Chapter 361
Chapter 361
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 361
Chapter Title: Searcher and Plunderer (6)
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In the dim predawn light, a hulking man with his hood pulled low strode briskly down the path. He glanced around briefly before pausing at the village outskirts.
A man carrying a pitchfork over his shoulder came trudging from the village entrance. Spotting the hooded traveler, he planted himself squarely in the way.
“Who goes there?”
“What use is identity to a wandering soul?”
“Our village doesn’t take in vagrants.”
“I’ve no business in the village.”
“Nothing but mountains lie this way beyond our village. Try another range if you’re climbing.”
“Isn’t there St. Lucio’s Monastery?”
“...Who are you?”
The farmer’s eyes turned fierce. He slowly lowered his pitchfork and slipped a hand into his bosom. Cold steel met his fingers. But the traveler, unperturbed as if oblivious to the suspicion, took a casual step forward.
“Halt.”
“Such a stale routine—I wondered if I’d come to the right place, but it seems I have.”
The traveler slowly pulled back his hood. Close-cropped, faded hair and a rugged face emerged in the morning sun. Even the small rosary around his neck. The moment the farmer saw the key-sword emblem of Beitasser, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
“I see you, brother. I am Parenzo, torchman to Brother Asellan.”
“You’ve endured much. Rise. I wish to go to the monastery.”
“Yes, brother. I’ll guide you.”
Parenzo scrambled up and cleared the path. They walked in silence for a moment before Parenzo spoke up hesitantly.
“Brother, if it’s not too rude... may I have your name?”
“Brother Zephys Shiradast.”
“...!”
Parenzo bowed his head in shock and reverence at the presence of the legendary Demonica of the age beside him. He quickened his pace without a word.
* * *
It was an utterly ordinary rural farmhouse. This nameless hamlet was greeting a morning like any other. Yet from the moment Zephys appeared, farmers passing by, women carrying laundry, even children stopped in their tracks to stare.
Parenzo gave an awkward smile at the attention and murmured to Zephys.
“You’re not uncomfortable, are you?”
“They’re all torchmen, I see.”
“Yes, brothers who’ve lost their friars. Many brothers fell in the last battle.”
Zephys made a quick sign of the cross. The residents of this disguised farm village were all torchmen who had served the fallen brothers. Seeing so many, Zephys gauged how many brothers must have perished.
The monastery had burned, and brothers lost. The Inquisition Keep wasn’t merely suspended—it was effectively obliterated. What remained were remnants at best.
As Zephys sighed softly, Parenzo hurriedly added,
“The brothers at the monastery will explain, but if I may speak first... not all brothers were deployed to the Keep incident. Those too far to reach are still scattered, carrying out their duties.”
“I see. That must be so.”
Yet Zephys’s expression didn’t lighten. Even if immediate missions continued, with the Keep gone, no new orders or formations could be expected.
Brothers scattered and barely escaped the chaos were as good as isolated in enemy territory. How long could they hold? And how many would gather at this temporary outpost?
No one knew.
“What of the abbot?”
“He ascended during the Keep’s fall.”
“...May he rest.”
“May Brother Supelaudo rest.”
Parenzo and Zephys both made the sign of the cross and recited a prayer. They soon left the village for a narrow mountain trail. After a short trek through the dim, cramped path, the ivy-covered outer wall of an ancient cloistered monastery appeared.
Standing at the sturdy wooden gate, Parenzo rang a small bell twice. The wicket slid open, revealing a man’s eye.
“Parenzo? What brings you?”
“Yes, brother. I’ve guided a friar from outside.”
“...A friar? Who... heavens!!”
-Clunk, thud!
The wicket slammed shut, and the gate began to creak open. A sharp-featured man with a broad face and long scar burst out from within.
He rushed to Zephys and embraced him tightly. Zephys patted his back twice and spoke.
“Brother!”
“Theodoric, brother. You live.”
“Yes, brother! By the saints, you’re alive!”
This sharp-faced Heretica pulled back, eyes glistening. He gripped Zephys’s shoulders and bowed.
“Your return will be a great boon. The Lord has provided exactly what we need, when we need it most.”
“My steps were delayed; I learned of the Keep late. You’ve suffered. Forgive me.”
“No, brother. No...”
“Who remains at the monastery now? Who leads the Keep?”
“Brothers Marco and Fabiano. Come inside!”
Following Theodoric’s lead, Zephys entered the dilapidated monastery.
* * *
Soon, Zephys met Fabiano and Marco in the monastery’s inner sanctum. Fabiano was wrapped head to toe in bandages, Marco wore a black eyepatch over one eye.
They stared at Zephys and Theodoric in silence as they entered. Zephys nodded warmly.
“Good to see you, brothers.”
“Brother!!”
Before Marco could speak, Fabiano shot up and bellowed.
“Brother!!”
“Oh Lord, preserve my hearing.”
“Heavens!! Brother!! You live!!”
“Fortunately. Could I ascend first when you’ve faced greater trials? Injured?”
“The Lord hasn’t called for this worthless body yet! Still hale!”
“Hale, Fabiano? You’ve been bedridden for three days.”
Marco shook his head at the ringing in his ears and grimaced. He poured tea and said,
“There’s much to discuss, brother. Welcome back. Sit.”
“Marco, that eye?”
“The price for seeing what I shouldn’t, left at the Keep.”
“Without Marco’s aid, none of us would’ve returned. Brother Zephys.”
Marco smiled bitterly and lifted the patch. The skin beneath gleamed like black ore. Zephys gazed gravely, then sipped his tea.
“Magic corruption. How long?”
“Five years, without using magic.”
“No thought of laicization?”
“Hah, with the Lord’s peace yet on this earth? Laicizing for comfort would be apostasy. What care I for life and death in this material world?”
“Thank you.”
Five years left. Inquisitors lived on borrowed time anyway; Marco seemed untroubled. Yet Zephys looked at him with pity.
Inquisitors always contemplated death. They faced a world brimming with ultimate evil, serving as bulwarks against hell’s dominion, perhaps to the world’s end.
No inquisitor died peacefully in bed of old age. They chose lives on timers.
But corruption by hell’s magic? That sentence wasn’t comparable to conviction or creed. Every breath resisted temptation to corruption and apostasy.
Even now, Marco heard and saw hell’s whispers and visions. Zephys had seen many such mages. Most ended by his hand, having chosen apostasy.
“Hah, brother. No need for that look. When the Lord calls, end me yourself. ...Please.”
“I will.”
“Now, the monastery’s situation and the abbot’s last words.”
“Once more, heartfelt welcome back, brother.”
Zephys nodded curtly and set down his cup. A hastily scrawled report slid before him. Marco handed it over and leaned back.
“A makeshift report since the Keep’s functions ceased. Best sent to the Papacy, but no way to reach His Holiness.”
Fairn’s widespread hunt forced survivors into this monastery. One of ancient fortress-monasteries prepared for the Keep’s fall.
Few remembered it, but Marco’s timely command of survivors was providence. Many brothers, unaware of the full truth, remained isolated worldwide.
* * *
[Warning: This document is Class 1 Top Secret clearance only.]
[Unauthorized viewing subject to secrecy protocols.]
[Emergency Report: Keep Obliterated.]
Incident Summary:
1. Raids and arsons targeting cloistered monasteries across the eastern region, centered on Fairn.
2. Due to isolation, reports confirmed after total destruction.
3. Keep identified as prelude to massive heresy; all available agents dispatched nationwide.
4. Confirmed destruction over wider area than initial reports.
5. Maximum investigation; all torchmen deployed.
6. Assault on Keep began as forces leaked outward.
7. Keep destroyed; sealed great relic unleashed, sparking massive demon outbreak.
8. Emergency recall; Operation Keep Reclamation by Grade 3 Religiosa Demonica Fabiano and Grade 2 Religiosa Enmagicka Marco.
9. During op, detected hell gate opening in Dragonspine Mountains.
* * *
Zephys paused after reading, pinching his eyes. Hell gate...?
“A hell gate opened?”
“Yes, brother. Fairn’s northeastern mana pollution was its aftermath.”
“Lord preserve us.”
* * *
The day the Keep burned, Fabiano’s suicide squad advanced through Dragonspine, purging scattered demons. Beitasser’s holy standard fluttered on its own, purging hell’s corruption, pollution, and demons.
Even vulnerable Heretica and Enmagicka endured the demons’ aura. But the enemy numbers overwhelmed. Not just relic explosions—
“Cough! Damn it, brother! A gate’s opening!”
“A gate? Any sealed relic like that at the Keep?”
“No! But this mana... such dense hell mana concentrated could open a minor gate depending on summoned demons! What now?”
An Enmagicka brother paled, looking to Fabiano. Not retreat—tactical shift.
A gate demanded sealing or destruction at any cost. Worst case, it could shatter the material plane.
Hell gates weren’t mere portals. Hell and heaven were conceptual realms; opening warped nearby reality into concepts, shattering it.
Pollution didn’t soil like plague. Hell mana corroded reality, conceptualizing it toward hellishness.
Spreading, it amassed power for collapse. Church history recorded it once: Mutoh’s Ascension, Asit civilization buried, birthing the Great Waste. Sealed at cost, it remained barren.
That was an open gate. Fabiano halted silently.
‘Abandon Keep, destroy gate...’
Rational. Keep was lost. No point surveying ruins, viewing brothers’ corpses. Destroy gate.
‘But that abandons possible survivors.’
Duty or brothers?
Mission or Keep?
Obligation or home?
“Split forces.”
“Brother!! No!!”
“Split! Forces!! Volunteers willing to die follow me! Sergio!!”
“Yes, brother!”
“Take the standard to the gate! Destroy it at all costs and break contact!”
Fabiano tossed the standard to the lead Demonica crushing demons. Sergio caught it amid shock, gazing reverently.
“But beyond the relic’s aegis...”
“I must confirm brothers’ fates, uncover truth. What happened here, next objective. True enemy!”
Fabiano ripped off his rosary, wrapping it around his fist. He faced the halted brothers.
“So follow me only if marching to certain death! Martyrdom isn’t duty; surviving in mud is brief humiliation for greater good. Others must live to prepare!”
“Brother, I follow.”
“Marco, brothers need your wisdom.”
“I’ve lived long enough. New world for new youths, no? And you don’t know messenger spells?”
Even to certain death, someone must relay to survivors. Fabiano didn’t know them.
As he fell silent, Marco chuckled, clapping his back.
“Worry not, brother. Your deathbed isn’t here. World needs us; Lord guides. Trust.”
“Brother.”
“What matter death?”
Marco winked cheerily.
“You won’t die alone.”
“...Our lives are beacons.”
“Our deaths, the world’s foundation.”
“May he rest.”
“May Brother Supelaudo rest. Lead on.”
Fabiano nodded firmly, turning with a few.
Sergio watched their backs, crossed himself, then headed opposite. Inquisitors crossed toward Fabiano, following Sergio.
“Heresy, demons, witches—we’ll burn them!!”
Roaring with fury and resolve, inquisitors charged through swarming demons down the forest path.