A Priest's Life as a Villain

Chapter 025

The entrance to the warehouse, from which the horde of corpses poured out, remained pitch dark.

A fierce demonic energy branched out from there in several directions. Entangled and twisted, the demonic energy slowly covered the area like creeping vines.

While everyone's attention was absorbed by the beasts in front of them, only Ran was witnessing that bizarre sight.

"Peco. Get everyone out of here. Quickly."

"Huh, huh? Even if there are a lot, they're just beasts, right? Can't we just all take them on?"

"They're not ordinary beasts. They're wraiths."

Peco turned, her face tense, to look in the direction Ran was facing.

Next to them, Demian pressed further.

"Wraiths! What do you mean, wraiths?!"

"These are higher-level entities, vastly different from normal beasts. Unless we kill the dark mage, there's no way to get rid of them."

The wraith had yet to reveal itself. Deep inside, it was no doubt waiting for the dark mage's command.

'That boy I saw earlier must be the dark mage.'

Dark mages are those who wield sinister sorcery. They often use illusion magic to induce confusion and terror. If the main body is far away, there's nothing else that can be done.

Ran absentmindedly tossed aside the sword in his hand after scrutinizing it. He then picked up an iron sword in relatively decent shape from those scattered across the ground and spoke.

"You should hurry too, Demian. I'll hold them off here."

Ran's eyes glimmered from inside his mask.

He was known as the mad dog inquisitor, but also the priest of Quersa, Cyrano.

Nearby, there were several other villages. Even if he could not eliminate the wraith immediately, he had to prevent blind casualties from spreading.

"T-that's not possible! I'll stay and fight!"

"Hey, Demian! If Ran says so, that's how it is! You've never seen a wraith! They're not something just anyone can stop!"

"Sir Demian! The Special Unit has fought demons countless times! Leave it to him and go!"

Peco and the holy knights tried to dissuade Demian. Some inquisitors were already hurrying to leave.

Rrrrummm—!!

Suddenly, the ground shook as if an earthquake had struck. The massive tremor knocked the unit members off balance, sending them tumbling.

Then, crackling noises could be heard. Little flames flickered across every feature of the terrain, and fires rapidly spread in an instant. It was a scene too bizarre for logical explanation.

Whooooosh!

A black mist swirled from behind the horde of corpses. An overwhelming gale blew, sucking all sorts of debris into the center of the whirlwind.

The wind soon died down. In the back of the horde, a human-shaped black mist gleamed with menacing eyes.

「I, Esteban. Have awakened.」

It was as if space itself spoke. Everyone could hear that voice.

Creak!

The fleeing inquisitors looked down at their feet. Cracks formed on the ground and pillars of fire, like magma, erupted from the rifts. A few unlucky inquisitors were caught in the flames, without time to even dodge.

"Guh!"

Demian stumbled and fell to the ground. Bright light flickered in his eyes. The fire columns consumed the inquisitor who had been running right in front of him.

'N-no way. This can't be!'

In an instant, flames engulfed the entire area. The sky turned crimson. Cold sweat beaded on Demian's brow. Something compelled him to glance back over his shoulder. Amid wavering vision, he caught sight of an unfamiliar light.

'What is that?'

A white flash was darting through the horde. Against the dense black mist, the flash shone even brighter. It looked like a solitary meteor streaking across the dark night sky.

Demian swallowed hard. The light was so fast, he could barely track it with his eyes.

'Impossible?!'

The light halted for a moment.

The reaction trailed after the event. Along the path the light tore through, corpses burst apart into fine pieces, scattering everywhere.

"A-ahh?!"

A gasp escaped him. Hard as it was to believe, that's what he saw.

A halo of white light enveloped Ran. The light surged up to Ran's head and shoulders, spilling over the edges of his cloak, only to condense again and repeat. It seemed as if the light itself was alive and breathing.

"?? Golden, holy fire?!"

Demian's eyes widened. He caught a glimpse—behind the black cloak, wings materialized and then vanished. Brief as it was, they glowed with a distinct, radiant outline.

"Sir Demian!"

Before the holy knights could restrain him, Demian turned and ran. A burning old tree fell between them, blocking the knights from following Demian.

「I am Esteban, knight of Haskinderun. Opponent, declare your name.」

Ran stood facing the wraith, staring intently.

Though the body was made of black mist, it wore what genuinely resembled knight's armor. Each piece seemed to float independently in midair.

"I have no name to share with the dead."

「Insolence! The body is mortal, but the soul is eternal! I, Esteban, am not one of the dead.」

"Neither living nor dead—that makes you a wraith. I finally get it now."

Embers flew about in a disordered dance. Esteban's body squirmed amid the haze like a heat mirage.

'Hoo.'

There was no sensation of heat. Only white breath scattered around the jaw of his mask.

'Will this be enough?'

Ran inspected the iron sword in his hand. It looked as if it would shatter from a mere tap.

Shiiing!

Ran reflexively dodged. Esteban's elongated arm brushed past his chest. The traces left by the swirling mist resembled black flames.

「I see suspicious things around you.」

Now the world went dim. Ran looked up. Black mist gathered overhead like storm clouds, and dozens of spikes appeared within. Lightning flashed among them.

Crack—crash—!

In unison, the spikes fell to the ground. Their fierce momentum seemed as if they'd obliterate anything within range.

Though made of black mist, the spikes crashed down like bundles of stone pillars, shaking the earth with incredible force. The area, fiery red moments before, grew murky with rising dust.

「Ah—! Behold the power of the immortal!」

Esteban spread his arms wide and smiled with satisfaction.

Black mist spikes were embedded thickly all around. The chaotic forest of them resembled gravestones in a disordered graveyard. Esteban was pleased. Even to him, it was a spectacular sight.

「Mortal, how does it feel for your flesh to be reduced to dust!」

The answer came from overhead.

「Hmm?」

Esteban glanced up. His ghostly eyes twisted.

Ran was descending, leaving a trail of shimmering light. An intensity too bright for a wraith to withstand.

Szzzt!

No sooner had Ran landed stably than a streak of pure white light slashed diagonally across Esteban's torso.

「O-ohhh?!」

The wraith's utterance was eerie, a mix of awe and exultation.

Clink.

The blade, hazed with faint light, shattered powerlessly.

「Keh! What were you hoping for! I am immortal!」

The two halves of his torso began to melt back together.

Ran glanced impassively between the broken sword and Esteban. Something shiny caught his eye.

'? You never know.'

Lying where his gaze landed was the worn sword hilt Zima had given him. He'd thrown it aside the moment the blade broke.

「Struggle, mortal. Make me feel even more.」

Ran ignored Esteban's words. He picked up the hilt and murmured a low prayer.

'O Lord.'

Fwoosh.

As if answering his summons, a radiance surged from the hilt. The blinding white firewashed both the beaked mask and Esteban's distorting black mist in light.

'?? Lead me not into temptation.'

Ran inhaled deeply. The preparatory motion was brief.

Crash—!

It was a dense, rapid flurry of blows. Where Ran's sword passed, distinct afterimages remained. The sound came only afterward. Esteban's form fragmented along the sword's path, the black mist scattering like flower petals.

Ran adjusted his grip on the hilt. The tip swung half a circle to point downward. He gazed at the last fragment of Esteban's body that had fallen near his foot.

'But deliver us from evil.'

Szzzt!

The light vanished the instant the sword fell vertically. Ran's shoulder staggered off-center.

"Mm."

God's blessing ended there. He felt nothing in particular. The outcome far surpassed his expectations.

Ran let go of the hilt and threw it to the ground without hesitation.

Demian had watched the entire event unfold.

'What did I just see?'

His fingertips trembled. His heart kept shifting between chills and burning heat.

'It was unmistakably the holy fire.'

The Holy Fire (聖火).

The divine flame that appears with the Second Coming of Lord Asriel.

The problem wasn't that an ordinary mercenary was using holy power. The Holy Fire was a miracle recorded only in scripture. Thus, it was treated as a part of myth, and no one actually believed it existed.

It was the same for Demian—up until just now.

The beasts' bodies scattered around were burning. Ran, still wearing the beaked mask, approached him.

"Ah, Demian. You're still here."

"? Ran."

"They'll revive soon. We need to find and capture the dark mage before then."

Ran said this and removed his mask. Shaking his sweat-soaked hair, he walked past Demian.

Demian gazed blankly at Ran's departing figure.

* * *

The rendezvous was set for early the next morning. The Special Unit camped near the riverbank, a little distance away.

There wasn't much to prepare. The camping gear and food had been buried along with the holy knights responsible for them in the warehouse.

"Seven holy knights fallen, and two inquisitors."

Peco, next to Ran, counted the casualties on his fingers.

"Ahem, Demian. He acted all high and mighty, but he looked totally out of it earlier."

Ran fiddled with his mask, soaking it in the stream. The mask was blotched with blood.

"Ugh, just looking at your hands makes me cold. Are you all right? You don't look too well."

"I'm fine."

"I remember now. You were always really good at cleaning yourself, even back then. Heh. The other brothers would be passed out from exhaustion, but you'd always make sure to wash before bed. I thought you were so diligent."

"? Peco. It's basic to wash up before sleeping."

"Huh, really? Father never taught me that."

Unlike Ran, Peco had grown up in Zima's band of mercenaries since childhood. Everything from handling weapons to everyday habits was influenced by Zima.

While skipping stones by the water, Peco suddenly widened his eyes as if he remembered something.

"Oh, right. Ran, how did you know? That the people inside were already dead."

"Just a hunch, I guess. I've met a lot of demons."

"But so have the other inquisitors. You're definitely a bit special."

"I saw the dark mage's illusion earlier."

"Geez, if he can use illusions and even summon wraiths, that's no ordinary dark mage. Who would've thought such a dark mage would still be alive?"

Ran suddenly thought of Dante. Even he didn't know how skilled Dante was as a dark mage. Perhaps he really was as capable as he claimed.

'Could you have used this kind of dark magic too?'

He couldn't quite say why the question suddenly crossed his mind.

The two returned to camp.

Across the fire sat three holy knights and six inquisitors, huddled in groups.

"Hey, here come Zima's mutts."

"Mutts? Please, they're hero mutts. The mad dog Ran who's slain evil spirits!"

Two inquisitors bantered. Ran and Peco ignored them and drew close to the fire to warm themselves.

Something in the air felt off.

"I'm telling you, if it wasn't for this mad dog Ran, those three of yours would all be dead by now. Get it?"

"? Enough already."

"'Enough already,' you say~ Heh. Now that you left an arm behind, maybe you should've left your mouth behind too?"

"You bastard?!"

A one-armed holy knight abruptly stood up. Demian called his name to calm him down.

The inquisitors' agitation wasn't over the fallen. There was no genuine camaraderie in the first place. It was just mockery directed at the overly righteous yet 'inept' holy knights.

Ran glanced quietly at the inquisitors. Their resentment was building.

The days of living comfortably under the pretense of God's judgment were suddenly at risk. Within the Special Unit, rumors were rife that the emergency deployment was largely due to the holy knights.

'So it was just a lucky break.'

For Ran, there was nothing to lose. There was internal discord among the order anyway.

'? How miserable.'

Demian's face was drawn. He sat against a tree, staring at the ground.

A lot had happened today. The inquisitors' provocations sounded too petty to hear.

'Because of me, my comrades died. It was entirely my mistake.'

His chest ached. Most of them were his age, brimming with youthful vigor. Many, like Campbell, had been friends since childhood. Demian owed his position as captain of the holy knights almost entirely to the Hilderbrandt family's influence.

'Is the pain in my chest really only from this?'

Demian could not answer his own question honestly.

He looked up. From his seat, he could see Ran sitting by the fire.

With his gaze still fixed on Ran, Demian spoke to the nearby holy knight.

"Mason."

"Yes, Demian."

"Have you ever seen the Holy Fire?"

"Pardon? By Holy Fire, do you mean the Flame of the Second Coming?"

"Yes."

"Of course, I haven't seen it with my own eyes, but in our hearts, it's always—"

"What about a mere mercenary using holy power? Have you ever seen an apostate receive the Lord's blessing?"

Mason was left speechless.

Demian did not wait for an answer and rose to his feet.

'I'll confirm it myself.'

He gripped the sword at his waist tightly. As he moved a few paces, his eyes inadvertently met Ran's, who glanced back. Then, someone blocked Demian's way.

"You, holy knight, your eyes, bloodshot."

"? Get out of the way."

"No. I have something to tell you. Now's the chance."

Demian looked up. Barbarian glared at him with yellowish, glinting eyes.

"You provoked me. You want a duel."

Hank made a motion across his lips with a finger. Only then did Demian remember.

'The barbarian who yawned during prayers at the guild hall.'

A blatant sacrilege. If the deputy-commander hadn't been present, he would have drawn his sword without a mere warning.

'I am a civilized man. An honorable holy knight.'

Without a word, Demian tried to walk past. He didn't want to mingle with a primitive savage.

"Coward, holy knight. Pathetic. Holy Church. Hypocrites."

Demian stopped.

"Barbarian. I didn't mishear you, did I?"

"I'll say it again. Coward, holy knight. Holy Church, hypocrites."

The butcher Hank had come on this expedition for Demian alone. His urge to kill Demian never left him.

"Draw your weapon, barbarian."

Demian briefly glanced at Ran sitting behind Hank.

To be honest, he didn't know himself. What was he trying to confirm by standing up and confronting Ran?

Truthfully, he simply couldn't stand the humiliation.

So maybe, he wanted this barbarian to provoke him a little more. To volunteer as a target for his venting. To let the pressure escape somewhere.

"?? Graciously remove my sins, O Lord."

Just uttering a brief prayer cleansed him of guilt.

The cold gleam of the sword's blade reflected Demian's twisted smile.