Chapter 14: Refusing Moral Blackmail Starts With Me
"You have no idea what your actions will bring down on this village. Do you understand how many innocent people will be hauled off by the Inquisition because of your decision?"
The village chief ignored the girl's warning and fixed Steven with a look full of hatred, recounting every price that would have to be paid for the choice Steven seemed so casually to make.
All of this trouble began because of him, and now he just stands there like he's watching a show?
Maybe it was Steven's flippant, jokey attitude that stung so deeply, or maybe it was the chief's mortification at seeing his plan unravel—whatever the reason, the old man's loathing for Steven burned hotter than even toward the white-haired Inquisitor's.
The Minecrafter didn't care in the slightest.
"That line you're giving me—acting like I must obey you—that's nonsense. Whether I get arrested or not is my business. If other people get dragged into it, isn't that because you did something guilty to begin with?"
"Or are you hoping your guilt trip will make me feel ashamed so you can moral-blackmail me into doing what you want?"
He snorted, utterly unconcerned about shouldering any moral burden.
According to the old man, if he were taken by the Inquisition, the whole village would be investigated and a number of people would be arrested.
But the real problem was this: even without him, the village wasn't exactly innocent—this place smelled of the Church of the Deep like a rotten fish.
Moral blackmail only works if the person on the receiving end has the morals you're counting on.
And besides, even before going insane after years of solitude, he had no patience for cults—no matter what world they cropped up in—and he wasn't the sort to play by their rules.
"Save your breath. The more you go on like this, the more I feel you're the suspicious one here. You'd be better off doing what that Inquisition girl suggested—prove it with actions, not speeches. Right?"
Steven's tone was pure provocation, and the Liberi girl who had been listening closely in the hopes of gleaning useful information—felt her brow tighten.
She had no idea what had happened between this Ægir and the elder, but how could he be so utterly detached, like he wasn't even part of the matter?
"Don't just stare—go cuff him! I bet he's trying to stall for time; he might bolt any second."
Sensing the girl's suspicious gaze, Steven shrugged and continued to stir the pot.
And then, exactly as he'd predicted, the old man bolted.
The chief who'd been shouting in righteous anger suddenly bolted. In a heartbeat—more like a sprinter than a doddering elder—he ran, cane thumping crazily, a sight so undignified it would've embarrassed a cowardly hound.
Not only that, a fresh wave of villagers spilled from the surrounding houses, spreading out as if to shield the fleeing chief. They formed a human wall, trying to cover his escape.
"Told you he's running." Steven commented nonchalantly.
"Can you stop talking? You're half a suspect yourself. Say another word and I'll be forced to take drastic measures!"
Even the girl—who prided herself on impeccable composure—finally lost patience with the boy's mouth. With a sharp retort she stepped forward, weapon raised, and aimed once again at the agitated mob.
Letting him run had been a calculated move—to see who else might rush to his aid. The net was being tested; the catches were about to surface.
But that didn't mean she could endure the mysterious boy constant needling forever. If nothing else, at least her temper was very real.
How could a person's mouth be this irritating? Had he gone centuries without talking to another human being?
"That won't do. Talking isn't a crime, right? Is the Inquisition gonna record my chatter and punish me for it?"
Steven shook his head with a troubled look.
He was perfectly willing to cooperate if they wanted to haul him away—but that didn't mean he was about to obey everything she said.
"Will you die if you just shut up?"
The silver-haired girl nearly slipped and turned her "knock-out blows" into actual kill strikes thanks to the mysterious boy's constant chatter. She snapped at him, anger rising hot in her chest.
"No, but I'll go insane again."
Steven grinned ear to ear, not the least bit embarrassed about the admission.
But in the very next instant, the joking smile dropped. A long sword appeared in his hand, flashing toward a blind spot behind him.
A pair of hands—reaching from the shadows toward Gladiia, who'd been tilting her head and watching everything like a curious rabbit—were severed at the wrists. Blood spurted in a foul spray.
Yanking the startled girl close to him, Steven shielded her from the shower of gore and fixed his eyes on the figure hidden in the darkness.
And to everyone's surprise, the shadowy attacker was none other than the old village chief—who everyone thought had fled.
Even Steven froze for a heartbeat. But the pieces clicked into place almost instantly.
"So that's it. You weren't urging me to escape because you feared what the Inquisition might dig up. No… it was all about my little 'daughter,' wasn't it?"
"Let me guess. The real answer to the question I asked you before—it's also tied to her, isn't it?"
He flicked his blade to scatter the blood, eyes narrowing as his smile turned razor-thin and cold.
If the whole scheme had been targeting Gladiia from the start, then everything suddenly made sense.
First, they dared to risk harboring two Ægirs. Then they staged a cozy little village welcome to lower his guard.
Every "accidental" show of goodwill, every subtle nudge to make him distrust the Inquisition—it had all been to soften him up. So when the chance came, they could make their move on Gladiia.
Too bad for them, their plan had run into him.
He's the guy who didn't understand their script, who'd been treating this whole affair like a comedy skit from the beginning. All their careful scheming? Wasted.
Of course, the Inquisition's sudden arrival probably hadn't been in their calculations either. That explained the chief's desperate rush earlier to drag him along with him—escape first, tie things up later.
And now, with persuasion failed, the old man had gambled on snatching Gladiia away in the chaos.
Unfortunate for him, though… Steven might not have noticed how the man approached. But he didn't need to. In the corner of his vision, clear as day, he'd already seen the slow crawl of a red dot moving closer and closer toward Gladiia.
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Note: Character Illustration is in this Google Drive:
https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1iuyfwNVFHzIi9H4rWNT_lAm7jTSiah_M