Choking Them in Your Name

Wreaking havoc is indeed a wonderful thing. Wreaking havoc is indeed a wonderful thing...

Creeeak...

"I have acquired additional information to further screw over... ah, rather, to bring down the Church."

"Oho."

Rustle. Arcel pushed up his glasses and spread the documents before Ena. The papers fanned out like a fan across the center of the Commander-in-Chief's desk.

Normally, the mere sight of this would have made Ena grimace. Paperwork. To her, the word now felt like a creature with a tenacity far outstripping any demonic beast.

Only yesterday, she had felt a fleeting, human joy at the thought that cutting ties with the Church would halve her paperwork. Yet, the world never seemed content to let the Commander-in-Chief rest in peace.

The joint royal announcement. The Magic Tower's request for observational cooperation. The security deployment plan for the Holy Sword Square. The revised funeral procedures for the fallen. And now, this mysterious pile of additional data brought in by Arcel Libern.

Ena rested her chin on her hand, leaning against the armrest as she looked down at the papers.

"Is it good news?"

"It is terribly bad news for the Church," Arcel said brightly. His long, light-blue hair cascaded over his shoulders, and his eyes behind his thin glasses shone with unusual clarity.

When a magic swordsman wore such an expression, it usually meant one of two things: they had either discovered a new magical formula, or they had found a weakness to seize someone by the throat. Today, it seemed to be a mix of both.

Ena's lips curved slightly upward. "Then it must be excellent news for me."

"Indeed it is." As if he had been waiting for this exact cue, Arcel picked up the first sheet. Drawn upon it was a highly detailed diagram of the spell structure inside the Holy Sword Sealing Chamber.

The central sacred glass case. The preservation holy words. The Holy Stigma resonance amplification array. The circular spell formula that spanned the entire sealing chamber. And beneath it all, a small, reverse-engineered analysis of the mana flow.

Ena narrowed her eyes the moment she saw the complex schematic. "Summarize."

"Yes, Commander." Arcel summarized with an immensely cheerful expression. "To maintain the divine power remaining in a deceased person's arm, the arm must first be kept in a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠living state."

The air in the room grew slightly heavier. Roen's pen came to a halt. He had already set up his ledger in a corner of the office, documenting everything from the moment Arcel began to speak. But now, he stopped.

Ena slowly lowered the hand supporting her chin. "Continue."

Arcel's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a cold, analytical focus. "A Holy Stigma does not linger on dead tissue for long. Once the heart, blood flow, nerves, and the residual traces of the soul are severed, a faint reaction might persist briefly, but maintaining it for hundreds of years is impossible."

Ena listened in silence.

"Therefore, the Church had only ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one option." Arcel unfolded the next sheet. This time, black lines were interwoven among the white holy word schematics. It was a repulsive structure just to look at. Black mana lines had infiltrated the flow of the holy spell.

It was a circuit designed to forcibly sustain the biological vitality of the severed arm from within, all while masquerading as a preservation spell for the Holy Stigma.

"They coated the exterior with holy water and holy words, but injected black magic into the core."

Ena's gaze turned ice-cold. "Black magic."

"Yes," Arcel nodded. "If the arm were allowed to become a completely dead relic, the Holy Sword's resonance would fade. Thus, the Church bound the arm to keep it in a pseudo-living state."

Roen's pen began to move once more. Scratch. Scratch. The quiet sound echoed softly through the office.

Ena remained silent for a long moment. The quiet in the room mirrored the heavy silence of the previous day, when she had placed her hand upon the glass case in the sealing chamber.

Except this time, the funeral was over. The ashes had already been laid to rest. Adeline Lucretia had finally departed. Yet, the depths of the Church's transgressions continued to unravel.

"A living state," Ena murmured softly. "That single arm."

"Yes." Arcel's voice dropped as well. "To use the Holy Stigma on the arm as a device to mask the Holy Sword's absence, the Stigma had to react. For the Stigma to react, the tissue had to respond. And for the tissue to respond, it required at least a mimicry of life."

"A mimicry..."

"It is not true life. But it is not complete death either." Arcel paused for a moment before adding quietly, "And that state is the most horrific of all."

Silence descended upon the office. Roen did not look up, but the hand gripping his pen tightened visibly.

Ena looked at Arcel. "Which means..."

"Yes." Arcel pushed his glasses up once more. "Adeline Lucretia's arm was not preserved as a dead relic for hundreds of years. The Church never treated those remains with the dignity of the deceased."

Ena let out a short, humorless laugh. "There truly is no end to their depravity." There was not a shred of warmth in her smile.

Observing her reaction, Arcel pulled out another document. "There is more."

"Go on." Ena leaned back in her chair. "Let us see just how nauseating things can get today."

This time, Arcel unfolded an analysis sheet formatted in the style of the Magic Tower. The chart detailed the spell reactions within the sealing chamber over time: the maintenance rate of the Holy Stigma's reaction, the similarity of the Holy Sword's residual wavelength, the mana cycle inside the preservation glass case, and traces of external injections repeated at regular intervals.

"The sealing spell was not self-sustaining."

"Meaning someone was constantly maintaining it."

"Yes," Arcel nodded. "It was manually adjusted at least once every generation. Whenever the flow of black mana weakened, they replenished it. Whenever the Holy Stigma grew dull, they forcibly stimulated the reaction."

Roen's pen scratched harshly against the paper. The sheer fury behind the movement was palpable in the sound alone. Arcel glanced at Roen briefly before turning back to Ena. "In other words, this was not a crime committed once and forgotten. It was systematically handed down from generation to generation."

"Handed down."

"Yes." Arcel's lips twisted into a cynical smirk. "With utmost diligence."

Ena slowly closed her eyes. Diligently. That word was particularly repulsive. She opened her eyes slightly.

"Roen."

"Yes, Commander."

"Are you recording this?"

"Every single word."

"Do not sugarcoat the language."

"I have no intention of doing so," Roen replied instantly. His voice was as calm as ever, but everyone in the room could tell—he ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was absolutely furious.

Satisfied with the response, Arcel pushed the next set of data forward. "And this is the crucial part." He tapped his finger on the black line at the bottom of the sealing spell schematic. "This structure is not something ordinary priests within the Church could handle. It was designed, or at least continuously overseen, by someone who deeply understands both holy arts and black magic."

"There was a practitioner of black magic within the Church?"

"Or they hired a black mage." Arcel tilted his head slightly. "Either scenario is fatal for them."

Ena's lips slowly curled upward, her smile lingering a bit longer this time. "Oho." Her voice was low and soft, which only made it far more dangerous. "So, while the Holy Church was busy selling prayers under the guise of fighting the Demon King's Army, they were secretly using black magic to desecrate the Hero's arm."

Ena tapped her finger on the desk. "The mere fact that they used black magic will be more than enough."

"Indeed," Arcel smiled. "It is absolutely devastating for them. The longer they have branded black magic as heresy, the more explosive this information becomes."

Roen spoke in a low tone. "Once officially released, the Church's monopoly on the divine will be shattered."

"Oh, Sir Roen. It goes far beyond that." Arcel shook his head in amusement. "If it is revealed that the Holy Church used black magic in the Holy Sword Sealing Chamber, every single heresy trial and black magic execution they have ever carried out could be called into question."

The atmosphere in the office shifted instantly. This was no mere scandal; it was a political nuclear warhead. The Church was the very institution that condemned black magic most fiercely. The power of the Demon King's Army. A profane art that desecrated the dead. A taboo that discarded one's humanity.

They had condemned countless people using such rhetoric. Yet, deep within the Holy Sword Sealing Chamber, they had used that very black magic to bind the arm of the former Hero. This single fact meant the Church had effectively bitten off its own tongue—far deeper than the tongue they had lost yesterday.

Ena stared the documents spread across her desk. "How amusing."

Roen drew a sharp, quiet breath. Arcel's eyes gleamed. "How do you wish to utilize these documents, Commander?"

"The Royal Family," Ena replied without hesitation. "Send them to the Royal Family first."

Roen immediately took it down. "As a formal letter of protest?"

"No." Ena shook her head. "Send it as a request for review."

Roen's pen paused. Arcel let out a soft chuckle. "Ah. How utterly ruthless of you."

Ena spoke nonchalantly. "A protest turns it into an emotional dispute. If we request a review, the Royal Family will have to make the judgment themselves."

"Forcing the Royal Family to officially investigate whether the Church used black magic...?"

"Exactly." Ena pushed the documents forward with the tip of her finger. "Once the Royal Family accepts it as an official matter for review, the Church will find it difficult to dismiss it as a mere political attack from the Sword Order."

Roen nodded. "I shall dispatch a copy to the Magic Tower simultaneously."

"Good." Ena looked at Arcel. "The Magic Tower will be pleased."

"They will go absolutely wild," Arcel said with a broad grin. "The Holy Sword Sealing Chamber, Holy Stigmas, black magic, biological suspension... It contains every single buzzword that makes those Magic Tower scholars drool."

"Tell them to wipe their drool."

"That might prove rather difficult."

Ena chuckled softly. Her anger from moments ago had not vanished; it had simply found a direction. Before the fire could consume the mountain, Roen and Arcel were carving out a path for the flames.

This was the way of the Sword Order. When Ena smashed down a wall, Roen paved a road through the rubble, and Arcel dismantled the very foundations hidden within the ruins. And this time, the Church stood at the end of that road.

Ena asked once more, "Can you prove it?"

The playfulness vanished from Arcel's face. "I can."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes." He slid a document forward.

"Can you replicate it?"

"With a scaled-down model, yes."

Roen looked up. "We must be cautious when speaking of replication."

"I am well aware," Arcel nodded. "I will only replicate the flow of mana without using any biological remains. I have no intention of using the actual biological suspension spell. Even to me, that is utterly repulsive."

Ena studied Arcel for a moment. The light-blue-haired magic swordsman spoke lightly at times, but he knew where to draw the line. He loved magic. He adored structures. Yet, the moment human beings were treated as raw materials, his eyes turned cold. That was precisely why Ena had appointed him as a Captain.

"Very well," Ena nodded. "Compile the data. Send it to the Royal Family and the Magic Tower simultaneously. Add it to the Sword Order's internal archives as well."

"What shall we title it?" Roen asked.

Ena pondered for a moment. Arcel watched her with an expectant look. He would likely despise a mundane title like 'Suspicion of Black Magic in the Holy Sword Sealing Chamber.' But Ena had no taste for flowery titles. She chose the simplest, most direct phrasing.

"Request for Investigation into the Desecration of the Remains of the Former Hero, Adeline Lucretia, and the Use of Black Magic."

Roen wrote it down immediately. Scratch. Arcel smiled in satisfaction. "Heavy."

"It is not a matter to be taken lightly."

"Indeed." Arcel gathered the documents once more. Rustle. The papers that had been spread out fanned back into a neat stack. Yet, their contents remained heavily in the air.

The Church had lost the Holy Sword. They had lost the Hero. They had called her severed arm a sacred relic. And now, their use of black magic had been laid bare.

Ena slowly rose from her chair. Roen and Arcel looked up at her in unison. "Commander-in-Chief?"

Ena looked out the window. Beyond the Sword Order Headquarters, the city stretched out. In the distant square, crowds would still be gathered. The Holy Sword remained driven into the ground there, waiting until its true master claimed it. And the Holy Church was likely maintaining its silence even now, attempting to weather the storm through ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sheer denial. As they always did.

Ena spoke in a low voice. "It seems they still have plenty of mouths left to keep shut."

Roen's expression stiffened imperceptibly. Arcel's smile widened.

Ena turned around. "Very well." Her voice was calm. "Let us make them speak this time."

Roen asked, "To the Church?"

"No." Ena tapped the documents on the desk lightly. "To the Royal Family and the Magic Tower."

Only then did Roen understand her intent. She was not giving the Church a chance to explain themselves. Before they could even attempt to spin the narrative, she would have the Royal Family and the Magic Tower bring this issue to the official table.

Then, the Church would have no choice but to break their silence. They would have to explain, deny, and refute. And the moment they spoke, it would be etched into the record. It was the exact method the Holy Church feared most.

Roen bowed his head. "I shall prepare it immediately."

Arcel pushed up his glasses once more. "I will personally oversee the additional analysis."

Ena nodded. Then, she murmured in a barely audible whisper, "Adeline Lucretia."

The name settled quietly over the office. Even amidst the cold political calculations and the rustling of paperwork, that name alone carried a profound weight. Ena closed her eyes for a brief moment, then opened them. "This time..." Her voice was low. "I shall choke them using your name."

Ena's pen touched the paper. It was the beginning of a manuscript written with absolute, unyielding malice.