The Inquisitor
White stone floors, a high ceiling.
Pillars carved with sacred images.
A pale holy light, carefully adjusted to mimic natural sunshine.
And chairs perfectly suited for slowly crushing a person to death under the pretext of questioning their sins.
Ariane Serafel stood in the center of the room.
She did not kneel.
The emblem of the Saintess still hung around her neck, but a thin sealing cord was wrapped tightly around it.
A temporary suspension of duties.
It meant she was not yet excommunicated, but not yet proven innocent either.
The Church had always favored such ambiguous states.
They were exceedingly skilled at using these methods to render a person utterly powerless.
"Saintess Ariane Serafel," said Raoden Berks, the hardline Archbishop sitting in the highest seat.
Having taken on the role of inquisitor, he was able to conduct the interrogation with an even more overbearing attitude.
"Regarding the incident at the Ragmund border, you sent a reply that arbitrarily interpreted Serapion's principle of mercy."
Ariane raised her head.
"It was not arbitrary."
Raoden's eyebrow twitched slightly.
"Then what was it?"
"It was an interpretation based on the original meaning of the word 'mercy.'"
The elders did not look at one another.
They were old men.
When old men heard uncomfortable truths, they avoided looking at each other first.
It was to hide the fact that they had been shaken.
"There was a passage that referred to the summary execution of non-combatants as 'Serapion's mercy,'" Ariane said.
"I simply refused to acknowledge it as such."
"Because of your reply, the actions of the Northern Border Army were disrupted."
"That is because those actions were carried out in the name of mercy."
"They were citizens of the Demon Realm."
"They were non-combatants."
"Must we recognize even the sanctuaries of the Demon Realm?"
"If it is a sanctuary, then it must be protected."
"Then tell us, what did the Demon King send you?"
Ariane fell silent for a moment.
She had known this question would come.
This interrogation room had been built from the very beginning to target that letter.
Lucion Vergrad.
The younger brother of the deceased prince, the fiend sitting on the throne.
And...
A man she had once remembered as having an all-too-human face.
"Answer, Saintess," Archbishop Raoden pressed on.
"In what manner did you respond to the Demon King's letter?"
Ariane drew in a breath.
To one side of the room stood the young priests.
Their eyes wavered.
They could not openly support her, yet they could not fully agree with the elders either.
Silence always takes root first in the mouths of the weakest.
"I responded," Ariane said.
A low murmur rippled through the room.
"To the Demon King's letter?"
"Yes."
"Did you believe that to be justified?"
Before answering, Ariane recalled the words of the letter.
"If people die in the name of the Saintess, does the Saintess become the owner of those deaths?"
"If not, reclaim your name."
It was an impious sentence.
For the Demon King to tell the Saintess to reclaim her name.
Yet, it was not wrong.
Ariane quietly reached her conclusion.
"I do not know if it was justified," Ariane said.
"But the words were not wrong."
One of the elders gripped his armrest. He was, as expected, a hardliner.
"So the Saintess acknowledges the Demon King's logic."
"It is not logic, but fact."
"Fact, you say?"
"If people can be killed in the name of the Saintess, then those deaths lie under my name," Ariane said, looking down at the emblem around her neck.
The thin sealing cord.
The string that bound the Saintess's name.
"Therefore, I must ask where my name is being used."
"Does your name not belong to the Church?"
At those words, Ariane slowly raised her head.
"No, it does not."
Silence fell over the room.
For the first time, Ariane looked the elders straight in the eye.
"My name is something I offered to God. The Church merely acted as an agent to facilitate that process."
Her voice was not loud.
A young priest gasped.
"Saintess," another elder spoke up.
"Are you attempting to separate yourself from the Church?"
"I am not trying to abandon the Church."
"Then what are you trying to do?"
"I am simply trying to reclaim the word 'mercy.'"
Ariane did not take a single step back.
"I have not defended the Demon King. Nor have I said he is good. I do not wish to repeatedly explain myself on this matter, and I ask that you do not turn this place into a forum for indiscriminate condemnation."
Lucion Vergrad was not good.
She knew this.
That man calculated even when saving lives.
Even when speaking of mercy, he knew exactly whose neck that mercy would strangle.
And yet...
"We cannot call the slaughter of non-combatants 'mercy.' Even if it occurred in the Demon Realm."
Ariane's voice grew lower.
"Even if it was under the command of the Northern Archduke."
"Ariane Serafel."
"Even if it borrowed the name of Serapion."
Raoden's gaze turned cold.
"Are you saying we should not stop the Demon King?"
Ariane saw the trap laid out in the interrogation room.
The Demon King had to be stopped. That statement was not wrong.
The Demon King was dangerous. That was also true.
If Lucion Vergrad stabilized the throne in any way and united the soldiers, nobles, and bloodlines of the Demon Realm as one...
He would undoubtedly become dangerous.
Perhaps even more dangerous than the Demon Kings before him.
For he knew how to record before burning, and he knew how to name before killing.
Because he was a being who calculated the cost before offering salvation, the Church was so fiercely on guard against him.
"The Demon King is dangerous," Ariane said.
At her words, the elders' expressions softened slightly.
They likely thought she was finally backing down.
"I do not deny that fact," Ariane continued.
"But simply because the Demon King is dangerous, we cannot call the deaths of non-combatants 'mercy.'"
The elders' faces hardened once more.
"Then what would you have us do?" the hardline elder asked in a low voice.
"Are we to do nothing but pray while facing a Demon King who might invade the kingdom at any moment?"
"No."
"Then how do you expect to stop the Demon King after binding the sword of the North, binding the hands of the kingdom, and even binding the name of the Church? Answer us, Saintess."
Ariane pressed her lips together.
What should be given back to those who wished to wield a sword in the name of mercy?
She needed something that could serve as both mercy and a weapon.
The oldest name the Church had brought out since ancient times when dealing with the Demon King.
Ariane spoke slowly.
"If you fear the Demon King..."
Everyone in the room stared at her.
"...then say that you fear him."
Her voice did not tremble.
To ensure the Northern Archduke's actions were not called mercy...
One of the elders narrowed his eyes.
And to ensure that non-combatants were not slaughtered in the name of the Saintess, Ariane uttered her final words.
If they absolutely had to stop the Demon King...
A suffocating silence fell.
"...then you need only initiate the Hero Selection."
Those words dropped into the center of the interrogation room.
The Hero.
It was an ancient word. A word so old that it could not be uttered lightly.
When the Demon King rises, a Hero is selected.
The Hero wields the sword, and the Saintess bestows her prayers upon it.
The Church calls that path a holy war.
However, not long ago, the last Hero had died alongside the late king.
After both the Demon King and the Hero vanished, the world had avoided speaking of that word for a time.
Because the existence of a Hero always brought war in its wake.
Ariane had to catch the Church off guard. Just as Lucion had seized control of the Demon Realm in one fell swoop.
Yet, unexpectedly...
"Very well."
Archbishop Raoden's response was enough to make the hearts of everyone present drop.
A slow smile spread across Raoden's face.
"So the Saintess also acknowledges the necessity of the Hero Selection."
The Archbishop slowly rose from his seat.
The young priests in the room looked at one another.
Some opened their mouths to speak, only to close them again.
Others bowed their heads.
From the mouth of the Saintess, who had sought to reclaim the word 'mercy,' he had taken exactly what he needed.
"The Serapion Council of Elders," Raoden Berks's voice filled the room,
"considering the ascension of Demon King Lucion Vergrad, the situation at the Ragmund border, and the unstable political climate in the southern region of the Demon Realm..."
He looked at Ariane.
"...will review the resumption of the Hero Selection process."
Review.
A word the Church used when they had resolved to do something but did not yet want to take responsibility for it.
Had they baited her?
Since when?
Confusion began to cloud the faces of the young priests.
Since excluding the Saintess from the Church would look bad, had they used this trial to drag the word 'Hero' out of her mouth?
Ariane felt her fingertips turn cold.
Another elder quietly added,
"Saintess Ariane Serafel's duties will remain suspended until the said process is finalized."
"Elder," a priest attempted to block Raoden.
However, he was quickly silenced by the sharp glares of the other hardline elders stationed around the room.
"The Saintess's statement will not be considered the official stance of the Church for the time being, in accordance with her wishes."
"Then what about the non-combatants in Ragmund—"
"That matter can be deliberated separately."
Separate deliberation. A phrase meant to kill slowly.
They were all in it together. The Church had been unified from the very start.
Ariane bit her lip.
There were hardly any words left for her to say.
This room had been opened to interrogate the Saintess.
But now, it had become a room to awaken the Hero.
They had obtained what they wanted, yet for some reason, an unsettling feeling lingered in the corner of her chest.
Just then, a small commotion arose outside the door.
The doors to the interrogation room swung open, and an official dressed in gray robes entered.
He bowed politely to the elders and presented a sealed document.
"An official document from the Black King Castle."
At the mention of that name, the atmosphere in the room shifted once more.
The young priest's voice trembled.
"The Demon Realm has requested observers from the Serapion Church."
An elder frowned.
"Observers for what?"
"It concerns the upcoming Bloodline Council."
The wax seal on the document was broken. The priest read the contents aloud.
• Handling of the Ragmund survivors
• Misuse of Serapion's name
• Coordination of relief lines at the southern border
He paused for a moment. The elder urged him on.
"Keep reading."
The priest read the final line.
"...the custody procedures regarding the suspected royal bloodline."
The interrogation room fell completely silent.
Hearing those words, Ariane held her breath without realizing it.
Suspected royal bloodline.
It meant a new bomb had exploded within the Demon Realm.
It also meant Lucion Vergrad had placed yet another piece on the board.
The elders looked at one another.
Just moments ago, they had been discussing reviewing the Hero Selection.
Yet the Demon King was already summoning the Church to the negotiating table.
Ariane looked around.
The atmosphere had completely flipped.
What was Lucion trying to wring out of the Church this time?
The death of a Hero was directly linked to the birth of a Demon King.
In the long run, the newly born descendant of the Demon King would be impossible to separate from the Church's future strategies.
Ariane pressed her hand against her holy emblem, still bound by the sealing cord.
The sentence sent by the Demon King had not ended.
It was still in motion.
Inside this interrogation room.
From the mouths of the elders.
And soon, likely within the conference halls of the Black King Castle.
Ariane slowly closed her eyes.
She felt as though she could hear the words she had tried to reclaim being dragged back under the trampling boots of war.