Chapter 11

10. Every heretic has a plausible plan.

*

Knights, they are living, breathing war machines. Clad in sturdy steel armor (though, many knights aren’t), they charge on their steeds, tearing through enemy lines.

Assuming the magical warfare is at a stalemate, it’s the cold steel and swift cavalry that can turn the tide of battle.

The Royal Griffin Knights of Phaeirn Kingdom.

The Order of the Cross Crusaders of St. Monteg.

The Wild Prince Household of Elven Trident.

The Imperial Ironhead of Leviathan Empire.

The Immortal Battalion of Kirazat Sultanate.

There are other renowned knight orders, but they are all powerful individuals, each holding a quasi-noble title, the ‘Blue Bloods.’

The problem is, the life of a wandering knight is neither pleasant nor honorable.

*

They had set off from Dragonskeep Fortress and were marching straight towards Gloridaine City for three days straight, chewing on jerky and dried rations without a moment’s rest.

According to their past lives, Dreadrazard’s mischief usually starts in late autumn, and it was early summer now. They still had plenty of time, but Zephis didn’t stop.

“If Brother Carterio is alive, he’s probably seeing hell for every moment we rest. Duty calls.”

“Were you close to Sir Carterio?”

“I knew his face.”

Fernandez was sweating, carrying his armor, weapons, and a heavy backpack, while Zephis rode leisurely on his horse. Zephis shrugged.

“That’s enough. Baltazar, how many demons do you think are in this world?”

“…?”

The number of demons? It’s meaningless to count. Demons are spiritual entities, so their numbers can’t be physically counted.

“On the other hand, we are limited. Diemonica has no more than thirty. Even if we recruit new members every year, more veterans die in battle. Heretics? They don’t even number in the hundreds. Dozens are training now, and by the time they’re ready, hundreds will have fallen in battle.”

Zephis’s eyes deepened.

“Close or not, it doesn’t matter. The reason we call each other ‘brothers’ is because we swear to prioritize each other’s lives over our own. Status, origin, and faction don’t matter.”

“What if… a brother falls to a demon?”

The appearance of a demon leaves a mark of magical corruption. Mortals can’t escape the corruption of mind and body. Sooner or later, humans exposed to a demon’s hellish magic will inevitably fall.

“I’ve seen more than two hands’ worth of brothers corrupted by demons in front of me.”

“And then they…”

“I’m the only one left alive.”

Zephis didn’t speak for a long time after that.

*

[Galloping Hooves] was a cheap inn. Among the many inns in Gloridaine, it was nothing special. Zephis and Fernandez tied their horses in the stable and entered the inn.

The inn, well past evening, was bustling with drunken travelers and mercenaries chugging beer. As Fernandez scanned the room, Zephis nudged him.

“Baltazar, be careful.”

“Ah, yes.”

As the two heavily armed giants entered the inn, wary and suspicious eyes turned their way. They headed straight for the counter.

“One room.”

“Kekeke, sharing a bed?”

“Curious?”

“I’m not into that. Kekekeke.”

The innkeeper’s words made the surrounding men chuckle. Zephis, expressionless, tossed a coin.

“Half a Merlyn silver? I don’t have change… How many nights?”

“Three.”

“Three nights? Five copper coins should be enough…”

“Keep the rest. Has a knight named Carterio stayed here?”

“Why would a noble knight come to a dump like this?”

“He did. Three days ago. A man in his 40s, trimmed mustache, blond, about my height.”

“Hmm…”

As the innkeeper eyed Zephis’s coin purse with a sly look, Zephis reached for his money. Fernandez quickly drew a dagger and stabbed it between the innkeeper’s fingers.

-BANG!

The dagger sank deep into the old bar table, and silence fell over the room.

“You dare insult a knight?”

“Hmm. Baltazar.”

The innkeeper gulped, staring at the dagger embedded in the wooden table. A man sitting at the bar suddenly stood up.

“Where do these country bumpkins think they are…”

“Bumpkins?”

-BANG!

“Ugh!”

Fernandez struck the man in the solar plexus as he tried to rise.

As the man clutched his stomach and fell, Fernandez grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the table. The strength was unexpected from his slender frame.

“Any commoner who wants to be charged with insulting a noble, raise your hand.”

“You crazy bastard. What can you do alone…”

-THUD!

“Next time, I’ll execute you.”

Fernandez picked up a wooden mug from the table and threw it at the man who had shouted. The man’s front teeth broke as he collapsed, unconscious. The men in the tavern swallowed hard, glancing at them nervously.

These aren’t ordinary men. The confidence to cause a ruckus without hesitation… The men quietly sat back down.

“A bit rowdy, don’t you think, Baltazar?”

“These scum need to be put in their place.”

“…Not bad. You pass.”

Fernandez grinned and grabbed the innkeeper by the collar, lifting him effortlessly with one hand.

“Gah!”

The innkeeper flailed in Fernandez’s grip. Fernandez pulled him close and growled.

“The crime of insulting a noble. You’ll pay with your wrist.”

-SWISH.

Fernandez pulled the dagger from the table as he spoke. The man’s face turned pale.

“P-please! Spare me! My lord! I was just, just!”

“Just? You have a habit of ‘just’ insulting nobles?”

“N-no, my lord!!!”

As Fernandez’s dagger hovered over his wrist, the man burst into tears, struggling.

‘What strength!’

A slender young man? No, a…





He had a physique that made him look more like a boy. Though wearing armor made him seem somewhat larger, and his build appeared quite sturdy and solid, his face was youthful, making him look young.

However, the innkeeper couldn’t escape from the grip of this young man, who was about half his size!

“You seem to know how to take the initiative, Baltazar. Where did you learn that?”

“Instinct, perhaps?”

In his previous life, Fernandez had lived half his life as a Wildcast (Wandering Mage). After facing all sorts of dirty situations and surviving, he eventually rose to become the leader of a cult.

Zephis trembled as he looked at the man held by Fernandez. Then, from the quiet corner of the tavern, a nomadic man stood up and spoke.

“How about stopping there, knights?”

“?? Who are you?”

When Fernandez glanced over, the nomadic man rubbed his hands and smiled.

“If you’re curious, wouldn’t it be better to ask quietly? It doesn’t seem like a pleasant experience to spill blood and meet the city guards.”

“Smooth talker, huh? Fine, you speak.”

-Thud.

Fernandez laughed and put the innkeeper down. The innkeeper trembled and hid under the bar table.

“If you’re looking for a tall knight with blond hair and a mustache, I might know his whereabouts.”

“Name?”

“How would I have exchanged names with a knight?”

The nomadic man smiled slightly as he said this. Fernandez and Zephis’s eyes met briefly.

‘Should we take him?’

‘No, let’s hear him out first.’

“Do you know where he’s headed?”

“Baron Sebastian. I heard he’s going to meet him.”

Baron Sebastian? It was a name Fernandez had never heard before. Judging by his memory, he didn’t seem to be an important figure.

“You heard it from someone… Who were you talking to?”

“Mercenaries. They said Baron Sebastian has recently taken a liking to slave trading… and is gathering strong men indiscriminately…”

“Is he planning a civil war?”

“No! It’s a dispute with the slave market managers. So that knight is also looking to make some money…”

“Hmm…”

Zephis glanced at Fernandez.

“The Baron and the slave market.”

“I’ll head to the slave market.”

“Hmm? Alright. I’ll check out the Baron.”

Being of noble birth, I understand wanting to stick with nobles… but I had business at the slave market. And I had no clue who Baron Sebastian was.

‘It’s probably an alias or a fake name… I can’t get involved in that. This life, I’m sticking to the straight path.’

*

The center of Gloridaine City was bustling. Fernandez, looking at the road leading to the slave market, was lost in memories.

‘This is where I bought my first sacrifice…’

A port city with the largest slave market in the western continent. The city itself secured most of its funds through slave trading, making it a place where many heretics came to find human sacrifices needed for dark magic.

‘There are too many underground factions, so there’s no dominant one.’

Small factions were rampant, but it was also the front yard of the Inquisition Office. The mutual checks were so severe that no large cult faction existed.

The ‘Cult of Demdrizard,’ which had purchased Kirhas Hearttaker, was just one of those factions.

‘It would be better to take them out first…’

Fernandez entered an alley with a drug den without hesitation. In the alley, people soaked in drugs sat randomly, staring blankly into space.

A place filled with drug dens and cheap brothels. It’s not a place anyone in their right mind would visit during the day. Fernandez walked straight into one of the drug dens with red lights.

“Welcome!”

A one-eyed nomadic man greeted him cheerfully. The necklace around his neck looked familiar. After racking his memory, it seemed he had guessed right.

“I’m here to see Granny Fesit.”

“Who are you…?”

Fernandez grinned and drew the religious symbol of the sect. [De’Lakaz Swarm]. A barbaric indigenous religion and a demon-worshipping cult. He didn’t know where the [Cult of Demdrizard] had their hideout at this time…

‘But I know De’Lakaz Swarm well.’

“Oh, brother! It’s rare to see a human brother, good to see you!”

“Where’s Granny?”

“She’s sleeping now! How about you, where are you from? Come on in!”

The nomadic man smiled warmly and extended his hand. With dirty, long nails, he opened the door to the inner room.

Soon, simple porridge and bread were brought out. Fernandez picked up the bread, dipped it slightly in the porridge, and brought it to his mouth, then chuckled.

‘Maksancho? These demon worshippers really don’t trust people.’

Maksancho was a herb used as a raw material for narcotic truth serums. What the nomadic man overlooked was that without refining and extracting the essence, just grinding the herb and boiling it into porridge wouldn’t affect Diemonica’s bloodstream.

The blood of an Inquisition Officer who had undergone the Diemonica Baptism ritual was nearly immune to physical toxins.

“Thanks for the hospitality, brother.”

“Not at all! Just happy to see you! Where did you train?”

“In the southern jungles.”

“The jungles? Perlica?”

“No, Desaksan.”

“Then what brings you to our bishop?”

“What’s your position?”

“…Warrior.”

“Then I have nothing to discuss with you. I need to see Granny.”

“Wait a moment!”

Seeing that Fernandez showed no signs of being affected by the drug, the nomadic man panicked and blocked the door. Just then, a woman walked in from outside.

“A foreign brother, you say?”

“Oh, Granny.”

“Not many call me that, are you from Desaksan?”

Long, flowing black hair. Sun-tanned skin and a slim, elastic figure. Purple glowing eyes… The woman who entered was an incredibly alluring beauty.

“Al’Fersit. My apologies.”

“How’s old man Karazankol’s dog doing?”

“That old man keeps a cat, doesn’t he?”

“Hmm…”

The woman stared intently at Fernandez and sat across from him. She flicked open a fan with embroidery.

“My apologies.”

“At your age, it’s understandable.”

“Do you know me, young man? That’s quite rude.”

She gestured to the nomadic youth. The youth, after glancing at her, quietly left the room.

“Or is that rudeness… because of the man who came to this city with you?”

“Huh?”

“You had a fight as soon as you arrived, didn’t you?”

“Oh.”

Fernandez humbly admitted. Even if it was a small faction, being locals of this area. And being able to live as ‘locals’ under the nose of the Inquisition Office. These were not easy people.

They must have solid future plans and vicious methods. Like all other heretical religions. Everyone has plausible plans, after all.

Until they meet an Inquisition Officer.

Fernandez grinned.