Chapter 74: The Mixed Battle

Oakley was in a state of intense confusion. This was due to the words Father Dordon had blurted out in the midst of his deductions: “You’re not Oakley. You were the Heretic Oakley, weren’t you?”

He didn’t know his true identity, nor did he know that he was the trigger for the destruction of the city of Daskell a year ago. Father Dordon’s words, which were already incomprehensible, further confounded Oakley’s thinking.

(My true identity is a Heretic…? That’s absurd! I… I just want to live… live normally! Why does it have to be like this!!)

Oakley began to look for an opening to attack Father Dordon, who had a knife hanging from his person. The best course of action was to escape the church, but since all entrances and exits were sealed, there was no way to survive other than neutralizing the enemy.

While wondering if he should give in to the appetite welling up within him, the young man was finally beginning to rebel in order to survive.

—Alex, Joanne’s pawn, had picked the lock on a window of the church room to infiltrate the building and was observing the priest’s horrifying words and actions from the shadows.

(Hmm. That Father Dordon guy, no matter how you look at it, is someone from the Heretic side. He’s just too evil. I don’t know why, but he saw through Senpai’s identity just by touching his balls. He’s the Joker of the Kenneth Orthodox, honestly… If this guy were my boss, it would’ve been hilarious.)

He was currently hiding in a hollow near the church ceiling, drawing his bow, watching the stagnant fight between Oakley and Father Dordon, and debating when to intervene.

This hesitation wasn’t based on Alex’s behavioral pattern of “anything is fine as long as it’s fun,” but because one of the reasons he was sent to the Orthodox city included “recovering his memories.”

(Oakley-senpai is a shell of his former self right now. But by having him associate with that abnormally sharp-eyed perverted priest, a trigger for his lost memories might be born. …This is just my intuition, but I think Oakley-senpai can remember his old memories when he’s hit with ‘fear,’ ‘despair,’ and ‘anxiety’… Looking at how he’s been, that’s what I think.)

Whether his memories returned was entirely up to Oakley’s spirit. This was quite difficult. The question was when to kill Father Dordon, who, for some reason, had figured out Oakley’s identity just by touching his balls. He wanted to kill him after he had stimulated Oakley as much as possible—and while he was at it, made the situation interesting. Since he could kill the priest whenever he wanted, he should watch this situation for now.

Extinguishing all noise—the sound of the bowstring being drawn, breathing, footsteps—and ensuring not even a fragment of his presence was felt, Alex chose to continue hiding in the darkness.

—Father Dordon was struggling with how to make Oakley behave. He had failed to cut out his tongue and, due to his own carelessness, had lost most of his left index finger and a part of his thumb. Although he had the advantage in weaponry, he might have a drawn-out battle if he couldn’t use his left hand properly.

After revealing his true identity, he had intended to cut out his tongue, tie up his limbs, present him to the soldiers at the garrison, and be celebrated as a hero who had insightfully uncovered the Heretics’ plan in advance—but life doesn’t always go that smoothly. That delusion had crumbled early on.

Father Dordon untied his shoelaces to bind his left wrist, and while panting from excitement and pain, he glared at Oakley.

(I have never seen the moment of ‘transfer’ with my own eyes, but as long as the executive bomb is on Oakley-kun’s left hand, I can’t kill him. He’s suffering from amnesia, but I don’t know how it would explode. Cutting off his left hand doesn’t seem like a good idea either… I’ll stop trying to force him to give me head for now. Sigh.)

Father Dordon continued to ponder the “transfer” he had yet to see while keeping a set distance from Oakley.

Seeing a method identical to the “strategy that summoned Heretic executives to Daskell,” which he had heard rumors about, appear right before his eyes had caused a vortex of unknown fear and excitement.

He had heard from someone close to an Orthodox executive aide that a property of the executives was a ridiculous ability where, even if their bodies were blown to pieces, a body would grow back, good as new, from the scraps of flesh scattered about. As far as could be confirmed, the range of that “transfer” was about several hundred meters.

In other words, the mobile fortress plan based on the possession of an executive’s flesh suffered from a significant inconvenience regarding the range of the transfer. After all, if they weren’t within a few hundred meters of the flesh-owner, the bomb would fail to detonate.

With a transfer range of only a few hundred meters, a normal person would think that a direct surprise attack from the sky would be more efficient than something convoluted—however,

(The reason surprise attacks from the sky don’t happen is because the plants of the Sixth-Rank Kenneth Orthodox Executive, Noun Tilty, guard the sky above the city. …Even this small city has an anti-air defense system deployed. I’ve never seen or heard of it actually working, though…)

As Father Dordon suspected, the Holy Nation of Geluid was in the middle of installing “Adhesive Vines for High-Speed Flying Objects” in preparation for surprise attacks from the sky.

The “Adhesive Vines” were special plants by the plant-manipulating Orthodox executive Noun, designed to deploy at high speed in the sky above the city in response to high-speed flying objects and hostile magical attacks. With this, the aforementioned aerial surprise attacks could be prevented to a certain extent.

Until a year ago, they had only been deployed in massive cities, including the Holy Capital Sasfect; Metasim and Daskell were not targets, but after those two cities were attacked, the trend was to fully deploy them in all cities.

Orthodox upper-management theories held that the Heretics, disliking the surprise defense systems installed in large cities, had developed a new tactic using “transfer,” and that Daskell’s tragedy was their test run. If there was a test run, there was naturally a main operation. The Heretics intended to launch an attack on a massive city. This theory had been pointed out frequently in parliament, but because it was too difficult to predict when and where the attack would occur, it was brushed off as “impossible to counter” whenever it was raised.

The mobile fortress plan, which could pull off surprise attacks by perfectly avoiding defense systems and human eyes while being limited by the range of the transfer, was that exceptional of a tactic.

(The limit of the transfer is one kilometer, or ten kilometers at a generous estimate. Well, if you can effectively teleport that distance, that’s more than enough. If an executive suddenly appears in the middle of the city, that city is finished.)

It was extremely difficult to see through this tactic in advance.

That was precisely why Father Dordon’s deeds—identifying Oakley’s true identity before the activation of the mobile fortress plan and discovering the executive’s flesh adhered to his body—could only be described as a god-like feat worthy of being told as a hero’s legend.

—The problem was that Father Dordon was scum beyond excuse. He was a man who had taken the lives of nineteen precious boys in his life so far, and moreover, without any remorse, was trying to challenge himself to see how many perfect crimes he could pile up. Because his twisted desires leaked out to Oakley due to his own carelessness, Father Dordon, who could have been a savior of the nation, was tightening a noose around his own neck with his own actions.

On this day, at this moment, he was someone who could have become a real hero.

“Oakley-kun. Why don’t you let me touch your ‘golden balls’ one more time?”

Father Dordon let out sweet words to entice his guard down and to encourage himself. However, the moment he raised his voice, a visitor who was undesirable to Oakley, Father Dordon, and Alex appeared on the scene.

“——Father Dordon? You’re in there, aren’t you? My name is Pomett. Won’t you open this door?”

—Pomett Yawster. And Marietta Valiere. The Orthodox executive Pomett, having heard Father Dordon’s voice through the door, knocked.

Oakley displayed an expression of joy that help had arrived, but Father Dordon and Alex could not remain calm. Especially Father Dordon. The timing of their arrival was far too bad.

(—This is bad. Did they hear my inappropriate remarks…!?)

The explosive remark akin to a forbidden word—telling him to let him touch his “golden balls”—was something a priest shouldn’t say even as a joke. Moreover, it was a remark directed at the “Oakley” that Pomett and Marietta were concerned about.

Twice now, Father Dordon’s infinite desires had tightened the noose around his own neck.

(Did they hear it? No, did they not hear it? In any case, I must open this door and verify. I must clarify. If this turns into a major disgrace before the executives, my position will vanish. I must not let them harbor any suspicion.)

Facing the crisis of the nation’s survival, Father Dordon was forced to solve a problem that threatened his own future. Flustered, Father Dordon stumbled repeatedly while trying to take out the key in front of the locked door.

To him, the idea of his own standing crumbling away was far more terrifying than any Heretic or Magical Beast attacking.

Around that time, Alex was trembling at the invasion of the Orthodox executive Pomett, the arch-enemy of the Heretics. Even he could not have predicted her visit. Alex carefully relaxed his drawn bow and returned the arrow he had been holding in his right hand to the quiver on his back.

Killing a priest in front of Pomett was out of the question. If he did that, he would be killed without even having time to run. After thinking about his own self-preservation for a split second, the blond monk realized that Oakley’s left hand, to which the executive’s flesh was adhered, was exposed, and he pressed his mouth, which had been about to let out a gasp.

(Ugh!? Oakley-senpai, hide your left hand immediately! If Pomett sees that, it’s truly the end for us!!)

Alex leaned out of the hollow in the ceiling, doing his best to gesture and screaming with his mouth, telling him to put the black glove back on. The major weakness lurking in the current Oakley was that grotesque left hand. It would blow away any deceptions, like his amnesia or his record of repelling packs of magical beasts, from the roots.

(No, this is bad! If Oakley-senpai gets exposed as a Heretic to Pomett, execution is mandatory! And if I can’t protect Senpai, Joanne-sama will be furious and I’ll die too! Joanne-sama’s plan will end in failure, and Arros-sama will be very sad as well…!)

There was still a possibility as long as it was only Father Dordon who knew. After all, he had killed nineteen people, and those evil deeds were exposed to both Alex and Oakley. In that sense, there was an opening to exploit the priest, but for Pomett, who was herself one of the top ranks of the Orthodox, there was no way to deceive her.

If he didn’t hide his left hand while Father Dordon was fumbling, the lives of Alex and Oakley would literally be over.

(Uuu! This situation where my life is in Senpai’s hands, it should be desperate, but it’s too interesting… I’m so excited! This is why I can’t quit being a Heretic! —Reach them, these burning feelings!!)

Alex sent his feelings with all his might to get Oakley to pick up the black glove. After a short pause, Oakley snatched up the black glove that had rolled on the ground. Alex’s wish had been granted.

The moment he was out of the priest’s line of sight, Oakley put the black glove back on his left hand. The fact that the voice of Arros whispering from inside Oakley made him believe that he had to hide his left hand was also significant.

When Father Dordon regained his composure and unlocked the church door, the creaking, heavy sound of the door resonated. While dripping with sweat like a waterfall over his own slip of the tongue, the priest led both Pomett and Marietta into the church along with the flowing night air.

“…Pomett-sama, what brings you here at this late hour?”

“————”

—Marietta and Pomett, who had come to see how Oakley was doing, each had their emotions thrown into chaos.

First, Pomett. The moment she saw Oakley’s face, the events of Daskell from a year ago surfaced vividly.

(That face is…! It’s the spitting image of the young man who helped me against Shadick and Pork! And he was looking for Alfie. Nine times out of ten, he’s the same person as Marietta’s savior, Oakley…!)

Even if it was only for a moment, it was a face she had shared the battlefield with. Ignoring Father Dordon in the front, Pomett began to walk toward Oakley, who was in the dimly lit church.

However, the priest lightly blocked her path in a way that showed off the wound on his left hand to her. Seeing his wound—missing his index finger and thumb, and bleeding repeatedly in a throbbing rhythm—Pomett posed a perfectly natural question.

“Father Dordon, what is that wound?”

“I was bitten by this young man, Oakley.”

“Th-that’s a lie! Father Dordon was the one who attacked me first!”

The priest whose finger had been severed, and Oakley, who had been stripped of all his clothes and left half-naked. Their opinions clashed immediately. From the fear of being overwhelmed by Father Dordon’s opinion, Oakley passed the priest and clung to Marietta’s waist while crying.

“Ma-Marietta! This priest was trying to attack me…! Hey, you believe me, don’t you…!?”

Oakley appealed with a desperate look while shaking violently. As he wrapped himself around her slender waist, Marietta felt a mysterious, shivering pleasure.

—Ah, this person has no one to rely on but me.

“——It’s alright, Oakley-san. I am always… on Oakley-san’s side, you see.”

Marietta noticed the abnormality immediately upon seeing the state of the terrified Oakley. Both eyes were pitifully swollen, perhaps from crying. The sight of Oakley, weak as a small child clinging to its mother and refusing to let go, gave Marietta the intuition that “Father Dordon did something terrible to my savior.”

Ignoring all of Father Dordon’s achievements built up until now, Marietta decided to fully support Oakley’s words.

“…I just dropped by for a little business, but it seems to have become troublesome. Father Dordon. Let’s not stand around talking; can we go inside and talk for now? I’ll stop the bleeding for you as well.”

“…Understood.”

Father Dordon hid his knife in his pocket and invited Pomett and Marietta into the guest room.

After Father Dordon’s left hand was treated, the four of them—or five, if you count the silent blond monk hidden in the ceiling—began their discussion, each with their own secret intentions.