Chapter 69
Chapter 69
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 6
Chapter Title: In the Name of Glory (5)
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***
In the world of GG, if you had to pick the hardest profession to convince, everyone would agree that mages take the top spot. These people believe that what they understand is closer to the truth than the facts staring them in the face. And since they twist reality into magic based on that understanding, it's hardly worth explaining how tough it is to sway them.
Truth be told, mages shouldn't be easily convinced. Suppose they wield magic from the realization that "water is cold," and some guy shows up with overwhelming theory proving it wrong right in front of them. If they buy into that? Their mental image crumbles, and they lose the ability to cast spells derived from that realization. That's why, contrary to popular belief, mages tend to be a bit thick-headed and out of touch with the world's workings. Living in the world inside their heads is the safest way to protect those bullheadedly stacked realizations.
So what about priests?
"Wait, just a moment! I—I really have no idea why I'm here!"
"Such blasphemy... You've committed so many sins you can't even count them."
"Sever the tendons in his limbs and dry him under the sunniest spot on the temple roof for a hundred days..."
"Latura, Ro-Haram... Forgive us for letting this blasphemer's words enter our ears..."
*'Fuck! Listen to me, anything, please!'*
No doubt about it—priests are zeroeth place. Once they've latched onto something they've affirmed, especially if it's tied to their god, persuasion is utterly impossible.
The spell binding my tongue right now? The reason power derived from holy force is called holy "magic" is because the basic principle is the same as regular magic.
With magic, you gain a firm understanding of a subject, build a realization from it, acquire an unshakeable belief that "no matter what anyone says, I'm right!," and use that belief to ignore common sense, establish your own laws, and manifest magic.
Holy magic for the half-enlightened? It skips the "understanding" step in that process of [Understanding → Belief → Law Establishment → Power Manifestation].
Religion is founded on pure faith, untouched by rational logic.
[Ro-Haram wields the primordial light, illuminating the world in the eyes of mortals.]
Believers don't question the "why" in that sentence. That's what they call "faith"—not doubting belief.
Like "the sun rises in the east" or "stars twinkle," their faith is an unquestionable component of the world's makeup, a pure belief with no room for logical intrusion. That's the foundation of holy power.
That's why countless religions zealously expand their congregations. The more people believe and serve their doctrine, the stronger its influence on reality.
*'An oracle came down. From their perspective, oracles are always true, so they must fulfill it somehow. The dagger-pierced city is obviously Tobrun no matter who looks, but the phrase "settled darkness" at the end is pretty open to interpretation. While they were puzzling that out, I blipped on their radar. They can't deny the oracle, so they have to twist the interpretation somehow. And before they spout more bullshit, I need to establish my defense!'*
If I let them keep talking, they'll convince themselves I'm the evil one, declare judgment, and proceed with the trial. I have to flip their stance on me right here, right now.
*'First, I need to figure out what facts made them affirm I'm the oracle's target, a mutant spy. I have to know what [what] to refute to either play their game or flip the board!'*
Professor swallowed hard through his parched throat. It wasn't over yet. Not yet!
"Very well. Since the sinner requests to hear his sins before the faithful, as a priest, I shall confess them one by one under the sun and moon."
Professor listened quietly to the high priestess's words.
"Last night, a horrific incident occurred in Tobrun—one that couldn't happen there. As is well known, it was the work of monsters that speak and think like humans: the dreadful 'Red Mutants.' Many died, many citizens suffered, and we, too blind to follow Your will, could not prevent the tragedy."
"Ooooh, Latura, Ro-Haram."
"Forgive us, forgive us, forgive us!"
Professor feigned calm while trembling inside as he listened intently to the high priestess. If they suspected Professor the escapee was the same as the Red Mutant, it was game over. The moment those words left her mouth, he'd have to flip the table and bolt.
"When the church grasped the situation and rushed to the Lead Flow Mage Tower, the villain had already wrought the atrocity and fled in an instant. Before flagellating ourselves before Ro-Haram's holy image, we swore: We would find every single person connected to this, leaving none out, ensuring they could never commit such acts again."
The high priestess clasped her hands in prayer, eyes closed in self-reproach, then continued.
"We rounded up everyone linked to that mage tower. On the body of sixth-circle magus 'Isaac Mandalius,' we found unnatural traces—tentacle-like punctures in his spine and skull—and confirmed his disciples had conducted unspeakable blasphemous research."
Flutter—
El Senadis drew several sheets of parchment from her white robes. Damp traces remained, but dried enough to read clearly, and she spread them before Professor.
"And among the evidence found there, your traces were unmistakably recorded, weren't they?"
*'Wha—what? That?'*
Professor hadn't expected to see that here. No wonder—it was a type of parchment very familiar to him.
[Item: Isaac Mandalius's Waterlogged Research Journal]
It was the research journal he'd scattered into the air himself to expose the tower's corruption.
***
[What're you gonna do? Can you escape alone? Need help? If I surface, I can scatter these guys in a heartbeat.]
*'Without berserk mode?'*
[Not yet. Physically, the whole body's infection factors need activating. Mentally, the shell—you—has to lose consciousness or hand over the wheel. The mutant blood issue... If I scatter these guys and we sprint out of the city at full speed, that should solve it? Tobrun's the front line now. A mutant or two should be wandering nearby. We'll make it before you dry up.]
*'...No, too risky. And it's not completely over yet.'*
Key point confirmed: They don't know I'm the Red Mutant.
*'If they confirmed my existence via the journal, they'd know everything. It's got every day I was captured and used as an experimental subject. They were hunting "escapee Professor," so they know the mage confirmed I was human to the guards entering Tobrun. We've cleared the biggest hurdle!'*
If they suspected the experimental subject me, not the Red Mutant me, he had a hunch.
*'Of course, act flustered for now.'*
He had to craft the conversation delicately, guide it well. Like stacking a tower of cards—in a situation where he could only speak truth, he'd deceive with truth alone.
"Th-that...!"
Seeing Professor visibly shaken, the high priestess pressed on with heightened fervor.
"We don't know if foolish Isaac and his disciples collaborated with mutants. They died to the mutant assault, but allying with evil beasts guarantees betrayal eventually, and even without alliance, tainted by that blood, they'd become monsters someday. Like Isaac, pierced by something mutated inside him. Those who paid with their lives don't matter. What matters are the survivors tied to it. Like you!"
Seized by terror, Professor desperately worked his mouth.
"Ridiculous! If you saw the research logs, you should know better! I was just their experimental subject! I was the victim! A good citizen!"
His pronunciation tangled from the sticky aura clinging to his mouth, but everything said was fact, so it stayed within bounds.
*'Good. Brought it this far. Now, victim cosplay—'*
.
.
.
.
"Victim. Good citizen... Yes, precisely—a man who *was* a good citizen. Then, Professor, allow me one question."
With her words, the aura encircling me intensified. Confession spell. Before the question, she'd poured more holy power to seal my mouth if untrue.
"Professor. If you were merely a 'test subject' dragged into the mages' experiments and tortured, how did you escape Turan, overrun by monsters? You—a mere test subject, no mighty knight or high mage?"
*'Here it comes! She bit the bait! Knew she'd go for the victim angle!'*
Tracing my path, they'd see the blank from becoming a test subject in Turan to capture by Tobrun guards. Naturally suspicious. What did that man, brutalized daily by mages, do in that gap? Daily limb-severing agony—didn't hatred for humanity sprout? Daily immersion in highly infectious monster blood—didn't he become one?
*'Now. Twist it here!'*
Professor drew a deep breath, then carefully voiced the rehearsed lines, one by one. With a heartrending, sorrowful expression. Like a man robbed of his entire life.
"You... knew all along."
He bowed his head, bit his lip hard. A slight tremble for emotional intensity. Sad thoughts, sad thoughts! I'm the tragic hero—like O Taesik in Sunflower, like Raskolnikov in Crime and Punishment, facing grim reality, accepting my karma!
- Jokasss: Hey, what's this guy up to now.
- Deer Drug Please: Don't buy shit from Professor's caravan. Guy like that bursts in, spills his guts nonstop, and I'll end up emptying my pockets buying everything without knowing.
- Take a Look: A survivor of the wasteland, honing his three-inch tongue...
- Soy Sauce Gaybar: Not Professor—call him Sly Lips.
Drip—
Plop, plip!
Despite the peanut gallery, Professor nailed the tragic hero image, and chicken-shit tears began streaming from his eyes.
"Yes... You're right. I am a monster. After the mages dumped me in Turan and left, with no management of my infection, I... inevitably became one."
The priests and holy knights, led by Senadis, wore satisfied smiles at Professor's floor-prostrated, sobbing confession—like a great sinner owning his crimes.
"Then, have you heard the voice of the being they call 'Queen'?"
*"...Yes. Even now, a whispering voice echoes in my head! Trying to control me, steal my body's freedom—urk! That voice! But I'm not a monster. I'm human! Though my body became like theirs! I still have a human soul!"*
The high priestess's satisfied face, poised to order "purification," flushed with confusion at Professor's desperate cry.
"This... defies understanding. You admit hearing the 'Queen's' voice, even now. Can you swear your testimony so far holds no error, no falsehood?"
"I swear! Before radiant Ro-Haram! Not a single lie has passed my lips!"
His tongue root ached faintly, but the confession spell hadn't bound it.
*'Of course. All true!'*
Queen's voice? Heard it. Early infection phase. "Come to me~" or whatever.
Voice in my head? Hearing it now. Hydra, drooling 24/7, thrashing to seize my body—crystal clear. Answered after the Queen question, but never said it was the *Queen's* voice?
Can only speak truth? Tsk, when using half-assed spells like that, pick questions better. If speech is restricted, control what's *not* said? Omitted subject, but no lie? Priests filled in the blanks themselves.
*'Modern media can't distinguish truth with fact-checks alone. Patch together fragmented facts, and you get a fine lie.'*
Professor smirked inwardly, choosing words carefully.
That was step one. Announce I'm not under the Queen's command. They'd confirmed it with the confession spell—solid proof.
High Priestess El Senadis hesitated briefly, then schooled her face to sternness.
"Fine... So you were infected by the monster, nearly taken by the Queen, but reclaimed your will? Overcame an infection no one has—not even Ro-Haram's priests—through will alone?"
Hmm. Church authority issue. Bow deeply here. Acknowledge their authority while showing indomitable will conquering infection.
Professor no longer mashed his head to the floor. Tears streaming, he met the high priestess's eyes squarely.
"I wanted to die human. I don't know how it was possible. Can't claim it was pure will—the mages tampered with my body too much. I think their experiments and drugs interacted with my will somehow."
Not wrong. I'd beaten back Hydra with will; before, relied on mages' drugs and "injury treatments" to suppress infection.
Murmurs—
Rustles—
"So... is he the church's enemy? Or a poor soul escaped from the Queen's grasp?"
"Hey! No blasphemy! No oracle yet! Clearly one foretelling evil in Tobrun! Doubting Ro-Haram's will?"
"Uuum... Latura, Ro-Haram."
"Latura, Ro-Haram."
As Professor's testimony piled up, the surrounding priests wavered.
"Enough! Silence! The trial continues!"
Even the high priestess's steady voice rose against their unrest. Frowning in thought, she turned aside.
*"...Paladin Ashwell. Bring prisoner Jesker to the stand."*
At her furrowed command, a holy knight detached from the group, soon dragging a torture-marked man to kneel beside Professor.
"Ughhh, ahhhh... S-selector?"
*'This bastard, why here...?'*
Familiar face. One of the bungler bandit trio met before Tobrun, who'd spilled on the Salvation Church. Why was *he* here like this?
"Professor. Do you know this man?"
*"...Yes. A bandit I met en route to Tobrun."*
"Correct. Formerly a bandit, but since yesterday, he roamed the city proclaiming the heresy 'Salvation Church' and forewarning Red Mutant attacks. Captured by one of our faithful, subjected to 'procedures,' we extracted all he knows. He's now on death row. Among his tales: a scarred, barefoot giant walking from Turan to Tobrun. Prisoner Jesker claimed this man told him of Red Mutants, introduced himself as the Selector. Your thoughts?"
*......*
*'Shit! Didn't see this coming!'*
Speak rashly, and the confession spell bites. Need time, stall...!
"Heh, heh heh heh... Stupid church bastards... You're done for, done!"
Then, the sprawled, twitching bandit Jesker spoke.
Far changed from first sight—bloodied, nails and toenails gone, burn marks everywhere—half-mad, he ranted.
"Stupid church bastards... You invite this one here unbound, clueless to his identity! This is the one who smashed the mage tower in one night—Lord Red Mutant! Ooooh! Selector! You came to save me! No need for pretense! Unleash the power that crushed those mages—rip these hypocrites to shreds!"
Jesker gazed at me with hope and vengeful zeal,
*'Yes! Thanks, Jesker!'*
I responded with flustered shame.
"Uh, th-that..."
Professor stammered, then turned to Jesker's escorting holy knight, extending his arm.
"Um... Holy Knight? Sorry, but could you strike my arm down?"
*"...What?"*
"I want to prove something before Ro-Haram. Hard, but not enough to break it."
The knight hesitated at the odd request.
*"...Priestess?"*
"Do it. If needed for proof."
With her nod, the knight swung his gauntleted arm at moderate speed, as requested.
Thwack!
Crack!
Light swing. As expected, pain and arm bending unnaturally. A knight's armored gauntlet is a metal club. Even if my body handled daily life, it couldn't take that impact yet.
"Paladin Ashwell!"
"N-no, Priestess! I didn't swing that hard..."
Professor thrust out his dangling broken arm.
"This is why I lied so pathetically before those bandits. My body is this frail. Though monster blood makes recovery fast, it breaks and wounds easily despite appearances. So I lied. 'I'm the church's Selector, not your enemy.'"
Modern media rule two: If an excuse has gaps, create a sensational distraction and slip past. It roughly fit but wasn't airtight—
"N-no! Impossible, impossible! He *is* the Salvation Church Selector...!"
"Ashwell, back to prison."
"N-no! Can't be! Selectooor! SELECTORRRR!!!!"
After that snap! arm-break show right before their eyes, doubting more was tough. With Red Mutant proven not me, this Jesker ploy was the priestess's last gasp. If anything, a weakling like me *couldn't* be the Red Mutant—strengthening my innocence.
*'If that bandit Jesker spilled about my antics, they'd dig in. So I made a bigger spectacle to rush past.'*
Anyway, thanks to confession spell, Jesker's testimony, and a dash of showmanship, I'd proven I wasn't the Red Mutant, and though monstrous-bodied, no Queen's pawn. Perfect! Without the spell, they might've doubted words alone, but now? Ironclad.
Pondering briefly, El Senadis suddenly softened toward Professor.
"I see. Just a slight misunderstanding. You've endured countless trials, never forsaking human will—a model believer."
*'She admits it! My image shifted from "killer" to [believer]!'*
But contrary to her words, her next action tightened the noose.
*"...Paladin Drantis, forward."*
At her call, a particularly burly holy knight stepped from the rear ranks through the priests.
"Professor, your faithfulness is proven before Ro-Haram. Yet the Lord forewarned threat—though escaped from the Queen, that voice lingers. You could turn spy anytime, selling humanity's secrets. If you truly reject evil for humanity's sake, martyr yourself here."
Shing—
As her words ended, the knight drew a massive claymore from his back. A huge cross-sword forged of saint metal. Not bludgeoning with mace or club—clean beheading, honoring my death.
*'Final hurdle. The oracle. By their faith, oracles are absolute truth. Even wrong interpretation must play out to sustain believers' faith.'*
Just before the greatsword's shadow fell on Professor's neck, he blurted desperately.
"The evil infiltrating Tobrun! It's not me—it's the Salvation Church! Though I don't follow the Queen's will, I know what they want, how they move! Spare me! Alive, I can surely aid humanity!"
Thought since hearing the oracle. Dagger-pierced city clearly Tobrun. Not me as the evil, per church—so something else remains...
*'Light Church sees Salvation as just another heresy, but this is the right read! Ro-Haram! If you're listening, save me! I'm covering your kids' misfires!'*
Praying fervently at the giant holy image, Professor saw the priestess raise her hand, halting the knight. Faint excitement and anticipation lit her face—like finding an unexpected prime tool.
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