I’m an Immigration Officer!

Meanwhile, in a deserted temple on the outskirts of the Scadi Empire in the northern continent...
In a room filled with blasphemous symbols and defaced statues, seven people sat in complete silence, all cloaked in crimson robes.
"You’ve all heard the news, I presume,"

An old man seated at the center of the round table broke the silence.
He leaned forward slowly, pointing to a map laid out in the middle of the table.
"The pilgrimage that includes the Saintess has finally reached the Kingdom of Crossroads."

Everyone followed the old man’s finger as it moved to the symbol of the Holy Church, marked just below the words "Kingdom of Crossroads" on the map.
"Once they cross this point, they will head straight north. Right to where we are."
His finger shifted to the northern corner of the Scadi Empire.

"According to our intel, they number close to three thousand."
"Th-Three thousand?"
Murmurs filled the room.
"That... that’s impossible. They’re moving faster than ever. Three thousand people crossing half the continent in just two weeks?"
"And there are bound to be plenty of Holy Knights among them."
"With the Saintess at the lead, their numbers could swell even further."

Fear and anxiety began to seep into the conversation.
Someone raised their voice.
"What’s their objective?"

The old man turned to the man sitting beside him.
"What do you think it is? This time, they’re aiming to wipe us out completely."
There was no need to ask why.

If the Holy Church was leading such a massive force northward, there was only one target in mind.
The Cult of the Evil God.
The eternal nemesis of the Holy Church — worshippers of chaos.
Practitioners of human sacrifice and curses, they had long been branded as a stain that needed to be erased from the world.

The crimson robes they wore glistened eerily in the candlelight, contrasting sharply with the sky blue and gold emblems of the Holy Church.
"Those bastards. Why couldn’t they just stay holed up in the south worshipping their fake god..."
"The fact that the Saintess herself is leading them means they’re dead serious this time."
Just then, a gaunt, skeletal man stood up.

"This is not the time to sit around! It’s not too late yet — we should assassinate the Saintess!"
"Assassinate her?"
"They’re only gathering around her because of that woman, the symbol of the Church. If we kill her, the pilgrimage will fall apart."
Several nodded in agreement.
"Haktas, do you have a plan?"

The old man — the elder — asked the gaunt man. Haktas grinned, his yellowed teeth showing.
"Just give me a few men. I’ll place a self-destruction curse on them, send them into the pilgrimage, and blow them up right in the middle of it."
"But the pilgrimage isn’t just going to take people in without thinking."
"Children would work best. Those bastards can’t resist stopping to protect some helpless kids."
Haktas raised four bony fingers.

"Just four eight-year-olds. That’s all I need. I can blow up a space the size of this room. And if we stuff their bellies with rusted nails and metal balls..."
He cackled as he toyed with his mangled, twisted hand, disfigured by years of curses and dark rituals.
The exposed forearm protruding from his sleeve was covered in blasphemous runes.

Haktas the Torturer.
A long-time executive of the Cult of the Evil God, infamous for his brutal interrogation methods.
During the last war, he had placed self-destruction curses on captured prisoners, allowing them to "escape" and explode the moment they made contact with the Holy Church. The memory of that massacre still haunted many.

"Street orphans are everywhere. It’s a pretty solid plan."
"Hmm... it’s certainly an effective method, but..."
The elders and executives began murmuring among themselves.
"Alternatively, we could use virgins as sacrifices to spread a plague. If we create a disease that only targets the pure and makes them cough up blood—"

Before Haktas could suggest another horrendous method, a sharp voice cut through the room.
"If we kill the Saintess now, we’d only be playing right into their hands."
All eyes turned to the left of the old man.

A slender woman stood with her hand raised.
Her face was hidden beneath the hood of her robe.
The elder asked:

"What do you mean by that?"
"Killing the Saintess won’t stop them. The Holy Church will use her death as a rallying cry, a justification to exterminate us completely."
Becoming a martyr, she added with a click of her tongue.
"And then they’ll scream for vengeance and come at us with even greater force. They’ll keep coming until we’re erased from the world."

Silence fell once more.
She was right.
Nothing solidified internal unity like an external attack.

If the symbol of the Church were killed by the Cult, it would drive them to madness.
A martyr.
Nothing drove fanatics to rage like the death of a saint.

And once that rage was unleashed, it was unstoppable.
Even the man who had suggested the assassination fell silent, unable to refute her logic.
"Damn it. Then what do you propose?"

The elder scowled, his face contorted in frustration.
The woman remained silent for a moment.
Then, she offered a suggestion no one had anticipated.

"Let’s kidnap the Saintess."
"K-Kidnap? You’re suggesting we bring her here?"
The room erupted into chaos.
The idea of abducting the Saintess was far more daunting than simply killing her.

But the woman continued without so much as a flinch.
"Our goal isn’t to kill the Saintess. That whore can be replaced at any time. What we truly need to target is..."
She slowly raised her hand and pulled back her hood.

Silky black hair cascaded down like a waterfall.
"The fall of the Holy Church."
In the flickering candlelight, a pair of blood-red eyes glistened ominously.

"We need to open the eyes of those who believe in a false god."
The voice of the Saintess of the Cult of the Evil God, Hatenisila, echoed through the desecrated temple.
"And it all begins by dragging the false whore of the so-called god — Erjena Selaph — down to the very bottom."

A sinister smile spread across her lips.
"Defile her. Defile her again and again until she’s nothing but a filthy animal crawling through the streets. Then, put her on display for the whole world to see. What do you think people will say then?"
"When the once-beautiful and noble woman is stripped naked and thrown into the gutter, will they still call her a Saintess?"

"And when the pilgrimage reaches us, and we sacrifice their symbol to summon a demon..."
Then, there will be no such thing as holiness left in this world.
The Fall of the Saintess.

To drag down the woman who was said to be the chosen one of God.
There was no greater blasphemy against the Holy Church, nor a more perfect demonstration of the Cult’s power.
To defile the voice of God and, in the end, offer her as a sacrificial lamb.

The sheer depravity of the idea made some in the room unconsciously swallow hard.
The plan was horrifyingly vile and yet chillingly perfect.
"B-But isn’t it too late to come up with such a plan now?"

The elder finally managed to regain his senses and offered his input.
"The pilgrimage has already reached the Kingdom of Crossroads. It’s only a matter of time before they head north."
"Oh, Elder," — Hatenisila let out a seductive laugh.
"I’ve already sent the perfect person for the job. Someone who can get closer to the Saintess than anyone else without arousing any suspicion."
"And who might that be?"
"A mercenary we spent quite a fortune on. Someone who can become anyone."

With those words, she calmly sat back down.
"As soon as they’re granted entry into the Kingdom of Crossroads, they will begin their work."
Her lips curved into a cryptic smile as she pulled her hood back over her head.

"Very soon... we’ll be hearing some good news."
 
****

Exactly two days later, just as the Hearing Master predicted, the guests arrived.
"3129 people."
I couldn’t believe my ears when the emissaries from the pilgrimage announced the number.

"...Could you repeat that?"
"Oh, my apologies. That was yesterday’s figure. Including those who joined early this morning, the total is now 3374 people. Here is the full list. Every single person is recorded, so there shouldn’t be any issues."
— Thud. —
A mountain of documents, as tall as me, landed right in front of us with a heavy crash.
The Taste Master almost got buried beneath it.

"And here’s the manifest and records for the cargo. I thought it might be useful, so I brought it separately."
— Thud. —
Another mountain of papers. This one was as tall as the Smell Master.

"Well then, we’ll be back shortly for the official inspection. Good luck to you all."
With those words, the emissaries vanished like the wind.
What remained were two massive piles of paperwork and the number 3374, now etched into the minds of everyone present.

The entire encounter lasted less than five minutes, but the impact resonated deeply.
"..."
"..."
Silence fell over the immigration office.

No one said a word. Not me, not the Sense Masters, not the aides.
Instead, «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» we all slowly turned our heads to look out at the field beyond the border.
Blue was the sky, green was the field, and the black mass swarming like ants — that was people.

Had the plains in front of our border ever been this packed with bodies?
Flags adorned with rose emblems fluttered violently in the wind. There were dozens of them — the unmistakable symbol of the Holy Church.
I stood there, taking in the sight for a moment, allowing the sheer scale of the situation to settle in.

Then, with a quiet sigh, I opened my mouth and said:
"...Well, we’re screwed."