Seitheargnagh was a real sketch-a-polis. A place where citizens dressed like patients in a mental hospital cosplay convention.

The beggar thugs wearing self-made carnival masks and stretching their arms towards our coach made me remember something I read from an old book: back in the medieval Britain whole villages had a tradition of dressing up weirdly and pretending to be insane when they knew that royal tax collectors were coming for a visit. Madness was thought to be contagious back then, so when the tax collectors saw a group of peasants in strange masks and antlers wailing and wallowing in mud, they made a fast 360 on their horses and moontrotted away.

We arrived midday, entered through the south gate to avoid questions, found ourselves inside mighty black stone walls of the city, and moved slowly through a side avenue toward eastern district.

On both sides of the avenue, I was greeted by familiar high frames of old Strangers multi-story stone buildings, now filled with wooden shacks and other improvised shelters built on every level. Vertical slums, in other words, for impoverished Dickensian background characters; poor rural families forced by war to move in a city and live in unsanitary conditions.

Oh right, the gunfight last night. I still felt a bit nauseous about it.

Nay, a massacre it was.

Crys and Kimono were not on the Top Ten Wanted Outlaws list yet, so the soldiers had no idea what awaited them when this young merchant, acting all humble and obedient, invited them inside the house.

Crys pretended to be scared of the soldiers, offered his sister to the captain “for comfort” and then also offered to bring food for the other soldiers.

He casually slipped outside “to give them some privacy”, set their horses on fire, returned to the front door, and when the soldiers fell to panic hearing the macabre neighing of their flaming steeds, Crys started shooting them using a fancy fanning technique. Crys, were you maybe showing off? Yeah, you run on tech, showoff.

The riding captain, smug and eager to ride a young courtesan, was put to eternal sleep with a quick injection of body-temperature steel through his throat when he was removing his belt.

One of the soldiers managed to escape, or rather was allowed to escape, through the backdoor and desperately tried to run away.

I positioned my revolver between window hatches and shot the running soldier in the back in cold blood.

Mission accomplished.

Stabbing the messenger was something I could brush aside as an unfortunate accident, but after shooting the soldier I really felt I had become a murderer. Somehow the fact that I wasn't that shaken by it felt more shocking than the actual act.

The soldier was probably just a regular country boy who was forced to leave his family when he was young boy, indoctrinated into Suleiman's army and sent out to face his personal Verdun or Vietnam.

In the game, killing people was not optional, it was a requirement. In this world, killing at least one person, Caliph Tze, was a required action. It was something we had to do to survive. Killing random soldiers carrying their orders while on the way up to Caliph Tze was necessary evil.

I actually pitied our coach horse Nobunaga the most. Poor horse had to watch its fellow horsekind burn alive. I hope it wasn't completely traumatized.

Yes, I named our horse Oda Nobunaga. Because it was so gentle and subdued.

In the end, the abandoned homestead turned into a bloody crime scene, and after looting the soldiers weapons and gear, we left everything as it was. I suggested tagging the walls with some local gang signs, but according to Crys, it was better to leave it as a mystery.

“An unknown enemy spreads fear and uncertainty.” (Crys)

“I'm obligated to tell you that in the future you will paint victorious bluebird tags everywhere you go. V-shaped bluebird is the future sign of the Revolution Movement.”

“I see. I must have a good reason to do it in the future then.” (Crys)

During the first anime run, the Revolution Movement's symbol “bluebird of victory” – a blue letter V stylized to look like a graffiti bird – was seen as an appropriation from an old scifi television series V, where the sign of the resistance was a red letter “V”. The blue pictogram changed during the series, starting as a simple slanting letter, turning into bird's sharp beak, and finally becoming a complete bird in a proud pose of a flamenco dancer, with left wing raised like a sword ready to thrust, and right wing pointing down.

Anyway, we carried the soldiers rifles in the coach and placed them in hidden compartments under our seats, on top of several wooden boxes full of ammo and gunpowder.

Oi, Guy Fawkes! You could have told me we've been sitting on a pile of gunpowder the whole time!

Anyway, returning to Seitheargnagh, and speaking of sketches and murders, Crys looked at my firearm drawings with a pensive expression.

He was the most knowledgeable guy around when it came to weapons, so the continuing silence made me uncomfortable. When I was about to ask if there was a problem with my drawings, Crys finally opened his mouth.

“Considering these weapons you drew, the revolvers seem to be rimfires Caliph's knight use called Cavaliers. There's no problem in getting them, but these two rifles are a bit problematic. First, they are rarely on the market. Second, they don't seem like rifles carried by young females.” (Crys)

“Yeah, they are high-level gear. But about your second point, do you mean the size?”

“Size, weight, and handling. The longer-barreled one is called Torch Gun, mainly used as a bastion weapon in Caliph's star forts. It takes two adult men to move it and the recoil is strong enough to break a slender arm of a girl.” (Crys)

“Oh, it's not going to be a problem for Mirim. At least later, probably.”

“I see. The other one is a rare one called The Eye of the Night the First, an older version of Eye of the Night using wire grid instead of iron sight, better known by its street name Vampire Rifle. The weapon itself is on the market, but the old cartridges are hard to get and hard to make even for master gunsmith, so it doesn't move much in these territories.”

I remembered the cartridges Rainwoman loaded in her rifle in the anime. It was the epic lock-and-load montage right before Reignland invasion. The street name Vampire Rifle probably came from the curved bipod legs that looked like fangs biting to the ground, or maybe because the exit wounds looked like someone sucked out your blood and flesh with a vacuum cleaner.

“You mean those thin and long ones, size of your middle finger?”

“I take it those are easier to acquire in the future.” (Crys)

“Well, you usually get those as ammo drops only in Reignland or eastern coast of Ur... Anyway, if those ones are impossible, then something similar will do. They should be fine with whatever weapon you throw at them, at least if it's a weapon used by Caliph's army. Please treat my drawings just as approximations and suggestions of an amateur, make your own educated judgment on what to get.”

“Naturally.” (Crys)

I showed my middle finger to Crys by accident there, but it wasn't seen as a vulgar hand sign in this world.

Torch Gun. Eye of the Night the First. I think I saw those names in the game files in the past.

Mu-Ur Quincunx had an impressive selection of weaponry with unique names, but they didn't talk about the details much in the anime. They were too busy using them, I guess. There was also a large selection of weapon customizations, so specific variations didn't really stuck with me, unless they were important for plot or speedrunning purposes.

Crys didn't compliment my drawing style, but he recognized the weapons, so I count that as a win for art studies.

We passed through the shanty town area of Seitheargnagh, where local strawlords built huts on top of random ruins of Strangers structures. In a sad way, it looked like they were piling driftwood and trash on top of ancient alien spaceport. The area still seemed much smaller and less crowded than in the game.

“In a few years, when the war heats up again, there will be massive hordes of refugees fleeing to the north and east, and particularly here in Seitheargnagh. Many of the refugees who end up here turn to Lucranah's followers. That's why the cult together with the West Side Boys Gang becomes a big problem and needs to be dealt with.”

“I see. Caliph's death mitigates the tension at front lines and thus Lucranah Cult won't grow with refugees.” (Crys)

“It delays this side-quest problem at least.”

Crys immediately saw the connection there. Caliph's death will not only save the world, it will keep regular enemy hordes smaller.

There were nine Lucranah's temples in the city, including the big central temple where Lucranah himself lived. No, we don't want to go near the big temple where Lucranah abides.

Our weapon trade deal was scheduled to happen at a smaller side temple in the east district late at night. Carefree ride through the vast city area with narrow and muddy streets took several hours and we reached the side temple right after sundown, when the main street lanterns were lit and a long line of cultists was moving in for their weird rituals.

“It seems we are late. We have to wait for their night rituals to end. Speedrun, use one of your previous fake names here.” (Crys)

“Sure, but why?”

“Just pick one.” (Crys)

“Is Kingboy a good name?”

“It is fine.” (Crys)

So this is how our relationship works, Crys? I share everything I know, you keep secrets and give orders. I thought we had a beautiful friendship... sob, sob... single tear rolls down my cheek... it's raining... in my heart...

We parked our ride in the side yard, next to iron-spiked double fences surrounding the temple area and left Nobunaga in the care of a young boy from the West Side Boys Gang.

We entered the temple through a side door. Waiting in line with crazy cultists would have been annoying.

Lucranah Cult and West Side Boys Gang worked together like drug lords and street dealers, so calling all of them Lucranah's followers wasn't wrong. Most of the street rats in the city, gang members or not, were directly or indirectly treated like members of the cult. In a way, Lucranah's heavy presence in the city kept it out of the war, just like Crumbling Shores stayed out of the war by being too costly to conquer and keep.

The temple was full of people wearing colorful robes or kirtles, all of them eagerly waiting the night ritual to start.

We sat down on long back corner benches behind the masses. Crys sat in the middle.

There were as many men and women as there were boys and girls in the cult. A little girl walked over and handed us some brainwashing propaganda: a prayer scroll made of vellum, or at least I hoped it was just regular vellum.

When the ritual finally started, I pretended to join the first prayer and mumbled whatever came into my mind.

“...Please give us optimal lines and let our frame-perfect shots hit...”

“Brother, he's spouting nonsense again.” (Kimono)

“Kingboy, be silent.” (Crys)

Yes, boss. Sorry, boss.

I find this Lucranah religion so creepy that I need to think in game terms to keep my sanity in equilibrium.

Speaking of religious monstrosities, I knew there were slaves at the basement of this temple too, and yet again I was powerless to do anything to help them. Raising any trouble here would surely summon the collagen-hungry jumpscare jockey himself into this place.

Mu-Ur Quincunx was known for throwing disturbing details right at players face, but it still kept the darkest things out of sight, giving only hints about the abominable horrors going on behind the scenes – in the inaccessible areas designers couldn't show without scarring players for life and perhaps also condemning themselves to prison for life.

I'll help you after saving the world too. Please try to hold on until then.

The weird ritual on the stage seemed to advance like an amateur theater play at first, but it quickly turned nasty when a naked woman stepped in the spotlight and the arch priest directing the ritual cut of a rectangular piece of skin from her back, throwing it in a metal bowl. Then, when a crying baby was brought to the stage and the arch priest cut of the baby's foreskin, I couldn't watch anymore.

I looked around and checked the galleries of people watching from the indoor balconies, from second and third floors.

When you played Seitheargnagh side mission, there was only one monk NPC in this temple you were required to talk to in the third floor. The fastest way to do that was to parkour up the pillars, quickly punch in the required dialogue, and then swoop through the window glass to leave the area.

Quite a rude exit, if you think about it. Secretary monk was just minding his own business when someone burst into his room, asked pushy questions, and then shattered his office window when leaving. Well, he should consider himself lucky. In many other areas, it was faster to just shoot people than talk with them.

While I tried to wrap myself in warm game nostalgia, I suddenly recognized a face from the game.

“Praise the Random Number Gods...”

An enemy character from a completely different territory was standing next to a pillar on the second floor balcony.

Why was Ostero Nynaling here?

Ostero lived at Ouidah Dungeon on the east coast or Ur, a short ride away from Pier City. That's where you found him in the game timeline.

His backstory wasn't explored in the series, but it did fit his character that he would have a connection to the Lucranah Cult.

But most importantly – if Ostero was on this side of the continent now, was he already carrying that?

“Did you see someone you know?” (Crys)

“Yeah... I didn't know he would be here now. Don't look at him too long. It's the short-haired guy with unibrow in purple buff coat, on the second floor near the pillar.”

“I see. Does he explode?” (Crys)

“No, he's not an important character, but he owns a very useful item. If he carries it already, we should definitely take it.”

“Explain.” (Crys)

“His name is Ostero Nynaling, a Low Noble low-life from east coast. In the future, he's a slave trafficker for the east coast dungeon lords and mostly camps in Ouidah Dungeon. My assumption would be that he's here to strike a deal with the Lucranah Cult, or maybe the weak city lords themselves. The Dungeon Gang he's the leader of usually sells disposable slaves to local aristocrats.”

“A reasonable assumption. And you are interested of him only because of an item?” (Crys)

“Yes. If he already carries it, we have a huge skip on our hands. Major time save, let me tell you.”

“A weapon?” (Crys)

“No, not a weapon this time. A skeleton key.”

“Tell me later. The ritual is coming to an end and we will head to the back room.” (Crys)

The ritual came to its climax when several rows of people at the front removed their robes and flagellated their keloid-covered backs with multi-tailed whips in a moshpit-like frenzy, regurgitating nonsensical prayers to their skin-eating god.