine, maybe there are a couple of good ones, but most of them are rotten to the bone," Xiaoqi huffed indignantly. "My master's got an Apostle locked up in the Dawn Church's prison right now! The guards there are so nasty, you wouldn't believe it!"

Sylen was shocked. "How's that possible?! Are the Lord of the Abyss and the God of Dawn enemies?"

Xiaoqi snorted. "Not exactly enemies. That Apostle got locked up for other reasons... Anyway, don't go thinking too highly of the Dawn Church!"

Sylen wasn't so sure. He thought Xiaoqi had a bias against the Dawn Church, maybe because it served the Lord of the Abyss. Of course, he wouldn't dare say that to Xiaoqi's face.

He changed the subject. "So why did that Apostle end up in prison?"

"Uh... well... it's one of my master's moves, way beyond our puny understanding."

"Was he there undercover?" Sylen was filled with awe. "For the glory of the God, he willingly walked into a cage! If it were me, I don't think I'd have that kind of willpower..."

"Uh, yeah, exactly what you said!" Xiaoqi nodded repeatedly, its tone dismissive, like it didn't want to keep talking about it. Sylen figured it must be some kind of secret, one he wasn't important enough to know.

Back at the inn, they split the food from the basket. Xiaoqi got really interested in the inn's blanket, and Sylen had to buy it for it.

He then tried to feel out whether Xiaoqi wanted fancier "offerings," such as gold, jewels, or sacrifices. Xiaoqi scoffed at those, insisting it only wanted food. This made Sylen respect it even more: fake Divine Servants demanded bribes, but real ones were just plain greedy.

The morning bell cut through the fog and woke Sylen. Last night, his head had been full of the transport station business, and he'd expected to lie awake all night—but somehow he'd dozed off without even noticing.

***

The morning bell meant the city gates were open. Sylen got up right away, packed his stuff, and checked out. He left the inn, ducked into an alley, changed his look and clothes, and found a new inn to stay at.

"Huh? Why move?" Xiaoqi appeared beside him, swishing its fluffy tail.

Sylen replied, "Scared someone might be watching."

He looked at the little white creature, a bit surprised. "You can come out during the day too?"

Before, Xiaoqi had only shown up at night, so Sylen figured it could only come out after dark.

"Of course I can come out day or night! I just usually have other stuff to do. Did you think I just sat around all day staring at you?" Xiaoqi explained. "Since you're meeting the transport station folks today, I got worried—so I tagged along."

Sylen imagined the Lord of the Abyss's grand plans, huge beyond anything he could grasp—surely Xiaoqi worked for Him during the day. That must be some great undertaking way beyond his puny wisdom. Like Xiaoqi said, the God was the chess player, and they were just pieces. The God could see the whole board, but they could only see the next square ahead. Like that Apostle stuck in prison—everyone thought he was done for, but who knew it was all part of divine will?

Then Sylen suddenly wondered: every chess game has an opponent. So who was the Lord of the Abyss playing against?

He didn't dare think about it any more.

Sylen had planned to keep tailing Fergus, but he'd agreed to meet Mare and the others at noon, so he dropped it. He wandered around the city market, bought some food for Xiaoqi, and headed to the church when the sun was high.

Outside the Dawn Church, a big cauldron had been set up, and Sister Pauline was handing out porridge to a long line of ragged poor folks.

The ones who got their porridge thanked the sister over and over. She said without any expression, "Don't thank me—thank the God of Dawn. This is His blessing." The poor folks quickly sang a few praises to the God of Dawn, and only then did the sister nod, satisfied.

"This reminds me of something I saw in another world when I was wandering the cosmos with my master," Xiaoqi murmured. "Churches would hand out eggs to attract followers—whoever gave out the most eggs got the most believers. People are pretty practical!"

Sylen's clothes stood out like a sore thumb among the poor folks. Saying he was there to pray would be too much of a stretch. A lot of curious looks lingered on him. If he went around to the back door, would that look suspicious?

While he was hesitating, Sister Pauline called out to him, "You're here! The kitchen needs extra hands—hurry on in!"

Sylen played along, acting like a worshiper there to help, and pushed open the church doors.

Even in daylight, the church was blazing with lights—burning candles day and night seemed to be the Dawn Church's thing. Sylen went in through a side door to the back hall, where Thalassa was waiting in the hallway.

"You're finally here," the young man said with a grin. "Come on, everyone's waiting for you."

They went down into the cellar. The long table was packed—besides the ones he'd met last night, there were over a dozen more. Men and women, old and young, regular folks in plain clothes and sword-wielders dressed like mercenaries. Some of them were even humans.

Mare introduced Sylen to everyone. Each person warmly shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder, like they'd fought side by side for years.

After the introductions, Mare raised a hand to get everyone to sit down. The cellar only had a few benches; those who couldn't find a seat leaned against the walls or sat on the floor.

"Today I've asked everyone here to talk about Fergus," Mare said. "As I told you all before, with Sylen joining us, our tactics against Fergus might need to change."

All eyes turned to Sylen. The kid felt at a loss. He'd never been the center of attention like this before, and it made him really uncomfortable.

"Relax, Sylen," Xiaoqi whispered in his ear. "You'll have to get used to it—maybe one day you'll be their leader."

Sylen thought to himself, these people all look way more experienced than me. Could I lead them? Would they even listen to me?

"Mare, are you sure this kid's reliable? He's only been with us for less than a day," a middle-aged man said doubtfully.

Thalassa cut in, "Sylen's already proven himself! He killed a Slave Hunter—how many have you killed?"

"Slave Hunters don't have Supernatural Abilities," another woman said. "We're going up against Fergus's superhuman bodyguards."

"We still haven't even figured out what that guy's ability is. How are we supposed to fight him?"

Mare looked toward a corner of the cellar. "Winter, can you share what you know with Sylen?"

Sylen followed her gaze. In a dark corner beyond the lamplight, a man in a brown cloak was leaning against the wall. His face was hidden in shadow, and only his hands were visible—endlessly tossing and catching a dagger.

"This kid actually wants to take on the 'Blackcloak' alone?" the man said with a chuckle.

Sylen felt belittled and said proudly, "Since I'm a superhuman, I'll take him on. Though it may sound arrogant, unless the 'Blackcloak' can kill me in one strike, he's the one who'll die."

"You're young, but you've got a big mouth!"

The man named Winter stepped out of the shadows. The candlelight first illuminated the left side of his face—he was a human man in his thirties, with blue eyes and golden-brown hair, strikingly handsome in a way that would appeal to women.

Then he took another step forward, revealing the right side of his face.

Sylen gasped.

The right side of Winter's face was covered in scars, the flesh looking as if it had melted and then solidified. He was blind in that eye, his lips were gone, leaving his teeth fully exposed. It was the kind of face that would give kids nightmares.

"Scared?" Winter touched the right side of his face and chuckled. "This is what the 'Blackcloak' did to me."

Mare said calmly, "Winter fought the 'Blackcloak' and got hurt like this."

Sylen was horrified but suppressed his trembling to ask, "Is the 'Blackcloak's' ability controlling fire?"

"Yes and no," Winter sneered. "That was half a year ago, when the 'Blackcloak' had just become Fergus's bodyguard. We didn't know his background and went after him blindly. There were five of us; only I survived."

He touched his right face again. "It was at night, and we didn't carry torches for concealment. During the fight, the 'Blackcloak' threw his torch at me. Guess what? The torch suddenly exploded, killing one of our guys instantly. I barely got out alive, but I came away with this 'souvenir.'"

"Fire and explosion?" Sylen muttered. "If he needs to throw a torch to create an explosion, that means he can't conjure fire out of thin air—he needs a combustible material."

Winter laughed again, his face looking even more grotesque and terrifying: "That's not all he can do. One of my brothers survived the explosion and was about to slash him when he suddenly couldn't breathe, passed out, and was stabbed through by him instead. Another brother tried to save him but got thrown backward and killed by Fergus's other guys. I was already unconscious by then; Mare and the others got there in time to save me, and I barely survived.

"Afterward, we went to find the bodies of those four brothers—Fergus dumped them in the wasteland outside the city for the wild dogs, and we only found one. His death was horrifying—his whole body was bloated, not like drowning, but like his blood vessels and skin had swollen up."

Sylen mulled it over: "Since the 'Blackcloak' has multiple abilities, that means besides his Supernatural Ability, he's got a relic too?"

Winter said, "As far as I know, Fergus does have a family heirloom relic, but its effect isn't like that."

Mare shook her head: "With Fergus's money, buying a few more relics wouldn't be a problem."

Many members of the transport station were also hearing Winter's story for the first time, their faces full of fear and dread.

Winter snorted with a laugh: "Kid Sylen, do you still dare to say you can handle the 'Blackcloak' now?"

Seeing Sylen silent, he assumed the boy was frightened by the 'Blackcloak's' mysterious abilities. Mare had high hopes for this newcomer, and Thalassa had praised him to the skies—seems he wasn't all that impressive after all.

Earlier, he'd boasted that the 'Blackcloak' would surely die. Youngsters didn't know their limits, talking so arrogantly.

Winter was about to mock him when he saw Sylen suddenly tilt his head, staring off into space as if listening to something, his expression shifting between grave and joyful. But no one in the cellar was speaking—what was he listening to?

"Hey, kid, at a loss for words?" Winter grinned. "Scared by uncle's story—"

"I've got it." Sylen interrupted him.

"What?"

The boy stared straight at Winter, a look of triumph in his eyes: "The 'Blackcloak' doesn't have a relic. He really does have only one ability."