"Oh, my! You have a good ear. But you certainly aren't Croatian either, are you?"
Obviously, Rimuru thought, hiding a wince at her butchered pronunciation.
Still, the fact that she immediately adapted to his language of choice was a clear sign of submissiveness. She was a professional.
Rimuru's interest waned slightly. If he was actually going to indulge in some "entertainment," he preferred someone with a bit more personality.
But even a professional swallow was good for information.
Rimuru offered a charming, practiced smile. "Clearly not. I recognized the accent because I have a deep fondness for Serbia. It's a beautiful place."
Lie. If not for the Great Sage acting as a real-time Wikipedia, Rimuru wouldn't even have been able to point to Serbia on a map.
But talking about someone's homeland was the fastest way to build rapport. Within minutes, they were chatting amicably, the physical distance between them on the sofa shrinking rapidly.
By unspoken agreement, neither asked for the other's name.
"I have to say, my beautiful lady, tonight has been surprisingly pleasant," Rimuru murmured, looking at the slightly tipsy woman. "I've traveled all the way from Germany, but the atmosphere here is incredibly lively. The magi don't even seem on guard against each other. Do you know why?"
"Oh, it's not usually like this," she giggled, her cheeks flushed. "It's just that the local security has been exceptionally tight the last few days... Speaking of tight, do you want to make tonight even more pleasant?"
Her small hand drifted down his chest, trailing lower. Just as she was about to breach his defenses, Rimuru smoothly shifted his posture, crossing his legs and casually blocking her advance.
He smiled through her look of surprise. "Exceptionally tight security, you say? Why is that?"
"You tease," she pouted, giving his arm a playful slap. "It's no big secret. You'll probably see for yourself soon enough. The Church has been running regular, mandatory inspections..."
"The Church... runs regular inspections?"
Rimuru's charming smile froze. The warmth drained from his face.
"Yeah," the woman hummed, her hand still trying to wander.
But Rimuru's heart was already plummeting into his stomach.
"I heard the Burial Agency mobilized Grand Inquisitor Vissela specifically to hunt down some massive VIP..."
Grand Inquisitor Vissela...
Rimuru's heart sank like a stone. He hadn't heard the name before, but titles like "Grand Inquisitor" weren't handed out lightly. It meant this guy was part of the absolute apex of the Holy Church's fighting force.
But... why was he here? Or rather, how the hell had they predicted he would run to Croatia?
Rimuru lost every ounce of his borrowed relaxed mood. He placed his glass down and was just about to stand up when…
Clack.
The raucous noise of the tavern died instantly. The heavy wooden doors swung open.
A man with a square, chiseled jaw and the unmistakable, suffocating aura of a Paladin strode in, leading a squad of Executors clad in black tactical habits. The man swept his gaze across the room in dead silence.
Suddenly, those razor-sharp eyes snapped directly onto Rimuru's face.
Damn it! The swallow's words echoed in Rimuru's mind. Actually, you'll probably see for yourself soon enough.
He should have realized it sooner. Her casual tone meant today wasn't just a day for an inspection. It was the exact timefor the inspection!
"Mn? A new traveler..." Vissela hadn't seen through Rimuru's physical disguise, but his eyes narrowed. "...You reek of a curse. You are in need of the Lord's mercy."
"Thanks, but I'm feeling quite merciful myself today," Rimuru replied smoothly, shaking his head.
He uncrossed his legs, tossed a stack of lira onto the table for the woman, and lowered his head, preparing to walk out.
But Vissela stepped squarely into the aisle, blocking his path. The sheer, overwhelming pressure rolling off the Grand Inquisitor was suffocating.
"Whether you need it or not is irrelevant," Vissela rumbled, his voice low and uncompromising. "We still need to verify your soul."
Before Rimuru could formulate an excuse, Vissela raised his hand and began tracing symbols in the air, his lips moving in a rapid, sonorous chant.
The moment the words left his mouth, golden script flared to life along his forearm, floating upward into the dim light of the tavern.
Rimuru knew that spell. He knew it entirely too well.
He had been running from it for half a month! It was the exact spell that forced him to flee every single encounter!
And you're seriously using it right out of the gate?!
[Baptism Rite]!
The Holy Church's most powerful, iconic, and devastatingly effective anti-spirit Magecraft.
In a vacuum, Rimuru would have loved to just stand there and let the Baptism wash over him to prove his innocence. Yes, he had eaten Svelten. Yes, he had assimilated vampire and phantom traits. But his core conceptual existence was still exclusively Primate (human disguise) and Phantasmal Species (Slime).
Logically, as long as he didn't actively channel vampiric energy or turn intangible, his innate Magic Resistance would brush off the Baptism Rite like a light drizzle.
But!
That damn curse!
Not the Vampiric Impulse. The fatal, rotting wound Svelten had left on his heart.
The moment the Holy Church's Baptism Rite touched that concentrated Dead Apostle curse, it was like throwing gasoline on a grease fire. It caused a violent, chemical-reaction-level detonation inside his chest!
Could anyone comprehend the sheer agony of Holy and Demonic energy furiously annihilating each other inside their own internal organs?!
The Baptism Rite couldn't actually hurt Rimuru's slime core, but the explosive backlash aggravated his internal injuries exponentially.
And the absolute worst part? These Church bastards saw the violent reaction and assumed, "Aha! The Baptism works! It must be the White Knight!"
They had literally turned an exorcism spell into a radar ping!
Are you people idiots?!
Rimuru's face darkened as the golden chant reached its crescendo. He took a sharp breath.
You forced my hand!
"The... The Black Princess?!"
Rimuru's pupils shrank in perfectly feigned, absolute terror. He pointed a trembling finger directly over Vissela's shoulder toward the tavern entrance.
At the exact same time, he channeled mana into a highly compressed, overclocked Mana Burst, and slammed it directly into the brick wall right beside his own table!
BOOM!
Then, he bolted!
Predictably, the mere mention of the name "Black Princess" was enough to shatter even Vissela's ironclad composure. The Grand Inquisitor's head snapped backward for a fraction of a second.
But Vissela was a veteran. The moment he heard the explosion, he realized the trick. Without hesitation, he whipped back around and hurled the fully charged Baptism Rite directly at Rimuru's retreating back!
He might not have suspected this random traveler was the White Knight, but the guy was definitively a heretic now!
Croatian taverns in this era were essentially retrofitted houses; the bar area was separated from the street by a single, now-shattered brick wall. Rimuru cleared the rubble instantly.
But Vissela's spell was faster.
The golden light slammed into Rimuru's back just as his boots hit the cobblestone street.
The holy energy cheered as it washed over him, suffusing his skin with a warm, divine glow... and instantly began incinerating his insides.
Rimuru froze mid-stride, enveloped in a cloud of brick dust. He didn't even make it to the corner.
Agony, pure, unadulterated, soul-scorching agony, exploded outward from his chest. The necrotic curse and the festering wounds he had painstakingly suppressed with his own holy healing arts were violently stimulated. The Baptism Rite acted like a rabid wolf thrown into a pen of exhausted sheep. The curse flared, violently tearing through Rimuru's vitality.
"I swear... to god..."
"You absolute... bastards..."
In the end, I still couldn't dodge this damn Baptism Rite...
His vision went black. Knowing he was about to pass out, Rimuru forcefully surrendered motor control to the Great Sage.
Using the absolute last dregs of his consciousness, Rimuru detonated a massive cloud of pitch-black mist. A tidal wave of blood-red mana swept through the tavern's blown-out wall, temporarily blinding and stalling Vissela and his squad.
Under the cover of the blood mist, Rimuru liquefied. He turned into a puddle of murky water and slipped silently through the grates of a nearby storm drain.
….
+20 chapters on my p@tr3on: Kazuma_trash
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