The Bizarre Detective Agency

Chapter 815: Scarecrow Village

"Investigate the 'resurrection of the dead' incident as quickly as possible. The Merchant will arrive two days after receiving this letter to collect the information..."

Slap!

Mayor Matteus set the letter down and asked his assistant,

"What do you think?"

"It seems we have no choice but to help this gentleman." The assistant, wary of being overheard, didn't mention Lu Li by name.

"That's not what I mean... He still hasn't returned."

Mayor Matteus asked his assistant to fetch a candlestick.

"It's been almost a week, and a growing number of councilors are demanding another meeting with Lu Li."

"They even suspect we've imprisoned him."

The assistant returned with the candlestick."That's just an excuse, isn't it? They all know you wouldn't dare do something like that."

Mayor Matteus touched the letter to the candle flame, watching as the bottom edge yellowed, curled, and caught fire.

"Go and help him with his investigation. Show them how busy we are with Lu Li's affairs. That should quell some of the chatter."

He opened his hand, and the burning letter fluttered down, caught by a cold draft from the window. It disintegrated into ash before it could hit the floor.

"It's getting colder. We need to prepare for the coming Severe Winter."

...

Instead of the "true world," their first encounter was with a biting wind—a herald of the Severe Winter.

The hills offered no barrier to the cold wind blowing from the north. To make matters worse, though they were heading south, they somehow found themselves walking directly into it.

Katerina, wrapped in a blanket over her leather armor, was nearly frozen stiff. She tried walking backward, but the wind immediately whipped at her face again, as if it were attacking from all directions.

A sharp, howling gust whistled right by her ear—it was the eerie sound of the wind rushing through the ragged holes in the Fallen's face.

"Pull your hood over your mouth and wrap the blanket tighter," Prusius advised, glancing up at Katerina.

Katerina did as he said. Though it was still hard to keep her eyes open against the wind, and the getup was bulky and awkward, at least it no longer felt like daggers were slicing at her face.

"Aren't you cold?" Katerina's muffled voice, pushing through two layers of cloth, was snatched away by the wind.

Prusius was covered in fur, and though the tip of his human nose had turned red from the cold, he seemed unfazed. The Merchant and the Fallen—who could hardly be called human—also appeared immune to the cold. As for Elder Sister? She was sleeping soundly, nestled in Lu Li's hood.

What surprised her was Lu Li. In the biting wind, with temperatures just a few degrees above freezing, he seemed as comfortable as if he were sitting by a fireplace.

Could it really be just because he was from the Main Continent?

"Not cold!"

Prusius replied, but Lu Li paid her no mind.

He had spoken less and less since they left Nis.

Or, to be more precise, ever since he'd found traces of Anna.

Katerina pulled out her flask. The boiling water she had filled it with before they left was already lukewarm.

"How much farther?"

"Two-thirds of the way there."

Katerina was silent for a moment, then said sarcastically to the Fallen,

"If this is the 'true world' you were talking about, then you've already won."

The wilderness of the Main Continent was different from that of the Wastelands.

This difference stemmed from their distinct urban structures and systems of civilization.

The Wastelands were more scattered, while the Main Continent was more centralized.

The Wastelands expanded their influence as follows: Midnicht encouraged the establishment of churches, and when a deity was on the verge of being born, its church would leave Midnicht and venture into the wilds to found a new town.

The Main Continent expanded its influence differently. Vinnelag stretched outward, using railways like tentacles to form a root-like, interconnected network.

And centralization meant that the anomalies that fed on humans would also congregate.

Vinnelag had warships, the Inquisition, and a small number of individuals with anomalous abilities. The warships, equipped with sixty-four enchanted 12-pounder cannons, could blast any tangible anomaly to smithereens.

But their influence extended only to the vicinity of the ice-free port. Any farther out, and there was no sign of them, because the anomalies surrounding Vinnelag had already worn them thin.

However, rumors claimed that an alchemical laboratory had discovered a material similar to Deep Sea Stone, capable of repelling anomalies. If it could be mass-produced to create barriers...

Midnicht, by contrast, was more stable. Its scattered divine towns dispersed the anomalies, and its mature system allowed for the constant creation of new deities. This approach had its drawbacks, of course, such as a deity turning into an evil god and its town becoming a city of anomalies, with former allies turning into enemies.

It was hard to say which approach was better. Vinnelag seemed more dangerous; its existence had begun to resemble the cities of the ancient era—a "giant can of meat" in the eyes of anomalies. However, they had already recognized this, shifting from taking in survivors to supplying other cities by rail.

Regardless, the wilderness was not a safe place.

There were always anomalies that appeared with the anomalous fog, and anomalies from the In-Between that roamed the wilds. Moreover, these anomalies didn't just hunt humans; they hunted each other.

For example, the "Anomaly Bestiary" described how corpse-eater colonies were natural enemies of medusa-worm colonies. They hunted one another, and interestingly, corpse-eater colonies tended to establish their settlements around medusa-worm colonies—and vice versa.

A good distance from Haughtown, about halfway to their destination, they came upon a scene.

A gigantic monster with butterfly-like markings lay in the distance. Its colors were so vibrant they induced a nauseating madness. It was dead, and a thin, black shadow rested upon its head.

The Fallen's split nostrils dominated his face, making it difficult to read his expression, but there was an unmistakable note of fear in his voice:

"Before it notices us. We need to leave. Now."

The abyss of the Fallen's face didn't return to its usual state until they had vanished into the distance.

"What was that?"

Katerina asked.

"The Poison of Knowledge," the Fallen whispered.

Its ritual makes knowledge gain physical weight. The more you know, the heavier your brain becomes, until the fragile organ can no longer bear the strain and turns to pulp.

Then, the Poison of Knowledge attaches itself to the head and devours its prize.

"That sounds horrific..."

Katerina found evil spirits far more repulsive than anomalies. At least most anomalies didn't hunt in such a twisted way.

"How do you break its ritual?" Prusius asked.

"The only way to break it is to 'be without knowledge.'"

They encountered no more evil spirits on their journey, and the Fallen steered them clear of other anomalies long before they got close.

The sky grew dark, the temperature plummeted, and with the biting wind still howling relentlessly, they finally spotted a village in the distance.

Ahead lay Scarecrow Village. Along its perimeter, dotting the abandoned fields, stood the crooked silhouettes of "scarecrows."

...

The elegant and graceful Shadow Maiden glided toward the village.

The scarecrows in the abandoned fields slowly, stiffly, averted their gazes and then their heads, their movements as deliberate as the hands of a clock.

They feared the being that had trespassed upon their territory.

A figure emerged from the village and bowed reverently to the Shadow Maiden.

"Mighty One, to what do we owe the honor of your visit to Scarecrow Village?"

"Tell me, have there been any deaths here recently?"

A soft, girlish voice spoke, each word laced with aristocratic grace.

"The scarecrows protect us..." the old man stammered, bowing toward the figures outside the village.

"A revolting place."

The girl's voice dripped with disgust. In the next instant, the old man's body went rigid. He drew a sickle from his belt and, as if reaping straw, sliced open his own throat.