Chapter 300 : Chapter 300

Chapter 300. Who Is the Heretic (2)

Heretic.

Demon ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍worshipper.

Traitor who sold their soul.

There were many names for them.

Back when the Archdemons ruled the world, they offered countless human lives as sacrifices to satisfy their own greed.

Neighbors, friends, family, lovers.

The more dearly loved the person they offered, the greater the power they received.

Power without effort!

Wouldn’t the real fools be those who didn’t take it?

Drunk on power, they gradually expanded their influence.

As their followers increased, so too did the strength of the Archdemons.

Even among the holy knights and priests of the Supreme Deity Order who fought against them, apostates began to appear.

They denied the Supreme Deity and sold their souls to demons.

The world descended into even greater chaos.

Family, friends, comrades—

No one could be trusted.

Until the Great Sage appeared.

‘…What happened?’

When Gillian regained consciousness, his mouth was sealed.

“Mmph!”

It was not merely covered—something like a gag had been forced into his mouth.

His arms and legs were tightly bound as well.

Rolling his eyes—the only thing he could still move—he saw that everything around him was dark.

He realized he had been kidnapped.

At moments like this, only one thought came to mind.

‘Have I been exposed?’

Perhaps this was an interrogation chamber for heretics.

That would be the natural fear of a heretic.

Worse still, he was a priest of the Supreme Deity Order.

If his betrayal were revealed, the treatment would be even more brutal.

Naturally, he had prepared for such a situation.

But the person who appeared before him was someone completely unexpected.

“Are you awake?”

The 8th Prince?

Gillian’s eyes widened.

Instead of an inquisitor, it was the 8th Prince who stood before him.

Thinking back, the last person he had seen was indeed the 8th Prince.

The prince’s words echoed in his mind.

‘You came for this, didn’t you?’

The 8th Prince even knew that he was after the pouch.

Gillian’s pupils trembled.

Still, he was an executive of the Black Order.

The fact that he had survived while hiding his identity as a priest of the Supreme Deity meant he was no ordinary man.

Compared to being caught by inquisitors, being caught by the 8th Prince was preferable.

Gillian lowered his gaze first.

Then his gagged lips began to tremble.

Soon after, tears welled up in his eyes, his expression pitiful.

“Mmmh…!”

Bound tightly and shivering, Gillian looked exactly like someone who had been kidnapped without understanding why.

The sight shook Inette’s resolve.

Standing behind Radel, she lowered her voice and whispered to Gusto.

“Shouldn’t we at least hear what he has to say?”

“What do you mean?”

“There could be some misunderstanding. Radel might be mistaken.”

“His Highness has already considered everything.”

Gusto raised an eyebrow as if puzzled.

“More importantly, I wonder if you have forgotten our agreement.”

“…Isn’t that too harsh over just one point?”

Inette had lost a bet against Gusto back at the Green Hideout.

The rule had been simple: the loser had to agree with everything the winner said for an entire day.

Because of that loss, Inette had no choice but to nod along to Gusto’s praise of Radel.

‘But he really looks like he doesn’t know anything!’

Her doubt was not unreasonable.

Gillian was a servant of Asmodeus.

He wielded the power of temptation, capable of weakening people’s hearts.

Of course, it did not work on Radel.

“Oh dear, it seems some dust got into your eyes.”

With a look of sympathy, Radel gestured to the companions behind him.

“We should take care of that right away. Bring it.”

Gusto stepped forward and tilted Gillian’s head back.

Tunia took out a prepared bottle and, without hesitation, pried open Gillian’s eyelids.

“Mmph!?”

In an instant, a cold drop fell onto Gillian’s eyes.

Holy water.

Drip.

“Ggh!”

Watching Gillian struggle, Radel spoke calmly.

“The dust will wash away soon. We will apply it several times.”

Drip.

The moment Radel finished speaking, Tunia tilted the bottle again, letting another drop fall into Gillian’s eyes.

Drip.

A reaction began to appear, little by little.

Ssssss.

Smoke rose from his pupils.

“Gghhh!”

Gillian’s green eyes slowly began to change.

Drip.

“Graaah!”

Sssss!

And when Tunia dropped the holy water one final time, Gillian’s eyes revealed their true form.

An inverted pentagram.

A vivid demonic script.

***

The final day of the festival.

Magical hot-air balloons floated in the sky, released by students, while glittering magical powder drifted through the air.

Far in the distance, a winged magical beast flew by with a flag tied to its tail.

Someone watched the scene with satisfaction.

“The festival is truly lively.”

It was Cromwell Bondis, the Principal of the Imperial Magic Academy.

Standing by his office window, he curved his lips upward, pleased by the crowds below.

It was a pleasant smile, yet his aura made it feel sinister.

The professors seated in the office—the ones assigned to security for the festival—flinched at the sight.

One of them gathered the courage to speak.

“Principal… is there something you are displeased with?”

“Not at all. I am very satisfied.”

Cromwell snapped his fingers lightly.

“Is this not a perfect opportunity to show many people how outstanding our students are? I believe we should have more chances like this.”

The professors, however, seemed to think otherwise.

“That may be so, but there are far too many people this time.”

“It is exhausting for those of us on security duty.”

“We have not even been able to rest.”

Although guards were assigned, the sheer number of outsiders during the festival forced even professors to rotate security shifts.

Cromwell smiled knowingly.

“Still, once today is over, it should end safely, no? I increased the number of flying golems last night, so please endure a little longer.”

At his words, the professors’ faces brightened.

“I did wonder why there seemed to be more golems today. You had already taken precautions.”

“Indeed, that puts us at ease.”

“With the crowds on the final day, we were worried, but this is reassuring.”

Just as the mood lightened, a professor who had been listening quietly spoke up.

“Still, it is not perfect. Someone could analyze the flying golems’ patterns and breach security.”

In a flat tone, he continued.

“If an organized group were to attack the academy at such a time… and if outsiders were to die as a result, you all know what would happen.”

It was Professor Bronson Sendelt, who taught Mana Training.

The atmosphere in the office grew heavy.

The academy housed the greatest mages in the Empire.

The moment casualties occurred here, the academy’s reputation would suffer, and those responsible would not escape blame.

As everyone fell silent, Cromwell clapped his hands.

Clap!

“Now, let us stop such thoughts. Everyone here is among the Empire’s finest mages, are you not? I trust you all. As long as you are here, the academy will be safe.”

Cromwell looked at the professors and offered warm encouragement.

Yet a wicked smile lingered on his lips.

Warm words, but an unsettling smile.

The professors felt confused, yet managed to force smiles in return.

“Thank you, Principal.”

Cromwell smiled even more deeply and added,

“And we also have our excellent students. If something were to happen to the academy, they would not remain idle. Tell me, Professor Bronson—are our students truly so weak?”

At the question, Bronson’s expression stiffened.

By common sense, students were weak.

They had to be weaker than professors.

They were young and their magical skills still lacking.

Yet he could not bring himself to answer that way.

Without realizing it, Bronson found himself thinking of someone.

A student who lacked raw power, yet solved problems skillfully.

One who was strangely unbreakable.

“…They are not weak.”

In the end, he conceded to Cromwell.

***

“What is that guy?”

Armandi’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the unfamiliar figure.

He was in a highly irritable state.

With the final day of the festival upon them, he could barely remember how he was even working anymore.

Selling chicken here at the appointed time, making iced coffee there.

He had even made mistakes while working half-asleep.

Realizing how dangerous that was, he began chugging stimulants whenever his mind started to blur.

‘I cannot even carry out my mission like this!’

He screamed inwardly.

An elite agent of the Ability Management Bureau, reduced to pointless labor instead of surveillance.

That was why he had only just noticed the man sticking close to the 8th Prince.

Judging by his attire, he looked like a priest of the Supreme Deity Order.

The fact that the 8th Prince kept him at his side felt ominous.

“A priest?”

Armandi asked the colleague beside him.

Firenze, wearing a bear costume, nodded.

“Since when?”

“Since yesterday.”

Firenze’s voice came from inside the costume.

“Does he work well?”

“He does.”

“Hmph.”

Armandi snorted in disbelief.

With how short-staffed the Integrated Major booth was, it seemed they had brought in someone competent from the Supreme Deity Order.

From afar, Radel was patting the priest’s back in encouragement.

Without thinking, Armandi read Radel’s lips.

Lip-reading was a basic skill for an elite Bureau agent.

“As expected… Brother, you are truly reliable… You really work well, do you not?”

Sparks flew in Armandi’s eyes.

When did he ever say that to me?

He could not just stand by.

Armandi untied his apron with a determined expression.

“I am going over there to gather some information.”

He shoved the apron into Firenze’s hands and hardened his face.

Then, while Radel was away, he approached the priest.

“Hey.”

“…Yes?”

Startled, the priest flinched and then asked meekly,

“Do you need healing as well, Brother?”

“…Hah.”

You are driving me insane.

Armandi bit his lip.

The man was not just competent—he proactively found work on his own.

At this level, it was understandable why the 8th Prince kept him close.

A mocking tone slipped from Armandi’s mouth.

“Why are you putting up with this? Did the 8th Prince get some leverage over you?”

“…H-how did you know…?”

The priest’s face turned pale.

Armandi squeezed his eyes shut.

So the 8th Prince really had leverage on him already.

How desperate must he be to cling on like this…!

“Listen carefully. Run away from the 8th Prince immediately. If you cannot… then you might as well consider your life over.”

It was his final advice.

The priest, face drained of color, moved his lips.

“Is that so… then my life is over.”

Watching the 8th Prince’s new slave, Armandi clenched his teeth.

From deep in his chest, an emotion he could not identify surged upward.