Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Episode 3.
The atmosphere at Vail Trafel's estate was more subdued than usual. Even the serfs in the village near the estate gates wore deeply troubled expressions.
Aiden scanned their faces as he rode alongside Zeras. "Why does everyone look so grim?"
"Look over there."
As they rounded the corner, Zeras pointed toward the lord's castle. A dozen bodies hung from the battlements—some already decomposing into grotesque shapes.
"What happened? Did they stage some mass uprising?"
"Hardly. The young mistress lost her purity to this bastard." Zeras jerked his chin toward the half-mad incubus stumbling behind them. "Simple reason—the Count judged his guards failed their duty."
It was an era where human life meant less than flies. Even Aiden had grown accustomed to such deaths. The thought left a bitter taste—he was gradually assimilating into this damned world.
"Haha, uncomfortable, are we? But you can't say you don't understand the Count's position."
"More importantly—how long must we keep this demon spawn alive?"
"You'll find out soon enough."
Truthfully, Aiden could guess why they'd been ordered to capture the demon alive. The noble family's personal vengeance. But since when did the Church accommodate individual whims? The Church Aiden knew wasn't that kind of institution.
His thoughts scattered as they reached the castle gates. A soldier rushed forward to greet them.
"Normally, riding within the castle grounds is prohibited, but given the circumstances... Please proceed directly to the conference hall, sirs."
Zeras snorted. "That fiery young mistress must be throwing another tantrum. Let's hurry."
The conference hall was on the second floor. Handing his reins to a stablehand, Aiden said, "Go ahead, Master. I'll lock this creature in the dungeons first."
"No need. Bring him along."
Bringing a demon into the lord's inner sanctum was absurd, yet Zeras remained firm.
Having the demon in sight did ease Aiden's nerves somewhat. You never knew what these creatures might attempt.
"If my suspicions are correct, the Church has reached its limit too."
"An organization must prioritize pragmatism to survive."
"And you'd call that divine will too. Such convenient rhetoric."
"That's blasphemy. I'll let it slide just this once."
Aiden swallowed the retort burning his tongue. Unshackling the chains from his saddle, he dragged the demon up the stairs.
The moment they entered the second-floor corridor, a shrill scream pierced the air.
"They're here! Present yourselves before me at once!"
The voice dripped with venom—so much that Aiden briefly wondered if its owner might be the real demon.
"Don't be too startled. The young mistress has... distinctive qualities."
This promised to be awkward.
Zeras took a deep breath and pushed open the conference hall doors. Inside, a handful of knights, the young mistress, and the Count's private soldiers and servants crowded the space.
The instant the doors opened, the mistress came charging like a rabid beast.
"Sebas, you fucking bastard—!"
Her eyes burned with murderous intent. Aiden understood her thirst for vengeance.
Having brought the demon this far, the mistress now held Sebas's life in her hands. 'What a loss.' If noble hypocrisy converted others' envy into divine power, then an Exterminator's trait was stat growth through demon slaying.
Killing a low-tier demon like Sebas offered negligible gains, but every stat point mattered. He couldn't help feeling it was a waste.
Still, what could he do? Aiden yanked the chains, depositing the demon at the mistress's feet.
"What's this? Why's he so battered? He'll die any moment like this."
Her voice turned icy as she examined Sebas.
"I wanted to hear him beg for death. To play with him before killing him slowly."
This era demanded female purity—especially among nobility. The mistress's loss was profound.
Aiden understood, but taking the demon elsewhere for torture posed complications.
"Fine, whatever. Hey! Someone get this thing on its feet."
"That won't be possible."
"What?"
The mistress looked up at Aiden, studying his appearance before narrowing her eyes.
"And who are you to refuse me?"
To her, Aiden appeared no different from any other demon hunter.
"Left unattended, there's no telling what he might do. Better to execute him here."
An excuse—he needed to finish this before Julie awoke. If Sebas still lived then, Julie would remain corrupted.
Annoyed, the mistress scowled. "Ugh, as if I wasn't irritated enough. How dare some commoner dictate terms?"
She stomped toward Aiden, palm raised—clearly practiced at delivering slaps.
Aiden's large hand effortlessly intercepted the swing.
"You—you're insane! Laying hands on nobility? Cut off this wretch's arm! Now!"
A knight behind her gripped his sword hilt.
"Easy there, Sir Knight. This man is a Church knight who's completed paladin training. Act rashly at your peril."
At Zeras's words, the knight hesitated. He knew the disparity well—paladins were monsters capable of butchering regular knights single-handedly.
Besides, Aiden's status hardly warranted dismemberment for touching a noble.
Realizing her mistake, the mistress lowered her voice. "...You should've said so from the start."
Aiden exhaled deeply and released her wrist. "I fully comprehend your fury. Therefore, I'll grant you a death worth witnessing."
Grabbing the demon's ankles, Aiden tore him apart like paper. Flesh, viscera, and arterial spray painted the floor.
The spectacle defied human capability. Silence swallowed the room as all stood paralyzed.
Thud. The mistress collapsed into the blackened blood pool. Aiden offered his hand. "May this suffice."
She could only hiccup in response. Within the hall, only Zeras wore a faint smirk—everyone else remained speechless.
Then the doors opened, shattering the silence.
"Your Eminence, you've arrived."
The bishop, the Count, armed templars, and several priests entered.
"Inquisitor, what is the meaning of this?"
"Proof that Aiden has cleared his final trial. And incidentally, we've soothed the young mistress's grief here today."
The bishop glanced at the Count, who turned to his daughter. The mistress, studying Aiden's impassive stance, gave a quick nod.
The Count exhaled in profound relief.
"We offer boundless gratitude for the Church's consideration."
Aiden bowed to the bishop—then froze slightly upon meeting his gaze. 'Archbishop Forel?' This benignly smiling man was deeply unsettling.
If Zeras occupied an ambiguous position in the game, Archbishop Forel was unabashedly villainous.
Demon hunters, knights, mages, adventurers, merchants, paladins—whatever route players chose, they inevitably clashed with Forel.
They shouldn't encounter him until mid-game. His presence here was inexplicable. 'Still just a bishop, then.'
Should he eliminate the threat now? The thought flickered briefly—but no. Killing an unimpeachable bishop would turn the Church against him. Too many witnesses, including Zeras.
"So you're the famed Aiden. A pleasure. I'm Forel from the Southwest Diocese."
"The honor is mine, Your Eminence."
At Forel's gesture, templars swiftly removed the demon's remains.
"Apologies for requesting this before you've rested, but might I ask your indulgence?"
"Speak freely."
"Thank you. I'd like to conduct your paladin inauguration here informally."
Something felt off. Paladin inaugurations typically occurred at Church headquarters, traditionally officiated by the Pope himself.
Forgoing that suggested extraordinary circumstances. Not that Aiden particularly cared—but he inquired anyway.
"Might I ask the reason?"
"We've detected Archdemon Cult activity in the southern regions."
The Archdemon Cult was the Baranches Church's archenemy—essentially a demon-worshiping faction, though players could choose that route too.
Dark priests, necromancers, dark knights—their class variety matched the Church's.
"The Archdemon Cult..."
"Blasphemous wretches. Southern children have been disappearing—their handiwork is undeniable."
'Children.' That word revealed Forel's intent.
Pedophile Archbishop Forel.
"Having you join the extermination force would be ideal. As you know, paladins are scarce."
Currently, most paladins were gathered at Church headquarters for discussions about reclaiming holy sites.
Paladins were already precious—now more than ever. Though historically, the first expedition would fail.
"I've already received His Holiness's approval. If you consent, we'll inaugurate you here. Will you join us?"
Refusal wasn't an option. Aiden welcomed it—saving the trip to headquarters.
More importantly, it offered a chance to uproot Forel before he sprouted.
"I've learned the Church's will is divine will. I gladly accept this honor."
The bishop smiled benevolently. "We'll remember your devotion. Divine blessings shall follow."
Clapping his hands, he shifted the atmosphere.
A templar presented the bishop with a ceremonial sword and scripture.
Zeras surveyed the assembly. "All kneel."
Nobles and commoners alike knelt facing Aiden and the bishop.
The ceremonial sword touched Aiden's shoulders.
"Here stands one born of divine blessing, raised by divine grace, now seeking to become divine steel. Should the Lord permit, your eyes shall illuminate the night, your blade sunder the darkness..."
The lengthy liturgy continued. Aiden maintained a reverent expression, head bowed.
Finally, the bishop closed the scripture. "Aiden. Will you dedicate your sword to the Lord?"
"I so dedicate."
"Arise."
The bishop nodded approvingly. "You are now a full paladin. Henceforth, you wield immediate judgment rights. None outside the Church may disarm you or detain templars."
Several soldiers strained to bring massive paladin armor and sword into the hall—forged from supreme-grade ore and platinum-plated.
Zeras shook his head. "Astonishing every time. Fighting in that... Are paladins even human? What do you think, Aiden?"
Instead of answering, Aiden lifted the armaments single-handedly. Zeras looked thoroughly disgusted.
"This may sound abrupt, but circumstances demand it. I'll assign templars—can you mobilize tonight?"
The old man seemed thoroughly fixated. Concealing his revulsion, Aiden nodded.
"I shall meet your expectations, Your Eminence."