The Demon Hunting Method of the Regressed Inquisitor

Original Sin (1)

I don’t know what to do.

That was the conclusion I reached after encountering the daughter of the ＜Erosion＞.

First, I tried to gather information. I tried to reveal her abilities and find countermeasures through a preliminary battle with her.

If I could find a strategy against her and drive her out of Rubia early, if I could send her back to the side of the ＜Erosion＞.

I thought I could prevent the harbinger of destruction that would come in the future.

But things got stuck.

The other person hates me. I know that hatred has been passed down like a collective punishment, but I couldn’t argue against it.

A past I don’t know.

But I couldn’t confidently say that I had no responsibility for it.

“I am…….”

If she is a being born among the demons isolated by the Pantheon.

If she is a grudge born from the hatred of those abandoned people.

“Can…….”

Am I truly blameless in front of them?

I predicted what would happen to them in the end. That’s why I urged Burke to die in that way.

Sometimes death can be better. I already knew that.

“……not.”

Therefore, I couldn’t say that hatred was unjustified.

To her, the Pantheon itself is the enemy, and I am the very negative aspect of the Pantheon that she hated more than anyone else.

Can’t be blameless before God?

So you carve the reverse cross?

With a mask covering your face?

With excuses to muddle through?

“Mr. Lost.”

“……It’s okay now.”

Consciousness resurfaces. The mind, weakened by unexpected situations, begins to build the wall of hypocrisy again.

I felt the surroundings shaking.

Each time, a shock like hitting a carriage ran through my body.

The divine power felt inside my body was almost depleted. Even if I tried to heal temporarily, it was far from enough.

“I’m okay…….”

Then I realized the front part was wet. Considering it was raining, it was natural, but it felt somewhat sticky.

I knew it was blood.

I could tell, but I didn’t mention it.

Instead, I blurted out the words I should say in this situation.

“Thank you for saving me.”

After confirming the faint smile of Linea blooming even in pain.

I fell back into sleep.

*     *      *

Lost came targeting Rubia.

Linea could easily notice that much. It wasn’t just because it was on the way, but because this place was the destination from the beginning.

It was something prepared from Nidavellir. If heading towards the capital of the empire, there were plenty of routes.

But Lost obtained a large amount of heating stones from Nidavellir.

Looking back now, it was clear that he had prepared in advance.

Because in a city where it rains every day, the price of heating stones is much more expensive compared to other cities.

Like a merchant trading. Buying heating stones from the mining city of Nidavellir and using them in Rubia.

A route for the weak Claire.

A thoroughly planned route.

“Haa… Ugh!”

Linea, who was sighing, trembled with the pain that came over her.

Several days had already passed. Lost still couldn’t get up from the sickbed, and her wounds were still left.

Although she was a doctor, and her measures were perfect, to completely heal in a short period, the holy magic of a priest was needed.

“Sister.”

“It’s okay.”

Of course, there are priests in Rubia too.

Even if they are not affiliated with the Pantheon, there are plenty of priests who can use holy magic. With their help, Linea’s wounds could also be perfectly healed.

“A relationship where only one gives cannot last long. I will ask Mr. Lost to take care of this later.”

“…You’re foolish. In the end, it’s for Mr. Lost, isn’t it?”

She deliberately left something for him to do so that Lost wouldn’t feel indebted. Linea thought of building an equal relationship with Lost that way.

The only way she knew as a noble was to make each other indebted.

Seeing that clumsy method, Claire clicked her tongue.

“Then what about me?”

“Haha…”

“I have nothing to give, and I’ve only taken so much.”

Claire has no abilities.

Although she once blocked Lilia’s attack recently, she had received much more in the meantime.

If Linnea were to leave debts between them, she would oppose it.

Only after completely clearing the debts between them could she finally sort out her lingering feelings.

“I think I need some herbs.”

“Are you going outside the village?”

“They won’t grow inside. I’ll have to go to a slightly distant place to gather them.”

“Won’t it be dangerous?”

“I’ll have an escort. And I can take care of myself.”

Linnea smiled brightly and revealed the handle of a dagger hidden in her bosom.

At most, it’s for self-defense.

But in her hands, it becomes a terrifying weapon that can slaughter the opponent.

“Then I’ll be back shortly. Please explain to Mr. Titan when he returns.”

Linnea slung a small backpack over her shoulder, then shifted it to the side with a wry smile due to the pain in her back.

Titan had not returned since he blocked Lilia when they were escaping from Lost. There was a huge crater left at the scene, but she didn’t doubt that he was alive.

It’s hard to think that Titan would be killed, and it’s because of Lilia’s hesitation to kill someone even in her rage.

There must be some reason why he hasn’t returned.

“Be careful, sister.”

Claire smiled briefly, then watched Linnea leave with an expressionless face.

“Really… so foolish.”

Lost is defenseless.

Titan hasn’t returned, and Linnea is going out of the city.

That leaves only Claire and the immobile Lost.

“Have you forgotten who I am? Why I came on this journey, what feelings I’m enduring. You must have known it all…”

Claire had a dagger hidden behind her back. After Linnea completely left, she brought it in front of her and stared at it blankly for a while.

“Such a perfect opportunity.”

Her feelings weren’t completely sorted out yet, but this might be a chance that would never come again.

“Really… so foolish.”

Claire lowered her head.

Rain was falling, unable to be completely blocked by the umbrella.

*     *      *

She dreams.

It was a dream I had many times.

A moment of ordinary life. One of those moments.

“Ta-da! Today, I prepared a tea with a mix of peony root, rehmannia, angelica, cnidium, cinnamon, and jujube in black tea!”

“Isn’t that already a different tea rather than black tea?”

“Actually, you’re right!”

“Hmm…”

As always, the saintess prepared a mix of various things in the black tea.

And it was a series of events where Claire and I silently dealt with it.

But that day was a little different.

“I’ll get up first.”

“Already?”

With a calm expression, Claire emptied the bizarre tea prepared by the saintess in one gulp and immediately stood up.

It seemed today’s was a bit easier to drink.

The saintess couldn’t hide her disappointment at Claire’s quicker-than-usual departure.

Yes, this was probably the first memory.

The first tea time we all enjoyed together, prepared by the saintess.

At that time, it was, well, disastrous.

“I’m sorry, but I’m busy with work.”

Claire didn’t care about the saintess’s disappointed tone.

At least at first.

She was more uncomfortable being with me than with the saintess.

“It’s a big problem. If you two don’t get close quickly, I won’t be able to work because of the burden.”

“I think the problem is that you brought the enemy and the victim together.”

Actually, this was natural.

Although I wasn’t directly involved in Burke’s death, by breaking my promise with him, Burke met the worst end. Am I responsible for Burke’s death? No.

But if we discuss moral responsibility, I can’t say anything.

Claire chose not to hold me accountable for either moral or practical responsibility.

In fact, there’s not much difference now.

She hated me, but she never expressed that hatred.

“It’s not Mr. Lost’s fault.”

“I know. It’s not my fault.”

I know that, and Claire knows it too. But didn’t I say?

It’s a matter of moral responsibility.

“Not everyone can be as compassionate as you, Saint.”

“……”

“For some people, hating others can be the driving force of their lives.”

At least, it was for Claire.

She hated me and despised the demons who turned Burke into a demon.

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That’s how she got to where she is now.

Her driving force is hatred. She fueled her strength with hatred and survived.

You can’t tell someone who has lived like that to stop hating now.

That would be disregarding the life they have lived.

“This time, you are wrong, Saint. That child will not forgive me. That’s how she has endured.”

I could understand why I had such a dream at this time.

I remember Claire’s hatred. My original sin that can never be severed.

It was something that could only be alleviated by turning back time.

“And you know what? I have come to accept that hatred.”

That’s what’s happening in reality now. I have accepted it.

“I know that the direction of that hatred is wrong. The hatred that monster sends my way is an unreasonable hatred, akin to guilt by association.”

I remember the girl who growled like a wounded beast.

The girl who broke everything and came at me, grabbing my neck as if to twist it.

I had to face the sorrow that seemed to pour out in tears.

“Surely, among the priests of the Pantheon, there are good people. People who are far more devout and live lives of sacrifice for others compared to me.”

If the girl’s hatred was directed at them, I would have stopped it.

Because it’s not right. The direction of that hatred is wrong.

I might have even preached. I might have poured all my strength into stopping it.

But this time, I couldn’t.

There’s no need to explain why.

“But not me. Even if the girl hated not an individual but a group, the negative perception of the Pantheon that the kid had. I fit that perception perfectly.”

Such a broad hatred. But within the clear scope of that hatred, I am the one who belongs.

I had been doing things that deserved to be hated.

“This is my original sin. So I can’t persuade that kid. I’m already a sinner.”

I tried to be different from before.

But I still hadn’t changed much from the past.

– Burke Ryan, you have two practical choices.

When I uttered those choices.

I should have seriously considered the meaning and weight of those words.

I didn’t realize how cruel those words, spoken out of habit, could be.

“Saint. What would you have done? Could you have comforted and persuaded that kid?”

Yes, if it were the Saint.

If it were her, whom I deeply respected, she might have been able to. Unlike me, she is truly compassionate.

She might have denied the unilateral hatred and soothed the wounded beast, sending it back home.

But I can’t do that. I am already denying myself.

It’s something I can’t do. Even if I dare to say it, it would only be deceit.

“Mr. ■■■.”

“Yes.”

“Have you tried?”

“The very act of trying could be a sin.”

“Then haven’t you prepared to bear more of that sin?”

“……”

“You’re right. The sins already committed cannot be undone. Even the attempt to change might hurt the victim. Some might wish for the downfall of the one who hurt them.”

The Saint said, placing the tea that hadn’t decreased at all back down.

“Haven’t you thought about this? That the sight of an enemy, who foolishly offers their neck in front of someone who has prepared for revenge, would be unbearably infuriating.”

“……So you’re telling me to fight?”

“If the other person is angry, be prepared to accept all that anger. You need to properly take it until they’ve vented it all out.”

“Will that change anything?”

The Saint taps the teacup with her fingertip.

And then she smiles bashfully.

“Won’t it feel refreshing inside?”

“So you’re telling me to be a punching bag.”

“Or you could become a formidable opponent that ignites their fighting spirit.”

“That doesn’t seem like a very good idea.”

“Then what good idea is there? I’m already a sinner.”

“Ha…!”

It’s almost absurd.

It seems she wasn’t as benevolent as I thought.

Her rather sharp reprimand snapped me back to reality.

“So, what should I do from now on? What should I do to lay the groundwork for understanding their hatred?”

“Is it conversation?”

“Oh dear, was the problem too easy?”

“The answer is simple, but it seems difficult to put into practice. Will they even listen to me?”

“If you chatter noisily next to them, they might at least shout at you to be quiet.”

“And in the process, get hit a few times?”

“It would be fortunate if you only get hit a few times.”

The saint and I laughed.

Even though it was just a trivial joke, it put my mind at ease.

“Then I guess I have to go get hit a few times. If I want to hear what they dislike about me, I’ll have to get hit quite a bit.”

I stood up.

Claire left first, and only the saint and I remained in the space where we had been talking.

Yes, it was like this at first.

My relationship with Claire was extremely uncomfortable, and just facing each other was awkward.

But what about later?

The saint persistently created opportunities for us to talk, and eventually, even without much conversation, we ended up drinking tea together.

I was too foolish.

It was a mistake to think that everything could be resolved smoothly.

Efforts don’t usually show results in a short time. It’s natural to face setbacks and keep moving forward.

“Thank you for the advice, saint. Then I’ll be going now.”

As I left, the saint waved from the chair where she was left alone.

Looking somewhat lonely.

“Then goodbye. My ■■■.”

With a look full of anticipation.