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Inquisitor.

Oscar Javert.

A figure renowned for extraordinary physical prowess, rooted in the unique “magic resistance” of clergy.

To mages—or rather, to most people—he is a living catastrophe.

The strategy to deal with him is simple: stay in his good graces at all costs.

Though Oscar is a madman who dismantles people with a carefree smile…

Even a lunatic like him has his own set of standards.

One of these is that he doesn’t touch those who behave properly.

Thus, all one needs to do is treat him kindly.

From the perspective of a player, he’s a surprisingly easy opponent to handle.

In fact, I’ve never lost to Oscar Javert before.

However, there’s one massive problem right now.

— Rumble.

He’s clearly not bothering to conceal his killing intent towards me.

‘Damn it.’

Why is he coming on so strong right from the start?

Elena, already tense, is practically hiding behind me.

“Ahaha~ Why so silent, Sir Ian? Here I am, greeting you so politely.”

At least outwardly, his lighthearted demeanor seems genuine.

I’ve done nothing to provoke him unnecessarily.

So why…

“Sir Ian? Aren’t you going to respond to my greeting?”

The reason he’s exuding hostility towards me is obvious.

He already sees me as an enemy.

Politeness? Kindness?

Those are simply strategies to avoid making Oscar Javert an enemy in the first place.

But once you’ve already entered enemy territory, such tactics are meaningless.

At this point, acting weak would only work against me.

Time to completely revise my strategy.

If there’s even the slightest chance Oscar thinks I’m someone he can crush with ease…

‘I don’t even want to imagine it.’

I’ll end up being crushed, plain and simple.

I need to bluff, to make it seem like I have something up my sleeve.

“The Vatican must have ordered you to capture me.”

My voice came out gruff and irritable—a deliberate choice.

Oscar’s lips twitched subtly.

And then, they curved upward.

“… Hahaha! How did you figure that out?”

“An Inquisitor wouldn’t come after me for any other reason.”

“Couldn’t it be to reward you for capturing a senior member of the Bloodstone Cult?”

“Inquisitors don’t get sent out to hand out praise.”

“Ahaha—true enough.”

Oscar scratched his golden hair, mumbling to himself.

“This is why I keep saying the title ‘Inquisitor’ needs a makeover. Something cuter, perhaps.”

Hmm. Personally, I wouldn’t recommend it.

The title “Inquisitor” is the only thing that gives people a chance to mentally prepare for the terror of your appearance.

In any case, did my words strike the right chord with Oscar?

His laughter subtly lost some of its warmth.

– Step.

A single step closer.

Yet that alone made the air around us feel oppressively heavy with his presence.

“We’re still in the stage of figuring things out, Sir Ian.”

“Figuring things out?”

“Yes. The orders I received were simply to investigate whether you’ve done anything wrong in recent incidents. That’s all. Ahaha.”

“You’ve probably already taken down a few people, haven’t you?”

For a moment, the cheerful smile in Oscar’s eyes flickered with cold sharpness.

“… You seem to know quite a lot, Sir Ian.”

“Just this much.”

“Then you must also know that you should behave respectfully toward me. Wouldn’t want to get arrested, would you?”

“I’m not worried.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because you’re definitely going to arrest me anyway.”

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air.

“… Ahahaha!”

Oscar’s laughter broke out a beat late, his eyes narrowing in delight as if he’d stumbled upon something highly amusing.

“You seem quite confident, Sir Ian.”

“Confidence? More like resignation.”

“Are you planning to surrender quietly?”

“If possible. Someone like you wouldn’t have any trouble fabricating evidence, after all.”

“Hahaha.”

Oscar doubled over with laughter, clutching his stomach and bending at the waist.

It was unsettling.

How could anyone laugh like that, like an unhinged madman?

To others, he might appear as an irresistibly charming young man.

But to me, he was nothing more than a lunatic with a disarmingly clear smile.

As he lifted his head, wiping away tears, I was reminded of how short he was.

It was hard to believe such raw, destructive power could come from someone so small.

“Interesting. You’ve piqued my curiosity, Ian—about you, that is.”

“…”

“So, let me give you a hint. About your crimes.”

“Crimes?”

“Yes. Do you know, Ian? People often say that cats serve as a bridge between shadows and reality. Perhaps that’s why witches are so fond of them. You saved quite a few cats recently, didn’t you?” 𝔯𝙖Ɲŏ𐌱Ě𐌔

“How pathetic.”

In response, instead of words—

— Swish!

I felt the air shift.

Hair strands floated into the air a split second later.

I glanced sideways.

Without a single hesitation, Oscar’s fist had stopped mere inches from my face.

— Slice.

Straight along the trajectory of his punch, a branch from a tree far behind me fell cleanly to the ground.

“Oh, excuse me. Your white hair caught my eye. For some reason, I can’t seem to hold back when I see white hair.”

As he spoke, a strand of white hair dangled from his hand. It crumbled into dust almost immediately.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

The speed and precision were astounding.

“Yet you didn’t even blink when my fist was this close. You’re quite bold, aren’t you?”

Ignoring his words, I spoke.

“Oscar. You and I both know this. Evidence is just an excuse. Since you’ve been ordered by the Vatican, you’ll find a way to take me in regardless.”

“Ahaha! Well, procedures do matter, after all. Can’t just kill someone without proof or torture, right, Sir Ian?”

He flashed a dazzling smile.

“Just because someone seems like a criminal, you can’t just t*rture them and kill them, right, Sir Ian?”

◆

The Lichten branch of the Deus Church.

The residence of Saint Candidate Aria.

Her escort knight Dave opened the door and shut his eyes tightly.

“Ehhhhhhh…”

A figure sat there, laughing faintly, her gaze fixed blankly into the air. Her clothes were disheveled, bunched and askew as though she no longer cared about appearances or the opinions of others.

It was Aria Lumines Bell, the saint candidate.

When the door opened, letting light flood in, she reacted like a person dying of thirst spotting water in the desert. She crawled toward the door across the floor.

“I…Ian…”

The savior she desperately yearned for.

Dave knew very well who that was now.

Ian Blackangers.

The person Dave despised more than anyone else.

The person Aria longed for.

Watching Aria cling to his leg, Dave squeezed his eyes shut even tighter.

“You…you came, Ian… Ahaha. I was waiting for you. I waited so long.”

“Lady Aria, it’s me—Dave.”

“Ian. Yes, Ian. Thank you for coming…”

The person he revered and devoted himself to was clinging to him, calling another man’s name.

The darkness in Dave’s heart grew even deeper.

The past had been better.

When she had curled up under a blanket, shrouded in darkness, at least she had retained some semblance of composure.

What could he even call this version of Aria now?

A woman utterly regressed, fractured, and broken.

‘No, this is Lady Aria, the saint candidate.’

It’s probably the side effects of the prescribed medication.

Even so, this was preferable.

Better than her banging her head against the wall as if she wanted to die at any moment.

“Ahaha. Ian, you came. Thank you.”

“…Lady Aria.”

“You know, back then… it was a mistake. I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. Can you forgive me? No, just… let me…”

“Lady Aria…”

Dave covered Aria’s mouth.

Whatever she was about to say, it wasn’t something anyone else should hear.

He gently lifted her and placed her back on the bed.

But as she kept trying to crawl toward him, clinging persistently, Dave clenched his eyes shut again.

Even so, there was something he needed to tell her, even in this state.

Gritting his teeth, he finally spoke.

“Lady Aria… A message has arrived from the Vatican.”

“The Pope? No. No, I want Ian… I want Ian.”

“The message states: ‘Saint Candidate Aria must visit the Holy See for the saint suitability evaluation.’”

“I’m not going. I’m staying here. Ian was here. Ian came here.”

The saint suitability evaluation.

The largest hurdle on the path to becoming a saint.

Dave was determined to see Aria ascend as a saint, no matter what.

But looking at her now, broken and clinging to the floor as if to protest any movement, he muttered softly.

“…If you go, you might meet Ian. Him.”

It wasn’t a lie.

◆

Raymond Trading Company, Lichten Branch

The large, opulent office echoed with the sound of fingers tapping against the armrest of a chair.

— Tap. Tap. Tap!

The noise grew more erratic, matching the increasingly ragged breaths of the woman sitting in the chair.

Before her, those kneeling on the floor grew paler with every passing second.

Finally, the tapping stopped.

The source of the sound, Emilia Raymond, furrowed her brow and spoke.

“How.”

A voice brimming with fury, followed by a brief pause.

— Crunch!

The armrest of her chair groaned under the force of her grip as she continued.

“How does Raymond fail to handle a single academy student? The state of this company is truly remarkable.”

“We’re deeply sorry, Vice-President…”

“No, don’t apologize. It’s my fault for not managing the company properly, isn’t it?”

“That’s not the case—”

“The resources—money, connections—used for this operation could have swallowed an entire guild. We spent all of that, brought in those people, and yet, we failed.”

Bang!

A man slammed his forehead against the floor and cried out.

“Just give me one more chance, and I’ll take care of it, no matter what!”

In his trembling hands was a piece of paper bearing Ian’s profile, fluttering slightly as he spoke.