A Priest's Life as a Villain

Chapter 20

"? That way."

Dante pointed in a direction. The two of them took a detour down a less-guarded path. Once they avoided a group or two's line of sight, they came to a staircase leading to a ground-level exit.

Ran stopped in his tracks.

"What are you trying to do?"

"We have to go up. You turn back from here."

By this point, Ran felt a strange sense of resistance. He decided to see what Dante was planning and helped him up the stairs.

At the end of the hallway, a faint light stretched out in a straight line. The damp underground odor was somewhat less noticeable here.

"Ah, ugh. Let me down for a second."

Dante leaned against the wall as if collapsing. While adjusting his clothes, Ran looked down at his glove—soaked in blood. It was the hand that had been supporting Dante's side.

"Inquisitor. Who's out there?"

"Bern. The current Special Unit commander."

"Kuh, yeah? I knew my intuition was right. What kind of person is the Special Unit commander?"

"I'm not close to him, so I don't really know. But for sure, he's furious because this mess blocked his promotion."

"Pft, puhaha!"

"Is that funny? I don't know what you're scheming, but give up. Even if you surrender, you won't live. Let's go back."

Dante shook off Ran's hand. Now, Dante didn't even have the strength to open his eyes. He took a shallow breath and lifted his shirt.

Ran's eyes widened.

Five dirt pouches, bound tightly and wrapped around his abdomen with bandages, were visible.

"Where did you get those?"

"? Marmel."

It was the infamous killing weapon, nicknamed the Blast Grenade, which had spread terror among the imperial army in the early days of the civil war.

Once the fuse, lit by fire, burned down, it would trigger and detonate the gunpowder packed tightly as a catalyst. Such weapons were now almost impossible to find. The craftsman, Opel, never passed on his manufacturing knowledge and was captured by the imperial army, publicly executed, and the method burned.

Opel was a demon.

"Come to think of it—us demons are really smart. Isn't the real reason humans oppress demons because they're afraid of us?"

"What are you going to do, Dante?"

"If that Bern bastard dies, do you get to become Special Unit commander?"

"That won't happen."

"That's too bad."

Dante staggered up. Using his remaining arm, he hugged the blast grenades to his stomach and gripped the fuse tightly in his palm.

"Do you remember what I said when we first met?"

Ran remembered vividly, but no words came out right now. None of this made any sense.

"Now that it's come to this, I just wanted to become famous and find my mother. That's all."

"You could easily do that without resorting to something so reckless. Stop."

"Puhat, what do you know. My dad's just a regular human, my mom's a demon from the Revolutionaries. My sister and I had nowhere to go. What, did you expect me to have some tearful reunion after finding the parents who abandoned us?"

Dante drew a deep, shaky breath. His breathing was erratic. Straining himself, he stared at the exit where daylight streamed in.

"My answer is fuck off. I was going to kill them for my sister too. They all think they're something great—all the Revolutionaries, but once I joined, it was nothing special. Hah, what is all this, really?"

Clank—

Dante unbuckled his belt, which held his sword, and flung it to the ground. Even shedding that little bit of weight made it easier to walk.

Watching Dante's retreating back, Ran felt a sense of powerlessness.

Dante took a few steps, then suddenly stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

"It's the end, so let me see your face at least once."

Ran lifted his mask over his head. Dante shook his head, grinning.

"You're even more of an asshole than I thought."

"It's not too late. Change your mind."

"Look at me. I can't even use dark magic in this condition. Worry about yourself instead. I don't know what you're after, but finish it fast and live your life. Stop wearing that idiotic mask."

With his hand gripping the fuse, he couldn't wave. Dante walked on.

'With this much, there's no way you people haven't heard my name. Live the rest of your lives in regret.'

Suddenly, he was scared—what if they heard but felt nothing at all? These were people who had abandoned their own flesh and blood. Claiming some higher human ethics over familial bonds, they tossed away their children. Once they'd hardened their hearts like that, could doing it again be so difficult?

'I'm going to keep my eyes open and watch, damn it.'

The god demons worship said that when a human dies, their soul wanders the earth and then fades away. An unbound soul can go anywhere it wishes.

Dante wasn't afraid of death.

"He's crawling out on his own. Can you tell who he is, Regal?"

Bern stood at the very front of the formation. With one arm slung over Regal's shoulder, he craned his neck to peer into the darkness.

"Yes, y-yes! Th-that's definitely Branch Manager Dante from the 13th!"

"That guy's Dante? Huh, what luck."

The Special Unit formed a semi-circle, blocking off the exit.

Dante walked to the very center. He alternated glances between Bern and Regal, then snorted.

"Regal! Are you not ashamed? How dare you hold your head so high!"

"Sh-shut up! Where does a man who rushed to his own doom get off blaming others!"

"I'll watch you as a spirit from now on!"

Dante lit the fuse. Bern and the Special Unit members, who had been watching this curiously, quickly gasped in horror. The fuse was connected to the blast grenades on his stomach.

"That, that maniac—!"

Bern shoved Regal toward Dante. While the Special Unit members milled about in confusion, Dante grabbed screaming, struggling Regal by the throat.

The fuse burned rapidly.

Rrrumble.

Bern, who had been about to give an order to retreat, looked up at the sky. Storm clouds were rolling in. The weather had been murky since morning.

Ssshhhh—

Without even a warning few drops, rain poured down. The fuse Dante was holding shrank to about a hand's span left.

Sizzle.

Smoke drifted up from the tip of the fuse. The mood was split between hope and despair.

"Hahaha! The Lord is watching over me! Amen! Amen!"

The pounding rain, Bern's laughter, and Dante's scream all sounded at once.

Dante knocked Regal down as he tried to escape and mounted on top of him. He gritted his teeth, strangling his neck. The blood vessels in Regal's eyes burst, turning them red.

Every marksman in the Special Unit trained their aim on Dante.

"Stop! Capture him alive! Keep him alive until he begs me to kill him."

Dante, hands shaking, squeezed Regal's neck tighter. He resented himself for why the faces of his parents, which he'd struggled to erase, kept coming back.

As the Special Unit, bows lowered, closed in slowly in a hunter's ring around the tangled pair of Dante and Regal—

A flash of lightning cut between them.

Boom!

The lightning and thunder came nearly at once. The instant the lightning blazed, the truth was revealed.

Ran, perched on top of Dante, was pressing the pommel of his sword down with both hands. The blade, plunged vertically, pierced straight through the hearts of both Dante and Regal.

Ssshhhh.

The rain kept pouring.

Bern watched Ran standing in the downpour. One Special Unit member rushed over and held an umbrella above Bern's head. Bern did not move an inch.

'What did I just see?'

The lightning flash he saw for an instant was burned into his memory. That was not the natural light of a thunderbolt.

The light Ran brought with him had hovered around him, then faded. It lasted only a split second.

'??.'

Only after Dante and Regal stopped moving did Ran rise to his feet.

Boom!

A fierce bolt of lightning struck.

Whenever Ran took someone's life, he always prayed for their soul's salvation—whether they were heretic, villain, or a wronged human, he always hoped their spirit could return to Lord Asriel's embrace and find peace.

Ssshhhh—

But not this time. Now, he hoped Dante's soul could roam free. He wanted to send him off before his soul was broken by all manner of torture.

'May your god take you to himself.'

For the first time, priest Cyrano acknowledged a god other than Lord Asriel.

* * *

In front of the Rel mansion.

Camus was seeing her aunt Viola and a guest out.

"Well, Viola. I'll be off now. Don't strain yourself with that poor health."

Camus had seen barbarian warriors on the battlefield when following her father and brothers. The man before her reminded her of those barbarians.

A large, solid build; tangled long black hair; thick features and unshaven beard; rugged furs thrown haphazardly over his shoulders.

"I feel like we'll never see each other again, Zima."

"Well, that's a bit sad. Don't you have pretty accurate instincts?"

Camus kept noticing Zima's way of speaking and behaving. There was an odd dignity beneath his rough demeanor. He seemed quite close to her aunt Viola.

Zima turned his eyes to Camus.

Camus sucked in her breath. She felt like she'd made eye contact with a beast.

"You've inherited your aunt's sharp intelligence."

"Th-thank you."

"May the Lord watch over my lady and Rel."

Zima traced the sign of the cross with his rough hand. As he was about to depart, Viola called him back.

"That boy Ran, called the Mad Dog—he's your son too, isn't he?"

Zima stopped in his tracks. Camus looked at her in surprise.

"He may have felt my hand's influence a bit less, but yes, that's truly my son."

With that, Zima turned.

"Has Ran come looking for you?"

"He asked me why the Holy Church scapegoated the demons as the cause of the civil war."

"And?"

"I told him to just live not knowing. Looks like he's planning to come find me again."

Zima laughed heartily. Camus, not knowing what was going on, glanced nervously between Viola and Zima.

"My body's itching to see my son soon. Well then, Viola, I really must go. Take good care of that girl I asked about. Make sure she eats and sleeps well—she's someone precious."

Zima climbed into his saddle and kicked his horse's side vigorously. Soon, he rode off quickly.

Since Camus was included in a secretive conversation, she had no idea of the context.

Why were the names of the beaked-mask inquisitor being exchanged between the two, who was "that girl" he'd asked Viola to look after—her curiosity only grew. Camus first asked about the identity of this man called Zima.

Viola gazed after Zima's departing figure with an affectionate look and spoke quietly.

"A dog seller."

"Sorry? A dog seller?"

"A man who raises the Holy Church's hounds."

* * *

'Someone must be talking about me.'

Some distance down the road, Zima scratched his ear. He leisurely took in the scenery as it grew fainter the closer he got to the capital—signs of civil war nearly erased.

'How long has it been since I've visited the capital?'

A few days earlier, he'd received a request from Bern to return. Zima had a special connection to Bern.

'An old friend, and a partner.'

Zima sneered to himself. He had many jobs—accordingly, just as many complex positions and affiliations. The Special Unit was one of those, a kind of honorary title.

'It's about time I returned.'

But there was one stop he had to make first.

Zima continued on until he reached a small village, away from Rel, in the opposite direction of the capital Gerinhild.

"Show your travel permit."

The guard at the entrance blocked Zima. The closer to the front lines, the tighter security became.

Unfazed, Zima fished inside his furs. He had a heap of badges to prove his various identities, including travel permits. He casually drew out the first one that came to hand and held it out.

The guard, whose eyes had looked sleepy just a moment before, straightened up with a start and saluted.

It was a medal for military merit awarded directly by the emperor.

"S-sorry for not recognizing you, sir!"

Zima made a troubled face. He didn't want to draw attention. Smacking his lips, he headed deeper into the village.

He tied his horse at the entrance and went somewhere with a clear sense of purpose. The villagers sent wary looks at the sudden stranger, but Zima was unbothered. He was used to those stares—and he had business.

"You've come to see the children?"

The place Zima visited was a daycare on the village outskirts.

"Yes. If possible, I'd prefer a quiet girl."

He showed his Special Unit ID as he spoke. The administrator's eyes widened at that.

'I won't get into any trouble, will I?'

The manager had no sense of duty about the children. It was a shelter run for show by a minor aristocrat. Depending on circumstances, the Special Unit had more authority than most nobles.

He didn't want trouble from making a fuss, so he obediently led Zima inside.

The place was desperately run-down. Under a crude tent, infants just off the breast to children barely old enough to distinguish right from wrong mingled in all ages.

Though no one told them, as soon as the children spotted Zima, they went silent.

Zima quietly swept his gaze around the tent. The children avoided his eye.

"We may not look it, but the children here are well-fed without lacking for anything. The generous sponsors' charity is never wasted, I check very carefully myself. They're all so badly hurt, you know. Ha, ha..."

The manager hovered behind Zima, sweating nervously. He was just a servant hired by a noble to look after the facility. He didn't know why the Special Unit was visiting a remote daycare, nor could he ask. He only wanted to avoid being blamed for any neglect that might embarrass his employer.

Zima paid him no mind at all. Standing silently, he strode toward a girl crouched in the corner.

Zima stared intently at the child.

"Uh, ahh! That girl, well, how do I put it?"

The manager spouted nonsense in a cold sweat, regretting it.

Not long ago, a woman had left that child with a large donation. She'd been slipping significant amounts of money on a regular basis.

He realized later the girl spoke with a southern accent tinged with demon inflection.

There was no profound deliberation. Only a fool would turn down a consistent windfall while fearing surveillance that no one cared to perform on an obscure rural daycare. He had plenty of alibis.

"What's your name?"

Zima still gave the manager no notice. He knelt to meet the girl's eyes.

"?? Emma."

"Emma. That's a good name. Why don't you come with me, Emma?"

The girl had endured so many farewells and losses that her eyes were hollow and empty.

Without a word, Emma stood and followed Zima.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
Damn, Emma got abandoned by Zilla.
Tsk, tsk.
【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】