A Priest's Life as a Villain

Chapter 028

People never called the "Zima Family" mercenary corps by its actual name. They usually called them Zima's hounds, Zima's children.

Lined up in a row, Zima's children bowed their heads deeply, every one of their faces darkened.

"Why did you let him go alive?"

Zima paced in front of them as he asked. No one dared to be the first to answer. The children were too busy glancing at each other for cues.

"Ran? It was Ran, father."

Everyone's gaze landed on Ran, who stood at the very end. Ran was holding his head high.

"You'd better answer well, Ran."

"......."

"I clearly ordered you to deal with every single one. So why?"

A little less than twenty children had raided the bandits' hideout.

They were cruel thugs, marauding and committing rapes as they roamed. Bandit gangs like these thrived amid the chaos of the war.

"It was just a child."

Ran answered firmly. There had been a boy, not even ten years old. The boy had crouched in a corner, shivering.

Zima nodded his head and kept his gaze fixed on Ran as he spoke.

"Eden!"

"Y-yes! Father!"

"Did I ever tell you to spare a child?"

"N-no, sir!"

"Peco!"

"Y-yes!"

"Did you ever hear such a thing?"

"Huh? No."

Zima called out each one and repeated the same question.

The children all bit their lips. Despite being the last to join the family, Ran held the highest rank among them. The children strictly followed the law of the jungle. Neither Zima nor Ran could be disobeyed.

"I never gave you special instructions either, Ran."

"The child did nothing wrong."

"You're not the one to judge. That's my job."

"It's possible he was just a kid caught up unwillingly. He was the only demon among them."

"Kuh, hehe... hahahaha!"

Zima let out a crazed laugh. The children tensed instantly.

"I thought you were clever, but you're just a complete fool."

Zima gestured. Sounds could be heard approaching from the distance. The children's eyes grew wide as an adult mercenary dragged in the child Ran had spared.

Ran also stiffened. He could vaguely guess what Zima would do next.

"Everyone makes mistakes. How much more for brats like you? As you know, I'm quite generous. Here, I'll give you a chance to make it up."

Thud!

A dagger thrown by Zima struck the ground by Ran's feet.

The blade was made of black iron.

"Do it yourself, Ran."

Zima had deep ties with the imperial army. The children raised by his hand grew up to be the empire's hounds. Those who survived and were chosen by Zima filled key positions in various imperial departments.

Stories like these led many orphans of war to seek Zima out on their own accord. Of course, most couldn't endure life as one of "Zima's Family."

They either ran away or died.

The first thing Ran had done upon arriving on the mainland was to seek out Zima.

It was the surest route for him to enter the Special Unit of the Church.

"What, can't do it? It's fine, it's fine. Plenty have given up. Just quit, Ran. Turns out you're only good for cleaning up after children."

The boy caught by Zima screamed in despair.

Ran covered his mouth. It was his first time encountering demonic energy. A strange, foul stench churned his insides. The noise around him overlapped, and his vision seemed to slow. He staggered for a long moment before barely managing to stand upright.

Ran raised his head and met the eyes of the boy—eyes filled with resentment.

* * *

The boy dark mage, with the dagger piercing his forehead, slumped backward.

Ran appeared.

"H-h-how did you get here?!"

Count Haskinderun, who had been sitting in his chair, jumped up and shouted. His guards hurriedly leveled their spears at Ran.

Step, step.

Ran calmly approached the fallen boy dark mage. Everyone watched in stunned silence, unsure what to do.

"Don't think of dying in peace."

Ran muttered.

The young dark mage, sprawled on the ground, trembled uncontrollably. The black mist had yet to dissipate.

Even with the knife wound, the boy was still alive. A trickle of blood ran from between his brows.

Yank!

"Gyaaahhh!"

Ran pulled out the dagger. Blood spurted from the split in his forehead. Without hesitation, Ran gripped the dagger in a reverse hold, stabbing the boy's neck several more times. Blood splattered everywhere, but Ran didn't even blink. In fact, the sheer brutality made Count Haskinderun and several guards recoil in horror.

"Uh, ngh! It hurts?!"

The boy, his face smeared with blood, whimpered.

Ran clamped a hand over the boy's mouth. The stabbing continued until the black mist vanished.

Eventually, the struggling ceased.

Ssssss.

Ran felt the emptiness in his grip as he removed his hand from the boy's mouth. A bizarre scene unfolded before his eyes.

The boy's cheeks hollowed, his skin shriveling as if all moisture were being sucked away. His hair fell out in patches. All that remained was a withered body, now resembling dry bark of a dead tree.

"Ugh! W-what is that?!"

Even Count Haskinderun was flustered.

The youthful body, still soft with baby fat, had turned into a dried-out corpse in an instant.

Ran looked down impassively. He had just witnessed the journey from cradle to grave within one human.

'Lunatics who dream of immortality.'

Only God governs souls. Humans must not dare to cross the boundaries of life and death.

Dark mages had violated that taboo. Mere mortals, yet wishing to control souls as they pleased. It was a grave crime, defying natural order and reason.

"Whew."

Ran slowly straightened his knees and stood up. He didn't care anymore. Ran's sense of values was tilting, little by little. He no longer focused solely on whether their actions amounted to blasphemy. They simply acted according to desire—just with desires far too twisted.

But they had crossed a forbidden line.

They devoured the bodies of children.

Crunch.

Ran stomped on the dark mage's head. The corpse, tinged with an earthy color, crumbled to dust as if it had always been sand.

"Ugh! W-what is that?!"

Count Haskinderun was shocked.

In the blink of an eye, a young boy who still looked like a child had been transformed into a dried corpse.

Ran stared down coolly. He had witnessed, all in a moment, the march from cradle to grave.

'Madmen who dream of immortality.'

It is only God who governs the soul. Humans should not dare to trespass beyond the boundaries of life and death.

The dark mages had violated that taboo. Mere humans, yet wishing to control souls as they pleased. This was a monumental evil, a sin that violated the natural order.

"Haaa."

Ran slowly straightened up. He no longer cared. Ran's sense of values was starting to tip. He was no longer obsessed with the idea that these acts were only blasphemy. These people were simply true to their desires—though those desires were too twisted.

But they had crossed a line that must never be crossed.

They preyed upon the bodies of children.

Crack.

Ran crushed the dark mage's head underfoot. The corpse, ashen, broke apart like sand that had only ever been dust.

They all started out similarly, and so did their endings. Not content with manipulating vagrant souls, they coveted the souls and bodies of the living. Some, seeking ever new pleasure, used children as vessels to repeatedly bask in a new life.

Deep curiosity ultimately ended in perverted depravity.

'I always wanted to ask you, Dante. Just how far did you go?'

Ran's gaze turned cold. He lifted the dagger. Blood dripped from the blade.

"Count Haskinderun. I have no personal grudge against you. So make your choice. Will you seek salvation here, or die on the guillotine?"

Count Haskinderun clamped his mouth shut.

He had barely managed to reclaim his domain—thanks to the talented dark mage. A dark mage who could use necromancy was rare. Like a divine message, it seemed a chance to kindle the flames of liberation once more. Using his domain as a base, he'd intended to gather his forces again. If only he had a little more time, he could have brought the scattered Liberation Army soldiers together.

"Nonsense! I-I'll at least listen to your last words as your will!"

The count declared boldly. Even if he had learned the truth too late and felt appalled to see a child stabbed without hesitation, there was no reason to fear an inquisitor just for that.

Three guards, and only one enemy. The outside guards would soon join as well.

* * *

Less than half the subjugation force survived the battle.

Most perished, caught up in the indiscriminate attacks of the wraith Dietrich. Dietrich and his small wraiths rampaged for a long while, then abruptly vanished.

"Damn..."

Demian drove his sword into the ground, using it as a cane to support himself.

Only ten holy knights had survived.

Even as he was crushed by guilt, Demian kept replaying the holy power he'd seen from Ran and Zima.

'Wasn't holy power supposed to be the sole domain of the holy knights?'

If he told anyone in the Church, they'd say his faith was wavering and dismiss it as a hallucination. No holy knight would doubt God.

'What have I been doing all this time?'

The price of taking part in the expedition with high ambitions was steep.

With his meager ability, he'd lost comrades and was forced to face the disparity with his own eyes. Worse, even the time he thought he had spent diligently had been denied.

"Demian."

Demian turned his head slightly to look back.

Ran was standing behind him. He was on his way, having just locked up Count Haskinderun in a prison wagon.

"What is it?"

"The villagers are nowhere to be seen. There's a high chance they're being held somewhere."

"Have you already forgotten about the commando? They were all probably sacrificed to the dark mage."

"Not all, surely. At the very least, some would have been hidden for later use."

Demian stood up. His eyes were bloodshot. He scowled irritably.

"So what? What do you want from me?"

"You need to look for them. Isn't it your duty to save Lord Asriel's people?"

"...... Duty. Right, duty. The duty of a holy knight. But while carrying out that duty, I lost so many comrades. I'm exhausted. Can't someone as capable as you help out?"

Demian's hand hovered over Ran's chest, uncertain whether to comfort him or grab his collar.

"My job is already done. I captured the heretic, Count Haskinderun."

Ran gently lowered Demian's hand and straightened his crumpled uniform.

"I'm sure everyone is waiting for the holy knight in shining white armor to come and save them."

No one welcomes a man in a black uniform.

Yet, he didn't particularly feel sad about it. As Ran turned away, he casually mentioned that the lord's mansion had an unusually large basement.

Demian led the surviving holy knights in searching Haskinderun's domain. They found villagers hidden underground all over, beneath the mansion and in many homes.

Even as he rescued them, Demian's mind was uneasy. He couldn't devote himself fully to mourning his fallen comrades.

The thrill when he killed Hank the Butcher, the holy power in Zima's sword—these sensations still tingled at his fingertips. The doubts still haunted his mind.

He despised himself for it.

"Thank you for saving us, holy knight!"

A rescued villager bowed deeply to him. The woman's eyes were hollow with fatigue, likely from lack of sleep.

'Everyone is waiting for the holy knight in shining white armor to come and save them.'

Suddenly, Ran's voice came to mind.

His grip tightened reflexively.

"Arrogant."

"P-pardon?"

The woman who thanked him recoiled in surprise. Demian didn't even see her.

'I have already done my duty. I captured the heretic, Count Haskinderun.'

Something hot and fierce welled up inside him.

'Are you saying I haven't fulfilled my duty, Ran?'

Usually, whenever he was troubled, Demian would recite prayers. His suffering would melt away like snow. But now, not even the thought of prayer occurred to him. The dazzling armor was just annoying.

The subjugation force remained at Haskinderun a few more days. The holy knights restored the church in the domain, and the Special Unit weeded out subversive cultists and checked supplies.

On the fourth day, the 3rd Legion's troops finally arrived. They had dispatched a unit in a hurry after headquarters received an urgent battle report.

"As expected, the Special Unit's speed is the best in the empire."

The unit commander was an experienced veteran of the civil war, but he did not recognize Zima. Zima had operated discreetly in special operations and never crossed paths with the regular army.

With less work to do thanks to the Special Unit, he flattered them, comparing them favorably to regular imperial forces.

He had no way of knowing the inner urgencies plaguing both the Special Unit and holy knights.

The subjugation force handed over cleanup at Haskinderun to the 3rd Legion and finally set out to return.

"What brings you at this hour, Ran?"

Zima poked his head through the tent flap.

Ran held out the black iron dagger.

"To return this."

Seeing what Ran held, Zima roughly swept back his fallen bangs.

"Do you have to point a blade at me late at night? Couldn't you wait until morning? Or just keep it. Don't bother me with such trivial things."

"You've been so busy lately, I never got the chance."

Muttering, Zima snatched the dagger. He turned, annoyed, but Ran didn't move.

"What are you doing? Go on."

"I have something to ask."

Zima was about to bark at him, then stopped. He realized he hadn't even thanked Ran for his achievements in the last battle.

"Ha, honestly. Wait a moment."

The wind was still cold. Ran pulled his collar up tight around his neck. Insects chirped loudly all around.

Zima came out, covered with only a fur over his bare torso.

"I'll warn you now, if you're going to ask about Emma or the vessel again—"

"Why did you come back?"

The unexpected question left Zima speechless. He was momentarily flustered, and the more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed.

"Do I need your permission to act?"

"You spent a long time keeping to yourself and suddenly appeared out of nowhere. It's strange. And you brought along a suspicious kid."

"I must really have gotten old. Being interrogated by my own brat. Damn it, maybe I should just go die."

"I'm just saying, I need to know the background to give my all. Isn't that what you said? That you need a clear motive and purpose for anything."

"Did I say that?"

"Yes."

"Idle chatter, clearly."

Zima sighed and looked up at the night sky. Stars glittered densely.

Ran watched his profile. Internally, he made a decision.

'I will eliminate Zima.'

The fact that he was a dangerous figure with a hidden agenda hadn't changed. As long as Zima lingered in the capital, interfering with the Church, Ran would find a way to kill him—sooner or later.

Tonight's answer would determine if he moved up or delayed the timetable.

"What is it? Why did you insist on a risky expedition to save the Church in trouble?"

"It's nothing. I've known Bern for a long time, as you know. He begged for help—how could I ignore it?"

"You always hated taking losses. If you went this far, there must be some big benefit?"

Zima exaggerated a laugh, gathered phlegm, and spat. There was a subtle trace of anger on his face.

"What do you take me for, huh? I might be a dog seller, but I'm not so much of a merchant as to throw away loyalty."

"So it's about Emma?"

"Enough. Enough. That's all for now. Let's save it for next time, son. I'll be staying with the Special Unit for a while."

I must find an opportunity to eliminate him soon.

Ran reached that conclusion.

Bern was also a target to be eliminated. He possessed a substantial amount of information—of high quality, covering not just the Church's secrets but also the dark details behind the civil war. Ran still hadn't figured out exactly where or how it was recorded or accessed. That was his reason for keeping Bern alive until now.

If Zima intended to stick around and help such a person, there was no room for hesitation.

Turning to re-enter the tent, Zima's back came into view. Ran also turned away.

"I told you, didn't I? You should be more careful."

He stopped and looked back at Zima, who pulled the flap closed against the cold.

"What's your hurry, Ran?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've got a long way to go. You look good on the outside, but you're empty inside. Understand?"

He didn't understand. Ran furrowed his brow slightly.

"Anyway. You did well this time. You were faster than I expected. I mean the dark mage."

Zima motioned as if slitting his own throat.

"You remember—back then you said you couldn't kill—said you'd quit. Fool. Heh, see how things turn out? If not for that day, you would have died long ago. Too soft."

It had been the first day he sensed demonic energy. When the boy he spared in the bandit hideout was brought back by Zima.

That day, Ran had ultimately failed to kill the boy.

It was a hard and painful decision. He had been exiled from Quersa, with nowhere to return. Yet he could not bear to stain his soul and hands with a child's blood.

Zima had picked up the dropped black iron dagger and stabbed the boy in the neck, over and over. All the children watching recoiled in horror.

That day, Ran learned of the dark mage's horrific hobbies and the difference between evil and great evil.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
So the boy he spared in the past was actually a dark mage. Huh.
What is Zima? Is he a friend or an enemy?
【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】