Irene's arrival plunged the refugees into a suffocating silence. It was immediately obvious to everyone that she was a member of the hated Inquisition, which meant their small haven now harbored two of them.
The glances cast toward Jeanne grew distinctly hostile. Had it not been for her terrifying combat prowess—capable of flattening all of them combined—alongside the grim authority of the Inquisition, these villagers would have charged forward long ago to bind the trio and beat them senseless.
Jeanne met their glares with a cold, unbothered stare. Finding no courage among the cowards, she ceased paying them any mind, turning her focus instead toward the sudden blackout enveloping the stronghold.
This power outage was far too convenient. For a fortified compound built with defenses in mind, losing power so abruptly made zero sense. Something was deeply off.
"What... what are you people really after here?!" A villager finally mustered the courage to step forward. Gritting his teeth, he leveled a shaking, furious finger at Jeanne and Irene.
"I am a novice judge of the Iberian Inquisition," Irene explained calmly. Though slightly irked by his hostility, she maintained her duty, offering a clear response. "We came to this estate to investigate the recent wave of disappearances in the neighboring settlements. I came only to ask the master of this house for whatever information he might possess. I..."
"Save your lies!" the villager cut her off, shouting in outrage. "That is never the truth with your kind! You judges bring nothing but ruin! Every single time you show your faces, disaster follows right behind! You've already forced us out into the wilderness—why can't you monsters just leave us alone?!"
The accusation brought a sharp flicker of anger to Irene's eyes. How could they blame the Inquisition for the disaster? The scourge threatening Iberia was a calamity beyond anyone's control; how could these people twist something so simple so completely backward?
Just as Irene opened her mouth to argue, Jeanne reached out, placing a firm hand on her forearm to stop her. Meeting Irene's confused gaze, Jeanne spoke in a measured, relaxed tone:
"There is no point in arguing with them. They don't want to hear anything you have to say. Deep down, they likely understand the truth of what's happening out here, but they refuse to accept it."
Jeanne saw through them entirely. No matter how much they explained, these refugees would never listen; they preferred their own comfortable delusion.
Rather than wasting breath on this crowd, it was far better to investigate their surroundings. Why had the stronghold fallen into darkness? And where had the rest of the household gone?
Jeanne motioned for Irene to move out and search the facility. Although Irene felt uneasy leaving the villagers unattended in the dark, her duty making her hesitant to abandon Iberian citizens, the hostile glares keeping them at bay made her hesitate.
"You won't convince them," Jeanne noted softly, pulling Irene along. "I've crossed paths with this exact group before. I even saved their lives —do you see a single trace of gratitude in their eyes?"
Jeanne scanned the gloom as she walked. She had no intention of playing savior for people who held nothing but contempt for her. Kindness was one thing, but being a foolish martyr was another. Whatever fate befell them was entirely of their own making.
"I suppose... you're right," Irene murmured with a quiet sigh, yielding to Jeanne's logic. "We should focus on resolving the threat here first. As for the villagers... we can only hope god watches over them."
"That's more like it," Jeanne said casually, surveying the cavernous, shadowy passage. The sheer scale of the underground fortification was astounding; constructing a structure this massive out in the wilds must have taken years of secret labor.
"Ah, finally found someone! What's the situation here?"
Jeanne called out as she spotted a servant holding a flickering candle in the hallway up ahead, stepping over to inquire.
The servant jumped violently at her voice, nearly dropping the candle onto the floor.
"A-Ah! It seems... some creature managed to sever the power cables," the servant stammered, standing beside a concealed side door. Trembling slightly from the scare, he offered a shaky explanation. "The master has taken men to inspect the damage directly. Please remain calm and wait here until it is resolved."
"Your master went down there himself?" Jeanne raised an eyebrow. Shouldn't tasks like that be delegated to servants? Why would an old noble put himself in harm's way?
Under normal circumstances, a man like that would hide in a safe corner until the danger passed. Was he truly that brave, leading his own men into a dark hazard zone?
"There are numerous hidden passages throughout the estate that only the master knows how to navigate," the servant explained, his voice flat. "That is why he had to lead them personally. I know nothing beyond that."
Having finished his piece, the servant fell silent, reverting to a rigid, wooden posture. He stood completely still, his eyes faintly glimmering with an eerie, unnatural sheen in the dim candlelight.
"Would you mind if we went inside to check as well?" Jeanne asked suddenly. "Perhaps we can lend a hand."
The servant glanced at the two women for a quiet moment, remaining silent before uttering two dull words: "As you wish."
He showed no concern about letting them wander off alone into the depths. Watching Jeanne, Irene, and the child step past the threshold, he waited in silence for a long moment before sliding the heavy hidden door shut, locking it securely from the outside.
With the door sealed, a chilling, distorted smile stretched across the servant's face. Abandoning the passage, he turned to leave—his lower body slithering along the floor with a wet, writhing motion rather than taking normal steps.
Before he could slither far, a massive blade suddenly descended through the darkness, piercing through his fragile, malformed body. The creature was killed instantly, tossed aside into the shadows like a discarded rag.
A tall figure carrying a colossal greatsword stepped into the light. Her scarlet eyes glared down at the dead monster before sweeping across the damp stone wall, searching for the hidden entrance.
A flash of annoyance crossed her face—she had ended the thing's life a moment too quickly, leaving her without a guide to locate the secret passage.
Meanwhile, Jeanne's party pressed onward down the pitch-black tunnel. Exercising caution, Irene switched on her lantern, casting a warm beam of light through the gloom—the trusty tool of every judge in battle.
Even Fafnir grew slightly alert in the damp, claustrophobic air, her eyes wide as she scanned the darkness for any sudden threats.
Jeanne observed the stone walls carefully, her discomfort growing with every step. A place like this could harbor nothing good; she didn't even need her instincts to know that much.
"Enemies... a vast swarm of... enemies... mortal foes... calamity... must erase them... no, must return to the We-Many... kill... return... kill..."
Faint, fragmented whispers drifted into Jeanne's ears. Despite her exceptional hearing, the voices were distorted and broken, offering only disjointed phrases.
Still, she knew precisely what kind of terror was festering in the dark ahead. Turning her head, she looked at Irene and asked:
"Do you know what 'The We-Many' refers to?"