The Blood Cardinal Lucius
I never thought Blood Cardinal Lucius could be called a legend. No joke. He rose to the rank of cardinal in record time for the Holy See, washing the cold stone floors of the Inquisition with endless rivers of blood—a rabid dog in priest's robes. That was the real resume of the blond man smiling benignly before me. And now, that legendary lunatic was revealing his true colors right in front of my eyes.
"Well then."
The moment Saintess Elysia's figure vanished completely beyond the trees, Lucius slowly turned his head toward me. The gentle, benevolent smile he'd worn just seconds ago was gone. In its place, the chilling, sticky killing intent unique to an inquisitor crushed down on the open clearing like a heavy fog.
"Now that the unpleasant rats and the blind lambs are gone... shall we have some intimate time for the truth, just between us? The famous freshman."
With a soft swish, Lucius took a step toward me. Not even the sound of his foot hitting the dirt. Like a frog pinned on a dissecting board, his icy eyes scanned me from head to toe.
"You seemed to be alone with Sister Elysia in the chapel earlier."
A saccharine polite tone. But his voice carried a physical weight that squeezed my throat.
"What impious conversation did you have?"
"......"
"You didn't try to force some heretical hunk of metal on the Lord's purest lamb and plot something vile, did you?"
It was a blatant threat: one wrong word, and he'd snap my neck with holy power.
Here it comes. Lucius playing the heroine's guard dog.
Typical romance-fantasy male lead bullshit—pathological obsession that couldn't stand a single fly buzzing around the female protagonist. If I caved or spouted nonsense here, I'd end up dragged to the Inquisition's basement for real.
I ignored the cold sweat trickling down my spine and forced my voice to stay dry and businesslike.
"Seems like there's a misunderstanding, Professor Lucius."
"A misunderstanding?"
"Yes. Nothing much. I just stumbled into the chapel hiding from the rowdy professors outside—you know, the crazy ones—and the Saintess kindly put up a barrier for me. As a godless commoner with zero faith, I wouldn't dream of chatting long with a holy figure."
I shrugged, drawing a clear line. Perfect iron wall: no interest in your melodrama, zero desire to get involved.
But my firm denial only narrowed Lucius's eyes further.
"Hmm. Zero faith, you say..."
He let out a meaningful hum, glancing once more at the revolver on my hip.
"That's a pity. A poor soul who doesn't know the Lord's light."
Thankfully, he didn't seem too hung up on my chance encounter with the Saintess. I sighed inwardly in relief.
Yeah, I'm just an uneducated, faithless peasant scum. Let's not drag this out—go our separate ways.
But against my hopes, Lucius stepped even closer.
"However, you possess a tool so excellent it more than compensates for your lack of faith."
His long, pale fingers reached for my leather holster. I reflexively tried to back away, but the heavy holy power radiating from his shadow nailed my feet to the ground.
"A pure physical lump of metal with no mana flow at all. Yet it shattered a ducal house's Aura Blade to pieces."
Lucius's red lips curved into a leisurely arc. Not the smile of a benevolent priest. The grin of a seasoned butcher who'd found the most efficient way to slit a prey's throat.
"Cadet Flint. Do you know what inquisitors find most troublesome when hunting rats?"
"Not particularly interested."
"Mana disruption arrays and holy power barriers. Those vile heretics always rig their lairs with such disgusting traps."
His icy eyes gleamed with interest.
"But a weapon that uses no mana at all? Overwhelming firepower that ignores barriers and smashes heretic skulls? It would be the Lord's blessing to the Inquisition—a perfect 'execution tool.'"
A chill ran down my spine. This psycho sociopath wasn't seeing my gun as a "blasphemous threat to the Saintess." No, he was drooling over it as the ideal people-killing machine.
"Congratulations, Cadet Flint."
Lucius patted my shoulder affectionately. Goosebumps exploded across my skin.
"I've decided to personally redeem your lost soul. Starting today, your major is the Divinity Department. You'll be my direct disciple."
"Pardon? Wait, hold on! I was planning to apply elsewhere!"
"Another department? Dedicating your talent to some mundane, trivial study would go against the Lord's guidance."
He beamed through my flat refusal, utterly unfazed.
"Study theology under me, learn to purge heretics with that fine tool. Excel in grades, and upon graduation, I'll write you a special recommendation for 'Special Executioner' in the Inquisition. How's that? For a commoner, an unprecedented path to glory you couldn't even dream of."
This lunatic! Packaging the Inquisition—number one death-trap job with 365 days of overtime—as a 'career ladder'?!
Top avoided workplace in the Flint-selected romance-fantasy world. He was scouting me for the torture chamber's grunt work, splattered in blood and guts.
"I appreciate Your Eminence's gracious offer, but I'm a pacifist who hates the sight of blood. I must politely decline—"
"Ah, a refusal."
Lucius sighed softly, nodding. Then he crossed himself with a mournful expression.
"A shame. If you're so insistent, Cadet, I'll have to take unavoidable measures for the Academy's safety."
"Measures?"
"That weapon you fired into the air earlier. A report will go to the Holy See: 'An unidentified horrific heretical artifact smuggled into the Academy.' Hmm... Inquisitors will be dispatched to drag you to the underground penance cells. The investigation? Oh, three or four months, at least. Heh... Whether you come out alive is another story."
The fanatic grinned at me. Perfect blackmail, squeezing my windpipe with a smile.
Choice: Get reported as a heretic artifact owner and have my limbs torn off, or swallow my pride, attend this sociopath's divinity classes, and wear the Inquisition label like a tail.
Fuck my life, for real.
This was why I'd planned to avoid this creep at all costs. If the Holy See slapped a "heretic" label on my guns? My arms-dealing empire dreams shatter, and I'd be crucified upside-down in the Inquisition before I knew it. My precious life and billions in potential riches hung by this bastard's three-inch tongue.
No options. I took a short breath, forcing my lips into the perfect capitalist business smile I'd used on asshole customers in my past life's convenience store.
"...Your Eminence's vast, benevolent grace leaves this commoner on the verge of tears. I gladly accept to be your esteemed disciple."
"A wise choice, little lamb."
Lucius smiled with his eyes, patting my shoulder. Each touch of his pale hand sent fresh goosebumps racing down my back.
He pulled a gold-embossed 'Divinity Department Major Permit' from his robes and shoved it into my pocket.
DIVINITY DEPARTMENT
Major Permit
"See you next week for the first class. I'm looking forward to it."
Lucius glided away with light steps, his pure white robes vanishing from sight. I kept the business smile plastered on until he was gone, my cheek twitching like crazy.
The moment his horrific holy aura fully faded...
"You think I'd meekly play hunting dog for you?"
I wiped the fake smile off and muttered coldly. I wanted to shred that permit to bits right then, but that'd mean my neck got shredded by morning. For now, it was survival insurance.
But I'd read the Academy rules three times cover-to-cover. I had one perfect legal loophole to escape this mess.
Double major.
List Divinity as my minor to appease the psycho, make Engineering my true major. Even a cardinal couldn't block a cadet's guaranteed double-major right under Academy rules.
Hell, with a little more thinking, this was a golden opportunity. The Cardinal and Saintess carrying my guns? Massive publicity.
'Holy weapons officially endorsed by the Holy See, crafted by the continent's top Gos Merchant Group?'
Nobles would lose their minds and empty their wallets. My mood flipped from crumpled to crystal clear.
I tightened the revolver on my hip and sprinted toward the auditorium, ravaged by macho lunatics and wizard zombies.
Wait for me, my beloved Engineering Department! True romance hall of molten steel and oil grime!
My chest swelling, I arrived at the 'Engineering Department' booth. But the scene wasn't romance—it was a haunted house.
Cobwebs draped through pale dust, the empty booth holding just two souls.
"......Huh?"
A woman with her face buried in a dusty desk, mumbling. Messy black hair, oil-stained work clothes, her chest badge dangling: [Engineering Department Chair: Pistia].
"Ah, w-welcome... Or, uh, feel free to go... Looking for the bathroom?"
As I approached, Chair Pistia jolted in fright, eyes dropping to the floor. Her fidgeting fingers screamed lost hamster, not empire's top genius doctor.
But the real shock was the man beside her, polishing rusty parts. Squinting eyes, soft smile—anyone clueless would peg him as generic extra.
...Sion?
My heart dropped. Intelligence Guild heir. In the original story, he should've been in the Knight Department. Why was this power-bottom twink trading shiny armor for an oil-smeared apron?
"Knew you'd pick Engineering, huh?"
Sion opened his squint-eyes a bit, grinning at me. That sociable smile felt extra creepy.
"Nice to meet you, friend. I'm Sion. Got curious about 'that thing' you showed at the Grand Tournament Grounds, so I checked here on a hunch. Bingo."
The price for shooting Kyle that day: original-plot destruction boomerang. Nerd genius shut-in chair, abandoned Knight Department for... Intelligence Guild's squinty power-bottom heir.
Yeah, my Academy life was definitely fucked.