Chapter 5

Inquisitor.

"Krrrgh…"

The gathered Skeletons walked toward me.
Their appearance resembled people in prayer.
Seeing that, I nodded as well.

"Right. Since you answered my request, I should repay the favor too."

As I spoke, I released the mana composing their bodies.

"As payment for helping me, I've lifted the curse binding you. You may now go wherever you wish."

At those words, the Skeletons nodded.
One by one, they knelt and vanished.

"…This is what a true necromancer is supposed to do."

Letting out a small sigh, I prepared to leave.

'Considering Dunkel's personality, he's probably already riding this way.'

Thinking that, I turned toward the corpses.

"Hm?"

Frowning, I looked toward one corner of the forest.

"What's that now?"

Someone was sitting within the dark shadows.

"Young Master Klein. To think you can use necromancy… unexpected."

A black robe.
And a mask.
The silent stranger staring at me finally spoke.

"Who are you? Did you watch everything?"
"No need for you to know. And even if there were, you couldn't."

After saying that, the masked figure looked at the corpses and began forming hand seals.

Crack. Craaack!

Along with the sound of twisting bones, the corpses of Dalton and the dead mercenaries stirred.
A technique that forcibly trapped souls inside bodies whose lifespan had already ended.

"Spirit-Reversion Art… so you're a necromancer too?"

Tuhwaak—!

The corpses that had been piled together instantly rose once more.
Axes and crossbows still clutched in their hands.
And empty eyeballs bleached completely white.

Zombies.

"Kyaaaaaaaak—!"

Bleeding dead blood from every part of their bodies, the zombies staggered toward me.
Unlike the Skeletons I summoned, these were monsters created by forcibly stuffing souls into corpses.

"Since Dalton failed, I might as well make use of the corpses."

I had already exhausted all the demonic energy I had refined within my body.
The masked man noticed and slowly nodded.

"You didn't expect Dalton to die, but you figure you can still kill me… something like that, right?"

As I spoke, I glanced at the back of my hand.
The mark linked to the scroll I had given Dunkel was glowing.

Father Garrison disappeared.
Which meant…

"You're fucked, you bastard."

And the very next moment—

KukwAAAAANG—!

With a deafening explosion, something descended from the sky.

"…!"

The masked stranger staggered backward in shock.
And understandably so.

The ten zombies approaching me had been shredded apart merely by the shockwave of the landing.

Kugugugugu…!

A black priest's robe.
A giant standing over 2.5 meters tall.
A man holding a holy scripture in one hand and a gigantic hammer in the other.

"T-The Executor…!"

The one smiling with the face of a beast was an Executor of the Holy Church.

Garrison Bjerkman.

"I speak unto the sinner: repent and beg. Then I shall grant you the baptism of flame and cleanse your sins. I shall strip away the skin drenched in wickedness and cast it into the heavens."

The Holy Church's prayer echoed low throughout the forest.
Looking at the remains of the zombies already blown to pieces, the masked man realized something had gone horribly wrong.

"Damn it, this isn't what I was told! Retreat—!"

The moment he turned to flee—

"Where do you think you're going?"

Father Garrison was already gripping the man's head in one hand.

Pupupupupuck—!

He had merely charged forward.
He had merely stepped once.

And from that simple action alone, the bodies of Dalton and twenty mercenaries disappeared.
The pressure generated by his movement alone ground twenty-one zombies into pieces and scattered them across the area.

Overwhelming violence so absolute that resisting never even crossed the mind.

That was an Executor of the Holy Church.

Pak—!

A sound like a bursting balloon echoed out.
The masked necromancer died without even managing a single protest.

Step— Step—

Heavy footsteps slowly approached.
In Garrison's left hand was a holy scripture soaked thick with blood.

'That insane bastard… did he crush the guy's head with the book?'

Thinking what an absurd method that was, I looked toward Father Garrison as he approached me.

"Young Master."

The voice calling me was as bright and cheerful as always.

"…Thanks. You saved me."
"I sensed the aura of necromancy, you see. So I rushed here immediately."

As he said that, Father Garrison lightly dusted off my shoulders.

"Still, it truly is strange."

"…What is?"

When I asked back, Garrison kept smiling as he spoke.

"The aura I sensed… and the aura of the one I just judged… felt slightly… different."

The moment I heard that, chills crawled down my spine.

Hidden behind that smiling face—
An endless fury.
And madness with no discernible source.

'If I say even one wrong word, this bastard will kill me immediately.'

Just as I swallowed dryly—

"Young Master! Are you alright?!"

Along with the sound of a horse neighing, Dunkel's urgent voice rang out.

Fwooo—!

The moment I let out a sigh of relief, my legs gave out beneath me.
My first real battle in this body, followed by an interrogation from an Executor.
The fact I endured this much was already impressive.

"Young Master…!"
"I can hear you perfectly fine, so stop shouting and carry me. My legs gave out."

As I waved my hand dismissively, Dunkel finally relaxed, climbed off his horse, and supported me.

"What happened here? Where is Lord Dalton…?!"

"Ah, Dalton?"

Looking at the panicked Dunkel frantically searching the surroundings, I shrugged.

"I killed him. That bastard tried to kill me first."

***

"An assassination attempt?! What kind of absurd nonsense is this?!"

BANG—!

A family council had been convened because of Klein's testimony.
A furious voice thundered throughout the meeting hall.

It belonged to Count Cornwell, the father of the now-dead Dalton.

"Dalton was a member of the knight order, a man who understood honor and loyalty! And now you accuse him of assassination?!"

Cornwell's shout sounded as though he were coughing up blood.
His son had not only died, but had become a zombie, and the corpse had been mangled so badly it could not even be recovered.
The other nobles murmured amongst themselves as they watched him rage without hiding his emotions.

"Nevertheless, Klein has not retracted his testimony. And there is one more thing."

Calmly speaking, Heinkel produced a document.

"There is a record stating that twenty mercenaries were dispatched from your territory during the time the two disappeared. Just as Klein testified."

"Th-That is…!"

The surrounding nobles clicked their tongues.
To think he failed to dispose of evidence like that in the middle of all this.

"But this makes no sense!"

Still refusing to yield, Count Cornwell shouted loudly.

"Dalton was skilled enough to officially join the knight order, while Young Master Klein has never even held a sword!"

At those words, the Duke nodded.

"Klein is indeed a complete novice when it comes to the sword."

"Then doesn't that make this strange?!"

As if gaining confidence from the Duke's agreement, Count Cornwell's voice grew louder.

"If Dalton truly intended to harm Young Master Klein, then the young master could never have survived."

"And if mercenary support was involved, it would've been even more impossible."

Other nobles supported Cornwell's argument.
It was sophistry meant to blur the issue.
Yet even Heinkel had no immediate way to refute it.

One formal knight and twenty soldiers armed with crossbows.
Even a commander-class knight like Dunkel would have to prepare for injury when surrounded by such a force.
The fact that Klein returned alive was not something easily accepted.

"And in the first place, what kind of person is Young Master Klein?"

Seeing Heinkel hesitate, Cornwell smiled coldly and continued.

"He was born under Duchess Claire, who was obsessed with necromancy, and at the age of three he even claimed he was Archimond himself!"

"Cornwell! Watch your tongue!"

"No! I refuse!"

Despite the warning from the family head, Heinkel, Cornwell showed no intention of stopping.

"A useless young master possessed by demons, versus my son, a proper knight and member of the noble council! Which one is more reasonable to suspect?!"

Those words were not aimed at Duke Heinkel.
The one he needed to persuade was not the Duke, but the other lords gathered here.
And the collateral branches already siding with him.

"W-Well, certainly…"
"Considering Young Master Klein, perhaps it's possible…"
"Didn't Duchess Claire also suffer from delusions? If this is merely an extension of that…"

Members of the same family had gathered together only to slander the heir of the main house.

Though he tried to suppress it, even Heinkel's expression looked far from comfortable.

"Think carefully! Perhaps the young master killed my son—!"

"I've heard enough. Count Cornwell. You truly know no limits to the nonsense you can spout."

Before more garbage could come out of his mouth, I cut him off.
Several nobles gasped as I entered the conference hall despite supposedly needing rest.

"Young Master Klein…"
"He clearly said it himself. That he would throw my head at the ducal house as a warning. And that he would show us who truly rules the North."

I embellished Dalton's words slightly as I repeated them.
An irreverent statement implying a collateral branch challenging the main family.
The regional lords and Duke Heinkel coughed awkwardly.

"T-Those are baseless claims, Young Master."

"Still better than claiming I hallucinated the entire thing."

I refused to back down against Count Cornwell, one of the most influential figures among the collateral branches.
The eyes of the lords outside the branch family began to gleam with interest.

'So this is where it begins.'

I was the second young master who had never once stepped onto the front stage.
Depending on how I acted from now on, both my evaluation and the Duke household's reputation would completely change.

'Yeah… I'll fix this rotten damned family.'

The resolve I made while killing Dalton.
Remembering it, I stepped forward and spoke.

"Dalton mobilized mercenaries to kill me, and I killed them in self-defense. Afterward, an unidentified assailant turned them into undead, but Father Garrison intervened and helped."

I summarized the events once more, yet the people from the collateral branches still looked unconvinced.

"Young Master killed Dalton? Ridiculous!"

"And why is that ridiculous?"

When I asked back, irritation spread across Count Cornwell's face.

"Didn't I just say so?! There is no way you could defeat Dalton, a formal knight!"

The moment his words ended, I swept my gaze across the room.
Regardless of whether they supported Cornwell or not, nobody seemed able to believe that I had defeated Dalton.

'This is my first time stepping onto the main stage. I need to draw as much attention as possible.'

Thinking that, I smiled at Count Cornwell.

"Then I'll prove it."

At the same moment, I drew my sword.

"Young Master Klein! What are you—!"

"Delkan Cornwell—!"

The head of Count Cornwell's house.
The instant I called out his true name, I drove my sword into the center of the conference hall.

KANG—!

Everyone, including Duke Heinkel, widened their eyes at the act.

Calling out someone's true name while planting a sword into the ground.
Among the northern nobility, that action carried only one meaning.

"You not only obscured the truth of this incident through speculation and false testimony, but also insulted my mother, a Duchess, and me, a prince of the ducal house!"

Count Cornwell's expression twisted grotesquely.
Ignoring it completely, I smiled and addressed him.

"Therefore, according to the traditions of the northern knights, I hereby request a Trial by Combat against you and your house."

That single sentence erupted like thunder.

Every person attending the meeting stared at me in complete silence, unable to speak.