SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 597: Merisse

Trafalgar regarded Selara for a brief moment.

It was undoubtedly one way to characterize an individual.

"A rather peculiar way to describe someone," he commented. "But can you tell me who she is?"

Selara's expression remained etched with undeniable disdain, a stark contrast to her usual effervescent and somewhat reckless demeanor. She crossed her arms, her fingers rhythmically tapping against her sleeve, as if merely uttering the name had caused her skin to prickle with discomfort.

"Merisse Varn. She's both an Alchemist and an Engineer. Unfortunately, she's exceptionally talented," Selara explained. "Much like many others headed for Aurevane, Merisse possesses the ability to create devices that absolutely should not be placed in the hands of unstable individuals." Selara clicked her tongue with annoyance. "Furthermore, she was involved in the construction of this very train, meaning she possesses extensive knowledge of its intricate design and vulnerabilities."

Trafalgar's gaze naturally drifted towards the now sealed door.

"Damn it," Selara muttered, her voice softer this time, as if the full implication of the realization had only just begun to dawn upon her own mind.

"Do you have a history with her?" Trafalgar inquired.

"Beyond what I've already stated?" Selara's lips twisted into a baresome grimace of irritation. "She was removed from multiple projects years ago. The official reason given was 'reckless conduct.' However, the unofficial truth is that she engaged in an action she should have vehemently avoided, and the financiers of that project opted to maintain a facade of morality for the sake of their public image."

Trafalgar raised a questioning eyebrow.

"That sounds rather familiar," he remarked.

"Indeed, the world of alchemy is rife with brilliant yet foolish minds, wealthy cowards, and individuals who mislabel their criminal undertakings as mere 'research,'" Selara lamented. She glanced towards the slumbering students scattered throughout the compartment. "Merisse was never the absolute worst among them, but that fact almost makes her more vexing. She is well aware of the boundaries; she simply chooses to disregard them with alarming precision."

Trafalgar processed this information.

If Merisse had played a role in the train's creation, then the attack wasn't solely orchestrated around the brewing storm. It was likely meticulously planned, exploiting every single weakness she knew. The sudden explosion near the reinforced mithril cargo wagon suddenly made a great deal more sense.

"So, what is our course of action?" he asked.

Selara's gaze intensified, her resolve hardening.

"If your objective is to locate my master, the Conclave must proceed as planned. If Aurevane ceases operations, or if the delegation is forced to turn back, or if the entire event is postponed, we may very well lose our chance entirely." She drew a sharp breath through her nose, deliberately suppressing the surge of anger and regaining her composure. "Therefore, we must rectify this situation."

"It's that straightforward?"

"No, not at all. However, I find it beneficial to focus on simple objectives when the circumstances are dire." Selara moved deliberately towards one of the students, using her foot to adjust a protective ward deployed on the floor nearby. "Additionally, I have received intelligence via the train's emergency communication channel. Reinforcements from the Council are already en route. The Concordant Wardens are on their way."

Trafalgar's expression shifted subtly.

"That is favorable news," he stated.

"It is," Selara confirmed. "However, they will require time to arrive. The severity of the storm is impeding their progress. Even with superior equipment compared to standard guards, they are still dealing with a partially disabled train stranded in a remote, snow-bound region."

"I managed to handle five of them," Trafalgar noted.

Selara turned her head to face him, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Five?"

"Six actually entered my compartment."

Selara stared for a moment, then pointed a finger directly at him.

"Naturally. Of course, you did. I leave you unattended for barely half the journey, and you manage to transform a passenger car into a makeshift morgue."

"They initiated the assault," Trafalgar stated calmly.

"That invariably seems to be the preamble to your justifications."

Before Trafalgar could formulate a response, a distinct knock echoed from the sealed door.

Selara's hand moved with lightning speed.

Beside her, a compact and exquisitely crafted mana firearm materialized, its barrel emitting a soft, layered glow of emerald light. The entire compartment seemed to fall into a hushed silence, anticipating the next event.

A voice, distinct and recognized, emanated from the other side.

"Young Master. The lower level has been secured. There are five civilian casualties. One of them appears to be a woman who was..."

Trafalgar reached out and opened the door before Caelum could complete his sentence.

"Do not utter that word. Please enter," he instructed.

Caelum stepped across the threshold.

He was still adorned in the disguise featuring golden eyes and clad in the pilfered attire of an assailant. However, a smear of blood now marked a cuff, and a minor laceration near his collar suggested recent, unwelcome contact. His composure remained remarkably undisturbed, almost to an insulting degree.

Selara shifted her gaze between Caelum and Trafalgar, her brow furrowed.

"And who might this individual be?" she inquired.

"A train attendant," Trafalgar replied smoothly.

Selara's mouth opened, then closed, only to open once more.

"Right. Naturally. An attendant." Her gaze swept over Caelum's blood-speckled sleeve. "The quality of service these days is truly remarkable."

Caelum offered a polite inclination of his head.

"Director Selara."

Selara redirected her attention to Trafalgar, her expression a mixture of disbelief and resignation.

"I'm not even going to bother asking."

"That is likely a prudent decision," Trafalgar advised.

"It typically proves to be the wisest course when dealing with you."

Trafalgar then turned his attention back to Caelum. "You mentioned the lower floor?"

"For now, everything is secure," Caelum responded. "Several passengers are still unconscious. I discovered two attackers already deceased before my arrival, likely due to resistance from armed guests. Three others were active and have been dealt with."

Selara's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Dealt with?"

Caelum offered her a respectful glance. "Permanently."

"Excellent. My students are safer with a murderous waiter than with half our official guards."

"Thank you," Caelum replied.

"That was not a compliment."

Caelum appeared unfazed.

Trafalgar steered the conversation back to the pressing issue before Selara could continue.

"So? Do we await the Council's forces, or do we proceed?"

Selara's sarcastic expression vanished.

"We move. If Merisse is already attempting to access that cargo wagon, we cannot afford to wait. Whatever is inside was secured for a specific reason, and if she obtains it before the Wardens arrive, this situation will become significantly more dire."

For the first time, a flicker of hesitation crossed Selara's features.

Her gaze drifted towards the students.

Several of them lay in the room, all unconscious beneath the faint greenish film she had spread across the floor and walls. The lingering gas had left some of them pale. One of the summoners stirred subtly but did not awaken. The barrier she had erected maintained clearer air within this space, but it demanded her constant attention.

Trafalgar followed her line of sight.

"Remain here, Director Selara," he advised.

She did not reply immediately.

"As you yourself stated," he continued, "you must protect the students. If an intruder breaches this room while you are absent, they will be a liability against individuals who arrived prepared."

Selara's jaw clenched; his logic was sound, and she detested admitting it.

She looked at him once more.

"Be cautious with Merisse. She possesses peculiar gadgets – and by peculiar, I mean devices that bite, slice, explode, crawl, latch on, and sometimes perform all these actions simultaneously."

Trafalgar's expression became impassive. "That sounds rather inconvenient."

Caelum glanced towards the corridor.

"Young Master, if the cargo team is already engaged, every moment we linger here increases the probability that they will either breach the sealed container or prepare for their escape."

Trafalgar gave a decisive nod.

"Understood."

Selara moved closer before he departed.

"Trafalgar."

He turned his head towards her.

"Should you locate the blueprints, ensure they are not destroyed. If you encounter the sealed case, do not attempt to open it unless absolutely necessary. And if Merisse begins to smile, assume you have already stumbled into a trap."

"Will that be helpful?"

"It has proven life-saving in the past."

Selara raised the mana firearm once more, this time aiming it not at him, but at the door behind them.

"I will secure this room. Anyone attempting to enter will face a creatively unpleasant end."

Trafalgar adjusted his breathing mask and then looked at Caelum.

"We are departing."

"Understood, Young Master."

The two figures exited the secured chamber.

The corridor outside now felt palpably colder. The storm raged against the windows, appearing as vast white sheets, and the train continued to emit groans under the strain of damaged mana lines and emergency seals. Somewhere further ahead, beyond the private compartments and the devastated dining area, individuals were actively attempting to pilfer something of immense importance – something significant enough to cripple a Council-regulated train amidst a raging snowstorm.

Trafalgar proceeded, the stolen sword resting at his side, while Caelum moved alongside him in absolute silence.

Their destination was unmistakable.

The mithril-reinforced cargo wagon.