The Devil of the Wilderness

At the very least, her childhood memories were accurate. It was just that they weren't particularly pleasant memories.

"..."

Yohan had assumed this woman was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she was actually dirt poor—the absolute bottom of the barrel. He had to admit he had made a massive assumption.

"Are there slums in the Holy City too?" Billy asked blankly after listening to Agnes's story.

Agnes looked at Billy and gave a single nod.

"The Holy Kingdom is indeed the headquarters of the Central Church. But even within the Holy City itself, the poor are practically overflowing."

Billy and Falco tilted their heads in confusion at her explanation.

"Just because a country is wealthy doesn't mean every single citizen is rich," Yohan chimed in.

"You know how the world works. Exactly," Agnes agreed.

"When I was a kid, I spent every single night worrying if I'd have anything to eat the next day. On rainy days, I'd seek shelter in smelly sewers, and I'd rummage through the garbage discarded by the market to find scraps. So when I was finally taken into the monastery, it literally felt like I had been saved by God."

Agnes wore a complicated expression as she spoke. Yohan noticed a strange mix of joy and sorrow coexisting in her eyes.

"As you saw during our 'evaluation' earlier, despite being an Inquisitor of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, I cannot perform Miracle Arts."

The complex emotions she felt while reminiscing about her past were undoubtedly tied to her inability to use Miracle Arts.

"Since I survived thanks to the monastery taking me in, it was only natural that I wanted to become a priest. I believed that my life had been spared solely so I could offer prayers to the Primary God."

But Agnes had become a Heresy Inquisitor, not a priest. The implication of that outcome was clear.

"After entering the monastery, I prayed endlessly and attended lectures more diligently than anyone else. Eventually, I grew old enough to study theology."

The training process for monastics in the Central Church of the Holy Kingdom didn't seem much different from what Yohan already knew.

"Did you know? To be ordained as a priest in the Central Church, you have to perform Miracle Arts in front of an audience."

But they had no way of knowing such specific details. Yohan and the other two shook their heads in unison.

"Wait, then that means..." After a brief pause, Yohan's eyes widened as he realized the hidden meaning behind her words.

"Miracle Arts are spells where a priest literally performs miracles through their steadfast faith. And right around the time I began my formal priestly training, I realized my body was incapable of performing them."

This was the decisive difference between standard magic and Miracle Arts. Magic was a technique that utilized the energy existing in nature, meaning anyone could learn it with proper training. Miracle Arts, however, were different. It was safe to say that people were divided from birth into those who could perform them and those who could not.

In that sense, the Miracle Arts performed by the priests of the Holy Kingdom were a supernatural power even more magical than magic itself. It was an ability that those without the innate talent could never wield, no matter how hard they tried.

The Goddess's voice echoed in his mind. Yohan kept his eyes on Agnes, but he listened closely to the Goddess's words.

"They say that for a priest to perform Miracle Arts, they must hear the voice of the Primary God through prayer."

"The voice of God..." Yohan repeated the phrase Agnes used. This was a world where multiple gods actually existed. Therefore, agnosticism was an impossibility when it came to religion. And the Central Church of the Holy Kingdom could be described as a collective where the shared thoughts of believers across the continent worshipped a single deity, steadily growing its divinity day by day.

"My throat is a bit dry." Feeling thirsty, Agnes drained the rest of the beer in her mug. Her face was redder than usual, suggesting the alcohol was starting to get to her.

"While my peers grasped Miracle Arts one by one and received their baptismal names as priests, I couldn't even conjure a simple spark of light, let alone heal a wound."

Why was that? Agnes must have agonized and suffered over this question for a very long time.

"One year passed, then another, and before I knew it, I became the seminary's perpetual flunkee. I prayed to the Primary God every single day, but I never heard his voice. Not once."

Agnes tipped her mug again and let out a soft sigh.

"Eventually, I reached the age limit and was on the verge of being expelled from the seminary. Taking pity on me, the headmaster wrote me a letter of recommendation."

"A recommendation letter?"

"Yes. A recommendation to undergo training to become an Inquisitor for the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith."

Having survived thanks to the Central Church, she had chosen the path of a priest to give back. However, because she couldn't perform Miracle Arts, she couldn't become a priest. The second path she chose in her desperate bid to remain with the church was to become an Inquisitor.

"According to church law, the ordination of a priest strictly requires the candidate to perform Miracle Arts. But to become an Inquisitor, you don't need to go through that process."

"I see."

That didn't mean becoming an Inquisitor was easy, of course.

"From the day I walked into the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith with that recommendation letter, I resolved to stay with the church even if it meant being an Inquisitor. I believed that even if I couldn't be a priest, if I followed the Primary God's will as an Inquisitor, he would eventually let me hear his voice."

After years of grueling training, the seminary dropout managed to become an Inquisitor of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith.

"Agnes. That is the baptismal name of the seminary headmaster, which I received upon becoming an Inquisitor."

Even through her growing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠intoxication, a glimpse of unyielding resolve shone on Agnes's face as she spoke.

"I kept thinking that if I just defeated the heretics and demons inside and outside the church, the Primary God would surely recognize my faith and speak to me. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠But..."

Agnes, who had been speaking in a hopeful tone, suddenly wore a grim, complicated expression.

"Nothing changed. To this very moment, I have never once heard the voice of the Primary God in my entire life."

The moment Agnes finished her confession, the Goddess's sigh echoed in Yohan's mind. As a deity who cherished her believers, she must have felt pity for Agnes's plight.

"..." What was he even supposed to say here? Half-hearted comfort would only leave a deeper wound. Yohan knew that better than anyone.

"You look troubled," Agnes said, suddenly looking straight at Yohan. Having his thoughts read, Yohan offered an awkward smile.

"I understand. It's not a pleasant story to begin with, and it's a world completely unrelated to yours anyway."

That wasn't all. Depending on how one took it, Agnes's words could easily cast doubt on her very piety as a monastic.

"W-wait a minute. Is it really okay to talk about things like that so openly in a place like this?" Billy asked with a worried expression. Yohan and Falco nodded silently in agreement.

"Are you worried about me? Thank you. But it's fine."

"It's fine?"

"It's just drunken nonsense spouted while sharing drinks with locals I met during a mission."

She meant that precisely because she knew they would likely never cross paths again, she could afford to be brutally honest. Understanding her meaning, Yohan gave a light shrug.

"Like I said earlier, meeting folks like you during a mission is one of my few pleasures."

"In other words, 'When else am I going to get a chance to whine to someone if not now?' is what you're saying," Yohan interjected. Agnes nodded and took another long gulp of her beer.

"We really do speak the same language. Exactly. Just think of it as drunken rambling at a bar," Agnes said, setting her empty mug down on the table.

Unlike Falco or the Goddess, who both seemed to have a few screws loose in their own ways, Agnes possessed a relatively normal mindset, even by Yohan's standards. Thanks to that, the negative image he had harbored toward the Holy Kingdom's Heresy Inquisitors was diluted, if only a little.

"Hey! Bring us another mug of beer—actually, make it two!" ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠"Coming right up!"

Agnes tapped her empty wooden mug as she called out to the server. Before long, two mugs filled to the brim with overflowing foam landed on the table with a heavy thud.

"Now, there's something I'd like to ask you guys," Agnes said, looking at Yohan. In response, Yohan nudged his mug forward slightly and gave a chin flick.

"Like I said earlier, a human, an elf, and an o... no, a troll traveling together is a pretty bizarre combination, even by my standards."

"Well, that's true." That was the common consensus. Yohan didn't deny it.

"So, won't you tell me your story this time?"

At Agnes's question, Yohan and Falco briefly exchanged glances. It was impossible to explain how the three of them had ended up together without mentioning the Unnamed Goddess. But if they openly revealed her existence, this half-drunk Inquisitor would undoubtedly fly into a rage and try to beat the heretics to death on the spot.

The Goddess seemed to have grasped Yohan's dilemma. But wait... she had specifically added the words "right now." Did she mean she intended to throw down with the Holy Kingdom—the supreme power of the continent—at some point in the future? Whether this was the grand majesty of a divine being or just the sheer foolishness of a blockhead goddess, he would find out eventually. Yohan shrugged to himself.

"Hmm..."

"To put it simply, Billy and I owe Yohan our lives." While Yohan was busy organizing his thoughts, Falco, who had been quiet until now, spoke up first.

"You owe him your lives?"

"Yeah. I used to be part of a band of grave robbers, but when I outlived my usefulness, the others tied my limbs and buried me alive. Yohan happened to find me and dug me out, so I survived."

Falco recounted the memory of her past in a completely flat, nonchalant tone. Her statement was entirely factual, without a single lie. While Yohan let out a chuckle, thinking ah, those were the days, Billy and Agnes looked utterly horrified.

"I-I see. That is... truly fortunate," Agnes managed to say, her voice laced with bewilderment. Billy offered an awkward smile as well.

"Hey, who in this town doesn't have a depressing backstory? You're the same, aren't you?" Though Falco had helped them bypass the tricky explanation, the mood was going to plummet if they left it like this. Yohan smoothly steered the conversation.

"Heh. I suppose that's true," Agnes chuckled, agreeing with Yohan. He let out a quiet sigh of relief. Alright, now...

BOOM!

Just as he was about to transition to a lighter topic, a deafening explosion erupted from just beyond the tavern door.

"W-what was that?" "Whoa, that scared me!" Agnes and Billy cried out in surprise. Yohan, on the other hand, merely picked his ear with a bored expression, while Falco simply stared out the window.

"Don't worry. This kind of thing happens all the time around here." "Yeah. Probably just another fight breaking out." This was Junk Town. Thanks to Sheriff Wilhelm, a bare minimum of public order was maintained, but minor incidents that didn't cross the line to warrant Wilhelm's personal intervention occurred practically every single day.

BOOM! "Aaargh!"

However, this time seemed a bit different. Another loud blast echoed, followed immediately by the screams of multiple people.

"I-it sounds like things are getting pretty serious out there," Billy said. "Yeah, looks like it." At this point, they couldn't just ignore it. Yohan had no choice but to agree with Billy.

Sure enough, the Goddess called out to Yohan, her voice uncharacteristically serious.

"It's a monster!""Help me!"

The screams of the people grew louder and louder. The implication of those cries was all too clear.