A Means to Atonement

No sooner had he finished shouting than a sense of relief washed over him.

Yelica, however, seized this opportune moment to shift the conversation and alleviate the lingering awkwardness.

“Enough with the nonsense. Confess truthfully: Who are you? What are your intentions? What is your cult’s objective?”

Yelica delivered the standard ‘interrogation triple-whammy,’ then immediately prepared to resort to physical persuasion.

“Refuse to speak, will you? Allow me to enlighten you on why an Inquisitor’s staff is equipped with a blood groove.”

“Wait a moment! At least give me a chance to speak! I’ll tell you everything!”

The Corpse Herder instantly dropped to his knees, leaving Yelica with the frustrating sensation of punching cotton.

The crowd’s curiosity, piqued by what the Corpse Herder was about to reveal, momentarily pushed aside the matter of the God’s Chosen.

“My name is Gelan. I used to be a worker living in the Westin district. After I lost my job, a group of people approached me, promising me work. I followed them, only to discover upon arrival that it was a cult. By then, it was too late to escape, so I had no choice but to remain.”

Yodel furrowed his brow, sensing a flaw in Gelan’s account:

“Yet, when I apprehended you, weren’t you operating alone? If you claim you were tricked into joining this cult, why didn’t you seize the opportunity to escape and seek help from the Church while you had the freedom to move?”

“This…” Gelan stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence for a long while.

Gelan’s hesitant, half-spoken demeanor aroused Yodel’s suspicion, prompting him to decide on a lie detection test.

“Yelica, if we discover later that he has lied, you are to kill him immediately, even if I attempt to stop you at that moment.”

“Oh? Alright, then. You said it; no backing out.”

Having received Yelica’s affirmation, Yodel turned his gaze back to Gelan.

No death premonition appeared.

“He appears to be telling the truth for now, Yelica. Continue the interrogation.”

“Speak, then. Why didn’t you seize the chance to escape and seek assistance from the Church?” Yelica pressed, placing her staff directly against Gelan’s forehead. The bayonet on its tip (TL Note: Yes, Inquisitors of the Sacred Anthem Church attach bayonets to their staffs) was poised to quite literally ‘open his mind’.

Gelan could only stammer out:

“Because… those cultists actually paid me exactly as they promised. Not a single coin was missing, and they never delayed payments. They were far better than my former employer, Mr. Moras!”

Yodel’s face twitched. He hadn’t expected to hear Mr. Moras’s name here of all places, especially since it hadn’t been long since his head-seven (TL Note: A traditional Chinese mourning ritual, where the seventh day after death is particularly significant). Yodel still hadn’t managed to spend all the immense sum of money he’d acquired from the man.

Witnessing the plights of both Joel and Gelan, former laborers, Yodel gained an ever-clearer understanding of how that colossal fortune had been amassed.

Gelan trembled beneath the bayonet, yet he still mustered his courage, stammering out a plea:

“Your Excellency, Inquisitor, I have a family. I need bread and clothes; I need money. I truly had no other choice… I never intended to harm anyone, nor do I believe in the cult’s doctrines. I merely wished to survive, to earn a pittance.”

Yelica retracted her staff and turned her face away. She might dare to meet the gaze of the most fanatical cultists, but she found herself unable to look directly into the eyes of a destitute laborer.

“Alas,” Yodel sighed, a long, drawn-out sound.

“Yelica, how do you typically handle cultists once they are apprehended?”

“We typically don’t apprehend them; we execute them on the spot.”

Yelica had initially intended to say this, but after a moment’s thought, she rephrased:

“I haven’t seen any cultists. If I did, I would usually kill them on the spot.”

An irrepressible expression of surprise and relief bloomed on Gelan’s face. Among the four individuals present, the Inquisitor was the one most likely to kill him. Since she was willing to relent, his chances of survival had significantly increased.

Now, it hinged on the attitudes of the remaining three.

Lauren and Collins both looked toward Yodel, the individual of highest standing among them, whose single word could determine Gelan’s fate.

Indeed, Yodel had his own thoughts on the matter.

Was Gelan guilty?

With 0 kills, 0 deaths, and 9 assists, he could not be considered entirely innocent.

Yet, guilt did not equate to being beyond redemption.

“Here are 100 gold pounds. Take them.”

Yodel pressed the money into Gelan’s hand.

“This is your unpaid wages, money you rightfully earned, and so I return it to you.

“However, this does not absolve you of guilt. What you considered a minor transgression might well be the single snowflake that triggers an avalanche. Neither you nor I know the full extent of the calamity the Everlife Society might ultimately unleash. Therefore, even if you acted out of desperation, you must still atone.

“Thus, I hope you will tell us everything you know and have witnessed, without reservation. Perhaps, with your assistance, we can nip this disaster in the bud.”

“I will, Your Excellency! Please ask; I shall tell you everything!” Gelan exclaimed, tears of joy streaming down his face. He knew he was safe, not only free from the cult but also assured of a livelihood.

Yodel observed that Gelan was not the only one who relaxed upon hearing his words; Lauren, Yelica, and Collins also visibly exhaled in unison.

Though their philosophies, social strata, and statuses differed, everyone present shared a unified stance regarding Gelan.

Yodel ultimately decided against revealing Gelan’s nine assists.

Subsequently, the atmosphere within the reception room transformed entirely. What had begun as an interrogation fraught with violence and coercion now resembled a confession to a priest, an absolution to a pastor.

Gelan, for his part, answered every question posed by the quartet with unwavering candor.

“What does the Everlife Society intend to do by procuring such vast quantities of Soul-Shifting Grass recently?”

“Your Excellency, God’s Chosen, to my knowledge, the Everlife Society appears to be conducting some blasphemous experiments. They are resurrecting the dead! Moreover, they aren’t merely purchasing medicinal herbs; they are also abducting people for these experiments—I witnessed it with my own eyes!”

“How much do you know about these experiments?”

“Regrettably, Your Excellency, Inquisitor, the specific details are known only to a select few core members. However, I possess a means to help you make contact with one of them.”

“Truly? Elaborate.”

“Do you recall the herbal stall where I purchased the Soul-Shifting Grass? The proprietor is one of their core members. He is responsible for transporting the herbs to the black market, and my original task was to discreetly transfer the Soul-Shifting Grass from him back to the Church, accompanied by living corpses. Another batch of herbs is scheduled for transfer tomorrow, and it is highly probable he will appear again.”

All four individuals simultaneously brightened with delight. To their astonishment, a clue that dozens of Minkton’s detectives had failed to unearth was found in a humble laborer.

Observing the expressions of these distinguished figures, Gelan, ever quick to adapt, promptly volunteered:

“I am willing to lead you to him. Should I accidentally perish during the apprehension, consider it an act of atonement. I only ask that you ensure the 100 gold pounds are delivered to my family.”

Yodel nodded. “Very well. For today, you will remain in Minkton. Tomorrow, we will set out to apprehend him. For now, however, we require you, sir, to excuse yourself.”

Before formally commencing the operation, he needed to find an opportunity to clarify the matter of his God’s Chosen identity to Lauren and Collins, hence his temporary dismissal of Gelan.

Hearing the God’s Chosen address him as “sir” left Gelan overwhelmed and flattered. He dutifully acceded to Yodel’s request and departed the reception room.

With the room cleared, Yodel adjusted his tone and straightened his posture:

“Alright, then. As both of you have heard, I am the God’s Chosen of Death.”