The Church (4)
"First, allow me to express my regrets over the priests who perished in an unforeseen accident."
"An… unforeseen accident?"
Having finally abandoned resistance, the Church began to engage in conversation. Of course, speaking directly with a demon bordered on the taboo, so only the bishop leading the contingent dared open his mouth. Naturally, just like back in the Lion Kingdom, every single one of them, bishop included, had their ears layered with protective wards to guard against demonic hypnosis.
"Indeed, an unforeseen accident. I had no intention of taking their lives, yet an unfortunate error occurred."
"No intention of taking their lives? What nonsense are you spouting?"
"Exactly what I said. I merely intended to sever their hands to stay their blades, but my aim went astray, and I took their heads instead. It is truly regrettable."
"…"
Honestly, I knew how absurd that sounded. Beheading twenty priests at the exact same moment and calling it a slip of aim sounded like the most brazen mockery imaginable. But what was I supposed to do when it was the plain truth?
I had targeted nothing more than the wrists of the priests butchering the civilians, yet somehow sliced clean through their necks. I was positive my aim had been straight.
Hummm—
To test it, I aimed a spell at a tree branch by the wayside. A portal materialized at the precise coordinate, lopping the branch cleanly off. It worked fine now. Why on earth did it misfire a second ago?
"Do you… dare threaten me right now?" the bishop demanded, his voice trembling with a volatile mixture of terror and outrage.
Threaten you? What… Oh. Right.
Looking at the situation, it made sense why he felt threatened. I had not aimed for their throats, but from an outside perspective, an archdemon capable of effortlessly severing twenty heads had just casually lopped off a tree branch while calling a mass decapitation an "accident." Anyone would take that as an unsubtle display of dominance.
Normally, when you mess up, you apologize… but I could not muster an ounce of guilt. If I hadn't stepped in, those bastards would have burned the townspeople alive.
They pulled this exact stunt in the game, too. The Seraphia Church had stopped at nothing to purge anyone tainted by demonic corruption. In the early chapters, while they still wore the thinnest veneer of hypocrisy, their excuse was that corrupted victims would transform into monsters if left unattended during battle, threatening the Church's rear line. Later in the storyline, their doctrine brazenly devolved into claiming that anyone who absorbed dark mana could turn into a beast at any second, requiring immediate purification.
"Director, is this narrative progression acceptable?"
"Mmh… Oh, that works. Don't overcomplicate the villains; classic clichés exist for a reason. It lends far more justification to the player's choices."
It was surreal to consider, but this world went beyond merely resembling Noah—it was an outright carbon copy. Astounding, really. When I managed the narrative from an office desk, I had worried the villains were far too one-dimensional. Seeing them in the flesh was a completely different experience.
"Should the player's path stick to the standard formula as well?"
"Of course. We're not writing high literature here. The standard path is called standard because it's the most effective structure."
"Understood. I'll proceed with that."
Noah's players had tried every method under the sun to stop those massacres. They rushed to slay demons before the Church found an excuse to kill civilians, evacuated townsfolk behind the Church's back, or fought the zealots head-on. Because of those choices, the player and the Church ended up in total hostilities by the endgame, coming to fatal blows. Well, that made plotting the narrative much simpler back then.
"Answer me! How dare a foul fiend threaten the sacred vicar of the gods?!"
Right, focus. Why did my mind keep wandering at moments like this? Knowing that nothing they threw could injure me, let alone end my life, left me shockingly devoid of tension.
"I threatened you? Why would I do such a thing?"
"If that was not a threat, what else could it be?! Flashing your vile might like that—"
"Threats are tools used to display force or seize leverage in order to extract concessions. Why would I need to bother with such trivialities?"
"…"
The bishop, who had been shrieking moments before, clamped his mouth shut. It seemed my reasoning got through. What could I possibly gain from shaking down a pack of priests? I pressed the advantage while the momentum held.
"To be concise: leave this city."
"…Purging demonic filth is the divine will. We cannot permit innocent citizens to cower beneath unholy malice. Above all, we stand to gain nothing from your demand, making compliance utterly impossible."
What rubbish. The citizens were terrified of the Church, not me. And nothing to gain?
"Gain nothing, you say? Hah. There is an obvious reward."
"…So you can be reasoned—"
"I will spare your lives."
Granted, my dimensional storage was overflowing with gemstones. I could have easily tossed them a fortune to buy their departure. But that felt uncomfortably close to being shaken down. Besides, there wasn't a world where I lost this fight. Barking at them to clear out if they valued their skins made far more sense.
"Spare… our lives…?"
"Precisely. Relinquish your designs upon this city, and you shall not perish. You know well that demons of my stature adhere strictly to their contracts, so I suggest you—"
Crack!
A blinding stroke of lightning consumed my vision. The world flashed bone-white before resolving back into focus. Just as before, it didn't hurt in the slightest, though it was profoundly annoying. It was the irritation of having dust blown into your eyes—not painful, but irritating nonetheless.
"A demonic contract?! How dare you attempt to corrupt a pious servant of God?!"
"…"
Judging by the bishop's horror-stricken face, that attack hadn't been his idea. Some overzealous priest had simply lost his composure at the mention of a contract and lashed out on his own initiative.
"Lord Bishop! Please, give the order!"
Give an order for what? The bishop's expression looked as though his entire life had just flashed before his eyes in despair. Had that zealot completely failed to read the room? Good grief. I had endured enough.
They were committing the exact same atrocities as the script I wrote back in Noah. There was no longer any reason to show leniency. I shouldn't murder them—I wasn't an actual monster, after all—which meant anything short of death was fair game. First, I needed to lock down their spells so they couldn't try any more foolish stunts.
"Dementia."
"—?!"
Dementia
Dementia was a staple spell among demonic bosses in Noah. Following advice from the combat design team that offensive spells alone failed to project a demon's distinct identity, nearly all demons were given status-ailment magic alongside standard damage dealers. Because Dementia was straightforward to counter yet undeniably thematic, high-tier demons frequently relied on it. Frankly speaking, it was a recycled mechanic, but no one had complained.
"Ah… ah…"
"W-What is this?! Pull yourselves together! Get up… ugh…"
Wait… what is wrong with them?
Black mist billowed from the tips of my fingers. The instant it brushed against the priests, the zealots who had been burning with fervor collapsed like strings had been cut. It was no metaphor.
In the game, Dementia simply conjured a demonic eye above the player's head; failing to create distance within three seconds slapped you with a brief silence debuff. That was not what was happening here.
Thud—
Spasms wracked their bodies.
"Hee… hik… hik…"
"Ah, ah, ah, ah…"
Drool leaked from the priests' slack lips as meaningless syllables tumbled past their teeth. Their eyes rolled entirely into their skulls until only the whites showed. Facial muscles and limbs twitched uncontrollably in erratic convulsions. True to the terrifying literal meaning of the word dementia, their minds appeared thoroughly scraped away, as if erased by an abrasive sponge.
Hold on. Everything else in this world was virtually identical to Noah. Why was this skill completely different?
Wuuush—
I hastily channeled Mana Sight to inspect the afflicted priests, and what I saw was sickening.
Their egos were utterly erased. Brains and souls lay thoroughly ruined. The neural tissue preserving memory and the spiritual essence anchoring personality had been scraped utterly clean, leaving behind nothing more than blank parchment. Aside from their fully grown adult frames, they were no different than newborn babes.
Uh… okay… this is a bit much…
"Fall back from the mist! Immediately!" the bishop screeched, scrambling to pull the survivors back, but it was already too late. In the blink of an eye, the majority of the priests surrounding me had been wiped out. Looking at them now, death seemed far more merciful.
Ever since taking this demonic form, human tragedies rarely moved me. But this horror pierced straight through those monstrous instincts, stirring genuine pity.
"My apologies. That was excessive."
Even Faust's vocal cords, which usually twisted my speech into archaic grandiosity, spoke my exact thoughts aloud. That showed just how horrifying the sight was.
Thankfully, Time Reversal could likely piece their minds back together. Until the Church formally surrendered, though, I had no choice but to leave them as they were.