Chapter 387
Chapter 387
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 387
Chapter Title: Omen (6)
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Vergilio was a seasoned Heretica.
While dispatched on an expedition to investigate heretics, he had learned of the monastery's destruction belatedly.
A veteran Heretica had few options in unfamiliar territory where distinguishing friend from foe was difficult. He chose to go undercover. There was an old protocol for responding to the headquarters' destruction, but he couldn't even determine if it was still a live chain of command.
In any case, this cunning Heretica didn't halt his operations even then. Even in this isolated state with headquarters vanished and no support of any kind to expect, he pressed on with purging heretics.
As a result, he was now being treated to liquor and meat in the village assembly hall of his operational area.
"Hmm……."
Vergilio couldn't fathom why he had ended up in this situation. Even his cool-headed mind couldn't easily make sense of the flow of events.
He had never leaked that he was an Inquisitor. That went without saying. If headquarters had been destroyed, it meant a large organization or even a nation hostile to Inquisitors existed, so revealing his identity was out of the question.
Thus, these people saw him as a wandering mercenary. A wandering mercenary who had saved the village.
"Adventurer, sir! How about this? Does it suit your taste?"
"Ah…… yes. Thank you."
"Try some of this too!"
"Uh…… yes."
He had been dispatched after reports of successive missing persons and black leeches suddenly swarming a once-clear stream. While tracing upstream, he had detected signs of heresy.
A witch had nested in a hill outside the village and was kidnapping live humans for alchemy experiments. Since it wasn't a demon incident, Vergilio had tracked her down and struck successfully.
[Witch! For the sins of the accused, the Holy Pantheon pronounces the death penalty!!]
[Wait, wait!! I, I'm innocent……!]
The verdict was swift, the execution deft. His Saint-Metal longsword severed the witch's neck, and he disposed of all the potions and tools. The survivors posed a problem, but alchemy was a discipline with relatively low risk of heretical contamination, so they weren't subject to judgment.
[Savior!!]
[Savior!!!]
With survivors clinging to him like ornaments, he descended the mountain, only to be mobbed by villagers at the village edge. They embraced him and "kidnapped" him to the assembly hall.
When he came to, a feast was laid out. Vergilio smiled awkwardly and accepted the proffered meat.
The meat was cut thick and crudely, grilled with unremarkable wild greens, and reeked gamey. Its texture was distinctly unlike beef or pork. He swallowed the chewy morsel and wiped his mouth.
"The meat is unusual."
"Ah, yes. Here, try this too!"
The village woman urged more dishes on him with a strange expression. Was it the instinct of a seasoned Heretica? Vergilio accepted the food without a change in expression and quickly rinsed his mouth.
Heretica training included identifying toxins by taste. Neurotoxins numb the tongue tip instantly, biologics taste sour, and alchemical poisons often carry a faint bitter almond note depending on type. Dozens of toxins were cataloged systematically in his mind.
But contrary to his tension, the food from the woman was just thin stew. Had he been too sensitive? Vergilio tilted his head and chewed the meat.
Muscle fibers snapping coarsely. An unfamiliar texture and gaminess. Poorly managed cut, perhaps? He couldn't tell.
"Always suspect."
The motto engraved at the heart of the Religiosa Heretica sanctuary flashed through his mind. Vergilio chewed meticulously, frowning.
Fragmented intel assembled like puzzle pieces in the mind of this adept Heretica. He scanned the surroundings discreetly while sipping water impassively.
One, this village was an ordinary farming hamlet.
Two, one of the villages ravaged by the recent Fairn-Dane war, impoverished as reconstruction had only just begun.
Three, the witch on the outskirts showed no signs of cultists or deeper heresy. Executed solely for human experimentation.
Four, meat available in the village fell into three categories: livestock like dogs, cattle, pigs; poultry like chickens and pheasants; river fish.
Five, the meat on this table had coarse, sizable muscle grain. Gaminess and toughness pointed to terrestrial beast……
His thoughts reached that point, and Vergilio set down his glass. Slowly, he slipped a hand into his sleeve and gripped his rosary.
A deep sigh mingled with surging revulsion. He wanted to vomit up everything that had slid down his throat. Reaching for the longsword propped by the table, he spoke.
"Confess your sins before Lord Beitasser."
"……Pardon?"
The villagers froze in bewilderment. They appeared as humble, hardworking peasants, the sort seen anywhere.
Evil often wore the mask of kindly neighbors. As taught by the Inquisition, Vergilio drew his longsword and laid it slowly on the table.
Chilly blade-light scattered wildly. At the overt threat, the villagers recoiled in fear.
"What in the world…… what…… why, sir? Adventurer, sir!"
"Kyaaah!"
Villagers shouted and hesitated. Young men, faces pale with fright, glanced around frantically and snatched up pokers or similar.
Seeing this, the chief gestured hastily. Mishandling could lead to real bloodshed. A professionally trained mercenary could slaughter dozens of villagers with one longsword.
"Please, speak your mind. If our hospitality fell short…… or if you're seeking recompense……."
"I am an Inquisitor of St. Bartholomew Monastery. Dare not think you can bribe me with worldly gold or glory. The meat on this table—is it human flesh?"
"Pardon……?"
Realizing the situation had turned dire, the chief stiffened. That confirmed suspicions. Vergilio suppressed disgust, raising the blade high. No matter the hunger, cooking and serving human flesh to passersby was an unforgivable evil, beyond mere survival.
At that moment, the chief blurted desperately.
"N-no, misunderstanding!! It's beef!"
"Do you take me for such a fool?"
"I-it is beef! That…… it……."
Villagers exchanged uneasy glances, hemming and hawing. As Vergilio's blade flashed, the chief paled and prostrated himself.
"It is beef!! Sp-spare us, priest!! It's beef, but lately it's been a bit off…… beef!"
"Not meat from diseased beasts. Structurally, the muscle grain is from another species entirely. You dare call this beef?"
Perhaps villagers slaughtered travelers, dubbing them "cattle." Trembling at the horror, Vergilio steadied the blade for execution.
The chief sprang up, shouting urgently.
"S-see for yourself! You'd understand at once, priest! L-lately the beasts have been strange—must be that witch's drugs in the back hills! Now that witch is dead, livestock should recover…… Can't sacrifice animals in these hard times…… We picked the least affected one……."
The chief rambled incoherently.
Vergilio lowered the blade slightly, eyeing him. He couldn't decide rashly; it might require massacring the village.
He agreed to inspect the cattle as claimed. They offered to show the site directly—refusing could mean missing traces of a larger heretical network.
Thus, Vergilio found himself reluctantly escorted to the village-edge pens.
* * *
The pens were rigged like a high-security prison. Thick wooden planks lay ready to bar the doors anytime, and a thick stench of blood wafted from beyond.
Vergilio's eyes sharpened at the sight.
Suspicions solidified into fact. If that door opened to reveal truth, he would behead the chief beside him without hesitation.
The beings inside sensed their presence. Soon, tearing shrieks and mumbling erupted from within.
"Kreeeeh!!! KwEEEK!!"
"Like that, like that, like that, like that, like that……."
"Grrk, grrrk, glurk!"
The screams evoked visceral disgust.
Vergilio gripped his sword hilt tightly, glaring at the chief. The man trembled, pale-faced, shrinking back.
"The livestock's a bit…… off……."
The chief's gaze was fixed on the pens.
Typically, those fearing an Inquisitor before them fixate on the weapon in hand or rosary at throat.
This man feared what was inside. Vergilio clicked his tongue sharply and kicked the door open.
"Guhk…… gruhk……. Guk?"
"KwEEEK!!"
Rotten blood-stink billowed with hot wind. Feces, corpses, spoiled feed boiled with beast musk.
Late afternoon sun illuminated the interior.
There were beasts. Not livestock—'beasts'……
"Lord……."
Vergilio froze, grip slackening unnoticed. Beasts inside twisted heads toward him, howling.
Pigs, cattle, dogs perhaps…… Common farm animals. Eyes burned red, inflamed swollen hides rubbing floor and walls.
Some reared on hind legs, others buried muzzles in corpses, gorging greedily; some had extra limbs twitching, others dual heads snapping at each other.
Beasts in livestock guise mumbled human words, screamed, laughed, wept, tangled together. Crude, hideous forms still vaguely recognizable as originals.
What demonic fusion? The witch he'd slain today? He knew of heretics doing chimeric experiments, but no such apparatus here.
"For days now, these have appeared. W-we thought it the witch's doing…… That witch was originally an apothecary settled here……."
Vergilio bit his lip, staring at the penned beasts.
The honed senses of a veteran Inquisitor tingled. Intuition, premonition.
Some inscrutable heresy lurked. Not these ignorant villagers—something subtler, more vicious.
When Vergilio burned the village and departed to link with other Inquisitors, he learned his incident coincided with similar events across nearly all reachable regions.
It began at the southern tip of the Eastern Alliance, in the rugged southern wastelands thick with brush.
* * *
"These…… did you make them?"
[No, not us…… Master. Others meddled. What shall we do?]
"This wasn't in my plan."
Fernandez Cerned, orchestrating the heresy ploy, muttered in dismay while severing a pig's neck—limbs and all.
"Why are these out now……?"
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Who is like the beast? Who can wage war against it?
The beast was given a mouth to utter proud words and blasphemies, and to exercise its authority for forty-two months.
It opened its mouth to blaspheme God, and to slander his name and his dwelling place and those who live in heaven.
It was given power to wage war against the saints and to conquer them. And it was given authority over every tribe, people, language and nation.
All inhabitants of the earth will worship the beast—all whose names have not been written in the Lamb’s book of life, the Lamb who was slain from the creation of the world.
Rev 13:4-8