Chapter 175
"Third prayer verse."
"Let all things revere the Great Dave as their mother."
"Tenth tribulation."
"A tribulation of abstinence, not eating, not drinking, not sleeping."
"Malauki, Chapter 8, Verse 30."
"When the Mammonites invaded, Priest Raven built a strong wall and erected an altar. On the wall, he placed scarecrows. The Goddess looked upon them with mercy, and turned the scarecrows into soldiers of Heaven. The Mammonites were so frightened by the sight, they fled."
Oooh—
Even the inquisitors watching from the sides gave a pure, impressed gasp at Simon's seamless and prompt answers. Metin had bombarded him with relentless questions for nearly twenty minutes, yet Simon hadn't wavered once.
"Wait, Malauki Chapter 8? Even I don't remember those details."
"That's impressive."
"Newbie, stop already, let it go. Why are you so desperate to sink that devout kid?"
Metin ground his teeth.
Unbelievable. Absolutely ridiculous. A guy reeking of necromancer stench is sitting right there, and they're just going to let him go?
His jaw clenched tight. He shouldn't have interrogated, he should've just chopped his head off. Now that Simon passed the questioning fair and square, it was like Metin himself had to prove Simon's faith.
"Hey."
Senior Inquisitor Baccarat furrowed his brow. He too had grown irritated with Metin's obstinacy.
"We don't have time to keep holding him here."
"Just one thing. Let me ask just one last thing."
Metin replied through gritted teeth, thrusting his face close to Simon's.
"The Eighth Tribulation."
"It's the tribulation where one rolls on burning sand and endures for four days."
"No, not that."
Metin grinned.
"You said you're an apprentice priest, right? Then tell me everything that happened during the two hours immediately after you completed the Eighth Tribulation. Every last detail. It wasn't that long ago, so you should remember clearly, right? One stutter and it's over. Go on, start."
A detailed recollection of a past memory.
If it wasn't his own experience, the more he talked, the higher the chance of mistakes or lies.
But Simon took a deep breath without a hint of panic.
"When I had just completed the Eighth Tribulation and raised myself up, my throat was parched and my skin was peeled, causing excruciating pain. Then, an elder who had been watching my tribulation for days from a distance on a straw mat…"
"You little— You're not even going to describe what they looked like?"
"He had tanned skin, thick eyebrows, full lips, looked to be in his fifties. Wrinkles lined his forehead as he handed me a water bottle. He said I reminded him of his dead son. His firstborn had returned to the Goddess at the age of sixteen, his immune system collapsed after undergoing a harsh tribulation, and he caught an illness that same year. The elder confessed that for a time, he resented the Goddess for taking his son so early. But then, seeing me…"
"That's enough! Enough! That's more than enough!"
Baccarat shouted, cutting Simon off.
Metin and the other inquisitors stared sharply at him. Metin's glare protested the interruption, while the other inquisitors looked annoyed that he had stopped such a compelling story, but Baccarat ignored them all.
"We thank this faithful brother for his cooperation! We deeply apologize for ever doubting your faith, even for a moment. Come, let's move on!"
Baccarat and the inquisitors moved on to second class. Metin still insisted on continuing the interrogation, but was dragged away by his seniors, held by the scruff of his neck.
Thud!
The carriage door closed with a bang, finally breaking the tension. Simon let out a sigh of relief.
"It's over?"
Just then, Lete entered the corridor, her pure white hair fluttering.
"Yeah, we got through it somehow."
"They didn't pull any weird tricks?"
"Metin was tenacious with the questioning, but it was all within what we prepared for."
"Glad all that cramming paid off."
She slumped into a seat, leaning back tiredly. Simon spoke up.
"I get why I got held up, but why were you so late?"
Lete waved her hand like she didn't even want to talk about it.
"Just full-on FM from start to finish. That crazy woman even told me to strip to my underwear! I know there's scrutiny on inquisitors lately, but who goes that far these days? Pissed me off so bad."
She leaned her elbow on the window frame, venting her frustration. Simon forced a smile.
"Now everything hard is behind us, right?"
"Yes. It's over. We'll head straight for the Tree of Life, so conserve your strength."
Of course, that was just their hopeful thinking.
"Fun! damn! heresy interrogation, you bastard!"
Metin persistently added more heresy interrogation sessions to the schedule, using most of their assigned time to interrogate Simon.
And Simon, as if saying "go ahead, ask whatever you want", kept his back straight and answered smoothly.
The two continued their mental battle — questions and answers — until, inevitably, Baccarat or another senior inquisitor would step in and drag Metin away again.
Thus passed the second day of the train journey.
Today again, Simon, worn out from Metin's pestering, leaned his tired face against the window.
"..."
Metin, failing to gain anything once again, was about to move on to the next car, when Lete, staring silently at his back, called out.
"Inquisitor."
"What is it?"
Metin turned to her. Lete, resting her chin on her hand, replied with a dry voice.
"Once you're done interrogating, come see me for a bit."
Later, after finishing heresy questioning in another carriage, Metin walked up to Lete. He scratched his hair with a crooked stance.
"You called me earlier."
He had planned to sneak in one more question along the way, but Simon had gone to the bathroom and was nowhere to be seen.
Lete stood up and gestured with a finger to follow her into the corridor.
"Ellen, come too."
"Ah, yes!"
Lete brought Ellen along and kept walking. They passed through several cars, eventually reaching the cargo hold at the rear of the train.
"What is it, Priest?"
Metin asked with a voice full of annoyance.
"I have official duties to perform this afternoon, so make it quick."
"Ellen."
Lete turned and spoke.
"Stand watch."
"Huh?"
Riiip!
Ellen's eyes widened. Metin was clutching his stomach, staggering.
Crack!
Lete drove her knee into Metin's nose. Blood poured from it as he reeled, slamming against the wall.
Without hesitation, Lete grabbed his hair and slapped him across the face — smack!
"Ah, ah…!"
Ellen covered her mouth, trembling in fear. Lete spoke in a cold, flat tone.
"Senior. Watch."
"Y-yes, right!"
Whack! Rip! Crunch! Thud!
Blood sprayed across the cargo hold. Metin, bleeding from nose and mouth, took the beating without blocking or retaliating. He simply stared with murder in his eyes.
"You."
Lete grabbed his collar.
"You know how pathetic you are? Why do you keep bothering him? You trying to drag him down with me, huh?"
Metin spat blood to the floor. A bloodied tooth rolled across the ground.
"I'm just doing my job."
"But damn, you don't give a single damn about what I think, huh?"
Smack!
She slapped him again, and this time Metin finally collapsed to the floor.
"Mad now?"
Lete ripped off the top of her Efnelle uniform and threw it into the air.
"Then take off your rank and fight, bastard."
Metin grabbed his inquisitor badge from his chest, tore it off, and slam! smashed it onto the floor. He summoned holiness, reached into subspace, and pulled out a spiked mace.
"You're dead now...!"
Squelchhhhhhh!
Before Metin could even register it, the sole of Lete's shoe was crushing his face as she dragged him across the floor and slammed him into the wall.
"Guh, guhuk…!"
Too fast to react.
Overwhelming strength.
Metin's quivering pupils locked forward. In the dark cargo hold, her golden eyes were gleaming murderously. At some point, a serpent-like creature had coiled around her arm.
Metin gulped instinctively.
He was overwhelmed.
She's really a first-year?
"Kh!"
Metin immediately grabbed onto Lete's pale leg to pin it down and swung his other fist. He intended to break her leg on the spot, but her left leg, planted on the floor, lifted and struck Metin's head.
Squelch!
Metin's back went flying as he crashed into a wooden crate. Covered in grain dust, he coughed violently.
"Kraaaagh!"
Metin instantly thrust his right fist forward. Ten holy fangs materialized around and shot toward her simultaneously, but Lete blocked them with a protective shield cast over her body.
She brought her hands together in prayer.
Fwooooom!
A radiant windstorm burst forth as her blessing activated. Her white hair grew long enough to touch the floor, and her golden pupils shone brilliantly.
The wave of sheer power made Metin swallow dry.
Lete extended her right arm, and from the jaws of the white dragon coiled around it, a dazzling prism-colored sword emerged.
"I'll carve you up until you're half-dead."
Just as she was about to leap forward, stamping the ground—
"Lete! Priest Lete!"
Ellen shrieked in panic.
"S-someone's coming! They're headed this way!"
"..."
Lete clicked her tongue. They'd made too much noise in the cargo hold, a passenger must've informed an inquisitor.
Deactivating the blessing on her body, Lete spoke.
"Ran."
Ran, coiled around Metin's body, brought him over in front of her. Squatting down, she placed her hand on Metin's face.
"Kgh! What do you think you're doing?!"
"Shut it."
Fwoooosh!
Metin's body began to recover rapidly.
He was startled. This girl, her healing skills were top-class, too. Before he could even form proper words, his face was fully healed.
"This is the bare minimum cleanup. Whether you rat us out to your senior inquisitors for getting your ass beat by an Efnelle, that's your choice."
"..."
She then recalled Ran back into subspace and left the cargo hold with Ellen.
Metin sat on the floor, dazed. For a moment, the sounds of Lete arguing with Baccarat could be heard, and then she left. Baccarat entered the hold.
"Well, damn."
Baccarat gave a hollow laugh, looking over the trashed cargo hold and Metin, who sat stunned on the floor with no visible injuries but an utterly vacant face.
"I knew this would happen. Told you to stop pushing her."
"..."
"You got beat up, didn't you? Be honest. Even if Efnelle's considered a sacred domain, I can still report this to the professors and get at least an internal disciplinary."
Metin staggered to his feet. He picked up his hat from the floor, dusted it off, and placed it back on his head.
"Nothing happened."
"…Tch. Bastard."
"And the interrogation will continue, just as before."
Metin stumbled out of the cargo hold. Watching his retreating back, Baccarat shook his head in disbelief.
* * *
Returning from the restroom, Simon was worried about Lete.
She had vanished without saying a word, and quite some time had passed. If she had just gone to the restroom, they would've run into each other, the women's bathroom was directly across.
Just as he was about to get up to look for her—
"What are you doing crouched like that?"
Lete was casually walking down the corridor. Behind her, Ellen was nervously glancing about.
"You disappeared without a word. I was worried."
"I'm not weak enough to need your concern."
Lete waved her hand at Ellen, who quickly slipped into her own compartment and sat down. Lete followed, taking a seat across from Simon.
She let out a quiet sigh.
"Something happened, didn't it?"
"I'm not saying. And, it really was nothing."
Simon stared at her silently for a moment, then looked away.
"If you say so, I'll believe you."
He smiled faintly and turned his eyes back to the scriptures on the desk.
"..."
Trust, huh?
He wasn't sure. Could trust even exist between a priest and a necromancer?
Lete uncorked a new bottle of wine.