"No, no, no! This wasn't in the outline!"
James's lungs burned as he sprinted down the crumbling obsidian hallway.
"Huff... huff..."
He skidded to a halt, leaning against a cold pillar. "Running is useless. I'm an F-Rank weakling. I need a cheat... and I need it now."
He turned on his heel and headed toward the one place only the creator would know about in this chaos: The Secret Armory.
In his drafts, he had written about "Magic Scrolls"—items that allowed even those with zero mana to cast spells. He kicked aside a pile of rubble and pried open a hidden wall panel.
"Found it!"
In his hand was a yellowed piece of parchment. [Teleportation Scroll: Rank A].
This was his ticket out. He gripped the edges and ripped the paper down the middle.
"..."
Nothing happened. No blue light. No spatial distortion.
Ding!
[System Warning: Spatial Interference Detected]
[Status: A High-Level Holy Barrier has been established. Spatial Magic is prohibited within the demon realm.]
"Dammit!" James hissed. "The Heroes didn't just come to kill; they came to trap us."
He grabbed the remaining scrolls—one for [Transformation] and another [Teleportation]—and shoved them into his vest. He had to get outside the barrier first.
...
A few minutes later, a young man with plain black hair and brown eyes walked out of the smoke.
Thanks to the [Transformation Scroll], James no longer looked like an Archdemon. He looked like just another terrified human refugee.
In the distance, he saw a line of horse-drawn carriages guarded by men in silver plate armor.
"Imperial Knights! And a transport carriage!" James felt a surge of relief. "If I can blend in with the prisoners, they'll take me straight past the barrier."
He ran toward the lead rider, waving his arms frantically. The carriage creaked to a halt. Two knights stepped down, their faces hidden behind cold steel visors.
"Another survivor?" the taller knight asked, his voice stiff.
"Yes! Please... the demons... they're everywhere!" James played the part of the 'dumb civilian' perfectly.
"Get in the back. We're moving out of the Demon Realm immediately."
James climbed into the dark, cramped carriage. It was filled with humans—mostly villagers and servants who had been captured by the Demon King's army. He sat in the corner, his hands shaking.
I'm out, he thought, feeling the carriage lurch forward. I actually made it out.
...
Hours later, the carriage stopped at a military camp.
The prisoners were led out into a clearing. They were still in chains, but the atmosphere felt peaceful. A priest in white and gold robes stood before them, a gentle smile on his face.
James sat on the grass, devouring a bowl of soup. "This is actually... delicious."
"You can have mine too, if you're still hungry."
James looked up. A girl with tangled blue hair and ocean-deep eyes was holding out her bowl. She looked exhausted, her face smeared with dirt, but her smile was kind.
"No, thank you," James said, feeling a pang of guilt. I'm the Prince of the race that put her in those chains. I can't take her food.
"All of you! Stand up and follow me!" a knight barked.
The group of thirty prisoners was led into a secluded forest clearing, away from the main camp. Six more knights waited there, their hands on their sword hilts. The priest stood at the center, his 'gentle' smile now looking like a jagged mask.
"Children of Light, you have been touched by the darkness of the Demon Realm," the priest began, his voice dropping into a low, fanatical drone. "To return to the Light, your souls must be cleansed."
Wait... cleansed? James's author-senses started screaming.
Swish—!
A blade flashed. The head of the prisoner at the front of the line hit the grass with a wet thud.
"AHHHHHH!"
Panic erupted. The knights didn't flinch. They simply grabbed the next person.
Clang! Another life snuffed out.
I remember now... James felt a cold sweat break across his neck. The Holy Church. In the later chapters, I hinted that they weren't 'Heroes.' They were 'Purifiers.' To them, any human who survived the Demon Realm is 'tainted' and must be executed to save their souls.
"Why!?" a woman shrieked before a sword silenced her forever.
James looked at the line. There were only three people left before it was his turn.
Think, James! Think! What do they want? What is the one thing they desire more than blood?
The knight grabbed James by the collar, forcing him to his knees. The cold steel of the blade touched his neck.
"I KNOW WHERE THE HOLY HORN IS!" James bellowed, his voice echoing through the woods.
The knight froze. The priest's eyes snapped open, his fanatical smile twitching.
"Stop," the priest commanded. He walked toward James, his gaze like a viper's. "What did you say, boy?"
James forced himself to smirk. He had to play the 'Maniac' now.
"The Blue Horn," James whispered, leaning into the blade. "The one with the Mark of Divinity. The one that grants wishes when the right blood is spilled. You've been searching for it for decades, haven't you?"
The priest's breath hitched. "You... how could a peasant know about the Holy Relic?"
"I didn't just hear about it," James lied with total confidence. "I saw it. In the Demon King's private vault. I know the secret passage to get back in."
The priest's eyes practically glowed with greed. If he brought the Holy Horn to the Pope, he wouldn't just be a low-level priest anymore. He would be an Archpriest.
"Speak! Where is it?"
"I'll take you there," James said. "But on two conditions. One: you stop the 'cleansing' right now. Two: she comes with me."
He pointed to the blue-haired girl.
Ding!
--------------------[Side Event]-----------------
[Title: The Author's Gambit]
[Description]: You have successfully deceived the Holy Church. Escape the clearing with Amilea Fontera.
[Target Info]: Amilea Fontera. Younger sister of 'Bron Fontera' (Future Hero Party Member).
[Reward]: 1,000 Glory Points.
[Failure]: Death.
---------------------------------------------------
Jackpot, James thought, his heart hammering. If I save her, I don't just get points she might even be useful. Her death was part of the reason Bron Fontera became a very wicked guy.
"Very well," the priest sneered, gesturing for the knights to lower their swords. "Take them. But if you're lying, boy... I'll make sure your 'cleansing' lasts for days."
James stood up, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead. He had traded an execution for a suicide mission.
But at least I'm the one writing the script now.