The Demon Hunting Method of the Regressed Inquisitor

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When I looked at Pinocchio, who was twitching like a marionette, he still seemed unwilling to move, so I glanced behind me.

“Master Geppetto. It seems like you’ve come to your senses, so let me ask you something.”

“What, what is it?”

Geppetto, who had been staring at Pinocchio with bewildered eyes, finally came to his senses and looked at me.

Well, it’s understandable.

Seeing Pinocchio resisting the encroaching shadows.

As the creator of Pinocchio, it must be a heart-wrenching sight.

“Was he like this before?”

“No, never! If I had known he would be like this…!”

Each time, mechanical devices attached to Pinocchio’s limbs interlocked here and there, creating weapons.

In the midst of his self-evolution.

But Pinocchio cut off the incomplete weapons as if severing his own limbs before they could fully form. It was the best he could do before becoming a complete weapon.

“Did you personally confirm the end of the king who took Pinocchio?”

Geppetto said that a king from some country had taken Pinocchio.

After that, Pinocchio returned after killing everyone who stood in his way.

“No… but he was human. He couldn’t have lived long.”

“So you didn’t confirm his end. You must have just inferred it from rumors and circumstances.”

I lacked thought.

I believed the obvious circumstances of the incident without a single doubt. Regardless of whether I trusted Geppetto or not, I never considered the possibility of an error in the information itself.

A truly cunning device.

Why did I think the king was dead?

Why did I think Pinocchio killed everyone and escaped?

Is it really possible to slaughter all the guards of the castle just because a few blades popped out?

The premise was wrong.

Pinocchio didn’t do it.

Why did I never think that the king might have planted something in Pinocchio’s body and sent him out?

Belial had been lurking in the shadows of the empire for hundreds of years.

Would the one who had been hiding for hundreds of years have been any different before that?

A demon that must have existed since ancient times? That can’t be.

If someone is at the core of power, no matter how skilled a knight they are, they can be easily buried using political maneuvering.

Like cutting off one’s own flesh, they occupied the kingdom itself and slowly brought it down.

The empire wrapped the kingdom, filled with bombs, nicely for consumption.

If they intended to unify the country and collapse it from within.

Isn’t it only natural that they had destroyed countless countries before and unified them into one?

Like lighting incense to attract bugs and then wiping them out in one go.

He had been planting seeds of destruction one by one for thousands of years.

He had really been lurking for hundreds, thousands of years to push this world into destruction in detail.

“I can only think now that all the sparks I thought were coincidences were all planned.”

Belial would fully reveal himself about 5 years later.

But even before that, the empire was slowly walking the path of ruin.

The sudden rampage of ＜The Corruptor＞, followed by the rampage of ＜The Seer＞.

The Duchy of Foris was trampled, and tens of kilometers, including the area around Nidavellir, turned into a wasteland.

＜The Stringer of Swords＞ began to expand his territory, and ＜The Wanderer＞, who tried to quell the sparks of war, became a harm just by existing.

The fights of the trials belonging to ＜The Grave of Winds＞ intensified, and exchanges with the elves were completely cut off.

If all of that was his plan? If the seeds he had secretly planted long ago had sprouted?

“I have no choice but to uproot every single one of those seeds.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sir, it’s simple. Fighting Pinocchio is already a confirmed matter.”

“How… How can that be! I’ll try to persuade him somehow, so please give me a chance…”

“That’s not it.”

Belial’s power is truly difficult to understand. Not only does it dwell in shadows, but no detection works against its power.

Even though he is a being at the pinnacle of magic, it’s impossible to sense his magical energy, making him even more troublesome.

If I hadn’t encountered him directly in the Duke of Foris’ territory, I might not have realized Pinocchio’s anomaly.

Because I already knew that Walsres Hope was Belial.

I could connect that unidentified eeriness to the present.

“I asked about the king’s death earlier. To put it simply, it seems Pinocchio is under the king’s bad curse.”

“There might be a solution…!”

“That’s right. The fact that we’re having this leisurely conversation without being attacked makes it obvious.”

Pinocchio is holding on.

For hundreds of years, he has resisted the power of Belial, who is even called the Dark King.

Regardless of his nature, it’s undeniable that he possesses the strength to be categorized as a trial.

“So we must subdue him. Persuasion will come after that.”

With a creaking sound, weapons emerge from Pinocchio’s trembling back.

From weapons I’ve seen before to ones I’ve never seen, the variety is vast.

Pinocchio, looking as if he’s hanging from a tree, and the mechanical devices growing like fruits from the tree.

“Hah…! Should I call this convenient or troublesome…”

All of it is targeting me.

They’ve identified me as the most dangerous opponent here.

It’s rather fortunate.

I don’t need to be distracted to protect Linea and Geppetto.

Of course, the burden directed at me will increase. The opponent is a trial.

Even if I can temporarily reproduce the power of the Saint, I don’t think I can win against the trial.

“It was a difficult path from the beginning.”

The weapons that started aiming at me begin to shake individually.

The unidentified muzzles flicker with red light, the machine gun-like weapons are loaded with magazines, and the tail of the fish-shaped weapon ignites.

I confirm that Geppetto is slowly retreating, leading the still unconscious Linea behind the wall.

Is there still a little time left?

I take out a cigarette from my pocket and put it in my mouth. This is the last cigarette. Ever since I entered the mechanical fortress, the stress has been so intense that I’ve been smoking incessantly.

“Sss…”

I light the cigarette with the flame of the Vesta and take a puff.

“Whoo…”

I exhale while looking up at the weapons that have started to blink at me.

“Yeah, don’t resist, just let it all out.”

The power of Belial, which is gnawing at Pinocchio. The malice towards humans.

“I’ll take it all.”

And finally, the moment Pinocchio’s weapon sparkled and flew towards me.

The mechanical fortress collapsed.

*     *      *

Pinocchio never reused a weapon once it was used. It doesn’t mean it was a disposable weapon or that he replaced it.

Pinocchio cut it off immediately as if it were a tumor as soon as he used a weapon.

In fact, it’s not wrong. The malice of Belial, which had burrowed into Pinocchio, was creating the weapons.

Cutting it off means pulling out the part that was tainted by that power.

He must have endured like this.

Even now and in the future. He must have planned to keep enduring like this.

But that time wouldn’t have been very long. That’s why he came to see Geppetto, even at the risk.

If that’s the case, even if I stop the ＜Corruptor＞, I can’t avoid this area being blown away.

Boom!

I barely have time to avert my gaze from the explosion that dyes the front red.

I click my tongue at the result of the attack I barely avoided.

It’s really absurdly strong.

Even though he must be constantly fighting his own malice inside, he’s this strong.

If Pinocchio had gone all out even for a moment, I wouldn’t have been able to withstand it.

“Ugh…”

Crack!

The fish-shaped weapon I barely dodged explodes in the air.

I was thrown out and scraped the ground because I couldn’t escape the shock of the explosion.

My back burns. It was only because I had wings that it ended like this.

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If I had been bare-bodied, I would have been torn apart.

Even though it clearly didn’t touch me, can it now trigger weapons remotely? If that’s the case, the effective range of the weapon becomes much wider.

“This is really tough.”

The fact that I can respond to this attack right now is the result of burning my precious memories as a sacrifice, but moving forward is impossible.

Despite my bold claims, I can’t see a way to save Pinocchio.

Even the weapons Pinocchio handles are being strengthened in real-time through his self-evolution device.

It’s too difficult.

“But…”

If it were easy, I wouldn’t have started.

It’s natural for it to be difficult. This is a plan that a demon, a monster capable of taking on a hundred men, has been working on for hundreds, maybe thousands of years.

And I’m trying to overcome it with just a few decades of life experience.

It’s natural for it to be difficult. Risking my life and crawling on the ground in disgrace should be the norm.

“Hup!”

Bang! Bang!

The power of the saintess, drawn from my dreams. It’s easy to use because I remember it most clearly.

And I even feel fortunate. I wouldn’t have been able to dodge Pinocchio’s bombardment with bare legs.

Flapping pure white wings, I somehow manage to endure by flying around the space.

Crackle!

While focusing on flying, I open my clenched fist and unleash a spear of lightning.

In an instant, the dozen or so spears advancing from each finger pierce Pinocchio’s body. As he shakes his body, they fall to the ground with a thud.

They didn’t even stick, let alone electrocute him.

I don’t get discouraged. I must not get discouraged. I grit my teeth and push myself.

It’s just that the most versatile means of attack was blocked. I just need to find a gap while dodging his attacks one by one and insert the large-scale holy magic I’ve accumulated over a long time.

So endure!

Thud!

My body, unable to withstand the impact of the explosion, hits the wall. I move before the bombardment starts around me.

Fly, dodge, and attack.

There’s no point in holding back. Pinocchio’s body itself is like a huge fortress.

Tap!

I kick off the ground. Simply flying and dodging is no longer enough.

I must accelerate my movements by stepping directly on the ground.

Tat!

I ignore the rain of bullets pouring down.

I even use the attacks of weapons causing massive explosions.

Using the impact that exploded behind me, I get closer to Pinocchio.

As a result, the diagonal line increases. The area of bombardment that seemed to spread out from the center gradually narrows.

“Hup!”

Unless it’s an attack that could be fatal, I take it with my body.

I advance with the explosion on my back.

The lightning gathered in both hands now takes the form of a completed spear, no longer a mere natural phenomenon.

“If it’s this!”

The lightning of Jupiter, the god of the sky. The power borrowed not from its branch, but from its essence.

＜Astraphe＞

Kwajik!

I embed the very power of the god.

No matter how solid Pinocchio’s body is, it can’t block it.

Pajijijijijik!!

The lightning swallows all the bombardment that decorated the surroundings.

The wide and solid mechanical fortress is pierced through the sky.

Zzzzzik!

A blinding light.

And the sense of alienation felt within it.

“What the…?”

Even after being hit by this, it endures?

Pinocchio is pulling out Astraphe with his hand.

His strength is extraordinary.

I realize anew how unreasonable trials can be.

Paat!

Pinocchio finally grabs and pulls out the spear. Pushed by that strength, I am flung into the air.

But fortunately, that seemed to be his limit as well, as Pinocchio barely maintains a standing posture.

Made him use many weapons.

Even inflicted significant damage on Pinocchio’s main body.

Just what was visible to the eye was one arm completely burned off and the residual current flowing through his body, rendering the mechanical devices useless.

Yes, I pushed him this far.

But why.

“Why…….”

Is the malice still not gone?

Perhaps it was already too late.

Even though he kept cutting off parts of his own body, I thought there would be more malice burrowing into his body.

But what if that’s not the case?

What if he’s like the other demons?

Demons cannot be reversed.

The only time they can be reversed is right when they first get addicted to the magic.

Because the magic burrows towards the heart.

But what if Pinocchio, a mechanical device, also has a heart?

What if there’s a part that can’t be removed?

“We have to destroy the heart.”

That’s when Geppetto, who was supposed to be hiding, walked out and said.

“There’s no other way.”

And with a grim expression.

*     *      *

“……I told you to stay back because it’s dangerous.”

“When you get old, you see many things. Isn’t it already hopeless?”

It seems he reached the same conclusion as I did.

But I haven’t yet explored other methods. There might still be a way.

“We don’t know yet.”

“Isn’t this a hard-earned opportunity? Rather than continuing this meaningless war of attrition, let him rest.”

“Why did we come this far? That’s a failure. The moment you and Pinocchio return home together is the true success.”

“That’s my stubbornness, not something you should insist on. No matter how much you hide, your comrades won’t be able to withstand the aftermath.”

In the direction Geppetto pointed, there was a heavily scorched Titan and behind him, a fallen Linea.

It seems that Titan somehow tried to protect the surroundings.

Even though they fought as far away as possible, the aftermath must have reached there.

If the fight continues any longer, it is obvious that it will surpass even that.

“So it’s okay now. Don’t sacrifice yourself to an old man’s stubbornness anymore.”

With those words, Geppetto approached Pinocchio, who had not yet escaped the aftermath of the lightning.

Just that caused the remaining lightning around to cling to Geppetto, forming a Lichtenberg figure.

“It should have been like this from the beginning.”

It must be painful. An ordinary person wouldn’t be able to move.

But perhaps because there is a greater pain, it seems to be nothing.

“Pinocchio, now… it’s time to go home, isn’t it?”

Sizzle!

Geppetto firmly grasped Pinocchio. The sound of the current flowing through Pinocchio’s body melting Geppetto’s palm could be heard.

“Ah… fa…”

“Yes, our Pinocchio. How long are you going to play outside? It’s time to stop playing and go home.”

“Can I… go back?”

“Of course, it’s our home. It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

Geppetto’s hand reached for the place where Pinocchio’s heart would be.

Pinocchio, as if understanding what Geppetto was about to do, smiled brightly and opened his center.

Inside was a small piece of wood. The surroundings were already being gnawed at by Belial’s shadow.

Crunch!

Geppetto’s hand grasped the piece of wood. Whether it was because of the current, or because of what he was about to do.

Geppetto’s expression twisted.

Pinocchio was frozen with a smiling face, like a broken doll.

Crack!

The sound of something being severed.

The piece of wood connected to the mechanical device was pulled out. At the same time, the light of life in Pinocchio’s eyes gradually faded.

Still smiling, slowly, as if the forge’s fire was going out.

Thus, Pinocchio fell silent.

The small white piece of wood clinging to Geppetto’s melted hand was stained with thickly flowing blood, looking like a real heart.

Whose heart had been pulled out?

Was it Pinocchio’s heart, or the heart of a parent who had to finally send their child away with their own hands?

That heart was only red.

“Huff… Huff…”

Like a blacksmith who had finished a grueling task, Geppetto gasped for breath.

Sweat trickled down his forehead, and below that, tears flowed from his eyes.

Even as he poured out his emotions, his eyebrows twitched as if he was holding something back.

“Ugh…”

Geppetto finally collapsed.

Whatever he had been holding back burst forth like a river breaking through a dam.

The hand clutching his heart trembled uncontrollably, unable to bear the pain.

His expression was so distorted that he couldn’t even open his eyes.

For a while, Geppetto sobbed, clutching that heart.

And finally, when he stood up, as if he had sorted out his feelings, he declared,

“It’s time to go back.”

He announced the end of this request.

* * *

The request was to reunite Geppetto and Pinocchio. The result wasn’t good, but it was somehow accomplished.

Thanks to that, an excessive reward was given.

Weapons that Geppetto had made himself.

They were weapons that he had reached with his own strength, using the technology of self-evolution that Pinocchio had achieved.

Unlike other craftsmen who just gathered parts and assembled them, the weapons that Geppetto had designed and made himself felt like they fit perfectly in my hand.

“Will it be okay?”

When we left Nidavellir and set out on our journey again, Linnea, still looking sullen, asked.

There was no need to ask what she meant. It was about Geppetto, who had lost Pinocchio.

“It has to be okay. We have to go to that old man to get this fixed, don’t we?”

At my waist was the revolver that Geppetto had made for me.

A modified weapon, so white that it was burdensome to use, made to use holy power as bullets.

“Mr. Lost, you’re too cold-hearted. How can a person be like that?”

“Haha!”

Linnea pouted her lips. Since we returned from Nidavellir, it felt like she had become more expressive with her emotions.

In the past, I would have just nodded in agreement without question.

Now, I finally feel a bit more human.

“It’s okay. The weapon was so good that I left some change behind.”

Geppetto returned holding Pinocchio’s heart. The heart, stripped of Belial’s power, was nothing more than a tiny piece of wood.

But it still remained. Pinocchio’s heart, though small, was still there.

“If I did it once, why can’t I do it twice? I have the materials.”

If his longing for his son was the same as before, surely.

*     *      *

Clang!

The sound of a hammer echoed in the burning forge. The sound of metal being struck.

Scrape, scrape.

And the sound of something being carved.

Something being woven, cut, and attached. Such miscellaneous sounds were heard from a forge for a whole week.

“Huff… Huff…”

The aged dwarf did not stop for a moment. Around him were marionettes filling the spacious forge.

Clang!

This time, a heart made of steel.

He crafted a silver-white heart that would never break again.

The work was meticulous and detailed.

A masterpiece into which the old dwarf poured all his centuries of life.

“Yes…”

Geppetto staggered back after completing the work.

He saw the figure of a small marionette entering his view.

“Have you been waiting?”

“You came home late. You should come back early and not make me worry.”

At those words, the marionette smiled brightly like a mischievous boy.