Chapter 24
Chapter 24
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 24
Chapter Title: Emergency Order: Rat Hunt
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Fernandez Cerned sat cross-legged before a rusted bronze mirror. His hands twisted in bizarre directions, contorting and intertwining.
Not a single gesture, not one motion, deviated from magical principles. Every movement was efficient yet mechanical. A mantra so sacred it bordered on divine took shape.
-Whoooosh...
A black crown-shaped halo materialized behind his head. The vision orb hanging around Fernandez's neck trembled violently. The amount of magic preserved in the bronze throne was rapidly depleting.
-Hsssss...
White frost-like vapor escaped Fernandez's mouth as he slowly opened his eyes. He shook his hands, and the halo dissipated into the air.
"No matter how I try, it just won't work. The side effects are too severe."
-Yeah. You don't look like an Inquisitor at all.
"If I pulled this stunt out in the open, I'd get branded a heretic and straight-up burned at the stake."
It wasn't some special heretical symptom. But that black halo! The crown bristling with spikes looked blasphemous in itself.
He had seen it a few times in his past life, but he'd vaguely assumed it was a side effect of using the bronze throne—or just Dale Pertus's personal way of manifesting magic.
Yet to the ancients who first designed the bronze throne, that black halo must have been the fashion icon of the era! No matter how hard he tried, the halo activated the instant magic manifested and refused to vanish.
"There's no issue with the magic usage itself. The problem is it kicking in the moment the spell takes form."
-Isn't that actually a relief? If you can still use mana, spells like mana spikes should work fine.
"Remember the counter-ritual last time? The halo showed up then too."
-Hmm...
No matter how he dissected it, that halo popping up offered zero functional benefits... Fernandez smacked his lips in regret.
In the end, his three sleepless nights of experimentation had failed. All he learned at the conclusion was the limit of his mental and physical efficiency as a Religiosa Demonica.
-Knock knock.
"Yes, come in."
Someone knocked at his door. Fernandez concealed the bronze throne and spoke. The door opened, and a giant entered.
"Ah, brother! Won't you join me in praise?"
"Hmm... Has it gotten that late already? I was about to spar with Brother Allen..."
"A shame! Brother Allen is out on assignment!"
"Then with Sister Kirhas..."
"Sister Kirhas is in Torchman training right now!"
"Then with the Religiosa Enmagicka brothers..."
"Whoa there!"
The giant, Fabiano, clamped down on Fernandez's wrist. It was like being crushed in an agricultural press—no room for movement. Fabiano said brightly.
"I've always worried about your build, brother! Far too frail for a Demonica! Worry not. A healthy spirit and healthy praise demand a healthy body!"
"Isn't it usually the other way around?"
"What are you saying? For a healthy body, the spirit must be healthy first!"
Fabiano dragged Fernandez along by the arm. As he was pulled, Fernandez shouted.
"Be honest—you're just bored, right? All the brothers are on missions, so you're stuck alone?"
"Hmm! Seeing the outdoor praise hall so empty tore at my heart! But with you here, I'm glad!"
Fabiano nodded.
*
"Ughhh!"
"There you go—you can do it, brother! Just one more rep!"
"Ughhhh!!!"
Fernandez's arms trembled from pain and fatigue. This was the limit! He felt the strength slowly draining from his wrists holding the barbell.
"Do you feel the pressure reaching your deltoids?"
"Ughhh!!!"
"Not yet?! Brother, your form is off! Focus on your arms!"
Gripping a barbell loaded with iron bars heavy enough to spin a wagon wheel, Fernandez sweated profusely as he performed bicep curls. Fabiano, across from him doing squats, shouted.
"Brother! Proclaim it! Praise!"
"Th—this... fuck!"
"Twenty? Impressive grit! Good! Twenty more!"
You bastard!! Fernandez clenched his jaw so hard his teeth might shatter, barely hoisting the barbell.
His biceps and elbows were tearing apart in real time. And simultaneously, monstrous divinity coursed through his veins, healing the damaged muscle fibers.
Muscle destruction and repair happening live! What kind of hellish training was this? Fernandez groaned as he lowered the barbell. His arms shook.
"Brother Fernandez?"
"Huh? Yes! It's me! Me!"
-Rumble...
When a Religiosa Enmagicka Inquisitor suddenly appeared and called his name, Fernandez nearly crossed himself for real. He hastily dropped the barbell to the floor.
"Brother Fabiano! I'm truly sorry! Something's come up for me! Ah, you there—Brother Enmagicka!"
"Y-Yes?!"
The Enmagicka Inquisitor eyed Fernandez's angry-looking forearms and Fabiano's indignant thighs (which looked three times thicker than Fernandez's), shrinking in fear.
"You were looking for me, right?"
"Ah. Y-Yes... Abbot Beorn Shieldbane is asking for you."
With so few people left at Inquisition Keep, Beorn was summoning him more often. Fernandez tensed slightly as he headed to Beorn's room.
*
[Emergency Order: Rat Hunt]
Operation Area: Dane Kingdom, Barbes Barony Checkpoint 2.
Operation Summary: Emergency investigation team dispatched due to unexpected Walker outbreak.
Operation Task Force: Religiosa Demonica Fernandez Cerned. Torchman Kirhas Hearttaker.
Call Signs: Fernandez – Angelo (A), Kirhas – Basila (B)
We shall burn the demons, the heretics, the witches.
Final Approval: Abbot of St. Bartholomew Monastery, Beorn Shieldbane.
*
As soon as Fernandez entered the room, Beorn handed him the report without preamble. Fernandez read it slowly, folded it in half, and tucked it into his pocket.
"A Walker outbreak in the Dane Kingdom...?"
"Yes. A request for aid came from the Barbes Barony parish. We contacted the local garrison and knight order, and three days later, all contact with them was lost."
"Just a Walker outbreak, and the knight order wiped out?"
"Not wiped out entirely—they say a few of the knights they dispatched haven't returned from the mission."
Beorn took a sip of black tea and pointed to a corner of the map.
"With the Fairn royal incident, we're critically short on manpower right now. And this is the first Walker outbreak outside the Bronze Scales' sphere of influence. If their branch has extended into the Dane Kingdom..."
Beorn looked at Fernandez.
"If the Dane Kingdom falls, half the Eastern Kingdom Alliance would be pushed beyond the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods' reach. We cannot allow that."
"Isn't Barbes Barony in the Franzrit bloodline's territory...? I wouldn't think they'd let a heretical sect rampage on their own turf..."
"...? What are you talking about? The Franzrits are a Serpents Isle noble house. Not too far, but they never leave that island?"
"???"
Fernandez stared at the map in confusion. Among the great vampire noble houses, if one had wielded the greatest influence over civilized society, it was undoubtedly the Franzrits.
In his past life, their area of activity had clearly spanned the entire Widow Spider Coastline from Serpents Isle.
-They might not have expanded beyond Serpents Isle yet.
'No, grow that much in just a few decades?'
-Beats me... Feels like there was some big incident, but it's too long ago to remember.
Beorn fixed Fernandez with blazing eyes and said.
"Show them the power of the Holy Pantheon of Good Gods without fail. If the ones who dared burn Fairn territory are now reaching outward... make them feel the Pantheon's wrath."
"I will drag them to hell without fail, Abbot."
"Good. Go now, brother. Pack all the gear you'll need. It'll be a long journey. Return alive."
Barbes Barony in the Dane Kingdom was five days' ride along the demon roads from Inquisition Keep.
Fernandez thought long journeys weren't his cup of tea as he left the room.
"Glory."
"Beitasser's glory, brother."
-Creak.
Beorn watched the door close, then removed his glasses. He sighed, gazing down at the red markers on the map. The entire Eastern Kingdoms bled red.
Heretical incidents from this year alone.
The Eastern Kingdoms were committing troops to the Empire's western campaign, slowly strangling themselves economically.
Famine and starvation were all too common in this era. And with that, demons and heretics wormed into the hearts of the destitute masses.
Death was commonplace. Demons wailed from the shadows, while the righteous burned on pyres. He had seen such sights too many times.
By the time one Inquisitor finished training and entered the field, ten or more had already fallen in operations. With time, civilized society's victory grew ever dimmer.
The old Inquisitor rubbed his fatigue-weary eyes and exhaled deeply. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Beitasser's rosary, embedded with a key-sword.
"Lord, show me the path."
As always, the Lord gave no answer. He traced the tiny inscription on the rosary's frame with rough fingertips.
-Seek righteousness, desire goodness, perform virtue.
-Then your heaven shall add correctness unto you.
The Lord's judgment belongs to the Lord. Beorn opened his eyes. Reports and denunciations on heresies piled high on his desk.
-Ting.
"Yes, Abbot! You called?"
"Summon Brother Fabiano."
"Yes!"
The Enmagicka Inquisitor hurried out. Watching him go, Beorn thought.
The Lord's judgment is the Lord's domain.
And dragging heretics before the Lord's judgment is our duty.
*
Brother Martirio, fortunately, hadn't been assigned a mission. Fernandez gave an awkward smile as he entered the armory.
"What do you want to break this time, Brother Fernandez?"
"Come on, brother. Anyone would think I make a hobby of smashing gear."
"Isn't it? Lost the greatsword, dagger, and even the bag of needles on your first mission. Then on the next, you wrecked every weapon and ended up punching a Walker to death?"
"That was unavoidable on duty! Who knew we'd hunt a lich? Brother Martirio, your weapons were true lich-slayers!"
"Hmm..."
Martirio shrugged. He didn't seem too displeased.
"So, what do you need?"
"One shield, one greatsword, one longsword. And a silver stake."
"...Pulling out all the stops, eh, brother."
"Haha... Gotta come back alive!"
"See that you do."
Martirio chuckled at the joke. As he gathered and laid out the gear, he said.
"Silver stake... Vampire hunt this time?"
"Just in case. There's a vampire bloodline in the operation area."
"Hmm. Seldenburg?"
"No. Franzrit."
"Whoa. Going far afield."
Fernandez checked the gear as he received the weapons from Martirio, muttering offhand.
"Whether Franzrit or Seldenburg, I hope we never cross paths."
The great noble Franzrits. Rulers of the Widow Spider Coastline and nightmare of the Eastern Kingdoms. Before Dairan Shrike and his nine disciples exterminated them in their later years, the damage they'd inflicted was immense—the manpower and resources humanity expended nearly doomed civilized society.
The Franzrit bloodline had to be eradicated eventually, of course. But for Fernandez alone, it was nearly impossible. If only Professor Carlo Mano Pavilos would show up... Fernandez clicked his tongue and equipped the weapons.
"Well, I'll bring these back safe and sound!"
"Not holding my breath. Just come back safe, brother."
What a kind-hearted brother. Fernandez was truly moved by this generosity.
*