"I saw everything."
With the sound of a wooden door opening, Sister Miriam appeared.
"Look at this room. Same as always—nothing's changed."
A few clothes and a bed.
One scripture and a single holy statue.
The owner of the room, sparse to the point of bleakness, spoke to her from where he sat.
"If you had summoned me, I would've come myself."
"You? Hah. More likely a passing dog would bark first."
Sister Miriam snorted as though dumbfounded before speaking to Garrison.
"You read the letter, right?"
Though the question wasn't directed at anyone in particular, Garrison answered immediately.
"I figured he wouldn't enter without a plan… but I never imagined he would scheme something like this."
At the end of Garrison's gaze lay a small note on the table.
"Everyone says they're going. What about you?"
"I have to go."
Hearing his answer, Miriam muttered, "Should've decided that sooner," and waited for him to continue.
"Leinrant personally said he would guarantee my safety. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
"Then hurry up and leave already. Why're you sitting here acting miserable?"
Garrison remained silent for a long moment at Miriam's irritated words.
"Ugh, you pathetic bastard."
After cursing at him, Miriam asked,
"You're still debating whether to kill him or not?"
"..."
Seeing that Garrison still wouldn't answer, Miriam clicked her tongue in frustration.
"You sent him to me because even you sensed something from that brat, didn't you?"
As she said that, Miriam sat on a small chair and pulled a cigarette from her pocket.
"If I said I intended to kill him, would you stop me, Sister?"
"I would."
There wasn't the slightest hesitation in Miriam's answer.
"He's the best source of income our orphanage has. No way I'm letting him die just like that."
With those words, Miriam lit the cigarette hanging from her lips and slowly exhaled smoke.
"It is true that he uses necromancy."
"Probably."
"That he revives the dead. That he commands armies of undead."
"So what?"
At Miriam's blunt response, Garrison's head snapped toward her.
"And you're proud saying that?"
But Miriam glared back without backing down.
"The same religious freaks who scream about necromancers being heretics and apostles of evil are doing that same filthy shit behind closed doors."
As she remembered where the children in her orphanage had come from, Miriam continued.
"Wearing the same priest robes. Carrying the same cross. Aren't you ashamed?"
"...!"
Garrison couldn't find anything to say for a moment.
"The kids who went through Kripel hate the Order. Just like you hate Archimond, the one who ruined your life."
"I know."
Each time Miriam exhaled smoke, the large cigarette pipe clenched in her mouth burned lower.
"And because I know that, I said I would take responsibility as a member of the Order—"
The moment Garrison got that far—
"Then that bastard's probably the same."
Hearing her response, Garrison turned his gaze toward the letter lying on the table.
"I'll go ahead, so hurry up and follow. If you're late, your ass is gonna catch fire."
Saying that, Miriam rose from her seat and left the room.
"The same as me…"
Repeating those words quietly to himself, Garrison clicked his tongue, stood up, and draped his priest robe over his shoulders.
"It is time, Young Master Klein."
A group of holy knights came to the underground prison where I was being held.
"Was wondering when you'd show up."
It was already past noon.
The nameless nun who had become the source of my headache was already gone.
No, seriously though, what was that woman again?
Did I dream the whole thing?
Ripple.
As random thoughts drifted through my head, my shadow suddenly trembled like rippling water.
'Guess he's feeling cramped.'
Seeing that, I smiled faintly and tapped the ground lightly with my foot.
"Just bear with it a little longer. Once we're out, I'll buy you snacks or something."
"What?"
Oops.
Seeing my lips move, one of the holy knights turned and questioned me.
"Who were you speaking to just now?"
As if interrogating me over the possibility of an accomplice, the holy knight stared at me sharply.
"No, it's nothing serious."
If you're gonna threaten someone, at least do it properly.
Casually brushing off his glare, I lightly patted his shoulder.
"There was a kid sitting here earlier, so I was talking to him."
"Wh…!"
The procession escorting me halted for a moment.
"R-Ridiculous!"
The holy knight glaring at me scoffed.
"To dare say such nonsense in the Holy Kingdom—especially to a holy knight—!"
I interrupted him before he could finish.
"A seven-year-old boy. Blond hair. A wound on his neck."
"...!"
At those words, the knight forgot how to speak and turned pale as he looked over his own shoulder.
"Th-that…!"
I spoke to the holy knight whose hands had begun trembling, as though he had a guilty conscience.
"I'm joking."
"Kh…!"
The knight let out a shaky breath as tension drained from him.
"They say superstition doesn't work in the Holy Kingdom, but damn, that worked great."
I mocked him once more with a smirk.
"What? Guess there's something bothering you if you can't just dismiss it as nonsense?"
At my words, the holy knight's face flushed red.
"How dare you toy with a holy knight!"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever."
I'd had my fun teasing him enough already.
"The important people are waiting, aren't they? Shouldn't we hurry?"
Cutting him off, I urged them onward toward the courtroom.
Creak.
I heard the sound of teeth grinding, but no one tried to stop me.
'Even after all the chaos I caused, they still won't move against me carelessly.'
Was the Pope still thinking about recruiting me?
As that thought crossed my mind, I found myself standing before the doors of the courtroom located at the center of the grand cathedral.
Rumble…
A massive iron gate towering upward like a giant tower.
Upon it was carved the holy war between the Sun God Kersias and the angels.
'These bastards have truly mastered the art of wasting money.'
Without even trying to hide my thoughts, I waited while staring at the overwhelmingly grand iron doors.
"Witness, Klein Leinrant, step forward!"
A solemn voice echoed from beyond the doors.
At the same time, the towering gates opened wide like the jaws of some giant beast.
Rumbleee…!
With the heavy groan of metal, the doors opened, revealing the entirety of the courtroom at once.
'Feels more like a conference hall than a trial.'
I looked over the courtroom, littered with documents and writing tools.
It seemed discussions regarding the reformatory incident had already been going on for quite some time.
"So that's Archimond's…"
"Silver hair. A color not seen among northerners."
"To think the great Leinrant bloodline would mix with foreigners…"
The countless people seated throughout the chamber whispered as they looked at me.
Eyes evaluating me.
Judging me.
Appraising me.
A few carried curiosity, but most were filled with contempt and hostility.
"Witness, pay your respects before the holy Lord Kersias and swear the oath of truth."
At the judge's command, one of the nuns approached me.
'Not that woman.'
After confirming it wasn't the nun from before, I accepted the cup and small knife she handed me.
'Never understood why religious fanatics are so obsessed with formalities.'
Grumbling inwardly, I grasped the sharpened blade with my bare hand.
Slice!
I dragged the blade across my palm, letting blood drip into the cup.
A stinging pain crawled up my hand.
The bandage handed over by the nun immediately wrapped around my palm and stopped the bleeding.
"Under the blessing of the Lord God, I swear that every word spoken by my mouth shall be the truth."
After finishing the short prayer, I stood at the center of the courtroom.
As the attention of every clergyman gathered upon me, my gaze remained fixed on the man seated highest among them all.
"Your Holiness, the sinner has arrived."
"Mm."
Palliman sat at the Pope's right side.
Responding to his whisper, the Pope spoke in a solemn voice.
"As the representative of the Lord God, I permit your oath."
An old man with long white beard seated upon a pure white holy throne.
I narrowed my eyes as I looked at him.
'So that's the Pope?'
Pure white robes embroidered with golden thread.
A triple crown adorned with a massive sun cross.
And the staff clutched in his wrinkled hand emitted a power so deep its limits could not be measured.
'Similar to the power those bastards Garrison and Palliman possess.'
Though the pinnacle of the Holy Kingdom stood before me, my interest lay more with his artifacts than with the Pope himself.
The reason was simple.
The man called the Pope was nothing more than an empty shell.
'Now I understand why he was so obsessed with the Holy Blood.'
The corners of my mouth twisted on their own.
A man in whom neither the dignity of a king nor the conviction of a priest could be felt.
That thing was merely a corpse buried beneath symbols and splendor.
A diseased wraith clinging desperately to life.
"His Holiness has accepted the oath. Begin the interrogation."
Palliman issued the command in place of the aged Pope.
A decrepit, dying Pope and the cardinal who had become his closest confidant.
'So you're the one truly in power.'
I was sneering inwardly at Palliman, who acted as though he were the Pope's very mouthpiece, when—
"Klein Leinrant."
The judge seated below the Pope called my name.
"Twelve years ago, you were imprisoned in the Kripel Heretic Reformatory following accusations by Father Ben Drake, its director."
'At the age of three, no less.'
As I thought that, the judge continued while looking directly at me.
"The reason being that you were believed to be the reincarnation of Archimond, the necromancer who plunged the continent into terror."
The clergy seated throughout the chamber began whispering among themselves again.
Archimond.
To the Order, it was a name synonymous with trauma.
"Director Ben, the one who accused you, presented as evidence the fact that you had learned necromancy."
"You also supposedly used necromancy during the Paulwyvern Civil War."
The judge repeatedly emphasized Ben's name in a calculated manner.
The Kripel tragedy was not the fault of the Order, but merely Ben's personal deviation.
That was clearly the narrative they intended to push.
'Like hell I'm letting that slide.'
The one who threw me into that reformatory was the bastard sitting above them all.
I looked toward the man seated at the highest point.
'Isn't that right, Pope Brigante?'
Whether he noticed the hostility burning inside me or not, the judge's questioning continued.
"Thus I ask you: who orchestrated all of this?"
They wanted me to say it was Ben.
That he had gathered his own followers and acted alone.
If I said that, the rest would supposedly be handled by them.
They would pin every atrocity committed in the reformatory on Ben's independent actions…
Then quietly create a second and third reformatory behind closed doors.
'That's not happening.'
I recalled the hellish reformatory.
People who died as mere experimental subjects.
Those forced to accept unwanted power and transformed into monsters that bled Holy Blood.
The vermin who profited from the suffering of others.
'They need to pay the price.'
They had to answer for every misery they created.
Every single person involved had to be found and held accountable.
And I would be the one to do it.
Because that was the burden I carried after being reborn.
The creed of a necromancer.
"It was the Empire."
After a deliberate pause, I spoke clearly enough for everyone present to hear.
"..."
Just one sentence.
Yet every whisper throughout the courtroom instantly died.
"Wh-What did you just say…?"
I could see the priests' faces turning red all the way down to their necks.
It felt as though years of pent-up frustration had been swept away in one breath.
"And at the same time—"
I shouted with deliberate emphasis.
Loud enough for every clergyman staring at me to hear clearly.
"—it was all of you, who drove innocent people to their deaths under the name of heresy."
"Y-You…!"
The clergy's expressions twisted violently at my words.
And in equal measure, Palliman's smile deepened.
"Young Master Klein, do you understand what those words imply—!"
"As a necromancer who communes with the dead, I can testify to it."
Cutting the priest off immediately, I continued speaking.
"The Kripel Heretic Reformatory was a factory that created Holy Blood by using living people as sacrifices."
So that every single person seated in the chamber could hear me—
"And that, for the sake of that Holy Blood, they joined hands with the Empire's necromancers."