How a Reincarnated Warlock Lives – Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Inquisition HQ (1)

Herentica. The City of the Sun, where the headquarters of the Order of Heretica is located. And the city where the last of God’s will is said to remain.

Despite the autumn weather that had suddenly descended upon us, the city exuded a bright light as if it were the middle of summer.

However, it did not feel particularly hot.

The light that shone brightly from the tips of the spires installed everywhere, as befitting the name City of the Sun, did not possess the heat of the real sun.

I looked at the top of the spire with interest. Not holy power.

Well, now that the connection to God has become so faint, they wouldn’t be wasting holy power like that.

It was a bright light with the heat reduced to a minimum.

As I carefully observed the top of the spire, I could soon detect a faint echo of magical power, not holy power. I couldn’t see it clearly, but I could tell from the rough flow of mana that it wasn’t simple magic.

It was easy to imagine where such useless techniques, which were difficult to implement but flashy to look at, came from.

‘The wizards of the magic tower.’

To put it nicely, a pure pursuit of knowledge and scholarship. To put it badly, those who have spent their lives wasting time.

It was not surprising that the elemental wizards who were shut up in the magic tower and caused explosions every other day had created such pretty garbage.

They were the same 500 years ago.

‘A wizard, Astrid. It is said that one must explore not only the nature of the phenomenon, but also beyond.’

As I looked at the light, I suddenly recalled what my old friend had said long ago.

I shook my head to shake off the old thoughts and followed Anton, who was walking a short distance away.

‘At least one thing has changed in 500 years.’

Five hundred years ago. During the time when I was active, the Order also classified the magic of ordinary elemental wizards as heresy. This was because magic was an act of treason that arbitrarily shook the original world created by God.

Of course, they were not as hostile as they were with warlocks who had made a pact with the devil, the enemy of God.

‘The magic of the shining wizards in the headquarters of the Order of Heretica.’

It must not have been because of a sudden increase in tolerance and a deep understanding of wizards and magic towers. It must have been to make up for the lack of power as God’s response became faint.

‘Even if they’ve grown bigger than 500 years ago, they’re still rotten inside.’

I liked the sight of the mana power that they themselves had defined as heresy in the past rising high all over the city. Of course, most of the current believers, who only blindly believe what the Order says, don’t even know that the Order used to do that in the past.

“Over there, Luciel.”

Anton Revecht, the inquisitor, raised his hand and pointed to a large building in front of us. It was a much softer and kinder tone of voice compared to when he first visited the monastery and spoke to the friars.

‘That’s fine.’

In order to infiltrate the heart of the enemy and pick only the sweet fruits, one must first become an excellent inquisitor. Of course, the more people who believe in me, the better.

“Well, let’s go in.”

A building that stood tall in the center of the city. The symbol of the Order of Heretica was engraved large on the wall of the building, and statues of griffins, the symbol of the sun god, spread their wings on both sides of the entrance.

The statues were made to look several times larger and more majestic than their actual size.

Seeing that, I briefly recalled the moment when I fought the fly-like Griffin Knights.

I nodded and walked toward the huge entrance guarded by the Order’s guards in their brilliantly shining armor, but Anton stopped me.

“Ah, this way.”

“. . . . . .”

The place Anton pointed to was not the large entrance in front, but the small side street next to it, which led to the side of the building.

“. . . . . .”

To my expression that seemed to demand an explanation, Anton said calmly.

“The headquarters of the inquisition is in the basement of the building, and there are two ways to get there.”

He continued to speak as he walked.

“Of course, it’s not strictly forbidden to enter through the main entrance, but It is recommended that all inquisitors, including myself, use this entrance.”

I didn’t listen, but I could guess the reason.

“To always remind ourselves that the path we take to the shining place is the darkest, the longest, and in contact with ugly beings.”

I knew it.

“Let’s go.”

I walked towards the narrow and bumpy side street next to the magnificent main entrance of the grand cathedral, not the grand main entrance.

🔹🔹🔹

The path down to the basement of the Herentica Cathedral had a somewhat subdued atmosphere. Unlike the outside of the building, the crudely carved passage was quiet, and I could hear a faint sound coming from far away.

“. . . . . .”

I stopped walking on the stone floor and tilted my head, and the small sound became clear.

Music.

It was the first time I had heard music since I was born, or even in my previous life. It was reverent, mysterious, and majestic music that naturally caught my ear.

“St. Iodex Psalm (Psalms), Miserere of Grisimo.”

Anton, who had also stopped walking, said in a soft voice.

“A song played to commemorate the festival once a month. You’re lucky.”

The inquisitor, who had also stopped walking, closed his eyes as if to listen to the song.

Music played to celebrate a good day. I chuckled.

That’s why I had never heard this music.

Well, it wasn’t bad music to listen to. I was here now as a candidate for inquisitor, not as an enemy of the Order.

It was not like the chant of the victors of the Night Mist Archipelago on the east coast, which had the special power to change the phenomenon before their eyes, so there was no harm in listening to it.

As I listened to the music that continued for a few minutes, the sound suddenly stopped. It didn’t feel like a natural and clean finish, but rather like it had been cut off in the middle.

It was as if the latter part had been deliberately not played.

“This song is played only halfway.”

“. . . . . .”

As if to answer my question, Anton slowly opened his mouth.

“When a more joyful day comes, not an ordinary festival, they play the whole song. It’s wartime now.”

“I see.”

There are so many useless things to argue about, both now and then.

With the music stopped, we soon reached the end of the passage.

And in front of it, a huge rock that seemed to be made of one piece was blocking the entrance.

“Death to the Heretics.”

Creak.

As Anton uttered a short phrase in the sacred language, the large stone split in two, revealing a hidden entrance.

Within it, a much clearer holy power flowed out. Even those who were not as sensitive as I could feel it.

‘Is this it?’

I walked slowly with an interested expression.

The Order of Heretica’s hidden fourth room, the place most feared by the minions who were tempted by evil.

To the Inquisition.

🔹🔹🔹

“Carry it carefully!”

Friars in black clothes were running around busily carrying various items, and the thick voice of a large man echoed through the wide space.

There are various departments in the Inquisition.

The departments, divided by their purpose in order for the inquisitors to carry out their activities efficiently, all had different roles, but there was one thing they had in common.

Apart from the obvious fact that they fought against heresy under the glorious and shining name of God.

“Has the holy water from the Great Temple not arrived yet?”

“Not yet!”

“Damn it. That side is always late.”

That’s right, it’s terribly busy.

The number of demonic minions appearing all over the continent was increasing. And naturally, the number of ordinary peasants who felt insecure about it and called themselves believers of the Order increased exponentially.

Expansion of power.

It could be seen as the only beneficial thing that heresy brought to the Order.

It was an unpleasant situation for many countries, including the Cravasia Empire, which was wary of the Order’s growing power, but it was not all good for the Order either.

The expansion of the Order’s territory meant that the front lines they had to fight on had also widened.

In order to deal with the minions of evil with powers beyond that of ordinary humans, specialized personnel were needed, and their numbers were limited.

Therefore, there were many peasants outside who faithfully believed in God and paid tithes to the Order but were not protected.

“Friar Baroque!”

A friar came running up to the large man who was turning around busily giving orders.

“What is it?”

“ Th. . . There seems to be someone here to see you. ”

“Who came? Tell them to wait.”

Someone else spoke to the man who was flipping through the ledger without even paying attention to the friar who had delivered the message.

“Ah, Baroque. Long time no see.”

A familiar voice.

“. . .Anton Revecht?”

Only then did Baroque turn his head to see Anton Revecht, the inquisitor, and the unknown boy standing next to him.

Baroque looked away from the boy who was looking at him with calm eyes that did not suit his age and frowned at Inquisitor Anton. He didn’t seem very happy.

Swoosh.

Anton handed something to Baroque like that.

“. . . . . .”

Baroque, who had received it in a daze, looked down.

In his hand was the 3rd class relic, the Eye of Kahadir.

Unlike many relics that lose their value once consumed, it was a fairly valuable item in this Inquisition because it could be recharged.

Of course, it took a lot of time and money to recharge.

“Wait, this is. . . . . .?”

Although it looked the same as usual, Baroque, as befitting the head of the Inquisition’s support department, could see the state of the relic at a glance.

It was empty, so empty that not even the slightest trace of holy power could be felt.

“I need you to recharge it by this week. As you can see, it’s all used up.”

Baroque’s expression crumpled at Anton’s words, which were uttered calmly. It was an amount that would be absolutely impossible even if all the manpower of the support department was used.

Especially in these days when they were running around like crazy.

“What the hell, all of that? Did you kill a priest from one of the demonic cults?”

Baroque, who was twitching his thick arms as if he wanted to throw the relic at Anton’s face, who was making an impossible demand with his usual calm face, faced Anton calmly with a small smile.

“Of course, I used it a little bit to deal with heretics. But it was used for something else.”

Baroque, who rarely smiled, asked with a trembling expression after seeing the smile of Anton Revecht, the inquisitor who rarely smiled.

“. . .Where?”

Anton pointed to the boy next to him instead of answering.

“Let me introduce you. This is a child named Luciel.”

“. . . . . .”

Baroque, who had been looking at him with curiosity for a moment, made an expression as if he had realized something. He hurriedly took out the monocle that seemed to be specially made from his arms and put it on.

Although he had retired from the front lines and was now in the support department supporting other inquisitors, Baroque was also a friar who had reached a considerable level.

“Oh my god.”

Baroque’s mouth fell open as he injected holy power into the monocle and confirmed the holy power in the boy named Luciel.

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