Drops of blood fell from Heretic Inquisitor Metin’s mace. The large man who had lunged at him lay on the ground, his face a bloody mess. Letting go of the mace with a clatter, Metin finally came to his senses. ‘Ah, I lost my temper again.’
He had seen red and almost killed an innocent person. His targets were supposed to be heretics and necromancers, not ordinary people. Metin climbed on top of the fallen man and grabbed his blood-soaked face. ‘Heal.’
The large man’s bloodied face began to heal rapidly. With his other hand, Metin took out a communication crystal and held it to his lips. "This is Inquisitor Metin. I request all standby personnel to deploy."
After a moment of static, a tired-sounding man’s voice came through.
— "What is it now? It is not even a workday."
"It seems a necromancer has appeared. I definitely smelled him."
There was a pause on the other end. After a brief crackle of static, the man replied.
— "Five men. I will send them your way."
Lost in the massive crowd, Simon was completely unaware of what had happened nearby. The area was noisy to begin with, and as is often the case in such places, it was not uncommon for drunkards to cause a ruckus. He just assumed another fight had broken out somewhere. ‘I have bought something to cover my face. I should also get a set of clothes to wear while traveling.’
After purchasing the mask, Simon’s next target was a robe. The one he was currently wearing was a plain brown robe with no distinguishing features. He had just grabbed whatever from home, but it was already frayed and torn in places. So, he decided to take this opportunity to get a good one. He wanted to spend all of this twenty million Blanc on this trip if possible. After all, it was currency he could not use once he returned. Simon looked around and entered a rather large, luxurious clothing store instead of a stall. A well-to-do shopkeeper greeted him with a bright smile. "I need a priest’s robe. One with a hood."
At those words, the shopkeeper requested his identification. As the Holy Federation had a rigid class system, priest’s robes could only be purchased by priests. ‘Even buying clothes is controlled by social status. It is a bit strange.’
After checking Simon’s fake ID, the shopkeeper asked for his basic measurements and immediately brought out a white robe from a wardrobe. It had a clean design without any complex patterns. Since he had to act as a novice priest, he thought it would not be a bad idea to have a white robe. "And this robe’s greatest feature! You can wear it inside out like this!"
When the shopkeeper flipped the robe, it transformed into a stylish coat. The color was still white. "And if you imbue it with a little mana..."
She held a crystal orb in her hand and placed it on the coat. The entire coat turned a shade of blue. "The color changes like this!"
"That is impressive."
A robe that changes color and can be worn inside out. This seemed quite useful. While the shopkeeper was rambling on about the material, Simon subtly grabbed the edge of the coat and channeled a small amount of Jet-Black into it. ‘Oh.’
Sure enough, the coat’s color changed to black. A white robe on the inside, and a black coat when reversed. He loved it. "I will take this one."
It was a magic item, so the price was a bit steep, but Simon liked the garment. He paid two million Blanc, put on the robe with the white side out, and left with a sense of satisfaction. He still had eighteen million Blanc left. However, the atmosphere outside was a little strange. Simon quickly hid himself in the crowd. If something had happened, there was only one thing he could think of. "It’s the Heretic Inquisitors!"
"Get away, get away."
In the unsettling atmosphere, a group of priests was marching through the middle of the crowd in the night market. They were carrying or dragging gruesome objects like maces, crowns of thorns, and breaking wheels. Their eyes were sunken as if possessed by an evil spirit, their white clothes were splattered with bloodstains, and they radiated a palpable bloodlust. It seemed as though they would tear a person apart at the slightest touch. ‘...Are those the Heretic Inquisitors?’
To Simon’s eyes, they just looked like a pack of bloodthirsty murderers. They were already ‘interrogating’ a few people, openly putting them into torture devices right in front of the public. The person being interrogated let out a bloodcurdling scream. "What are you, what are you?" an inquisitor with a beak-like snout said as he tortured a resident with a crown of thorns. "Are you really a heretic? Are you?"
"I-I am not, how many times do I have to—Aaaaaaaargh!"
People who saw the horrific scene tried to back away slowly. The Heretic Inquisitors reacted instantly. "Hey, why are you running away? Are you a heretic?"
"Get him. Get him. Get him."
The inquisitors used Divinity to leap into the air and landed in the middle of the crowded area. Screams of chaos erupted from all over. "Do not interfere. Everyone on the ground, now."
"Come here. Come here."
The inquisitor with the beak-like snout managed to find a woman who was trying to escape from the crowd, grabbed her by the hair, and dragged her forward. "I-I am not a heretic! I am a believer from Rohen village! H-Here is my identification!" she sobbed as she held out her ID. The inquisitor took it, glanced at it dismissively, then dropped it on the ground and stomped on it with his shoe. "A piece of paper like that. How can we trust it? We interrogate in our own way."
"Aah! Someone, please!" she cried out, but people deliberately avoided eye contact and lay helplessly on the ground. ‘This is...’
Simon’s fists clenched. ‘This is not an interrogation.’
It was a horrific display of terror under the pretext of a heretic inquisition. He now understood why the people here trembled at the mere sight of a priest. "Get in. Get in."
"Ah, please!"
The Heretic Inquisitor pulled a large breaking wheel from his Subspace. He pushed the woman against the wheel and fastened her arms and legs. When the wheel turned, her whole body would be scraped by the sharp spikes protruding from the back. Terrified, she screamed. "Speak, speak. You are a heretic, are you not?"
"I-I-I have served only the great Goddess since I was born! My parents were clerics! Please!"
"I cannot believe you. You could be disguised, disguised."
The Heretic Inquisitor grabbed the wheel. "If your faith in the Goddess is truly sincere, you should be able to endure this, right?"
"Aaaaaah, please...!"
Simon gritted his teeth. He was not an idiot; he knew that if he went out there and revealed himself, everything would be for naught. ‘Do not get caught. I only have one chance.’
Just as Simon carefully spread his hand to create a magic circle...
"Uhh—"
The crowd began to part like a wave. Murmurs erupted from all over like firecrackers. "What do you all think you are doing?"
Simon’s eyes widened. A girl in an Efnel uniform was striding purposefully towards the Heretic Inquisitors. ‘Lethe!’
She glanced briefly towards Simon, who was mixed in the crowd, and signaled with her finger as if to say, ‘Leave this to me.’
The Heretic Inquisitors flinched, seemingly flustered by the sudden appearance of someone from Efnel. "Hey, you lot," she said in a grim voice. "Are you ignoring me?"
They fell silent. Just then, among the five Heretic Inquisitors, a man holding a spiked chain scythe sauntered forward. He looked down at her, radiating blatant displeasure. "We are on official duty, Priestess." His lips parted, revealing monstrously jagged teeth. "Even if you are from Efnel, you cannot interfere with a heretic inquisition. If you would kindly step aside..."
’THWACK!’
Lethe kicked him in the leg. As the man staggered and dropped to one knee, she immediately followed up with a slap across his cheek. ‘SMACK!’
In this place crowded with over a thousand people, the sound of the slap echoed starkly. "Get up, you bastard."
The Heretic Inquisitor, his cheek now red, glared fiercely at Lethe. The junior inquisitors behind him looked more terrified than angry, while the man with the beak-like snout grinned foolishly. "That woman. We must interrogate her. Strip her, lock her up, tear her skin..."
"You, shut your mouth!" a fellow inquisitor, horrified, slapped him on the back of the head. Just then, the senior inquisitor who had been slapped by Lethe slowly got to his feet. "Even for the esteemed Efnel, this is going too far. Whether a dragon or an earthworm, everyone has their role, do they not? Let us do our job."
"And why do you think I am going too far?" Lethe smirked and crossed her arms. "Are you lot sure you have jurisdiction here, and that you are conducting a heretic inquisition at this designated time?"
The senior inquisitor’s expression hardened slightly. Lethe tapped the watch on her wrist. "If you are doing all this, torturing residents, without approval from your superiors, then we will have a lot to talk about. Right?"
He remained silent. "Should I check all the schedules, turn everything upside down, and make your boss bow his head in apology? Or will you just tuck your tails and get lost now?"
The senior inquisitor gritted his teeth. ‘Take away that Efnel uniform, and she is nothing but a student—a brat playing at authority.’
His gaze shifted. There were too many people watching for him to act out. It was humiliating, but retreating was the best option rather than provoking Efnel by taking further action here. "Let’s go," the senior inquisitor said, turning his back. The juniors muttered something in confusion, but the senior inquisitor ignored them and said, "Release them all. We are returning."
Finally, the people suffering from the torture were released. The woman who had been tied to the breaking wheel bowed her head repeatedly to Lethe. Lethe told her to take care of herself and approached the others who were injured from the torture to heal them. ‘But where is that guy?’ she wondered. At the same time, the senior inquisitor was having a similar thought. ‘And where the hell is that bastard Metin who called us here?’
--- "Ugh!"
Simon, who was running through a market street, ducked his head abruptly. Objects that looked like animal fangs flew past and embedded themselves in the wall. "Found you! The source of the steeeeench!"
Suddenly, some madman had started attacking him, yelling about some smell. Simon fled in a hurry, and the lunatic was chasing him, pushing and throwing people aside. He did not know what kind of holy magic it was, but he was creating fangs out of thin air and spraying them everywhere. ‘At this rate, innocent people will get caught up in this.’
Simon left the street and entered a deserted alley. "Haha! Have you given up on running away?!"
The priest, having somehow gotten ahead of Simon, landed on the ground. "I will judge you, necromancer!"
Simon smiled, made a holy sign, and clasped his hands together. "There seems to be some misunderstanding. My name is Ska Seraphino, a novice priest. And, are you not a Heretic Inquisitor? Please stop attacking and proceed with the interrogation..."
"Interrogation, my ass!"
Metin threw his arms up. Simon’s gaze followed upwards. A white magic circle had already formed in the sky above his head.
’Crap!’
"To my ‘nose’, no interrogation is necessary!"
’Exorcism.’
A single bolt of holy lightning descended from the magic circle and struck Simon. In an instant, his body was engulfed in light and exploded. "Hahaha!"
Exorcism, a holy magic extremely fatal to necromancers. A direct hit would purify both the core and the body with Divinity. "Another one for the books toda—"
But Metin could not believe his eyes. "...What?"
A sudden gust of wind whipped up, and the sole of a boot was coming right for his face. Metin flew backward, blood spraying from his nose. His body landed in a pile of trash in the alley. Simon, who had landed lightly on the ground, dusted off his robe. "I told you, you have got the wrong person."

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