Chapter 57 …
“So that really is everything! Truly, I’m telling the truth…”
The marquis spilled everything in a rush. I straightened the posture I had been keeping bent. With his massive frame, the marquis was trembling at my feet.
If I were an ordinary person—if I hadn’t possessed this body—I might have felt pity for him.
Or perhaps I would have mercifully refrained from torture, coaxing information out of him gently with words alone.
But if I did that here, I would be the one to die first. I had obtained the position of Saint, but even that was only thanks to the generous permission of the Widow—I was fully aware of that.
The moment the Widow withdrew her hand, I would end up with a rope tightening around my neck…
Mercy was something I reserved only for my trustworthy believers.
I activated the Scale skill, which I hadn’t used in a long time. In the dark space, light bloomed behind me.
The marquis, who had been prostrating himself, flinched and raised his head.
[Do you wish to use ‘Scale’ on the user, Marzes Bernator?]
‘y’
[The Divine Scale tilts.]
[Alderion’s Judgment: Aggregation Complete]
[View]
Murder: 121 counts
Solicitation of murder: 93 counts
Aiding and abetting murder: 401 counts
Soul annihilation: 98 counts
Signs of intrusion by an otherworldly being confirmed
A more serious criminal than I expected. Well, he had roamed battlefields as if they were his own backyard—if anything, the numbers seemed low.
Not that they felt light once I truly grasped the weight of each one.
‘Alderion… and what is that “signs of intrusion by an otherworldly being” mark?’
In any case, it wasn’t important right now. I’d set it aside.
As for soul annihilation, it seemed he had fed the victims’ souls to the demonic sword. If I remembered correctly, a special skill unlocked at one hundred…
Just two more kills and it would open. Good thing I found it beforehand.
Should I let Alderion wield the demonic sword once? He’s already half not human anyway—maybe he wouldn’t be dominated by it.
Alderion is fundamentally a good person. It might be fine. A demonic sword explosively amplifies the personality already residing within its wielder.
After letting my thoughts wander briefly, I opened my mouth.
“You have committed 121 murders and instigated 93 more. You dressed it up with the noble excuse of ‘protecting the homeland’… yet what you protected was not your country, but your own interests. Did you not swing your blade solely for yourself, reveling in the flesh and blood of the innocent?”
The marquis’ eyes went wide.
“No! I—I did not crave power…! It was all for my fallen comrades! I only wanted to grant them the honorable deaths, the glorious end they desired…!”
“Was it truly for your comrades?”
I straightened my back, looked down at him, then crouched again. His head fit neatly into my hand.
“Did you not use your comrades’ deaths as a pretext to justify your own desires? In the end, what you grasped—was it honor, or bloodstained power?”
“I—I…”
“I understand that the demonic sword must have shaken your mind and stimulated your instincts. But do you know the true nature of a demonic sword? It is not a simple curse. It merely amplifies the heart of the one who holds it. The good become better; the wicked, more wicked.”
I drew upon the power of purification and casually waved my hand through the air. The dust floating in space gathered into motes of light and vanished.
“The good achieve good with that power. The evil choose evil with it. In the end, the one who knows best what choice you made is not the demonic sword… but your own heart.”
“No… no! I—I did it because of that sword… it’s not my fault…!”
“All that you did while wielding that sword was merely the manifestation of the desires and intentions that already existed within you.”
I stood upright. I wouldn’t use Punishment. There was no need—the marquis would never walk out of this place on his own.
‘Well, it’s not like I’m in a position to say this to him…’
In a way, I too was grasping for power simply to survive. That alone made it even more selfish.
Toying with people’s hearts, gaining one-sided trust, judging and punishing others without qualification…
None of that was something I was ever permitted to do.
‘If a paradise or an abyss truly exists, I’m certainly bound to fall into the abyss.’
That would be good news for the marquis before me. If I died, he would eventually meet me there.
Though, being the abyss, his very existence would likely be torn apart and scattered…
“Now it is time to take responsibility… for the consequences you created, for the life you have lived.”
I took a step back. Kalebrin hesitated, then stepped forward. And at that moment—
“Wait just a moment~”
Yelena slipped smoothly between the marquis and me. I looked down at her—her golden crown of hair caught my eye.
“From here on, this feels like my area to handle. I may be attached as a bodyguard, but my real profession is Inquisitor… and I can’t just stand by while a heretical seed manipulated by a demonic sword is left unattended, can I?”
“Are you saying you’ll take charge, Yelena?”
“Yeees… well, doesn’t it feel just a little uncomfortable for the Saint to be doing this sort of thing?”
She acted as though she intended to stop me from killing him at all costs.
‘If I hand him over, my trail gets exposed. He has to die here—otherwise there will be repercussions.’
I couldn’t give him to her.
I strode a step closer. My shadow fell over her.
Yelena clasped her hands behind her back, the corners of her lips slightly raised.
“Then shall you show Marquis Bernator what ‘appropriate responsibility’ he must bear, Yelena?”
I smiled back and inclined my head slightly toward her. My movement brushed lightly against her pale cheek, framed by long white hair.
“Right here. Right now.”
*
Yelena held her breath and endured his gaze head-on. She barely managed to maintain her smile.
Her experience of smiling even before her mother was proving useful here. She thought she had adapted to the subtle atmosphere from staying at his side for so long…
‘Not at all…’
The reason she had never felt his pressure until now was simply because he had been considerate. Cold sweat trickled down her back.
“Right here… you want me to make him take responsibility…?”
“Yes. It seems we shouldn’t postpone responsibility any further.”
A chill ran through her entire body. The Marquis Bernator, as if instinctively sensing that clinging to Yelena was his only way to live, looked up at her.
He crawled across the floor and grabbed onto the hem of her trousers.
“Inquisitor Yelena…! Please, show mercy!”
The “marquis” who always held his cutlery with elegance at banquets was now at her feet.
‘As the Penitent said… he’s already a murderer of over 120 people. Even if only the charge of instigating murder is applied, he’d be executed. No matter how much of a banquet-hall figure he is. In the first place, he only obtained his marquis title through war merits, without any real foundation. Still… even so…’
Yelena agonized.
At her feet, the marquis clung to her like a snake coiling around an arm. Anyone seeing only this pleading figure would feel pity.
Yet there was not a single grain of mercy on the Penitent’s face as he looked down at him. The man who would tear off his own flesh to save an innocent suffering person—yet now, like this…
“Is it a difficult proposal?”
The Penitent asked gently. As always. Even when calmly listing the marquis’ crimes, his tone had been kind.
Her hesitation ended. Trying to secretly divert the marquis away was nothing more than a sense of duty as an inquisitor, and a piece of evidence to present to her mother.
That wasn’t worth becoming hostile with the Penitent.
“Yelena! I was—as you heard—under the control of the demonic sword! I don’t even understand myself why I did those things. So I won’t ask for leniency. Just put me on a proper trial! You know how much I devoted myself to the Empire! I am absolutely not a heretic. Absolutely not! If I were a heretic, then wouldn’t it be strange if every single imperial citizen were declared a heretic as well?!”
If he were declared a heretic, regardless of being a marquis or anything else, he would be hanged—that was why he argued so desperately.
“…You’re right. You’re not a heretic.”
At Yelena’s words, the marquis’ face brightened.
“If you’re not a heretic… then there’s nothing I can do. I am, after all, an Inquisitor…”
“What nonsense—! Even if you judge me not a heretic, can’t you hand the case over to a regular court?!”
The marquis stared at Yelena like a child who had been given candy only to have it taken away.
Yelena’s job as an inquisitor had been to capture those labeled heretics and send them to heretical trials. Days after the trials ended, their conditions were little different from the marquis’.
People tortured until they lost all will to live. Powerless, or making a final futile resistance, they mounted the scaffold.
Blood spraying as a sharp blade fell on the back of their necks. Or legs twitching as they were strangled to death.
Yelena didn’t feel overwhelming pride in this profession—but neither did she lack a sense of ethics. They were people who had “died because they deserved to die.”
Her hesitation vanished. Kalebrin stepped forward hesitantly from behind.
“Sh-should I do it…?”
“No. Even if he isn’t a heretic… I’m still an Inquisitor. It’s better if I do it than you, Kalebrin.”
At this point, she had no intention of acting ethically.
The brief moment of hesitation she’d had was because—
The Penitent, who acted as though he would erase all suffering, who behaved with boundless compassion, was personally torturing and killing someone.
Witnessing that entire process felt contradictory.
But she soon understood. To erase all suffering in the world, one must remove the sources that create suffering.
She was not pure. She knew people didn’t change with a few words. Sometimes, harsh measures were necessary.
After all, she was an Inquisitor.
Yelena took up the halberd she had always carried since being assigned as an escort.
“You’re no different from me! If it comes to this, how are you any different?! By what right do you claim to judge and kill me? By what right does some mere Saint think he has that authority?!”
“You’re correct. I do not have the right to ‘kill’ you. Originally, no one in this world can claim the right to judge another.”
“Then…!”
“But I am a proxy of God. As one granted divine authority, I do possess at least the authority to judge you.”
Kalebrin’s spell struck the marquis. His body stiffened completely. Yelena raised the halberd high.
Striking down a marquis frozen stiff—
was easy.
Thud!
Thump…
