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“…What the happened?”

The inquisitor had fallen asleep. In addition to the stab wounds on her body, minor cuts were scrawled across her body like graffiti. Her face contorted with fatigue. Her limbs were limp, her robes soiled with blood, sweat, and dirt, and her chest was torn open by a sword. I tugged at the hem.

(She said the Mercenary turned on them.)

The mercenary, Arjen Elmion, reportedly fought against the Inquisitors, including Bishop Andrei, and she left the battlefield at the Bishop’s command.

“Why on earth would he….”

The question swirled through my head. The Arjen I knew was psychotic and cold-blooded, but he was never one to slash people for no reason.

No, that was the Arjen from the novel.

(We’ll just have to wait for her to wake up. We can’t just assume things.)

“…Okay, but we should still contact the palace.”

A cut with the intention to kill. In my head, I envision Arjen attacking Andrei and the inquisitors at his side falling apart, unable to match his strength and skill. Andrei would try to stall Arjen, but his skill with the sword is unmatchable. His eyes glowed like a cold, bleeding sword. I look into them and ask wordlessly, “What happened? Why would you do that?

“Elroy, I’m coming in.”

Daphne’s voice, barely above a whisper, opened the door. Worried eyes looked at the inquisitor. She set down the tray of towels, bowls of water, and medication and examined the wound.

“We already used some high-quality medicine, but she’ll need time to rest.”

I nodded, not taking my eyes off the inquisitor.

“And Marianne?”

“She decided to make a quick trip back to the Holy Land. With the Bishop and the Inquisitors unaccounted for, there must be a major gap in the security of the Holy Land.”

Unaccounted for. It wasn’t something I wanted to hear. Not knowing was a bad thing. Where could Arjen be now? Was Bishop Andrei dead, or had he escaped? Had all the remaining Inquisitors been killed by Arjen, or had they survived on their own?

“Were there still any doomsday cultists left?”

“We don’t know…”

Either the heretics had done something, or Arjen had betrayed the Inquisitors alone. I bit my lip and looked at the inquisitor. Her breathing was becoming slightly irregular, so she must be waking up soon. Her fluttering eyelids fluttered open. The inquisitor took a few deep breaths and turned to me.

“…Where am I?”

Her voice was clear, knowing she almost bled out a few hours ago. Her hazy gray eyes flickered between me and Daphne before settling on me.

“You said that the mercenary returning from an engagement with the enemy suddenly started attacking you and that Bishop Andrei ordered you to flee the scene and end up here.”

“…Yes. That’s right.”

The inquisitor ran her hand over her wounds. She seemed to be using the injury to probe her memory. The pain must still be excruciating, but she didn’t blink an eye.

“Were you tracking the Doomsday Cult?”

“Yes. The pursuit finally reached their core. We exposed many of them during the raid on the Magic Tower before the Meteor.”

Starting with my question, the inquisitor began to tell me one story after another.

“We were ordered to guard the entrance while the Bishop and the Mercenary led the charge….”

Her brow furrowed slightly.

“And, coming out of that room was…the mercenary who didn’t look like his usual self.”

***

“It stinks.”

Andrei muttered as he flicked his cigarette into the ashtray. It reeked of decay. Arjen did not breathe deeply. Intense stimulation dulls the other senses.

“Don’t you think it’s time to get used to it?”

“This place seems unusually poisonous. It makes my head spin.”

Arjen nodded his head faintly in agreement. The smell of corpses, or rather, the smell of decaying, neglected wounds. It was a familiar odor in the bases of the Doomsday Cult. Their scent did not mix with other scents.

“What about the back?”

Andrei asked. The inquisitors who had disposed of the evil worshippers were joining them one by one. The last to arrive reported.

“They’re all cleaned up.”

“Losses?”

“One death. Two wounded. Nothing else.”

The Inquisitors spoke of their deaths with such ease. Andrei nodded grimly, then turned to look at the darkened den.

“Took us long enough.”

“If anything, it was strangely fast, considering that we’ve only had a year to drive them back after they’ve had deep roots in every corner of the continent for hundreds of years.”

Andrei pulled out his weapon. The blade of his dagger flashed through the torchlight, revealing its engraving.

“Get prepared. Me and Arjen lead the way. Half guard the entrance, and the other half follow. Be prepared to secure the exit or cut it off altogether.”

Arjen raised his sword. The end was in sight. But they couldn’t celebrate just yet. Arjen’s eyes narrowed as he studied the blood on his blade. No answers came. Everywhere he turned, what he sought was not there, and his frustration grew. The possibility of redemption the Hero had shown him weighed heavily on Arjen’s heart.

“Let’s go. This time, we’ll both need all our strength.”

Darkness.

Embrace it.

Arjen raised his sword. The first strike was directed at the still-living worshippers. Four were slashed in one blow. They laughed as their throats were cut. The remaining worshippers were all dead in just four strikes. And waiting at their end was a writhing, intangible, black energy.

Andrei watched the black mist flow into Arjen. It was indescribably ominous. Arjen stood, eyes rolling back in his head, convulsing. The inquisitors who had followed into the room stood alert, their holy weapons drawn.

“What are you doing?!”

Andrei screamed, and Arjen turned around. His gaze was hollow. He made three slashes. It cut the floor. It was targeted at two inquisitors and Andrei. Drops of blood drifted along the wind as it swept through the hallway.

Andrei’s weapon broke from the impact, barely able to resist. He reached into his robes in horror, searching for another one. Arjen stood in the doorway, head tilted, watching the inquisitors rush into the room.

“Don’t come in!”

They stopped in their tracks. Arjen lunged at the new opponents and took down one. Andrei took the chance to attack. The golden blade aimed at Arjen’s head was blocked by his sword.

“-!”

It was impossibly heavy. Andrei tumbled to the ground due. He instinctively realized that Arjen was fighting to kill. The Inquisitors did not hesitate to lunge at him, each ready to kill. Arjen disappeared from the spot.

“I survived….”

The words leaked out of Arjen’s thinly parted mouth. An invisible line was drawn in the air. Space was torn apart. The limbs of the inquisitors caught between them were severed.

“Kill.”

It didn’t stop. The inquisitors’ blades continued to rush toward Arjen, and he spun, parrying, dodging, and blocking every last one. For Arjen, defense was offense. Inquisitor’s blood splashed into the air. Realizing this, Andrei decided to unleash his full power.

His weapon exploded, temporarily blowing away Arjen. No one was left unharmed. Andrei grabbed a fallen Inquisitor by the shoulders, forcing her to her feet. She was hurt, but at least she was able to move.

“Isila, go to the Capital of Kairos Kingdom. Tell the Hero of the situation.”

“Yes, sir.”

The decision was swift, and orders were not refused. Andrei looked at Isila as she hurried away, then turned to Arjen. His dark eyes were fixed on Andrei. The corner of Arjen’s mouth twitched into a faint arc.

“Damn you, Mr. Arjen. What the hell are you doing?”

“It was no use, Bishop, it was no use.”

“What the hell do you mean? Get a grip!”

“I couldn’t find the way; no, it was just a dead end.”

Arjen struck out. Andrei tried to stop Arjen’s movements with a chant imbued with Holy Mana, but it didn’t slow him down.

“-Vile.”

A strange aura began to emanate from Arjen’s sword. A darkness that swallowed light. Andrei drew on his holy mana even more. His instincts screamed at him to give it his all. It was a fight for life.

An explosion of darkness sent Andrei flying backward. Smoke rose, obscuring the area. Sparks flew from the smoke. In the blink of an eye, swords and lives were exchanged dozens of times. Andrei kicked the door shut. In the darkened room, Andrei’s light filled the space, and Arjen’s darkness grew deeper.

“…Arjen, can you hear me?”

“I hear you. I definitely can. But just because I can hear you doesn’t change anything. Your words cannot change me, just as my sword cannot change the outcome.”

Arjen shook his head.

“It was such a painful experience to undergo possession just like this. I should have considered the possibility of the body being unprepared.”

The corners of Arjen’s mouth twitched upward.

“This is the end of the trail, Bishop.”

“Just so you know.”

Andrei kept his weapon, and his atmosphere suddenly shifted. At the sudden change, Arjen’s eyes lit up.

“It’s been a while since I’ve used these.”

Two daggers materialized in Andrei’s hands.

“So don’t blame me if you die.”

***

When Agnes had heard the whole story, her eyes narrowed. I observed her expression. Her mood was subtly shifting with her change of heart. I looked just like her when I heard what the inquisitor said.

“Hero Elroy.”

After a long silence, Agnes opened her eyes. She had made her decision.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Capture Arjen Elmion alive. If circumstances do not permit, kill him, but if you do, know that you do so on my orders.”

I bowed my head.

“Your Majesty’s will shall be done.”