The Unflappable Heretic and the Inquisitor’s Dilemma

Allen’s strangely neurotic behavior startled Marianne, who had just breathed a sigh of relief, nearly making her jump out of her skin.

She gazed at her young master with a look of terror, as if checking whether excessive blood loss had short-circuited his brain.

‘Greeting an empty wall? Had the young master’s madness escalated?’

****

On the other side of the wall, in the dim, austere monitoring room, the air instantly solidified.

The expressions on the faces of several inquisitors, clad in dark uniforms and sporting skull insignias on their chests, completely fractured.

‘How could Allen de Laval possibly know someone was watching him?’

They exchanged glances, their eyes filled with an unbelievable sense of absurdity and a faint, almost imperceptible horror.

A young inquisitor even instinctively touched their collar, as if an invisible gaze had scorched them there.

All the perplexed gazes ultimately converged on the distinguished, inherently imposing old man in the center of the room.

The elder wore a meticulously tailored, deep purple robe, its edges embroidered with golden threads depicting wheat ears, symbolizing abundance, and starburst patterns, guiding the way.

His grey-blue eyes, as deep as a cold abyss, were now fixed through the one-way mirror on the smirking black-haired youth in the infirmary.

He was the Archbishop of the Northern Ecclesiastical Province of the Kingdom of Lorraine, the former Grand Master of the Heretical Inquisition, Archbishop Lucien—Albert Morel.

A man whose name alone could silence even the most arrogant nobles in the kingdom.

Having greeted the wall, the black-haired youth nonchalantly turned to his maid, beginning to complain that the hospital gown’s fabric was too rough and scratchy.

Subsequently, he calmly continued with small talk.

“Marianne, have you eaten?”

“…I have.”

“What did you eat?”

“Bread and milk.”

“To think you ate something so normal; I always suspect they’d serve suspicious fare like corpse starch.”

“Young master, such words are enough to brand you a heretic.”

“You wouldn’t understand heresy. Speaking of which, does the Heretical Inquisition offer pork cutlet bowls when interrogating suspects?”

“What nonsense are you spouting now?”

“True. Sigh, lately I’ve been craving rice, but alas, it’s too expensive. The kingdom doesn’t even produce rice, so it’s entirely imported, making its price so exorbitant that not even nobles dare to consume it as a staple.”

“There’s actually some rice left at home. If you wish to eat it, I’ll make you Imperial-style risotto when we return.”

“Boohoo… Marianne, you’re truly wonderful; I must have been blind as a bat before. Oh, and if you plan to poison me, remember to use a slow-acting one. If I die halfway through, such precious rice would go to waste.”

“Do you feel unwell if you’re not being annoying?”

Allen’s relaxed demeanor, akin to someone chatting idly while sunbathing in their backyard, was utterly incongruous with the Heretical Inquisition’s cold, oppressive, soul-crushing atmosphere, which was capable of breaking even the most resilient individuals.

He seemed utterly oblivious to his perilous situation, even having the leisure to teach his maid how to make omurice.

It was difficult to imagine that this carefree noble young master had, just moments ago, subtly probed his observers in such an uncanny manner.

“The most troublesome type,” a veteran inquisitor muttered under their breath. “Either their psychological fortitude is exceptionally strong, or they’re simply missing a screw.”

“What’s more frightening is that he didn’t even flinch at the sight of the blood bag,” another inquisitor added.

This was highly abnormal!

In an era where bloodletting was considered a legitimate medical practice, shouldn’t a normal person be terrified, screaming ‘witchcraft!’ upon seeing blood flow into their body through a thin tube?

Yet, Allen de Laval showed not the slightest surprise; his reaction was as calm as if he were accepting a cup of warm water.

‘This fellow must not be allowed to remain for long!’

A chilling murderous intent welled up in the hearts of almost all the inquisitors.

To the Heretical Inquisition, the unknown was the greatest threat!

Regardless of the inquisitors’ thoughts, the final decision rested solely with the silent elder.

Archbishop Lucien finally spoke, his voice calm yet resonating like a gavel striking their hearts:

“You still let him get away.”

The “him” the Archbishop referred to was the Blood Priest who had escaped from the underground lair beneath the slaughterhouse.

The Heretical Inquisition’s headquarters was located in the royal capital of Lucien, where the Church’s most elite forces were concentrated.

The Blood Priest’s ability to break through the layers of blockade by the Guardian Knights, Armed Nuns, and inquisitors suggested only two possibilities.

Either they had hidden their true strength, or the Heretical Inquisition was incompetent.

Allowing a heretical leader to slip away during a crackdown, right under the nose of the Kingdom Church’s headquarters?

This was tantamount to a resounding slap across the face of the Heretical Inquisition.

Everyone lowered their heads in shame; no one dared to respond to the Archbishop’s words.

The Archbishop, however, paid no mind to his subordinates’ silence, continuing to speak to himself:

“There’s a heretical stronghold operating less than five kilometers from Saint Elliot Cathedral. Allen de Laval, this unlearned noble young master, knew about it, yet you… failed to notice?”

The leader’s accusatory tone was unmistakably clear.

Everyone present understood the Archbishop’s character: when he was displeased with his subordinates’ incompetence, it was best not to argue anything like, ‘Allen de Laval is likely involved with heretics, and he deliberately leaked information to cover up a deeper conspiracy.’

They could only quickly devise ways to rectify their mistakes.

The current Grand Master of the Heretical Inquisition, who was also the Archbishop’s former attendant, immediately stepped forward, adopting an extremely subservient posture:

“Your Eminence, after we dismantled the heretical stronghold, we accelerated our sweep, capturing all other previously registered heretics in one fell swoop, preventing anyone else from escaping. Furthermore, we are now conducting a concentrated crackdown on the increasingly rampant heretical activities in the royal capital, and the heretics’ arrogance will soon be extinguished.”

“Next, we will also strengthen patrols and apprehend the escaped heretic as soon as possible! We never imagined those heretics would be so audacious as to establish their operational base in the densely populated lower district. Our negligence led to such a grave outcome. We will immediately initiate self-inspection and rectification efforts…”

The Archbishop raised a hand, stopping his subordinate’s bureaucratic speech.

Such post-facto justifications held no meaning.

The royal capital had enjoyed peace for too long; the Heretical Inquisition’s blade… had not been sharpened in ages.

This failure, in fact, presented an opportunity for internal reform.

The Archbishop’s grey-blue eyes, capable of seeing into people’s hearts, remained fixed on Allen’s languid demeanor.

“Begin the interrogation.”

****

The blinding white light of the interrogation room stung the eyes.

An inquisitor with a face as hard and cold as iron sat opposite Allen, their gaze as sharp as a blade, attempting to peel away every layer of the youth’s disguise.

“Allen de Laval, how did you know the heretics intended to assassinate you? And how did you pinpoint their lair so precisely?”

The interrogation had already been underway for some time.

Under the endless barrage of questions, Allen appeared distracted.

He surveyed his surroundings, carefully observing the interrogation room with its padded, crash-proof walls.

To alleviate his boredom, he even tried to locate hidden cameras.

Once he accepted the premise that the Church possessed “black technology,” he ceased to be surprised by its anachronistic advancements.

If the Heretical Inquisition had it, then an additional Mechanicus Order would be perfectly normal, wouldn’t it?

He had previously been anxious about how to deal with Livia, but now he had an answer in his heart.

‘I admit you’re strong, but can your flesh withstand a 7.62×39mm intermediate cartridge?’

‘Can you?’

‘Eh, wait… she actually might be able to?!’

‘The plot of _Starlight Love Song_ only seemed to take place in a low-magic world, but in reality, it wasn’t so.’

‘Livia’s Starfall Emblem had an incredibly terrifying upper limit. But in the original work, there was more than one monster even more terrifying than Livia, that phoenix among women!’

‘Leaving aside other things, the mere possibility that “God” truly existed made the scale of this world sufficiently frightening.’

‘Thinking this way, it made sense that the Church, despite possessing black technology, chose to suppress it and hinder societal development.’

‘There must be some profound meaning behind it.’

The inquisitor, seeing Allen glance around and refuse to answer, slammed a fist on the table, producing a loud bang.

“Are you pretending not to hear me? Answer me!”

Snapping back to reality, Allen blinked, his face an innocent mask of ‘Why are you yelling at me?’

“I already told you, it was a revelation from the Lord! The great Lord simply couldn’t stand your dawdling any longer, so He sent me a dream!”

“Be serious! This concerns your life and death!”

“I am very serious!” Allen’s expression instantly switched to that of a compassionate saint, even imbued with a martyr’s glow. “You want to kill me? Come! To die a martyr for the Lord is my glory! But think carefully: what would your actions be, killing a devout believer enlightened by the Lord? Would it count as aiding heretics? Would it be blasphemy? The Lord is watching from above!”

The inquisitor: “…”

In their twenty years of service, they had interrogated the most cunning heretics and the most fanatical cultists, but never had they encountered someone who so righteously and logically turned the tables!

This young man’s every word invoked the Lord, yet each phrase was a dagger to the heart, each blow aimed at the Inquisition’s core.

“Why would He give you a revelation?”

“What do you think?” Allen grew more animated, spittle nearly splattering the recorder’s face. “The Lord couldn’t stand it anymore, could He? He bypassed all of you, giving a revelation to a profligate like me who isn’t even a believer! That means you’ve disappointed Him!

“You take the tithes painstakingly paid by everyone, and right under the Church’s nose, you let such a massive heretical stronghold take root and flourish. This is a clear manifestation of your incompetence!”

Allen was genuinely a little angry at this point.

If the Heretical Inquisition had taken his intelligence seriously from the start, why would he have needed to fight that False Mark Knight to the death?

Moreover, judging by the inquisitor’s attitude, it was highly probable that the Heretical Inquisition had failed to capture the heretical leader and intended to extract information from him while also pinning the blame on him.

Ultimately, he would have to resolve the dangers created by the Heretical Inquisition himself!

‘These useless people, no wonder Livia single-handedly wiped them out; their operational capabilities are simply too poor.’

“In short, please reflect properly! Have you been working diligently? Huh? Where’s the efficiency? The sense of responsibility? Are taxpayers’ money just being thrown away?”

The inquisitor’s veins throbbed on their forehead, feeling their blood pressure surge.

Most people would feel some tension during an interrogation, yet Allen adopted a defiant stance, even seizing control and interrogating the inquisitor.

It was a complete reversal of roles!

The inquisitor suppressed their burgeoning rage, calmly applying pressure: “What is your connection to the Scarlet Spiral Cult?”

“What connection could I possibly have with those anti-human lunatics?! The only connection is probably that my family and they have an irreconcilable blood feud! I myself was almost stabbed into a sieve by them!”

“If it weren’t for the Lord giving me a revelation to make preparations in advance, could my alcohol-ravaged body have defeated those drug-crazed fanatics?” Allen rolled his eyes. “In short, the source of the information is the Lord! I am innocent! What about you? How do you prove there isn’t an internal mole among you? Otherwise, why were you kept in the dark for so long?”

A perfect logical loop formed—question me? First, prove yourselves clean!

The experienced inquisitor was somewhat stunned by this barrage of attacks, their thoughts involuntarily led astray.

‘Yes… why could heretics lurk in the royal capital for so long? Could there really… be an inside mole?’

A chill ran down their spine.

The inquisitor tried to dismiss their suspicions about the Inquisition and continue the interrogation, yet Allen suddenly demanded that the inquisitor must provide evidence that the Heretical Inquisition was trustworthy.

This absurd demand infuriated the inquisitor, but Allen completely ignored their blazing eyes, instead fanning the flames with even greater intensity:

“I seriously suspect you are a heretical spy; your agitation, does it indicate you realize I am a great threat to the cult? If you torture me, it will naturally be a coerced confession, and if you kill me, it will further prove you intend to silence me.”

“I hear the Heretical Inquisition is proficient in all sorts of tortures; if you don’t mind, you can try them all on me! My body may suffer, but my soul will become purer. If I can’t endure the torture, kick the bucket and die! Eh, then I’ll just go complain to the Lord.”

In the monitoring room, there was a deathly silence.

Watching the silver-tongued youth on the monitor screen, who had twisted the inquisitor into self-doubt, and observing his subordinate’s increasingly bewildered and self-questioning expression, Archbishop Lucien sighed softly, a hint of weary disappointment in his voice:

“Enough, bring him back. Any more questions will only make us look like fools.”