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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 9
Chapter Title: Operation Name: Sewer Cleaning
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"By any chance, Brother, do you have a Dwarven Thunder Thrower?"
"Does this look like a museum to you?"
The moment Fernandez applied for armory access, a Religiosa Enmagicka named Martirio came rushing over. All the way to the armory, he lectured endlessly about the sanctity of the weapons stored in this fortress.
"...So, Brother, the Demonica brothers borrow weapons once, and almost none come back. The armory is the biggest hole in our budget..."
Fernandez let the bald middle-aged man's words flow in one ear and out the other.
'There should definitely be one here, according to my memory...'
In his past life, he had seen an unnamed inquisitor using a Dwarven Thunder Thrower.
The pinnacle of ancient dwarf technology and the crystallization of highly advanced magic engineering. The Dwarven Thunder Thrower.
A standard dwarf weapon from the era when the five elven kingdoms and the four dwarf alliances dominated the continent, back when humans were still in the Bronze Age.
It was the epitome of ancient [magic engineering] technology, something human ingenuity could never recreate.
As a magitech scholar, Fernandez was determined to get his hands on it and tear it apart himself.
'It turned a Hell Marcher-level demon to dust with a single activation.'
*-It seemed disposable, though. Still, the effect was undeniable.*
True to its name, it was a magic staff that projected tremendous destructive power forward with the roar of crashing thunder!
"...So, what about this blessed longsword? Sleek blade with an integrated full saint-metal hilt."
"What weapon does Brother Zephys use?"
"Oh, Brother Zephys uses his personal armament."
"Hm? Personal weapons are allowed?"
"There are armaments made exclusively for him. If you serve another thirty years or so, Brother, you might end up with a stash of such relics yourself."
Martirio chuckled. It was a joke, but also a prayer. A prayer that he survive the next thirty years.
"A good dagger is essential. You can't use a longsword to slice fingers, after all. Rope's useful too. Ah, take this bag as well."
Martirio chattered on as he picked out various items and packed them up.
"Isn't the armory budget a massive expense?"
"How could worldly gold coins be worth more than a brother's life?"
Fernandez was touched by the warm words. No matter what the public thought of inquisitors, among themselves, they shared bonds close to brotherhood.
Of course. They walked shoulder-to-shoulder in a brutal battlefield where if one inquisitor fell, human civilization would retreat another step.
Since he was already here, Fernandez decided to milk this heartfelt Religiosa Enmagicka a bit more.
"Recommend a two-handed sword for me."
"Hm. How about this one?"
Martirio grunted as he pulled out a massive greatsword.
*-You're not seriously planning to carry that around, are you?*
'Of course I am. What's the point of having strength if you don't use it?'
*-That's too crude.*
It looked exactly like an ogre's club. Martirio set a blade as long as a grown man was tall and as thick as Fabiano's forearm on the table.
"Full saint-metal. Fourteen pounds. For a Demonica brother, swinging this would be like smashing down a castle gate."
"..."
A typical longsword weighed three pounds, and standard two-handed swords used by skilled greatsword wielders were around six and a half. This thing was practically a shipyard reinforcing rod.
"Isn't that for decoration?"
"Every weapon in this armory has tasted demon blood. Ha ha."
Fernandez carefully lifted the enormous greatsword. It exuded unshakeable reliability proportional to its hefty weight.
*-You're really going to use it?*
'Feizashi. Am I good at swordsmanship?'
*-Not up to par.*
'Swordsmanship is ultimately about overcoming strength with skill. A swordsman who can wield something heavy becomes overwhelming violence just by swinging it.'
*-You plan to bash demons with that?*
'A longsword would be like a toothpick against them.'
Fernandez smiled and set the greatsword down.
"I'll take this one."
"Excellent choice."
*
Fernandez ended up spending about an hour in the armory. He headed straight to Zephys's private quarters.
*-Knock knock.*
"Who is it?"
"Fernandez, Brother."
"It's open."
*-Creak.*
Zephys's private room was somewhat lavish. Most inquisitors were forced into austere, Spartan lives, but Zephys was one of the rare few permitted personal armaments.
His room was filled with weapons, maps, scribbled notes, and a prayer altar.
He was mixing reagents on the table. A quick glance revealed it was some kind of anesthetic. He glanced at Fernandez, then turned back and said,
"Quite the load."
"A bit much?"
"Brother Martirio does tend to overprotect rookies. Still, better to be overprepared."
Zephys cleared the table and stood. He approached Fernandez and inspected his gear one piece at a time.
"Rope, hm. Useful. Flint spark? Don't you already have one? I recall that in your report."
"Uh, yes."
"Then ditch this one. Dagger, good. You've got throwing ones too? Excellent. Keep three or four ready to draw at any moment."
*-Thwip!*
Zephys flicked his wrist, and a throwing dagger appeared in his hand in an instant. His sleeve had clearly been empty. As Fernandez blinked in surprise, Zephys smiled.
"Demons that pester from afar pop up now and then. Practice so you can throw anytime."
"Oh!"
"Speaking of, what's with the club? Don't tell me that's a two-handed greatsword?"
Zephys eyed the rebar strapped to Fernandez's back. It had an edge, but it was closer to a bludgeon.
"It suits my taste."
"...Unique choice. Requires a lot of skill for a rookie. Anyway, it works. With that gear, anyone would take you for a squire at least."
"Squire? You mean, knight squire?"
"Exactly. From now on, Brother, you're my personal squire."
Zephys pointed to a parchment map.
"Are you good at acting?"
"...I think so."
*They all think I'm just some reincarnated black mage right now?* As Fernandez thought that, Zephys handed him a report.
"Read this. First mission. You're my attendant squire now."
*
[Operation: Sewer Cleaning]
Operation Area: Gloridein City Slave Market
Operation Summary: Locate and track heretic cult supplying slaves, rescue dispatched local inquisitor. Purge suspected demon summoning site. Handle involved parties and witnesses.
Operation Task Force: Demonica Zephys Shiradast. Demonica Fernandez Cerned. Heretica LaurenCIO DeVecini (Missing).
Call Signs: Zephys – Arcangelo (A). Fernandez – Balthazar (B). LaurenCIO – Cartier (C)
We shall burn demons, heretics, and witches.
Final Approver: Abbot of St. Bartholomew Monastery, Beorn Shieldbane.
*
"A few days ago, we got a heretic report. Heretica Brother LaurenCIO, dispatched locally, went missing. His last message said there was a demon summoning foundation and he'd track it. That was three days ago."
"...Brother LaurenCIO is probably dead."
"High likelihood. Now that the heretic mission has shifted to exorcism, it's our turn. The area's not far, and no major heretic sects observed. I volunteered to guide your first mission, Brother."
Fernandez eyed the map and quickly calculated. Age 16, 87, 71 years prior. Gloridein City slave market. Underground demon cults in the area: three major ones. If it was the biggest and their doing...
"I like it."
"What?"
At this point in time, it shouldn't be too late. Taking his 16th birthday as the marker, two to four months had passed.
'Kirhas Hearttaker.'
*-Cult of Demdrizad.*
Fernandez and Feizashi voiced different impressions. Among the forces scheming to control Gloridein City from the shadows, the ultimate winner was the [Cult of Demdrizad] heretic sect.
And at this time, they purchased a certain individual from the slave market as a sacrifice for their demon summoning.
That slave would later grow into the great chieftain of the catfolk, Kirhas Hearttaker.
One of humanity's shining heroes, leader of the vast barbarian tiger clan, a powerhouse who hunted countless demons and monsters in her lifetime!
At this time, she had lost her entire tribe to slave hunters and been sold as a sacrifice to the demon cult 'Cult of Demdrizad.' After untold hardships, she rose heroically...
'If I nip her ordeals in the bud and give her a better foundation to grow...'
Kirhas would undoubtedly become a mighty warrior, a key chess piece in his plans.
'And I know what the Cult of Demdrizad is plotting around now.'
He knew how they failed and rebuilt. In his past life, they retreated from Gloridein City but used that failure to seize control of the entire Fairn Kingdom from the shadows!
Fairn's powerful knights were absent in the war's early stages thanks to them, costing humanity a key ally and turning the tide against them.
An ally right under the Papal throne, no less!
'Wait for it, you demon cult bastards.'
In his past life, his favorite scenario was corrupting the enemy's allies to stab them in the heart. Now the tables had turned completely. Fernandez felt a thrilling irony in the reversal.
*
"The Papal official letter expressed 'concern,' Brother Zephys. You know what that means."
His one good eye twisted beneath the massive, deep scar as Beorn lifted his monocle. Zephys stood opposite, sipping tea.
"Sending a brother to the same area for his first mission, no less. Who knows what lurks behind it?"
"Inquisitors do not fear demons or their followers. And for Demonica, we must be able to stroll through the foulest pits."
Beorn sighed at Zephys's words. True enough. Especially for the saint of war god Beitasser—he could not shy from the battlefield.
"Indeed. His Holiness does worry excessively."
"Brother LaurenCIO was a capable, resolute inquisitor."
"May the Pantheon bless him. I miss that brother too."
Beorn gazed at the map with weary eyes. Black cross-sword emblems dotted the eastern continent.
Some areas clustered thickly, others lay isolated and abandoned.
'Missing brothers whose remains were never found.'
Thirty years since the Pantheon sealed its gates. Humanity was slowly sinking into darkness.
Places the sun couldn't reach always teemed with demons and monsters, and lightless humans slipped into deep shadows.
Those who vowed to be humanity's brightest, fiercest torch plunged deepest into the dark, perishing beyond count.
These emblems were all tombstones, their epitaph ever 'Courage and Sacrifice.' The one in Gloridein City's ink had yet to dry.
Beorn brushed the map with his scarred hand. Each engraved key-sword emblem snagged his fingers, summoning vanished brothers' names.
'LaurenCIO, Gale, Tristan, Macklin...'
But no time for sentiment. Beorn opened his eyes, seized the parchment before him, and stamped it.
"Return alive, no matter what."
"And we shall leave not a single heretic breathing."
*-Creak.*
Zephys clutched the approved operation proposal and left. In the empty room, Beorn took up his pen again with fatigued eyes. He had a duty to report this to the Pope.
We shall burn demons, heretics, and witches.
Even if radical. If carving out rotten flesh required slicing living meat, so be it. Even mangled, survival was victory.
Humanity would endure. Beorn began drafting his letter to the Papacy. The saint's descent was surely a divine omen.