The Immortal’s Reckless Revelation

“Specializing in one area, it’s actually quite an apt description.”

Yelica kicked the Corpse Herder.

“I heard from the police that you knocked this guy out with your bare fists. For a God’s Chosen, your combat ability seems rather weak, doesn’t it?”

“You’re not wrong,” Yodel conceded.

“I’d estimate that with your strength, you could easily take on fifty of me at once.”

He couldn’t deny it, nor was there any need to.

“So how did you dare to be so bold then?” she pressed.

“Charging straight into a close-quarters fight with a cultist—you’re even more reckless than I am!”

“I am the God of Death’s Chosen,” Yodel stated.

“Why do you think I’m so bold?”

The implication was so blatant that even Yelica grasped it in an instant.

“You’re not… immortal, are you?”

“Close enough,” Yodel confirmed.

“You could fight ten of me, or even a hundred, simultaneously.

But no matter how many times you kill me, I can resurrect and keep fighting you.

I could wear you out until you drop dead from exhaustion.”

Of course, his combat record would look increasingly dreadful, but only he could see that, so who cared?

The mere thought of the scenario sent shivers down Yelica’s spine: identical corpses piled high at her feet, only for a fully revived Yodel to step over them and resume the fight moments later.

“That ability is just too overpowered,” she marveled.

As Yelica exclaimed, the carriage arrived at the agency.

The moment she stepped through the door, clad in a nun’s habit, a solid metal staff capable of caving in a skull held in her right hand, and a seemingly dead man dragged by her left, Yelica instantly became the center of attention.

“Esteemed Inquisitor, how may we be of service?” the receptionist, who had previously attended to Yodel, greeted her with an overly eager smile and an exceptionally solicitous demeanor.

The Church of Hymns was notoriously radical, a faction of zealots who would never let a cultist go once caught.

No one wished to make an enemy of them.

While unaware of Yelica’s purpose, they knew it was always best to appease her first.

Yelica turned to Yodel.

“What do we do next?”

“Take us to Lauren,” Yodel instructed the receptionist.

“Uh, you’re the gentleman from last time…” The receptionist recognized Yodel, their gaze flitting between the two.

‘Had he brought an Inquisitor to raid the place?

Surely, their agency hadn’t committed any transgressions, had it?’

Filled with such apprehension, the receptionist nervously led the pair deeper into the agency.

Just as they reached the reception room door, Yodel spotted Lauren.

Upon seeing that the so-called Inquisitor was Yelica, Lauren’s previously tense, battle-ready expression visibly relaxed.

“Ah, Ms. Cooper and Mr. Finn,” Lauren said, forcing a smile to mask their earlier tension.

“Please do inform us in advance next time you visit, so we can prepare a proper welcome.”

Collins, at just the right moment, opened the reception room door and gestured for them to enter.

Everyone took their seats, while the Corpse Herder was unceremoniously tossed to the floor by Yelica.

Once the outsiders had been dismissed, Lauren offered a wry smile.

“My esteemed guests, I beg of you both, please don’t make such a grand entrance through the main door next time,” they pleaded.

“If you continue like this, tomorrow’s newspaper headline will undoubtedly scream, ‘Minkton Colludes with Cults, Raided by Inquisitors!'”

“That serious?” Yodel glanced at Yelica, who maintained a stoic expression, her gaze fixed disapprovingly on Lauren.

Despite Yelica’s rather unfortunate standing with Yodel, her identity as an Inquisitor still commanded immense authority in the eyes of outsiders.

“You’re not unfamiliar with the Inquisitors’ formidable… reputation, are you?” Lauren explained.

“When I heard an Inquisitor was looking for me, Collins almost sent someone to seek Ms. Cooper’s help, only to find out it *was* Ms. Cooper herself.”

“I’m quite curious, Mr. Lauren,” Yelica pressed relentlessly, “why were you so apprehensive upon hearing an Inquisitor was looking for someone?”

Lauren and Collins cast pleading glances at Yodel.

Yodel cleared his throat.

“All right, all right. The people of Minkton are our allies in the fight against the Immortality Society.

Without their strong support, I wouldn’t have been able to make such significant progress.”

“Fine, you’re in charge then,” Yelica conceded, finally relenting.

“After all, you’re all subordinates of *that* person, aren’t you?”

‘Subordinates?

Whose subordinates?

Weren’t they in a cooperative relationship with Yodel?

When did they become subordinates?’

Lauren and Collins suspected Yelica had misunderstood something, but since she had agreed to let them off the hook, neither dared to pursue the matter further.

Lauren gratefully thanked Yodel and Yelica, only to swiftly realize that something about Yodel’s earlier statement was amiss.

“Wait a moment,” they interjected.

“Did you just say you’d made significant progress?”

Lauren and Collins exchanged a look.

‘Surely not.’

‘Information gathered in the morning, a major breakthrough by evening?’

‘What happened to the adage that an individual’s capabilities ultimately have their limits?’

“Yelica, help me drag that man over here,” Yodel instructed, pointing at the Corpse Herder.

Instead of simply dragging him as Yodel requested, Yelica kicked the Corpse Herder, sending the unfortunate cultist flying in an arc to crash before the three of them.

Indeed, such was the attitude of the Church of Hymns towards cultists.

The sensation of falling combined with intense pain jolted the disoriented Corpse Herder back to full consciousness, and he gazed around, utterly bewildered.

“I found him near the black market,” Yodel explained.

“He was with four dead men—or rather, animated corpses—trying to buy Phantasmal Spirit Grass.

I concluded he was most likely a member of the Immortality Society, so I apprehended him.”

Lauren and Collins nearly spat out their tea.

Earlier that morning, they had confidently declared that Yodel couldn’t possibly make any progress, yet before the day was even out, they had been thoroughly proven wrong.

Fortunately, Yodel was unaware of their private discussions, otherwise, the two of them would have been utterly humiliated.

The Corpse Herder was dumbfounded.

“How did you know those four were dead men?

We thought our secrecy was impeccable; how were we exposed?”

“Pfft, that’s just brilliant,” Yelica scoffed, mocking him directly.

“Bringing dead men to meet the God of Death’s Chosen—what incredible luck you have.”

Suddenly, everyone fell silent.

The Corpse Herder, Lauren, and Collins all simultaneously looked at Yelica, then just as quickly, they all turned their gaze to Yodel.

Yodel, resigned, covered his face with his hands and lowered his head.

Yelica pulled back her neck, asking cautiously, “Why has everyone gone quiet?”

“Ahem, well, it seems we’ve overheard something we shouldn’t have.”

Collins tremblingly placed their teacup back on the table, spilling tea onto their sleeve; Lauren tried to light a cigar to calm their nerves, but failed several times.

Yodel managed a smile that was uglier than a grimace.

“My dear Ms. Yelica,” he said, “ten seconds ago, you were the only one in this world who knew I was the God of Death’s Chosen.”

“Ah?” Only then did Yelica realize the gravity of her blunder.

“I-I-I… I’m so sorry!

I thought you were all on the same side, all followers of that same deity!

This, I, uh… I’m sorry!”

Yelica sprang from the sofa, fully embodying the spirit of deep apology (TL Note: A humorous term referring to exaggerated, almost theatrical apologies, often involving bowing deeply or groveling, derived from the Japanese ‘dogeza’ where one kneels and bows their head to the ground).

She seemed just one step away from performing a *dogeza*.

“Fortunately, whether something is a ‘leak’ is for me to decide,” Yodel remarked.

“Otherwise, your curse would be activating right about now.”

Having witnessed Yelica’s thoughtless speech before, Yodel knew she truly hadn’t meant to cause trouble.

‘Well, since things have come to this, I’ll drop the act.

I had intended to interact with you all as an ordinary person, but I’m no longer pretending.

I am the God’s Chosen.

The cards are on the table!’