Chapter 54

“Anne? Anne…! Ah, she’s asleep.”

“Ha, haha…”

“I’m speechless. Where in the world does someone like that exist?”

054

My Reality (Part 2)

Humans blessed by Ailim charge forward. Though only a few cavalry lead the way, the synchronized stomping of dozens of holy warriors alone overwhelms armies of hundreds or thousands.

Elite among elites, fully armored and wielding silver weapons. Warriors on the frontlines battling heretics. The banner with a cross-shaped sword flutters high, and I stand at the forefront, running faster than a horse, roaring.

“For Ailim!”

Today, for the first time in my life, I lied before the gods.

“For our Lord!”

Neither taking to the battlefield nor driving my brothers to their deaths was truly for the Lord. It was for a deeply personal and selfish desire. Too afraid to reveal my true intentions, I deceived my brothers, whispering sweet lies that it was all the will of the gods.

But no. The reason I raised my weapon today was not to kill heretics, but to save them.

“Waaaaah!”

“Judge all heretics—!”

My thighs tense. I launch forward like a bullet, swinging my mace toward the village’s wooden barricade.

A single strike shatters the structure. Amid the flying splinters, the true form of Yefrinse, hidden in plain sight, is revealed.

My beloved hometown. Though I was born elsewhere, this place has always been my only home. Where you were, and where memories of you filled every corner.

I face a girl who has grotesquely twisted and grown into an unrecognizable adult in this distorted, demonic realm.

Yet, no matter how corrupted, I could still recognize the face of my hometown. Amid the hideously warped appearances, glimpses of the past peeked through, sharpening the pain in my heart. My grip on the mace tightens.

The mace, imbued with will, Polaris, glows brilliantly.

“Grrr… Gruk.”

“Gah! These spawns of evil!”

As if anticipating our arrival, young heretics emerge from all corners of the village, screeching and revealing themselves. A disorganized tactic, stumbling out of their homes in a chaotic mess.

Black and white waves clash, screams and roars erupting from all directions. Compared to the holy warriors’ dazzling armor, the young heretics’ gear is pitiful—crude farming tools and clubs, as if they grabbed whatever was at hand.

But their unique physical abilities and tenacity keep them alive even as they are shattered and torn apart. Heretics, their bodies in tatters, cling to the holy warriors. No matter how sturdy the armor, being buried under living flesh leaves no room for resistance.

“Annihilate them! Stand brave!”

The commander’s rallying cry to maintain the frontlines. Like a dam holding firm, the waves of heretics crash against it again and again. Though they break into foam, the waves behind them are endless.

They needed me. Like the bow of a ship, if I stood at the forefront and cleaved through the heretics, the battle would be much easier.

But I turned away from the fight. Not a single brother in the holy army questioned me. Because I am an Inquisition Judge, special. They assumed I was moving for some grand mission they couldn’t comprehend.

‘I’m sorry.’

-Because they trust me.

The tributary of the Nern River running through the village is murky, and the precarious houses are little more than ruins. Straw dolls hang everywhere, their eye sockets dripping with a rotten, dark red liquid like bloody tears.

Yefrinse was still Yefrinse. Even as I ran, shaking off the few young heretics following me, I could read the familiar geography. Here is Jenny’s house, around the corner is the small square, past the house with the yellow roof…

At the end of all these familiar traces was the most familiar place. Strangely untouched in this chaos, yet old and shabby, a hut-like house.

It was a sign.

In a place where everything has gone wrong, if someone appears unscathed, what could they be? A lucky survivor who managed to hold on until the end?

‘No.’

Anne knew the experience and authority of an Inquisition Judge. That seemingly unscathed person was the root of all this.

It’s not strange for heretics to mimic humans. They are cunning and vile, pretending to be ordinary people or survivors when they sense they can’t win. Picking out heretics among people is already a headache.

This time, I could skip that process. In this village, there were no survivors.

*Ting.*

An arrow flies, bouncing off my silver armor without leaving a scratch. I look up to see a hunter standing between the walls. The man who particularly cared for Louis, who lacked a father’s care. A friend of Louis’s father, perhaps.

I too had followed Louis to the hunter’s place, receiving meat or animal blood. The gentle eyes that once watched us are now hollow, devoid of any emotion.

Just acting. Eight-fingered hands, stiff like insect legs, nock an arrow on a bow as grotesque as its owner.

*Thud.* I leap forward. Before the arrow is loosed, my mace, glowing with blinding light, shatters the hunter into pieces.

Fragments of a familiar face scatter. The blood of those I was close to splatters on my cheeks. My face, covered in the dust of my hometown, is pale, and the blood dripping like tears is red. Now, I look like a clown with garish makeup.

But the mission rooted in my mind lashes at my heart, telling me not to stop here. I push all the surging emotions aside and take another step.

Toward the source of all this, my destination.

“If there is a next life for you, I pray you atone then.”

But your hut had a visitor. Of course it did. In this corrupted, twisted ruin, a building that stands alone, slightly worn but intact, would naturally draw attention.

I hear a voice. The voice of an unknown holy warrior foretells Louis’s death. If he’s a heretic, he won’t die—no, if he’s a heretic, he deserves to die—

-At the moment of realization, my mace is already flying.

As if the one at the end of its arc is not my brother, but my enemy.

*Crash!*

And then, a storm hits.

A disaster-like violence. The aftermath of hurling the mace is immense. It smashes through one wall, sending the people inside flying like toys, crashing everywhere.

…Wait, what about Louis? I rush inside in a panic.

“Stop.”

The moment I see a holy warrior about to swing his sword, my mind explodes with rage. I kick the soldier away in an instant and stomp toward the fallen Louis.

The sound of boots is as loud as a guillotine striking. In the metallic noise, you look up at me with a frightened expression, not recognizing me.

Just receiving that gaze makes my heart feel like it’s being torn apart. The gaze you once gave me, always the same, now unfamiliar.

…And I must grow accustomed to such gazes.

Your eyes fill with fleeting hope. Even in this moment, you and I are the same. Denying the reality before our eyes, insisting it can’t be.

“What, what’s going on…? The villagers, they…”

Louis is already a puppet of the heretics. He doesn’t sense anything wrong with the situation, asking about the well-being of the villagers who have become young heretics.

In the corner, a straw doll rolls, bits of human hair and flesh sticking out. I knew Louis’s handiwork well. Yes, I received several dolls like that as gifts.

I know. No, actually, I don’t.

But I believe. Whatever happened to you, how desperate your wish was, I don’t know why you fell so far…

You are blind, and I, who love you, act as if I am blind too.

“I couldn’t find one person.”

“…What?”

“Louis.”

The obvious situation. Extremely simple and clear.

Louis has become a heretic. He sacrificed the villagers and turned the village into a hellscape. Considering the number of young heretics swarming, Yefrinse was just the base, and the heretics’ reach likely extended to other regions.

The cold judgment of Inquisition Judge Anne is rewritten by Anne Ailard, who is in love.

“Where is your fiancée?”

A nonexistent illusion. I pin the blame on a shadow of the heart that no one else has seen.

Everything is the mysterious scheme of the “evil fiancée,” and Louis is the pitiful victim swept up in it, forced to become a heretic. Though his status as a heretic can’t be hidden, the humanity Louis shows now is enough to surprise even me.

Others in the religious order who haven’t seen the illusion of Laube might be deceived. Though lingering doubts and unresolved questions remain, at least Louis won’t be remembered as a threatening figure.

“Why…?”

And you too, won’t remember.

What sins you committed.

“Huh?”

“Why are you asking that…? What are you planning…?”

Your sins, your evil, I will bear them all. It’s not your fault. It’s my fault for not being there with you. Even if it’s my fault, I’ll grant you absolution. By force if necessary, by any means.

So, please.

“Don’t worry.”

What do I look like in your distorted vision? I think I know the answer without asking. Your eyes, devoid of hope, filled only with pure terror, stare at me. As if looking at a monster, that gaze pierces my heart like a blade.

So I smile. I freeze my heart colder and harder. Calmly, with a light laugh, I gently stroke your hair with my bloodstained, gauntleted hand.

“You won’t be harmed.”

The blood on me stains you too. That’s a relief. You’re so focused on the blood on me that you don’t notice the blood on yourself.

I push you to the limit, making it impossible for you to doubt or deny reality, and smile prettily as I lean in.

“I, I don’t know…”

“Are you lying to me too? That hurts.”

The resolve in my heart burns coldly. No one must know my intentions, so I exaggerate my act as the “ideal Inquisition Judge.” It’s not hard to appear that way.

The blind faith of the holy warriors, the delusion clouding your eyes.

“I, really don’t know. And…”

“Hmm?”

“If I knew, what would you…?”

“Take her side over mine, in front of me?”

The answer I wanted was silence. You close your mouth, your eyes fixed only on me. Your expression is as if the whole world is filled with me, suffocating you.

Yes, that’s it. Hate me, despise me, blame everything on me.

“If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to.”

The village’s destruction is my fault. The deaths are my fault. You becoming a heretic is my fault. It’s all my fault. My fault, my fault, my fault.

“I, I really…”

“Yes, I believe.”

Believe in me.

Believe in the lies you create, the deceit you show. Don’t doubt. You’ve done nothing wrong.

“Louis, you’re a coward, but when it comes to protecting someone precious, you’re braver than anyone. It’s always been that way.”

You, who always protected me. In truth, as introverted and timid as I was, you always acted bright and lively when you were with me. At first, it seemed awkward, but gradually, even I, who was always expressionless, began to smile with you.

So, the fact that I can even pretend now is all thanks to you. A single bloom of spring in an endless winter.

I gesture lightly to the soldier behind me. The soldier nods and strikes the back of Louis’s neck. You, about to protest something, close your mouth and collapse like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Take him away.”

Even if spring comes and the ice melts, and what’s buried within begins to rot.

I will rejoice.