Black Sorcerer and Inquisitor of Heresy

The two crouched in the shadows on either side of the corridor, backs against the rust-covered cell doors, corroded from years of neglect.

"Tell me, heretic, isn't that thing just a walking corpse wielding a giant axe?" Jeanne asked, gripping the black longsword tightly. After reluctantly absorbing the life force of her fallen comrade, her first thought was to send the heretic before her straight to hell. She acted on this impulse swiftly. However, the pact immediately reminded her of the consequences of violating its terms—pulling her soul toward the depths of the labyrinth.

"We encountered that thing on the first level of the dungeon—purifying it is no more difficult than burning a defenseless cultist of the evil god."

Realizing this trajectory, she halted her actions immediately and saw Cesar turn to face her, an unsurprised expression on his face. Clearly, he had anticipated this.

"How could you enter this dungeon without any information? Didn't the Crusaders' documents inform you of the vast difference between the butchers in the deep prison and the guards at the entrance?" Cesar scrutinized her subtle reactions.

The question was why a Burner would come to such a forgotten place. Even he, hastily prepared for reincarnation, didn't fully understand this damned place, let alone these lunatics who delight in burning precious magical texts.

"We followed the tracks of Claudius's hounds here."

She spoke, burying herself deeper into the shadows.

The Empress's hound unit—that was truly an unpleasant name.

A shadow flickered in his eyes; it was that madwoman's pursuit that had driven him to the point of reincarnation.

"Are they all dead?"

"A foolish question, the answer is obvious," Jeanne whispered, "We only found their tracks."

Cesar felt a surge of frustration.

If only those magical texts left in the Senate had been destroyed before the Empress's coup, he wouldn't have ended up like this at the hands of the hounds.

"Did you hastily reincarnate because you fell into the hands of the hounds?" She noticed the heretic's mocking smile, "When you served Rome's Senate, did you ever anticipate the day of the coup? Heretic, your life is truly filled with misfortune; you might as well end it here to avoid greater calamities."

Cesar met her gaze calmly, thinking, "If you have the guts, stab me with your sword." He noticed that after her failed attempt to violate the pact, the Burner hadn't tried to stab him in the back again. Since arriving in the corridor, her demeanor had become more restrained... perhaps. Occasionally, her malicious nature would still slip through in her words. This was understandable; without the ability to assess situations, she wouldn't have risen to lead the guardian knights in their crusade against heretics.

"If we encounter those hounds, will you agree to kill them?"

"The Lord's hatred for the hounds isn't as deep as for heretics. If given a choice, I would definitely cooperate with them... no, I don't want to cooperate with anyone; you all should be burned to ashes," Jeanne said. "This place is far too dangerous; if you want to slaughter the hounds, do it yourself. I don't want any complications."

"Tch... forget it, I don't want complications either. Now, I'm a beloved knight of the Crusaders, with no connection to the hound unit."

He muttered to himself, placing his fingers on the ground, reciting an incantation to determine how long ago the tracks were left.

"You don't even know this body's name." Jeanne looked at him, her expression serious. Though her words were sharp, Cesar could see the emotionless look in her eyes. Her movements were subtle, displaying the composure befitting a killer.

"I'll know when I return to the church with you. Then, you can say that 'Cesar' is the Christian name you bestowed upon me," he recalled the patrol timings of the footprint's owner and the intervals between passing the cell doors, "As for the reason, you can claim—you're deeply grateful that your loyal knight saved your life."

"Disgusting, I'm going to vomit. Do you always think such repulsive thoughts?"

"Go ahead and vomit, if you can." The bearded face turned toward her, "It's simple, effective, and can cover many things. Or do you have a better idea?"

"..."

Cesar sneered inwardly, his gaze shifting past Jeanne. "This level of the prison forms a circular path; we should follow these footprints," he said. "We need to check if there's a door leading to another level along the patrol route. But if we accidentally run into them..."

"Then we'll purify those disgusting things," Jeanne replied, locking eyes with him.

"I'm a mage; I should stay in the back when the time comes."

"Don't be ridiculous. Is the sword in your hand just for show? Do you know how many people have died at the hands of your enchanted weapons? If you dare to stand behind, I'll behead you before your soul falls into the deepest labyrinth."

"That's quite impressive," Cesar shrugged, then gestured to her, "Follow me."

The dark corridor was lined with rusted iron doors, most securely shut, with the occasional half-open cell door visible in the darkness. Peering through the gaps, one could see flayed corpses lying on the ground or hanging from the ceiling. Small rooms often contained braziers, seemingly prepared for someone, with the red light flowing slowly along the broken bones protruding from the corpses' legs, resembling spreading mold.

At the end of the circular corridor, a light moved, accompanied by soft footsteps and the sound of chewing raw meat. The vaulted ceiling was high, with demonic reliefs embedded with blood gemstones high on the walls, their mouse-like pale red eyes observing the movements of the dark mage and the inquisitor. The flickering light ahead cast elongated, tall, thin shadows onto his eyes, hidden beneath dark hair, and onto her smooth blonde hair, now showing some luster after absorbing her comrade's life force.

The light stopped—the creature had ceased moving.

The two halted, concealed in the corner's shadow.

"Why do you think it stopped?" Jeanne whispered.

"Death," Cesar replied, his eyes gleaming strangely. "It's the butcher guarding the deep dungeon; I sensed its death."

"Are you sure?"

Jeanne stared into his eyes for a moment. Her lips, moistened by the damp environment, appeared more colorful, and her throat seemed hydrated, making her voice less dry and low than before.

"Who else do you think is here besides us?" the dark mage probed.

"—The Empress's heretic hounds," Jeanne replied with a twisted smile. "Those pesky flies have been lurking in the Holy City for a long time. We followed their tracks here—to capture them and send them to the interrogation chamber. If they harbor malice toward the church, we'll burn them; if not, we'll hang them."

Cesar pressed firmly on her shoulder.

"What?"

"Kill the patroller standing by the butcher's corpse," Cesar said. "I need some souls to construct more spells, and I also need to gather information about the hounds from that butcher."

"How does that help me get out of here?" Jeanne retorted uncooperatively.

Damn, this woman is hard to please.

"Since the hounds came to the dungeon voluntarily, they must know what's here and how to leave—am I right?" he said, thinking to himself, if this doesn't work, I'll knock you out and throw you over as bait.

"—That's a logical reason," she replied with an utterly indifferent expression, showing no hint of embarrassment. "Also, I don't want to see you slacking off in the upcoming battle."

"Look at you, I'm a knight of the Crusaders, devoted to protecting you; how could I slack off?"

"I resent your sarcastic tone, but you'd be well-suited for performing in theater plays, heretic."