“Th–the door… huff…!”
Thomas staggered into the temple, gasping for breath as if he might collapse at any moment. He hated exercise and loved greasy food. His appetite was enormous—enough to eat for two—and that morning he had stuffed himself far beyond reason. Before the food could even settle, he had sprinted at full speed.
“Urgh—ugh!”
The moment he stepped into the temple grounds, Thomas vomited up his breakfast. An apprentice priest sweeping the courtyard frowned in disgust.
Thomas, having soiled the ground, wobbled to his feet. “What are you standing around for?!” he barked at the apprentice, who stared at him in confusion.
“Close the door, you idiot!”
Smack!
Thomas slapped him across the face. The stunned apprentice, holding his cheek, ran to the gate.
“Priest!”
Just then, soldiers of the temple forced their way through the closing door.
“Why are you here?! You should be holding those scoundrels back!” Thomas shouted.
“There are nearly fifty of them, and only four of us! And Sir Edward is with them! Please, spare us!” the soldiers cried, trembling with fear.
Thomas wanted to curse them, but worry came first. “Where are they now?”
“…They’re heading this way.”
“Damn it! Apprentice! Come here!”
He called the young man back. “You remember the place I told you about before?”
The apprentice nodded.
“Go to the stable, get two horses, and wait there.”
The temple owned horses, but to keep the grounds clean, they were kept in the village stable. There were none on hand to ride immediately.
“Yes, Priest.”
“Go, now!”
Once the apprentice left, Thomas ran straight to his office.
How had it come to this? The townsfolk hadn’t originally planned to drink holy water. They could barely afford to eat—buying it was out of the question. To get them to open their wallets, something drastic was needed.
Edward had been perfect for that. Aside from his health problems, he cared about nothing. He didn’t mind if the territory collapsed or if people gossiped about him. In short, he was useless.
So Thomas had used him as a scapegoat—telling the people they needed to drink holy water to escape the influence of Edward’s black magic. The plan had worked perfectly. The townsfolk bought the water even if it meant going into debt, and Thomas’s purse swelled.
He hadn’t worried about the aftermath. Edward’s relationship with his father was already ruined, and the baron himself was in despair over his failure to solve the drought. They were in no position to object, even if the people cursed them both.
Even if they did complain, Thomas had no reason to fear. The Griffiths might be an old family, but they were a small house in a backwater of a minor kingdom. The Theos Order, backed by the Holy Empire, had no need to bow to them. Worst case, he could accuse Edward of heresy and have him burned.
But now… things had changed.
If he didn’t get out soon, he would die. The law and God were far away—but the sword was close. And this sword was unlike anything Thomas had ever faced.
Sir Dorian, the temple knight, had been killed—by that brat. Dorian was well-known in the Order for his skill. He’d been sent to this remote parish because of his personality, but he’d been considered a promising knight among the lower ranks, and the strongest in the Griffith parish.
Edward, who had never properly learned swordsmanship, shouldn’t have stood a chance. Was it in the blood? The baron had once been a renowned swordsman in the kingdom, and Edward’s half-brother William was a monster of a fighter. Edward had never trained because of his illness, but perhaps he did have talent—and perhaps, by chance, it had surfaced.
Still… just days ago, Edward had been on the verge of death, found in a cave near the Demon King’s castle. Waking up at all had seemed a miracle. Yet as soon as he recovered, he had uncovered the truth about the well water and killed Dorian with a single blow.
It was unthinkable.
It had to be black magic. That was the only explanation that fit. He needed an inquisitor. Killing a temple knight was grounds for a religious trial—and Edward had actually studied black magic before. Accusing him would be easy.
“Where’s that fraud of a priest?!”
“Give me back my money, you swindler!”
Shouts rose from outside the temple. A chill ran down Thomas’s spine, his body turning cold. It wasn’t the townsfolk he feared—he could talk them down.
What truly terrified him was Edward—the look in his eyes after killing Dorian, as he turned that gaze on Thomas. Just remembering it sent a shiver through him.
There was no time.
He opened the hidden safe in the office wall. Inside were jewels and documents, all of which he stuffed into a bag. Then he ran toward the temple’s underground.
—
[“What’s that?”
Dorian pointed to a passage hidden deep beneath the temple. He’d found it while inspecting the grounds after his reassignment.
“As you can see, it’s a secret tunnel,” Thomas had replied with a sly smile.
“A servant of the god of justice has no need for such a rat hole. That’s for lowly thieves,” Dorian said.
“A brave knight like yourself can say that, Sir Dorian. But in this land, there are savage folk like the locals here. We must know how to protect ourselves from them.”
Dorian didn’t answer. He already knew why Priest Thomas had such a thing built. Thomas had a notorious reputation for sticky fingers. In the last parish he’d served—and the one before that—he had swindled the residents until it led to open revolt. His reassignment here had been punishment for exactly that.
Still, Dorian didn’t hold it against him. Few priests were above such acts. But he considered Thomas’s worries unnecessary. Anyone who dared defy the Order could simply have their skull smashed in; there was no need for a rat hole like this.]
These were the temple knight’s memories now floating in Edward’s mind.
What’s going on?
The Black Soul was the Griffith family’s secret technique. It put an enormous strain on the user’s soul, so it couldn’t be used often. But now, it had activated on its own and absorbed the knight’s soul—without any side effects.
There was no mental overload, no rush of thoughts threatening to overtake him, no headaches. In fact, the strength taken from the knight seemed to have stabilized his body, which had been on the verge of collapsing.
Strange.
Surviving the absorption of both the Demon King’s and the death squad’s souls had been a miracle in itself. Now it seemed he could use the Black Soul freely. If he could take the power of those he killed, the usual backlash might be reduced—and the amplified strength could be used in battle.
At least this is to my advantage.
Thanks to the knight’s soul, he now knew exactly what the priest had been up to.
“Lord Edward?”
Logan’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. The townspeople, kneeling on the ground, looked like soldiers awaiting their commander’s orders, eyes fixed on Edward.
“I’m going to the temple,” Edward said.
“We’ll go with you,” Logan replied firmly.
“We’ll join as well,” another called. “That fraud needs to be destroyed!”
Edward shook his head. “I appreciate it, but I’m not going there to fight.”
“…?”
“Our enemy isn’t the Theos Order—it’s the priest. He may represent the Order here in our territory, but his crimes aren’t the will of the Order itself.”
He spoke with calm calculation. The Theos Order was as powerful as the Holy Empire itself, its influence stretching across the continent. The dying Griffith family couldn’t hope to take them head-on. The only option was to avoid direct conflict and force compensation.
The knight’s memories had given Edward the means.
“I killed that knight because he threatened you all. I’ll demand the priest explain himself according to law and tradition. But you must not destroy any temple property or harm anyone belonging to it. Understood?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Then let’s go. The kingdom’s law and God’s justice are on our side.”
Edward led the townsfolk toward the temple.
When he’d been there yesterday, there were no signs of horses on the grounds. Thomas, with his bulk, wasn’t about to flee on foot—he had to still be inside.
“Give me back my money, you swindler!”
“Fraudulent priest, get out here!”
The crowd surrounded the temple, shouting, but they didn’t break down the doors or climb the walls. They could have, but they were following Edward’s orders to the letter.
“Do you think he’ll come out?” Logan asked, his frustration obvious. He clearly wanted to storm the place, but doing so would hand the Order the perfect excuse to use force. That had to be avoided.
“He’ll come,” Edward said confidently. His plan was to make the priest come out of his own accord—and bring with him whatever valuables were essential to resolving this mess. If Thomas stayed barricaded inside, it would be a problem; the crowd’s fervor would fade with time.
But Edward doubted that would happen. From what he’d seen in the plaza, the priest was a coward to the core. Once he imagined the townsfolk breaking in to kill him, he’d panic.
And Edward knew he had an escape route. Anyone who had been through what Thomas had would make sure of it. A man with a way out couldn’t resist the urge to use it.
“Logan.”
“Yes, my lord?”
“There’s a hidden passage through that hill. He might try to flee that way. I’m going to check it.”
“A hidden passage?” Logan looked taken aback.
“If anyone tries to break the siege or enter the temple, stop them.”
“Understood.”
“I’ll be back soon.”
Edward slipped away toward the rear of the temple.
—
Almost there.
Thomas shoved aside the brush covering the exit. He almost wanted to give his past self a thumbs-up for arranging this. He’d hired outsiders to construct it, so no one in the village knew it existed. Truly, it was a masterstroke of caution.
Just a little farther and he’d reach the rendezvous point with the apprentice. From there, they would ride to the neighboring city. The Inquisition was there, and an inquisitor would take care of everything.
“A young punk playing with black magic… disgraceful,” he muttered, now that fear had ebbed, replaced by anger. “I’ll have him burned at the stake.”
“Who are you going to burn?”
“Waaagh!”
Thomas screamed and fell backward. Edward emerged from the trees.
“L–Lord Edward…”
“Who are you going to burn?”
“N-no one. Just a slip of the tongue.”
“And where are you rushing off to? Your flock is desperately looking for you.”
“I… well…”
Edward began to slowly circle him, the weight of his gaze making Thomas’s chest tighten.
“If you harm me, the Theos Order won’t forgive you!” Thomas blurted, summoning his last shred of courage.
“It’s quiet here,” Edward said, glancing around with a cold stare. Thomas understood exactly what that meant. God and the law were far away—but the sword was very close.
“Please, my lord! Spare me! I was wrong! I’ve committed terrible sins!”
He crawled forward and flattened himself at Edward’s feet.
Thunk.
“Huh?”
Something damp pressed down on the back of his head.
“L–Lord—”
Edward’s boot, caked in mud, ground into his skull.
“Urgh!”
Edward pressed down harder, forcing his face into the dirt. Thomas couldn’t breathe.
Cliche Novel 