14xx/7/14

169 days since arrival….

Good morning, Monte Carlo. Thank you for not swindling my properties away when I was asleep.

After breakfast, Amira disappeared into the large headquarter of the Elka company, a self-proclaimed crime syndicate or some sort. I kept my eyes open, hoping that they weren't close to the Cultured Gent's Club.

A few minutes after, Amira came back in a rush and told us to get our ass ready for another trip. This time, to the Luddite Village. What an imaginative name, surely, I wouldn't know what to expect when I arrive there. Maybe harsh glare or two, maybe a spear or three even.

Luddite's Village was destroyed.

It was jarring to be fair; when you were not surrounded by fanatical religious extremist you can finally see the full extent of the village. It was surprisingly small, a tiny hamlet built around a small lake. But the numbers of dried-out corpses that blankets the streets and the yards of the hamlet belies a bigger number than what the hamlet should naturally contain.

There, I met Natsuki and Oskar whom was stationed here to properly bury the dead. Natsuki was in a strangely conservative nun outfit, but the look on their faces were incredibly grim. Who can blame them? This must've been the first time they walked through a massacre before.

And what a massacre it was.

You know, a younger me would've gained some measure of hypocritical schadenfreude from the mass-slaughter of religious extremist. But as I stared into the desiccated, dried bodies and their faces twisted into horrified ecstasy, the only emotion I can muster up is pity. And there wasn't a shortage of these dried-up corpses that litters the streets, their bodies deprived of so much of their liquids that they resembled mummified remains we found in Egyptian tombs.

Amira whispered something in the supervisor's ears, perhaps a password or blackmail. For if not for her words, we will not be allowed within this killing ground. Oskar and Natsuki became our guide through this killing field. What happened here wasn't a systematic genocide through death by thirst, but the work of a pack of succubuses that dried out everyone within a single day.

That doesn't make it any better. So what if they feel pleasure when they die? Killing is killing, no matter the methods. And judging by the lack of weaponries clutched in the hands of these victims, these are terrorist act against civilians. And from what Oskar told me of the victims, even the women and children weren't spared. But they were traditionally killed and devoured, rather than sucked dry.

Again, that doesn't make it any better. Once you pull the trigger against civilians, you lose all moral ground after that, no exception.

Everywhere I go, new corpses were being dragged and buried locally, or tried to. Oskar said that there was too much to bury, especially with how little men they have on hand. The biggest problem was the women and children, whom tend to end up incredibly messy and have to be carefully scooped up in small quantities as to not damage their flesh any further. It's a nightmare made manifest, and no amount of money will be enough to compensate the trauma earned from this assignment.

I went to the same church where the undercover priest gave me Hito's journal. It was a charnel house with dried bodies stacked high. Many who sought the protection of faith finds none of it in the house of goddess, thus their corpses became a morbid evidence of the goddess treachery. I didn't find the remains of the good priest, so I've assumed that he escaped with his life.

The church yields no results, so Amira brought us to the village chief's two-story house. Compared to the other thatch-made huts, it was made from solid wood. The interior wasn't anything special, that is until I saw the attic.

Once more, I am incredibly disappointed. Time and time again, I have seen this happen; a flock of sheep grateful for peanuts, led by a conman who feasted on chicken and wine. The secret room was lavishly decorated with fine China, gothic furniture, exotic plants, luxuriant scarlet sofas, even a grand piano wrought in fine wood and ivory! By the devils, what is within religion that attracts hypocrites and charlatans so easily? I have more respect for the religious extremists that suicide-bombed themselves instead of taking the deal of peace and cheapening out. Those insolent bastards at least have a proper spine to die for what they stand for!

And there's the corpse of the archbishop, reaching out to the wall begging for salvation. I respect the dead as best as I can, but even I cannot help but find a small measure of satisfaction from his death. A follower who was blinded by his faith is gullible, but pitiful and worth of my sympathy. But the charlatans who tricked them in the first place to satisfy his own lust?

Amira has more power than I remembered, because she demanded that the area the corpse was pointing at should be ripped open. Specifically, the wallpaper. I did it quickly, and to my surprise I found an iron safe. I didn't know the number combination, but Amira did. So with bated breath, the cold steel finally yielded its prize, and our heart skipped a beat, struck momentarily dumb from the prize it contained.

It was a Reimu Fumo.

All this slaughter, all this blood, all the time we wasted, the time I can use to find Hito, wasted away for a marketable plushie. It wasn't even fucking magical! Amira tried everything she could; chanting incantations so unholy that I swore I saw eyes on the walls, drawing a simple pentagram on the floor and doing some other magic things, waving a weird stick, even praying to Ilias for help. No dice. In the end, Amira cursed the rabbit that gave her this false info.

It took all my willpower to not scream in pure hate and agony.

In the end, nothing can be done for our wasted time. So we went back to San Ilia and formalized the end of my contract. Amira paid us well, and thus ends our little side quest.

But this brought us back to square one. I found a note, that's for sure. But that won't be enough. If he escaped the mansion, chances are he will go to two other places; San Ilia or Monte Carlo. San Ilia is much closer judging by the map I bought, but never underestimate the unpredictability of real life.

And if he's not there, chances are he's anywhere within this continent, which is as useful as knowing jack and shit.

Doesn't matter. I didn't come this far to give up now. San Ilia has all I need to prepare, and I will prepare as best as I can. Can't afford to do any less.