Chapter 202

"-Miss Hayes Roche, you’ve applied for the history department. Is that correct?"

The woman with golden bobbed hair and striking blue eyes nodded immediately.

"More precisely, I have a deep interest in theology. My dream is to trace the miracles of the Great Light and follow in Their footsteps during Their earthly manifestation. I believe that the history department, with its extensive records and rich traditions, is the ideal place to achieve that goal."

"Oh."

The professor conducting the first interview for the history department let out an impressed hum.

Passionate students were always welcome in academia. Enthusiasm was a critical trait in the field of archaeology, and he was already considering asking if she had any interest in becoming a graduate student.

However, an interview alone couldn’t reveal everything about a candidate.

"So, let’s see how you do in the debate round."

"…Thank you!"

Unlike the swordsmanship or magic departments, practical evaluations for academic fields were primarily conducted through debates.

That meant she had effectively passed the first interview, and her face lit up with joy.

"I do hope you perform just as well in the practical exam."

Normally, the practical portion was held first, followed by interviews, but this year, the process had been reversed. It wasn’t unheard of—the format and sequence changed every year.

The professor, satisfied with his potential future graduate student, left first. The girl, still glowing with happiness, exited the interview room shortly after.

From there, she naturally made her way to the restroom, and once inside—

"—Too easy."

The smile vanished from her lips.

Her expression turned cold.

A smirk of contempt replaced her earlier excitement, and she realized just how smoothly things were going.

'So much for the Royal Academy being thorough and cunning. Turns out, they’re just naive.'

She had prepared extensively.

Yet, she hadn’t even needed half of her plans. Everything was proceeding far too smoothly, and she had no reason not to be pleased.

Still, one thing nagged at her.

'I never expected to run into a Class-1 Priority Threat this soon…'

Hayes Roche recalled the knight standing atop the platform.

Even while standing still, his sheer presence had overwhelmed an audience of thirty thousand.

'…Ihan Turtle.'

Most of his information was already etched into her mind.

[Age: 30]

[Place of Birth: A rural village between the central and western regions. Sold into slavery by his parents at a young age. His whereabouts remained unknown for fifteen years.]

[Reappeared as a mercenary in a small southern company. The unit was soon wiped out due to a betrayal by a noble house from Briton, leaving him as the sole survivor.]

[Reported the betrayal to the Mercenary Guild, leading to the annihilation of the noble family. He then settled in Pendragon and became a soldier. Soon after, war broke out.]

[One of the few survivors of the Southern Unification War, which had the highest casualty rate of any conflict in the last 300 years. Distinguished himself enough to be personally knighted by Transcendent Baltar Grace.]

[For three years after becoming a knight, little information was available. However, recent investigations suggest he is the same person as The Heartbreaker, the most feared 'Mage Hunter' and 'Slaver Executioner' in the South.]

[Even if he isn’t The Heartbreaker, his ability to stand against a Demon King-class fiend confirms he is an exceptionally dangerous combatant.]

[Ranked as a Class-1 Threat on the ten-tier scale. If confrontation occurs, maintaining a friendly relationship is a priority. If hostility arises—]

‘…Evacuation is strongly advised.’

"Hah, they weren’t exaggerating."

Hayes let out a dry laugh.

Recalling the intelligence her organization had gathered, she couldn’t help but agree.

Having seen him in person, she understood—he was a threat.

A monster beyond reason.

‘Not even the temple has someone that terrifying… oh.’

…Actually, that wasn’t true.

There was someone like that.

But ‘they’ were on her side. That made all the difference.

Having such a monster among the enemy, however, was downright horrifying.

She seriously considered following orders and fleeing immediately.

There was no way she could handle him.

That is, unless…

'At night, the situation changes.'

With the blessing her organization had given her, her [Mystic Power] would make her nearly invincible under the cover of darkness.

Especially against men.

"Huuh…"

Hayes took a deep breath, weighing her options.

And then, she made her decision.

'I’ll proceed with the mission.'

Given the nature of her assignment, passing the exams was non-negotiable.

'Escape is off the table. I’ll continue taking the tests.'

Running wasn’t necessarily a bad option, but if she fled now, she would lose everything.

And the organization… wouldn’t have any use for a failure.

Being deemed disposable was worse than death.

Even if that knight suspected her, there was no way he could do anything to an applicant.

…Right?

Hayes was certain—

That knight was bound by honor.

As an instructor, as a knight, he couldn’t harm an examinee.

She was sure of it—

—Click.

"……."

"I’ll ask the questions. Every time you take more than a second to answer, I’ll pull the trigger without hesitation. But don’t worry. You won’t die immediately."

"Wh… Who are you…?"

"The Incubus Factor won’t let you die so easily, will it? …The one you stole from me."

"You’re…!"

"Nightmares don’t die easily from gunshots, do they?"

The cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of her head.

A woman, her voice calm yet unnervingly unstable, stood behind her.

Judia Pierre’s eerie golden eyes glowed with chilling malice.

Hayes broke into a cold sweat.

"Y-You’re making a mistake, Father Pierre. This will only cause you trouble."

Though momentarily shaken, Hayes quickly regained her composure.

Even with a gun against her skull, she refused to back down.

That alone proved her sheer nerve.

But—

"You don’t seem to understand your situation."

BANG!

She had picked the wrong opponent for a battle of wills.

An Inquisitor.

They didn’t waste time on emotions or negotiations.

They were the temple’s assassins, trained to eliminate anything that defied the Light.

The trigger was pulled without hesitation.

Hayes’s head should have exploded.

"Khh…!"

…But it didn’t.

It looked like it would, but it didn’t.

Not because the bullet was weak.

But because bullets alone couldn’t pierce a Nightmare’s skull.

"A Nightmare’s body is fluid. It exists, yet it cannot be touched—an enigma of flesh and shadow."

"Urgh…!"

"That’s why most physical attacks are ineffective. They regenerate and adapt."

Click.

Judia Pierre spoke matter-of-factly, but despite her calm tone, her eyes burned with rage.

And for good reason.

She knew where that power came from.

She remembered the pain of being experimented on.

The suffering she had tried to forget, the agony she had forced herself to ignore—

It all came flooding back.

"But just because you can’t die from bullets… doesn’t mean you can’t feel pain. Especially since this bullet is coated in poison. The pain should be exquisite."

"!!"

"Feeling it now? Good. The worse it gets, the more you’ll understand your place."

"Aaaagh!"

"If you want the pain to stop, drop the bravado and answer my questions. Where are you from? How did you obtain that power? Everything. If you comply—"

Click.

"—I’ll grant you a painless death."

The greatest mercy an Inquisitor could offer.

If she wanted, she could make Hayes suffer in ways beyond imagination.

So, this was an act of kindness.

But—

"Y-You call that mercy?! What kind of offer is that?!"

Unfortunately for Hayes, she had never dealt with an Inquisitor before.

She didn’t understand that this was mercy.

Even in agony, she sneered, baring her teeth.

"D-Don’t be ridiculous! You… you have no right to do this to me! You betrayed Bishop Raphael! You’re nothing but a temple lapdog—a butcher!"n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

"……."

"Oh, that’s right. You’re not even human, are you? You’re nothing more than a manufactured personality, aren’t you… Father Pierre?"

BANG! BANG!

Gunshots echoed in rapid succession.

It wasn’t that Pierre had lost her temper.

She simply—

"You really don’t know your place. You must’ve had quite the sheltered upbringing in the temple."

"Aaaaahhhhhh!"

"For you to scream like this from just a bit of pain… I suppose you weren’t trained as an assassin?"

"Who—who the hell are you calling an assassin?! I—I’m going to be a Saintess! I will become a Saintess—huh?!"

For a brief moment, Hayes’s eyes widened in shock.

…Why had she just said that?

"The drug’s taking effect."

"!?"

"People often mistake Inquisitors for mere executioners, but our primary duty is to eliminate threats to the temple and extract information from them. We have at least a few dozen variations of truth serums. The one I used on you is on the stronger side. You might find it difficult to lie ever again."

"L-Lie…?!"

"Think of it however you like. If that makes you feel better."

Pierre’s voice was almost mocking, a predator playing with its prey. Hayes’s eyes burned with fury.

Ruthless.

Despite the poison and pain wracking her body, she refused to yield.

‘Not brainwashing… no, she genuinely believes she was chosen.’

Pierre had seen plenty like her.

The type who had been conditioned since childhood to believe they were special.

It was a favorite tactic of cults.

Pierre clicked her tongue in disgust.

‘Damn heretics.’

The sheer number of heretics hiding within the temple itself enraged her.

And then—

"Hah… you’ll regret this. I-if anything happens to me, they will move against you!"

"They?"

"The—The Holy Knight families that work with the temple! Y-you must have heard of them!"

"……."

Thanks to the truth serum, Hayes couldn’t help but spill everything.

And when she mentioned a Holy Knight family, a single name flashed through Pierre’s mind.

A family that had produced Holy Knights for generations.

One that had always been more loyal to the temple than the royal court.

"Loengrin…"

The Loengrin family.

One of the founding noble houses of Pendragon, said to have once served the King of Knights himself.

If they were inside the academy…

Pierre’s expression darkened.

"Now you get it? Y-you’ve made a mistake. You picked a fight with the wrong person!"

Hayes was now snarling, desperately trying to claw back control.

Persistent.

Even in agony, she clung to the hope of destroying her enemy.

Her words carried the weight of conviction, as if the future would unfold exactly as she willed it.

…But—

"So the Loengrins have moved east, have they?"

"…H-how do you—?"

"That so? Then good."

"??"

Pierre let out a short, amused breath.

The first time she had smiled—not a smirk, not a sneer, but a genuine, entertained grin.

Because the whole situation was just too amusing.

The enemy thought they had played their best possible move.

But against a [beast] with superior instincts, such efforts were meaningless.

"You foolish apostate. Let me make something very clear."

This academy—

—is home to a monster.

***

Crackle!

“?”

Ihan’s ears suddenly itched, and the bridge of his nose tickled.

Was he catching a cold?

“No way. I never get sick…”

Then was he just feeling melancholic because of the season?

Well, it wasn’t surprising, considering the strange order in which he had experienced the seasons this time.

After struggling through blizzards in the dead of winter, he was now facing autumn weather.

Maybe going through the seasons in reverse had left his body a little weak.

“Getting older is terrifying. Back in my twenties, I used to fly around.”

Crack—!

“Ugh, you guys better take care of yourselves while you’re still young. If you mess around too much, you’ll end up in serious trouble.”

“……”

“Well, except for this arrogant bastard.”

Above Ihan’s head, a man boasting a height of three meters was having his back bent at an unnatural angle.

Argentine Backbreaker.

A wrestling technique where the opponent was hoisted onto the shoulders, their thighs and neck restrained, and then crushed downward. If someone asked what the best thing about this move was, the answer was simple.

“I told you—if I take out the trash, I break spines.”

Crunch!

It was a technique perfect for snapping a spine clean in half.

Ihan was the kind of man who never went back on his word.