“Ah, you are here, Inquisitor Krail.”
“…Priest Lian.”
In front of the statue of Raynell, the angel of punishment holding an hourglass in her left hand and a sword in her right, Krail stood, gazing at the statue with admiring eyes. He turned his head at Lian’s call, noticing the old priest of the church, who appeared visibly nervous.
Krail observed the man from a distance, noting his jittery demeanor as he kept glancing around to see if anyone was watching. Letting out a soft sigh, Krail snapped his fingers.
Snap!
A bluish energy spread around the angel statue, causing time in the room to come to a complete stop.
Lian nodded in admiration as he felt the mysterious power at work.
“It’s truly amazing every time I see it. This is the power of an angel.”
“If you keep doing this, the saint will notice. Let’s see it quickly,” Krail said with a frown, pulling a cigarette from his pocket.
The gray-haired inquisitor’s sharp glare silenced Lian, who bent down repeatedly, clearly intimidated by Krail, who was much younger. Lian began his report nervously.
“Well, there was an experiment conducted on a high-ranking devil.”
“…Experiment?”
“It is said that before releasing Nightmare and other high-ranking devils near divine status, they experimented by reviving humans using weaker devils as a preliminary trial.”
“The saint has been engaging in quite fascinating activities,” Krail remarked, exhaling a puff of white smoke and clicking his tongue.
Lian, feeling the urge to reprimand Krail for smoking in a sacred area, swallowed his words and continued,
“Yes, it was tested on a nobleman who had recently lost a wife or husband.”
“And who is the one daring enough to tread the path of heresy?”
“If we think about it, aren’t we all heretics in some way…” Lian muttered hesitantly.
Expecting Krail’s wrath, Lian braced himself for the reprimand, but instead, a low chuckle escaped from Krail.
“Hah, you’re not wrong. We are all already heretics. Please, continue.”
“Oh, I understand. The nobleman’s name is Rotani Aran, the Count who governs Aran, known as the city of water.”
“Isn’t Aran famous for being free of heresy? And yet, its ruler, a devout follower of Telmere, made a deal with a devil?”
“It is said that he was truly a devoted husband. A romanticist who refused concubines or slaves and loved only his wife, the Countess Liliana Aran.”
“Another man like Julius,” Krail said, his expression turning bitter as he thought of his close friend, who had likely encountered the devil by now.
“It is not public knowledge, but the Countess passed away two years ago during the epidemic.”
“And Count Rotani, unable to accept her death, struck a deal with Erman,” Krail concluded.
“Yes. The condition was to allow certain experiments during the process of inhabiting and reviving her corpse.”
“And the results of these experiments?” Krail asked, flicking away the remnants of his cigarette.
“The revival was ultimately incomplete,” Lian explained.
“The devil’s mimicry is supposed to be flawless. How did it fail?”
“Apparently, the mimicry techniques of high-ranking devils differ from those of weaker ones,” Lian replied.
“Keep talking,” Krail urged, stepping closer to the statue.
Lian continued, “According to the lost Scripture, the origin of a devil’s evil lies within humanity itself.”
“An intriguing notion. But how does this connect to the current situation?”
“Higher devils, unlike their lesser counterparts, are not entirely consumed by evil, even when exposed to human malice,” Lian explained.
“Yes, their individuality can vary, with some lacking the malice expected of a devil king,” Krail said.
“So, instead of mocking humanity, they resorted to twisting time to achieve an incomplete revival,” Lian elaborated.
“Twisting time… such a grandiose method,” Krail muttered, his interest piqued.
“The issue lies in the incomplete restoration of human memories. Revived humans, influenced by a devil’s power, often emerge with their very essence damaged.”
“So the process of convergence becomes necessary?”
“Yes. Long ago, humans, as punishment for spreading evil, lost their souls. Devils fill this void, sustaining their existence,” Lian explained.
Krail tapped the hourglass held by the statue, then suddenly frowned.
“So, in the end, you’re saying revival is possible even with devil interference. Why make it so convoluted?”
“Resuscitation is maintained, but the issue lies in personality,” Lian clarified.
“Personality?”
“Typically, the revived human’s personality dominates, while the devil’s influence remains secondary. But if the broken personality deviates from its driving purpose…”
“The devil’s personality takes over,” Krail finished.
“Precisely. This duality is what the saint’s guards call a ‘double personality.'”
“It’s all very convoluted,” Krail remarked. “To summarize, as long as the revived person clings to their reason for living, they retain their humanity. If not, they succumb to the devil’s influence.”
“Exactly. This was the case with the Countess. However, Nightmare’s method of merging with Miss Cecile is more complex,” Lian said.
“Enough. I despise studying this late in life. Julius can handle the rest.”
“Isn’t that a bit too vague?” Lian asked, his expression tinged with pity.
Before Krail could reply, footsteps echoed in the hallway.
“Tsk. It seems I’ve been discovered. Likely Erman. Get out, now!” Krail snapped, restoring the flow of time and shoving Lian toward the open window.
“This is the third floor!” Lian protested.
“Survive on your own!” Krail retorted, sending the priest tumbling out.
Moments later, the door swung open, and a solemn voice called out.
“Krail, Special Heretic Inquisitor, what are you doing here?”
“As you can see, I am praying,” Krail replied, his face buried in the statue’s chest.
Saint Erman, observing the bizarre sight, clenched his fists in anger.
“Is this a place for lust? I told you not to approach Raynell’s statue!”
“I couldn’t help myself. Forgive me,” Krail said nonchalantly, hugging the statue tighter.
Erman, exasperated, turned to the open window, contemplating the bright moonlight.
“Could this be God’s arrangement?” he wondered aloud.
Far beyond the skies, Rom, the master of heaven, lifted his head.
“…It is not my arrangement,” came the divine reply.
Even the chief deity seemed uninvolved in the peculiar affairs below.
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Check out my other projects: Rehabilitating the Villainess, Pushover Extra Trains the Villainesses, I Picked Up an Amnesiac Witch, Transmigrated as the Butler of a Defeated Heroine, My Summons Are Special