Chapter – 10
Fortunately, Father Rufus opened his mouth without resistance before I had to demonstrate the interrogation skills I’d honed through countless confessions during my days as an inquisitor.
“It’s exactly as you see,” he said. “Every night, the people of this village become monsters. Most of the priests who were dispatched here… were killed by them.”
Unable to meet my eyes, Father Rufus stared blankly at the countless monster footprints scattered across the ground.
I asked another question.
“When did the villagers first begin transforming into monsters every night?”
“It was… exactly one month after I was assigned here upon hearing reports of an epidemic. At the time, the symptoms were still mild. Armed with only a low-grade holy relic, I spent that month living alongside the villagers and trying to cure what I believed was a disease.”
He let out a bitter laugh.
“Of course… it was all for nothing.”
His eyes drifted into the past.
“So you were the only priest here for that entire month?”
“No. I requested reinforcements. Several priests came to help, but when there was no improvement, they returned to the Grand Temple.”
Lord Arden, who had been silently listening until now, suddenly interrupted.
“Were those priests perhaps Dorean, Seville… and Marcello?”
“Oh, Caritas preserve us… Dorean and Seville, yes. Has something happened to them?”
“They returned from Delheim Village, contracted what was believed to be an epidemic, were quarantined… and eventually died.”
At Lord Arden’s solemn words, Father Rufus broke into anguished sobs.
An epidemic? Hardly.
Those two had almost certainly begun transforming because of demonic contamination and had been quarantined by the temple because of it.
But then…
What about Father Marcello?
“So even after people began turning into monsters, the temple continued sending only healing relics and healing priests?” I asked.
“When did Father Marcello arrive?”
Still wiping away tears with his sleeve, Father Rufus answered weakly.
“He was… I believe the ninth priest they sent.”
“He wandered around the village during the day, pretending to investigate, accepted meals from the villagers… then left before nightfall every single evening.”
“So he knew the transformations only happened at night.”
Apparently the temple had already learned something after what happened to Fathers Dorean and Seville.
Still…
If Marcello had also been quarantined after returning under the pretense of an epidemic…
Had he shown signs of demonic contamination as well?
“In the end,” Father Rufus continued quietly, “the Grand Temple sent Cardinal Norman.”
“But no matter how many times he purified the villagers, they would become tainted again after only a few days.”
“And for some reason… Cardinal Norman gradually began losing his holy power.”
“The night came when he could no longer perform purification…”
His voice failed him.
He didn’t have to finish.
I could easily imagine how Cardinal Norman had met his end.
Even a cardinal couldn’t solve the problem of the demonic contamination…
That explained everything.
Why I had been sent here.
Why a sacred stone had been erected at the entrance to the village.
Why the old woman and Father Rufus had looked so hopeless upon hearing that a Saint Candidate was coming.
If a Saint Candidate—someone chosen through divine revelation—died in this village…
The Church could simply declare,
“They dared to defy the will of God.”
Then it could seal off the village…
Erase it from existence…
Kill everyone inside…
And no one would dare question them.
The martyrdom of a Saint Candidate would justify everything.
It was the perfect excuse.
Remove me—the troublesome outsider who had suddenly appeared.
Erase this village before it exposed either the temple’s incompetence or the uncomfortable truth that the gods were not as merciful as everyone believed.
From the Church’s perspective…
It was the perfect solution to two problems at once.
Even if you viewed this purely as a Saint Candidate’s examination…
The difficulty wasn’t remotely fair.
Someone else only had to heal a handful of plague victims.
Me?
I was expected to save people who had become monsters without killing them…
Discover the source of the demonic contamination…
And eliminate it.
“Oh, Caritas…”
I looked up at the sky with heartfelt sincerity.
“It’ll probably take me quite a while before I can personally cave in the skulls of the bastards who came up with this plan.”
“So until then…”
“Please.”
“Strike them with lightning.”
The moment I lowered my gaze…
I spotted the elderly woman who had guided us to the inn yesterday running toward us as fast as she could.
The instant she found Lord Arden and me, she launched into an incomprehensibly rapid prayer of thanksgiving.
After praying for quite some time, she finally calmed down enough to tell us what had happened in the village—far more completely than Father Rufus had.
“It started with the little animals,” she whispered.
“Chicks… chickens… dogs… cats…”
“We believed they had been cursed by God.”
“So while the sun was still up… we sent them back into His embrace.”
The animals had been contaminated too…
But there hadn’t been a single animal among those I purified last night.
Reading my expression, the old woman quietly added,
“We slaughtered all the livestock.”
Then her face darkened further.
“Next… it was the babies.”
“And then the children.”
“We were afraid.”
“So terribly afraid, Saint.”
The calm, composed woman who had greeted us yesterday began speaking in broken fragments.
“As time passed…”
“Larger livestock…”
“Then most of the villagers…”
“Only then did we realize…”
“It wasn’t just the little animals and children who had been cursed.”
The moment those words—words no different from a confession—left her lips…
The guilt she had been suppressing burst forth.
Clutching both my hands tightly, she sobbed until she nearly lost her breath.
Only after regaining her composure did she continue.
Every evening, as the sun set…
One villager after another lost all reason and transformed into monsters.
They slaughtered their own families.
Their neighbors.
Their livestock.
Travelers who happened to visit the village.
Even the priests who had been sent to save them.
Overnight…
An ordinary village had become a nest of monsters.
Every.
Single.
Night.
“Before the symptoms that everyone mistook for an epidemic appeared…”
I asked carefully,
“Did anything unusual happen in the village?”
“Anything new?”
The old woman shook her head immediately.
“Nothing.”
“No suspicious outsiders came.”
“We never broke any sacred taboos.”
“We faithfully paid our offerings to the temple…”
“So why…”
“Why would this happen to us…?”
She buried her face in her hands, calling out to God once more.
Gently patting her trembling hands, I looked around the peaceful village.
It was hard to believe this tranquil place transformed into hell every night.
The reason these villagers became contaminated had to be somewhere in this village.
I just had to find it.
Lightly nudging Lord Arden, I said,
“Let’s make a round of the village first.”
“We’ll purify everyone we couldn’t get to last night.”
After hearing Cardinal Norman’s story, it felt like pouring water into a bucket full of holes.
Still…
It would at least buy us another day.
And perhaps…
While talking to the villagers…
We’d uncover a clue.
I looked at Lord Arden.
“If you spend another night acting as monster bait, you’re really going to collapse.”
“You deserve at least one decent night’s sleep.”
“I’m not so weak that I’d collapse from something like that.”
He smiled faintly before continuing.
“But if you’re this worried about me…”
His voice trailed off as he flashed an unashamed grin.
Then, like a proper escort, he respectfully extended his hand.
“I’ll gladly do as my lady wishes.”
Just as I reached out to take it—
The inn’s front door burst open with a loud crash.
Someone came running straight toward me.
Lord Arden immediately stepped in front of me, blocking the person’s path.
Instead, the newcomer grabbed him desperately.
“Please…”
“Save my daughter!”
“Please…”
“Turn her back into a human too!”
The tear-streaked face was unmistakably familiar.
It wasn’t one I could ever forget.
Now…
At last…
She wore the face of someone worthy of being called a mother.
I extended once more the hand she had rejected the first time we met.
“Of course.”
It might be troublesome.
But protecting the weak…
Was the duty of a Saint—the representative of God.
Later…
“Hello.”
“We meet again.”
I crouched down so we were at eye level and greeted the familiar little girl with a warm smile.
After all…
Compared to adults who had weathered every hardship life could throw at them…
Children, untouched by the world’s grime…
Were usually far more trustworthy.
It was time…
For a little cross-examination.
