Grand Inquisitor of the Inquisition, Guillaume St. Clair, felt as if a mountain weighed down on his heart at this moment.
The task entrusted to him by Luthien, the Archbishop—to thoroughly investigate corruption within the church—was already fraught with difficulty and far-reaching implications.
On top of that, those damned things wouldn’t even give him a moment to catch his breath!
On this seemingly calm night, under the Capital, turbulent undercurrents surged.
The Evil God’s power spread like a rising tide, agitating the blood of every Crestbearer in the Capital, and heretical activity abruptly spiked as a result.
Tonight, the Inquisition could truly be said to have mobilized every last member—even the clerical staff were out on the streets, armed and patrolling!
And all this was just the aftermath of one “Blessing” leaking out when bestowed upon some unlucky soul.
When he personally led the Inquisition’s most elite War Party, bracing himself to face a terrifying enemy head-on, and ventured deep into the very heart where the Evil God’s power poured in directly, the expected scene of carnage and demonic hellscape did not appear.
Instead, what greeted him was an orderly, unhurried post-battle cleanup.
A black-robed youth wearing a strange mask calmly commanded a group of sharp-eyed, efficient youngsters who looked not much older than himself, alongside a squad of well-armed, imposing mercenaries, to keep tight control over all the captives.
Some nobles, dressed in finery but now ashen-faced and restless, were being held separately.
They understood all too well that not only were they ruined in reputation, but had also witnessed unspeakable horrors. Awaiting them was likely the Inquisition’s dark prison.
Medical staff from the Inquisition were desperately tending to several pitiable girls, whose minds and bodies had clearly been shattered.
One girl in particular, who had lost all four limbs, was especially heart-wrenching. She sobbed in despair, wishing only for death.
In the end, it was the masked youth—accompanied by his strikingly beautiful maid—who gently yet resolutely comforted her, finally dissuading her from ending her life.
The corpses had been gathered together. Severely tainted by that power, they had to be purified with Holy Flame as soon as possible, or they risked turning into Undead.
The Inquisition’s members were preparing to perform this task.
The masked youth seemed somewhat reluctant to part with the equipment on the corpses, muttering quietly about whether it could be salvaged.
He was immediately shot down by the brown-haired youth at his side:
“Boss, who’d dare use armor or weapons from the dead? It’s bad luck—and they’ve been tainted by the Evil God!”
With unanimous disapproval from his subordinates, the youth had no choice but to give up.
Guillaume surveyed the vast underground chamber.
He knew well that this had once been one of the Kingdom’s underground shelters, built in the earliest days of the realm.
With the passage of time, it had been abandoned and forgotten, only to be discovered by criminals and taken over, becoming the headquarters of the Thieves’ Guild—a den of iniquity.
The Inquisition had long known of the underground powers’ collusion with heretics.
But lacking hard evidence, and as part of the church bound by the Holy Covenant with the royal family, they could not interfere in the Kingdom’s internal affairs, making it impossible to eradicate this cancer completely.
The existence of the Thieves’ Guild was itself a facet of the Kingdom’s political darkness. Who didn’t know that powerful figures lurked behind them?
Should the Inquisition act rashly, the Kingdom’s fragile political balance could shatter. Even knowing the evils here, the church often held back, unable to act decisively.
But now, from this day forth, the Thieves’ Guild would cease to exist. And in this shelter—originally church property—the Inquisition would establish a new secret base.
After hearing the detailed report from the War Party, who had witnessed the battle firsthand, and after Victor Solen had confessed the details of his secret alliance with Allen de Laval, Guillaume fell into deep contemplation.
Allen de Laval… A “suspected heretic” who had been under close surveillance not long ago, had in the span of just days almost completely turned his reputation around—transforming, by sheer force of personality, into a figure resembling a “Saint.”
He had even entered the church’s most forbidden ground—the Sanctum—and received the Archbishop’s approval.
Most crucially, he had displayed an undeniable Sage’s Miracle—banishing a terrifying monster blessed by the Evil God himself, and purifying its corruption.
Guillaume St. Clair, as the chief investigator of the Laval House attack, understood Allen de Laval better than anyone.
Taking all the information he possessed into account, there was only one conclusion:
The Allen de Laval of the past, that spoiled young lord, had very likely “died” in that drowning accident. The one active now was, in all probability, a “God’s Messenger” who had awoken within his “blank vessel.”
It fit the Holy Scripture’s prophecy perfectly!
Guillaume St. Clair, the highest leader of the Inquisition and once the right hand of the Archbishop, was not just a “divine sword” vigilant against heresy and the enemies of humanity, but also a seasoned bureaucrat who understood political rules intimately.
Allen de Laval had not concealed his creation of “Dawn’s Children” and the “Mutual Aid Association” from the Inquisition—after all, Anna was watching openly from his home.
Guillaume quickly pieced together the facts and drew a startling conclusion:
In less than half a month, Allen de Laval had built a grassroots organization and military force from nothing, seizing control of the Capital’s underworld in one fell swoop.
He was no longer a trivial “robed noble” heir, but a revolutionary with the potential to upend the entire old order of the Kingdom.
His goal was crystal clear—he meant to eradicate the Mark Bearers, exterminate the Crested Nobles, annihilate the old world, and then unite all of humanity’s strength to save the world!
Guillaume completely understood why Victor had chosen to ally with him. In that situation, he himself would probably have done the same.
He finally grasped all the Archbishop’s earlier hints—why he insisted on pushing forward that forbidden Nirvana Project—
A God’s Messenger had already descended among men. Humanity had to hasten into its next historical era!
And yet, precisely because of this, during the Cardinal Conference that reviewed the Nirvana Project draft, all the Inquisitors had voted against it.
Since the God’s Messenger had appeared, how could they launch such a dangerous Nirvana Project?
Other Inquisitors might only have a superficial understanding of the plan, but even they knew it would exact a terrible price from humanity.
But as Grand Inquisitor, Guillaume had read some of the core materials. He knew that if the Nirvana Project succeeded, humanity might truly escape the cycle and attain salvation—but—
The person who originally devised the Nirvana Project, whose name had been erased from all records, was none other than the renegade who had become the leader of the Crimson Spiral Cult—the heretic known as the Star Listener!
When Guillaume learned that the Archbishop intended to press ahead with the project, he was deeply shocked and alarmed.
The Nirvana Project, at its core, was a relatively “mild” salvation plan proposed by the Star Listener before he was wholly corrupted by the Evil God—a plan that had the same roots as his now-radical and evil schemes!
To push this plan through risked becoming a sinner in the annals of history.
More importantly, not long ago, the Imperial Inquisition’s Grand Inquisitor had secretly visited and revealed the Imperial Church’s own plan for humanity’s salvation.
Without a doubt, compared to the dangerous “legacy” left by the Star Listener, the Imperial Church’s proposal was also far from perfect, but at least it preserved more of humanity’s “essence.”
Thus, Guillaume established a secret alliance with the Imperial Inquisition.
That was exactly why he had turned a blind eye to Victor’s double-dealing—keeping in touch with the Archbishop while secretly allying with Allen—and felt not the slightest anger.
After all, he had done the same himself.
Humans are complex, seeking advantage and avoiding harm; there’s no need to demand absolute loyalty.
The Inquisition exists solely to eliminate the enemies of humanity and to save mankind.
As long as an Inquisitor is loyal to humanity as a whole, their intent is what matters, not every single deed!
Inquisitors have always enjoyed a high degree of independence. For the sake of saving humanity, even the most radical means are permitted.
With the threat of evil growing by the day, the Inquisition had reached a moment of necessary change.
Guillaume knew well that the Kingdom’s Inquisition was not the same as the Empire’s.
The Kingdom’s Inquisition was merely a subordinate body of the Kingdom’s church—not an independent organization.
They were not “free.”
The Archbishop tasked him to investigate corruption, and what he found shocked him to the core.
Corruption within the Inquisition itself was still within control, but the level of rot throughout the broader church was appalling!
Especially those haughty Cardinals—Inner Circle members who knew the true stakes for humanity, bearing the mission of saving civilization—yet had decayed to unimaginable degrees!
How could such a church hope to shoulder humanity’s salvation?
The reason Luthien, the Archbishop, remained clear-headed and steadfast in defending the survival of mankind was precisely because he hailed from the Inquisition.
He was fundamentally not the same as that bloated, rotten church system!
That Imperial Grand Inquisitor was right. Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures!
The church… had become the Inquisition’s greatest obstacle in saving humanity.
Those corrupt parasites! Holding precious technological relics from the Lost Civilization era, instead of using them to battle evil, they produced luxury perfumes, monopolized rare crops, and amassed immense wealth.
Not all of it went to church operations—a large portion lined their own pockets. Some even abused these rare relics to prolong their own lives!
Guillaume nearly went mad with rage at the thought—Inquisition members dying on the front lines, while these men indulged in decadence at the rear!
Traitors! They were traitors to humanity, unworthy of the sacred mission of salvation!
Within the church, Guillaume’s only true ally seemed to be the Archbishop. But he knew even the Archbishop was wary of him.
Of course. In the eyes of the church hierarchy, the Inquisition was just a guard dog.
Let this “dog of war” off its leash, and who knew if it might bite its master?
Guillaume began to seriously consider the Imperial Grand Inquisitor’s proposal.
Now that the God’s Messenger had forged a relationship with them—one might even say, an alliance—
That seemingly radical plan might truly be feasible.
They must not allow the church to secretly enact that dangerous Nirvana Project! They must protect the purity of humanity!
Humanity would surely conquer all evil and win salvation!
If the church could not do it, or chose instead to flee, then the Inquisition would be humanity’s last shield!
Purge all the enemies of mankind, even… if the church itself was among them.
Guillaume, after so much hesitation, at last made his final decision at this very moment. And the force that tipped the scale was Allen de Laval’s appearance.
The butterfly’s wings Allen had stirred a week before, starting ahead of schedule, were intensifying a political storm soon to sweep the entire Kingdom.
The Inquisition, that silent behemoth, was about to break its chains.
But for now, Guillaume set aside his thoughts. With heartfelt respect, he approached the masked youth still directing the end of the operation.
“Lord Laval,” he said steadily, “I am Grand Inquisitor Guillaume St. Clair of the Inquisition. It is an honor to meet you.”
“Oh! Comrade Guillaume! Pleased to meet you!”
Allen’s reaction was unexpectedly warm—he removed his mask at once, revealing a young yet extraordinarily charismatic face, and eyes that glimmered with a faint golden flame.
Without a trace of fear, he reached out as naturally as if greeting a colleague.
Seeing those sacred eyes, Guillaume felt a jolt of spirit!
Truly a God’s Messenger! What an honor to witness such a being with his own eyes!
“It was your holy wind that brought me here.”
Guillaume gripped Allen’s hand, unable to contain his excitement.
Allen waved it off at once, repeating, “I’m really not a God’s Messenger! Even if everyone thinks so, I’m not. I’m just an ordinary person who loves peace.”
“Yes, we’re all ordinary people—people loved by God.”
Guillaume gave the same meaningful smile he’d seen so often on the Archbishop.
The moment Allen saw that expression, he knew there was no point arguing with these zealots. Fine, let them think as they like.
He was happy enough for the Inquisition to treat him as a spiritual leader.
Now he had to dance upon the three eggshells of the church, Inquisition, and the Kingdom’s secular powers—he couldn’t afford to neglect any side.
For the sake of Dawn’s Children’s future, he had to put his diplomatic skills to use.
“I’m sure you have many questions,” Allen smiled, “but I think I can explain—”
“No, there’s no need to explain,” Guillaume cut in firmly, “Whatever you wish to do, go ahead! We will fully support you! Command us as you see fit! For humanity, we are capable of anything!”
“Anything?” Allen’s eyes lit up as he seized the opportunity. “In that case, I do have a question. Under what circumstances can the Holy Covenant between the church and royal family be broken?”
“Heresy,” Guillaume replied crisply.
Allen nodded. “Understood. You must already know what happened here tonight, then?”
“That evil aura—we could sense it clearly from outside.”
“Really?”
Allen signaled for Marianne to bring over the deathly pale leader of the Thieves’ Guild.
Guillaume looked at Marianne, his gaze lingering for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly.
When Marianne had used shadowy tentacles to control the monster earlier, she had already revealed her Mark Bearer powers.
That hot-blooded fool Hugo might not have realized it yet, but the experienced Guillaume understood all too well what it meant for a commoner to possess a true crest.
Allen noticed his wariness and spoke in a relaxed tone, “Yes, as you see, my little maid does have a crest. But you also know that a crest is, at its core, a psionic talent—ordinary people can awaken it too. Psionics itself isn’t evil, it’s just a tool—its nature depends on the user. That power might be linked to some deeper nature of psionics, but the power itself is innocent.”
“Marianne is my ‘Apostle.’” Allen deliberately used the religious term. “You needn’t worry about her undermining secular order—she can perfectly control and hide her abilities.”
Apostle?!
Guillaume’s mind reeled, and a twinge of jealousy rose.
If only he could become a God’s Messenger’s Apostle…
But with the God’s Messenger’s personal endorsement, Guillaume raised no further doubts and nodded.
“I understand. However… I suppose you’ve already spoken with the Archbishop, but have yet to meet other church leaders? What do you think… of the church?”
He hinted meaningfully.
Allen caught the undertone immediately.
As the church’s special armed force, the Inquisition had to both fight external heresy and supervise the church from within.
It wielded enormous power and independence, almost like a mix between the KGB and a ministry of the interior.
In centuries of war against heresy, the Inquisition had remained highly disciplined and less corrupt than the now bloated and rotten Outer Church.
Many of the church’s clerics had no idea how terrifying humanity’s enemies really were, and even thought the Inquisition’s existence sullied the church’s reputation.
How could front-line Inquisitors, who bled and died, tolerate this?
This intertwining of interests was exactly the problem.
The church wasn’t just the Archbishop’s; he couldn’t fully control the whole organization’s thinking.
And all Inquisition members came from the church itself—severing such tangled roots was almost impossible.
Inevitably, the conflict between the church and the Inquisition would one day erupt.
It was a lesson from history: on the eve of that great red giant’s collapse, few soldiers were willing to defend its ruling party.
You can’t expect soldiers to die on the front, then blame them for failure when they return.
That’s how hearts are changed, little by little.