Chapter 12
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 12
Chapter Title: Exorcist (2)
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"Ugh."
Clear saliva drooled from his mouth. A nose-burning sulfur stench mixed with the fishy tang of blood.
And beneath the dizzying world, it was hard to steady his body.
As expected, the simultaneous descent of the six gods was no job for a human. Just unleashing their power properly once left him in this state.
Never become an exorcist, you hear...
As he spat out the clear liquid from his mouth, a gloomy shadow fell into view.
He raised his head. What he saw was Alric, the very picture of a blond thug and the 1st District Chief. He tossed over a canteen and said,
"Newbie. If you've got puke residue in your mouth, you'll keep hurling. Rinse it out."
………?
What the hell was this guy on? Had a black mage hit him with a memory-loss curse or something? What kind of play was this?
'Or is he broken?'
It made sense. He'd been single-handedly propping up his useless boss's bungled administrative skills without holy power—wait, no, with it.
Only two years on the clock, still well within the warranty period, and already showing signs of going haywire. What a shame.
'A few good smacks oughta fix him.'
If a fourth-year grad student could be fixed with a beating, no way this two-year newbie couldn't.
With that in mind, he gathered holy power in his right hand. Alric recoiled in panic.
"Th-that was just 'cause you puked earlier, sir. Yes."
Ah. So that's what it was.
Just his usual WWE bullshit, poorly explained. Give a proper rundown next time.
'All the black mages' fault.'
What a tragedy. The 1st District Chief was a young guy in his mid-twenties like him, and his sense of humor was already shot to hell. Made him worry the guy might chase priestesses his whole life and die alone.
...Surely not the retirement fund silver town ending together?
"So, any casualties?"
"None. Except your puke, sir."
"Enough with the damn puke already."
Crack. He rose from his spot.
The shouts and screams around him suggested they were in the middle of enthusiastically dismantling the black mage's head.
"Any intel yet?"
"Deputy Director, we just started. Haven't even finished cleaning up. The 2nd District Chief won't be here for another three hours."
It stung that the Execution Bureau's top consultant and soul technician, the 2nd District Chief, was running late. No one on the continent could match Execution Bureau Division 2 when it came to interrogation—er, friendly chats.
He still couldn't forget the sight of that black mage calling someone "Master."
"By the way, that thing still alive?"
"Pardon? Oh, that one."
Speak of the devil. The 1st District Chief dragged over the guy whose limbs were twisted into pretzels.
"...Did I do this?"
"Yes, sir. He was already like that when we arrived."
He looked pretty mangled. He'd been too busy sprinkling miracles everywhere to remember pounding an 8th-circle black mage this badly.
No unmarred spot from face to toe. One more hit, and he'd be filing a tearful incident report.
"...Kuhahaha."
In the midst of it, the black mage—out of his mind—let out a booming laugh. A voice he'd heard somewhere before. Come to think of it...
Corpse-fucker?
"It's a named necromancer. I remember him from the Holy-Demon War. Gave us hell back then."
Continental subjugation target #2, right after the #1 lich: necromancer.
They used corpses in every twisted way imaginable, masters of inflicting the most pathetic defeats on their foes. The kings of sabotage.
At those words, the 1st District Chief shuddered.
"We dodged a bullet if we were late."
They'd nearly faced the horror of children shambling around as zombies.
Beating a black mage was one thing, but having to kill innocent victims—even hardened veterans like them would struggle with that.
"Hand this bastard to the 2nd District Chief. Do it right."
And even a necromancer like this got utterly broken by the 2nd. The guy who could befriend liches? Piece of cake.
"So, you eat yet?"
"Who could eat in this mess?"
"Heh. Right! I remember now!"
"Here he goes again."
"Stomp him?"
"I knew I'd seen him somewhere—the Holy-Demon War! That's it!"
Finally lost to madness, the black mage twisted his body in hysterical laughter. Never talk to lunatics.
"Nameless saint! How about a deal?"
"Lunch?"
"What, besides rations?"
"Exactly."
"...Goddamn exorcists! Hear me out!"
Blah blah. Blah blah.
Mana circuits wrecked, couldn't do shit but yap—that's why he ended up like this.
"Open your trap one more time—"
"Not curious about the evil god's miracle?"
Sigh. Here we go again. These fuckers.
Their mouths spewed lies like water the second they opened.
Fine. What fresh bullshit this time—
"We can resurrect the dead perfectly! Ghosts too! Yes! The lover you killed with your own ha—"
Crunch. The black mage couldn't finish. Why?
"——!"
His left hand had twisted the neck. Veins bulging with full force.
"Deputy Director! Calm do—shit! Ceres, now—!"
He swung with his empty right. Whether his hand broke didn't matter.
Something latched on. He turned to the unpleasant shackles.
"Calmed down?"
"…"
The 1st, 3rd, and 4th District Chiefs were clinging to his body.
All at once, the gazes of the Execution Bureau priests stabbed into him.
The sharp pain rising from his right hand. The black mage, now a bloody, unconscious pulp.
"Goddamn it."
This was why he hated black mage fuckers.
Tok. Tok. Tok.
Rhythmic footsteps.
A girl in her early 150s cm carried a staff larger than herself on her back as she trudged across the frozen winter field.
"Sorry, ma'am. This area's under Holy Empire Execution Bureau control—"
"Here."
She plainly handed a cross to the blocking newbie.
A grim iron cross, forged overnight. The number 2 etched in the center.
Execution Bureau 2nd District Chief Rianna Edelrin. Her light brown hair and eyes glimmered as she gave the newbie a flat look.
"…! Sorry, ma'am!"
"It's fine. Other divisions might not know."
She took back the cross and resumed her rhythmic steps. Tok tok.
"Goddamn it, don't wanna die? Spill!"
"That's all I kn— Aaaagh!"
Screams echoed everywhere. No doubt the captured black mages under interrogation. Problem was, too many deaths made scraping the bottom impossible.
"You there. Enthusiasm's good, but ease up. Dead ones are hard to wring dry."
"Um... 1st District Chief's special orders. Going hard."
"…?"
That was weird. That man prioritized results over emotions.
Puzzled, she stepped further in. The screams swelled in inverse proportion.
"…Tch."
A chill swept over her at the same time. Killing intent like dragon fear, stabbing into her skin. Some annoying shit had gone down.
Returning greetings from countless exorcists, Rianna reached the innermost temporary tent. A familiar face awaited.
Alric, Vargas, Ceres. Seeing her fellow District Chiefs confirmed her hunch.
"You're here? Earlier than expected."
"Left cleanup to the High Priests. This seemed urgent. But..."
Anyone could see it: shit-eating expressions. What the hell happened?
"Where's the Deputy Director?"
"As you see."
"Haa. What went down?"
The Deputy Director, always grumbling over paperwork, wasn't here. Meaning the one radiating chill was him.
Who the fuck poked that man how?
"Some black mage scum touched his reverse scale."
"What kinda dogshit f—"
Anticipating Rianna's curse, the 3rd District Chief muffled it with holy arts. Curses only, neatly.
"I get the urge to curse, but calm down a bit."
"...Sorry. Coming straight from work, still tense."
A hint of irritation leaked from the 1st District Chief. He was in the most awkward spot right now.
He'd relaxed after resolving the tough issue, never dreaming the black mage's rag of a mouth would launch a final strike.
No wonder newbies didn't last.
"How far on the taboos?"
"All."
"...Even soul personality substitution or mind otherworld flaying?"
"I'll take responsibility."
"Responsibility my ass. You'll take it, Deputy. Cut the posing."
"Anyway, please. ASAP."
The framework for their unpleasant chat was set.
An 8th-circle black mage: first, shove his mind into the otherworld for ten years or so.
Then swap out the softened soul's personality, and results would follow.
"I'll report first, then."
But someone to meet first.
Her steps grew heavier the closer she got. His emotions rode the air, stabbing her lungs. No wonder everyone was walking on eggshells.
"May I come in?"
"…"
"Coming in."
Rianna stepped into the still-chilling tent.
There he lay, elegantly reclined, eyes closed.
Black hair and lashes. Face subtly trembling as if suppressing rage.
"Northern liches captured. Great Saint should be handling homeland ones by now."
"…"
"We'll scrape these black mages here, but no guarantees. Burned lots of mana up north, and it's just me—"
"...Got it. Good work."
His voice rang heavy. Seeing him try to tamp down the rage, Rianna could only clamp her mouth shut.
"...I'll head out."
"…"
With that, Rianna left the tent. Thud. Leather flap closed.
"……."
Rianna squatted on the ground and let out a sigh. Past memories overlapped with that day.
「I just believe. In the future where ■■ and ■■ ■■.」
「...Do you need me in that future?」
「Of course. Naturally.」
Enchanted by that firm conviction and faint smile, she'd ended up here.
"Haa..."
If she'd known, she wouldn't have followed that day. For real.