Chapter 9
Chapter 9
Episode 9.
Archbishop Tegan had never been a particularly memorable figure in Aiden's recollections.
Though he was one of the leading moderates and held a prominent position within the Holy See, he had never directly interacted with players.
In conclusion, he was a character who had little impact on the overarching narrative. Certainly not a villain—if anything, from the Church's perspective, he could be considered a dutiful, upright figure.
And yet—this man was colluding with the Demon Cult?
Characters' actions had been deviating slightly from expectations, but their fundamental natures had remained unchanged—at least until now.
If a righteous man had truly turned into an antagonist, it would be more than just troublesome—it would be downright dizzying. Please, no.
The very man who had plagued Aiden's thoughts for the past week stood before him now.
"Sir Aiden, I still have more to—"
"My apologies."
He felt bad for Yuriel, but this conversation would have to wait.
Aiden rose abruptly and strode toward the chapel entrance.
The archbishop was surrounded by a bustling crowd. Aiden slipped through the throng and greeted him.
"Your Eminence."
Tegan was a surprisingly young man for his station—middle-aged, with short-cropped hair and sharp, piercing eyes that gave him a stern demeanor.
"And you are?"
A knight whispered something into Tegan's ear. The archbishop nodded in understanding.
"Ah, forgive me for not recognizing our hero. My apologies. I am Archbishop Tegan of the Holy See."
In the past, Aiden would never have been able to approach such a man. A member of the Sacred Bloodline, one of the privileged ruling class of the Holy Empire.
"Paladin Aiden. The honor is mine."
"Nonsense. The honor is mine. I've heard countless tales of your deeds. Your contributions in this recent incident were considerable, were they not?"
"You flatter me. Everything was made possible by the Church's support."
Tegan let out a hearty laugh.
"Hah! No need for formalities. The Church has done nothing for you. Your accomplishments—and those of the Inquisitor—are yours alone. Truly remarkable."
Aiden studied his expression carefully. If this was all an act, then he was dealing with an alarmingly skilled opponent.
"That aside—did you have business with me? Even if not, why not share a cup of tea after the consecration ceremony? To get acquainted."
Aiden had anticipated this invitation.
Assuming Tegan is indeed Forel's superior.
He would be curious whether Forel had divulged his name. This tea invitation was likely a probe.
Aiden, too, wanted to sound him out.
This wasn't someone he could confront directly—and gathering evidence covertly would take time.
There was too much to do.
"Understood. I shall visit your office after the ceremony."
"Excellent. I look forward to hearing your tales firsthand."
Aiden bowed politely to the chuckling archbishop and exited the grand chapel.
He could feel Yuriel's piercing gaze burning into his back but forced himself to ignore it.
Aiden did not attend the consecration ceremony.
The anointment of a Saintess was one of the most sacred rites in both the Empire and the Holy Kingdom—and as such, it was also excruciatingly long.
Imperial nobles and feudal lords were still streaming through Arhaim's gates, while the drawbridge teemed with pilgrims and merchants.
The atmosphere was festive—as if the Holy Kingdom existed in a world entirely separate from the rest of this one.
It was a stark contrast to the Empire's frontiers, where Aiden had wandered as a squire. Those lands had been unspeakably brutal.
He had seen villages reduced to demonic farms, their inhabitants living like livestock. He had witnessed the atrocities committed by lords seduced by demons.
But demons weren't the only problem.
Starving masses dying in famines, displaced refugees, bandits driven to depravity just to survive.
And yet, with all this rot festering within, they still clamor for a crusade?
Aiden couldn't help but agree—the true enemy lay within.
The crusade discussions needed to end quickly. Precious paladins were being wasted, idle and shackled to the Holy Kingdom.
Damn it.
He couldn't afford to be lulled by this place's atmosphere.
"Take it easy."
While the ceremony dragged on, Aiden trained relentlessly in Zeras' garden.
Before him stood a half-naked man bound to a wooden post—one of Forel's subordinates.
Zeras had provided him as a training dummy for Aiden's Flame Lance practice.
"Can't you feel the hatred surging? This man castrated boys and exploited girls under Forel's command. Worse—he took pleasure in killing parents in front of their children."
The dummy screamed muffled pleas through his gag.
Aiden recalled the moment his Flame Lance had clung to Forel and the necromancer.
He had wanted to kill them—but not out of some profound hatred or grand sense of justice.
Perhaps he was approaching this wrong.
"...Master, I don't think my Flame Lance ignites under these conditions."
Zeras nodded slowly.
"The Flame Lance kindles when the Divine acknowledges the wielder's conviction. For me, it was judgment and salvation. Yours... is harder to discern."
Aiden suspected his Flame Lance burned for those who sought to disrupt his intended outcomes.
If so, there was no way to train it—he could only refine its use in actual combat.
A despicable criminal bound before him?
He deserved death—but whether he lived or died had no bearing on Aiden's plans.
Aiden exhaled heavily.
He had grasped one of the world's supreme powers—classified as Innate—yet wielding it was proving frustratingly difficult.
A flame that burned until its target perished. If mastered, it would be an immense asset—but that day still felt distant.
Aiden glanced up. The sun and moon coexisted in the sky—the ceremony was nearing its end.
He drew his sword and strode toward the dummy.
"Wait. He hasn't earned redemption yet. Since he's been no help to you, he must atone fully in this life."
With that, Zeras called over Uron, who had been doing strength training nearby.
Uron jogged over, drenched in sweat.
"Yes, Inquisitor? You called?"
"A disciple benefits from learning as much as possible, no?"
"A wise observation. But..."
Zeras gestured to the bound dummy.
"I'll teach you a few things. Haul him along—you'll find it useful. Aiden may be formidable, but he's hopeless at this sort of thing."
Uron and Zeras headed for the basement, while Aiden made his way to the archbishop's office.
Aiden's eyes swept over the medals and honors displayed neatly in the corner of Tegan's office—rewards from his younger days as an Imperial officer.
"Hah, a bit embarrassing to show off, but they're my only pride."
"Not at all. They're well-earned. Your contributions in eradicating the barbarians were significant, as I recall."
Until a few days ago, Aiden had known nothing of Tegan's past or finer details.
Before Forel had uttered his name, he hadn't even registered on Aiden's radar.
That was why Aiden had spent the past week feverishly researching him.
The more he learned, the more perplexed he became.
Why would a man like this—?
He had everything—lineage, status, power, honor. If someone like him had motive to deal with the Demon Cult, it couldn't be mere greed.
He might become a catastrophic threat to future events.
This meeting was to gauge him.
Aiden had no intention of mentioning Forel or the Demon Cult.
The archbishop, seated at the head of the table, handed him a teacup. His expression grew solemn.
"I know why you've come."
For a fleeting moment, Aiden wondered what would happen if he killed the archbishop right now.
Tegan continued without pause.
"Forel wasn't the type to endure interrogation. My name must have come up—yet you concealed it. Why? You must have your reasons."
Aiden met his gaze squarely.
"Are you confessing?"
The instant the words left his mouth, something moved behind him.
A knight, hidden somewhere in the office.
Aiden tensed. If he heard steel being drawn, he was ready to snap the neck of whoever stood behind him and cave in the archbishop's skull.
Tegan barked a command.
"Durel! Did you forget my order to stand down?"
"...My apologies. Sir Aiden's demeanor was... concerning."
Aiden glared at the archbishop like a beast eyeing prey.
"I could kill you before that man draws his blade."
Tegan nodded knowingly.
"I meant no provocation. My apologies. But I'd appreciate it if you heard me out."
He gestured to the knight, who stepped forward.
"Forgive my discourtesy. But I am sworn to protect my liege. If you show hostility, I must draw steel."
Aiden forced himself to suppress his agitation. Killing the archbishop now would complicate things irreparably.
He needed to hear what Tegan had to say.
"Speak. I won't afford you respect until your guilt is disproven."
"Fair enough."
Tegan steepled his fingers and spoke slowly.
"As you know, the Demon Cult's influence spreads rapidly. Not just in the remote frontiers beyond our reach—they've infiltrated the Empire itself, causing havoc."
Aiden was acutely aware. A cultist commanding a Dark Warrior shouldn't have been roaming the Empire at this stage.
"And?"
"I launched an investigation. A covert team, tracking the cult's movements."
"Odd. If this involved the Demon Cult, the Church would mobilize all resources. Why act in secret?"
"Why do you think we've failed to eradicate them in two hundred years?"
"Because their intelligence reaches the Empire's and Church's highest echelons. And because they have no fixed form."
"That is my answer to your question."
Tegan understood why the Church's purges kept failing. An endless war, so long as enemies lurked within. His investigation team operated unknown even to the Holy See's leadership.
Aiden couldn't take his word at face value yet—but he glimpsed a sliver of hope.
Because Tegan's actions were originally the player's role.
"Then why did Forel name you?"
"Among the apostates we identified, we selected one whose motives were petty and intellect lacking for his station."
That was Forel.
"We approached him slowly, feigning interest in dealings with the cult. That's as far as it went—until you intervened."
He had planned to infiltrate the cult as a mole. An archbishop doing fieldwork. Tegan struck Aiden as an unusual character.
Of course, everything he said could be a blatant lie. Verification was necessary.
"Do you have proof?"
"Records of our investigations over the years. The team working under me. Documents profiling apostates. And—the Divine watches over me."
"All of which could be fabricated."
"If you still doubt me, arrest me. But you concealed this for a reason—you don't want the crusade to proceed, do you? My arrest won't stop it."
Aiden felt a flicker of relief. The hope that at least one high-ranking cleric might be sane and competent.
The weight pressing on him these past days began to lift.
"I'll send all documented evidence to the Inquisitor's residence. If my words prove true, will you grant me one request?"
If the archbishop was cleared, it wouldn't be a request—it would be an order.
Tegan produced a map and laid it on the table. His finger rested on a location Aiden knew well.
The Grandel Catacombs—a massive tomb housing ancient warriors.
"At first, I thought they merely sought to command the spirits entombed there. A problem in itself, but..."
Tegan's face darkened.
"The greater issue—the cult intends to sacrifice every soul within. The children they've abducted over the years will be offered as well."
Aiden's expression twisted.
"Do you know what they mean to summon?"