I Became the Hero Who Banished the Protagonist
I Became the Hero Who Banished the Protagonist - Chapter 87: What was left behind. (2)

TN: Sorry for not uploading yesterday.

Twelve years old.

That’s how old Marianne was when she became an inquisitor. Marianne’s talent blossomed at an age far too young. The training of an inquisitor is harsh. Much more so than any soldier or knight’s training, Marianne went through it all without a change in her expression. It was before she even knew what the word harsh meant.

“She’s a tough child.”

The other inquisitors watching Marianne said. Andrei Jarvin, the head of the Inquisition, looked at Marianne, who was gasping for breath before the slain heretics. This time, they took the form of an armed rebellion that killed people, took over cities, and claimed to be founding a new faith.

“I don’t know if she can even understand pain.”

Marianne passed by Bishop Andrei’s side. The girl’s body was covered in wounds. Her clothes, which had been intact before the battle, were now torn rags.

“Sir, you said Marianne was an orphan, right?”

“Do you remember that incident long ago when we caught heretics trying to sell thirty children from an orphanage in the Holy Land all at once? Oh, sorry, that might’ve been before you joined the inquisitors.”

As he spoke, Andrei pulled out a cigarette and put it to his mouth, lighting it, taking a long drag, and exhaling.

“I was there. That was about five years ago, was that the child who was rescued?”

“When all the other children were crying or shaking in terror, Marianne silently sat alone. She must have known what was happening.”

Marianne caught Bishop Andrei’s eye, and from that day forward, she was placed in a unique institution in the Holy Land. A group of people who work solely to serve the Puritans in the shadows. An institution that trains inquisitors.

“…There are quite a few inquisitors who had the same happen to them.”

“Children without connections, living in the back alleys, stealing just to eat. A group of kids with nothing more to lose in life.”

The Bishop removed the cigarette from his mouth and blew out the smoke.

“No wonder.”

Andrei waved his hand and looked at Marianne as she walked away. She received only the lightest first aid, changed her clothes, and returned. No one would believe she was only twelve years old. Marianne opened her mouth, her face indifferent as always.

“It’s all done, Bishop.”

“Well done, Marianne. Leave the cleanup to the others.”

With Andrei’s approval, Marianne turned and walked away. Today, she had killed five armed heretics who were resisting fiercely. Five. Marianne counted them. She was becoming numb to the number. This wasn’t the first time she’d killed people. After a while, it became a job, a habit.

“If you hadn’t killed them, they would have killed ten times as many people as they did today. And they would have dared to speak out against the Puritans.”

That’s what the Bishop had said. Regardless, she would still have killed people as the Puritans had ordered. Marianne had no choice; she had never had her own will. She had no deep faith, hatred of heresy, and therefore no great attachment to her life. Marianne despised herself for that.

And so she continued to hate herself inwardly. Waiting for the day when someone else’s blade would slit her throat.

***

Dawn broke. Marianne sat alone in her darkened bedroom. Birds chirped outside her blue-tinted window. Marianne reached for her rosary, then dropped her hand and turned her head. There was the compass she had turned upside down last night before sleeping. With a hesitant gesture, Marianne reached for the compass.

“….”

Marianne picked it up and flipped it over. The needle ticked as it moved and then stopped at a point. Last night, the needle was still, but now it was moving unsteadily. Marianne shook her head and opened her senses.

“…He’s out there.”

Elroy was not in his room. Marianne blinked and looked at the compass. She watched it momentarily, tucked it in her arms, and stood up.

Unless something went terribly wrong, the party was supposed to gather in the morning in Elroy’s room. Marianne bathed and dressed, then stood before Elroy’s door. He would’ve heard her and opened the door. As Marianne hesitated to knock on the door, Daphne walked up behind her.

“What’s going on, Marianne? Is Elroy still not opening the door?”

Marianne shook her head.

“No… I don’t think he has returned yet.”

At Marianne’s answer, Daphne cocked her head, puzzled. What do you mean he hasn’t come back yet?’ Daphne cautiously placed her hand on the doorknob and turned it. The door was unlocked, and the two entered Elroy’s room with bewildered faces.

“What the hell, you guys are early.”

Georg said from the doorway. Marianne and Daphne turned their heads simultaneously, and Georg looked into Elroy’s room puzzledly.

“What? Where is he?”

“We don’t know, either. He must have gone to meet the Pope earlier, or he wouldn’t have left so suddenly and without warning.”

At Daphne’s words, Marianne tightened her grip on the compass in her arms.

“We’ll just have to sit and wait and see if we can find out why the party leader is late for the meeting. Irresponsible asshole.”

Georg joked and crossed his arms. They waited for Elroy in silence, the atmosphere tinged with unease. But thirty minutes passed, then an hour, and Elroy still hadn’t returned. Daphne, who had been talking at intervals, fell silent, and even Georg looked around the room with an uneasy glance.

“…It’s too late.”

Georg’s expression was heavy. Something had happened, and they were dimly realizing it in silence. Marianne took out her compass and held it. The needle was still not fixed, wandering to and fro like a pendulum.

“We should meet the Pope. I don’t think I can just sit still.”

Georg rose to his feet first, followed by Marianne and Daphne.

The streets of the castle were as usual. Marianne followed Georg, trying to stifle the pounding in her chest. When they arrived, they came face to face with an unexpected figure.

“Holy Father…? Why are you outside so early in the morning….”

“The Hero is currently battling…he has engaged the Mist.”

At the Pope’s words, the faces of the group froze.

“What…why….”

Georg spat out the words with difficulty, and the Pope sighed.

“The Hero decided it would be best if he went alone to attack the Disaster and that if you all went into the fog together, it would’ve been a much more difficult battle.”

Georg arched an eyebrow.

“Did he… did he really say that?”

“There’s no reason for me to lie, and I couldn’t talk him out of it; he was determined, and there was nothing I could do about it. I could never understand his resolve to attack the Disaster alone.”

Georg sighed, scratched his head, and bowed his head heavily. Behind him, Daphne spoke up, a thoughtful look on her face.

“I’m going in, too. I can’t leave Elroy to fight alone.”

“No.”

Before Daphne could continue, the Pope’s firm voice cut her off.

“He asked me a favor. He forbid anyone to enter the fog, especially members of the Hero’s Party until he returned.”

The paladins flanked the Pope, placing their hands on their sheathed swords. It was a clear message.

“I have honored his request. I can’t betray the trust he has given me.”

“I don’t understand. He’s such a good man. He wouldn’t do something like this without a word. What happened?”

Georg spoke up, his voice rising slightly.

“He didn’t tell me all the details, but he did leave me a message to pass on.”

“Please believe in me and wait.”

The Pope’s voice echoed in Marianne’s ears.

***

The grass on the floor crunched underfoot. I paced, fiddling with the hilt of my holy sword, and stopped in my tracks.

“How much exercise do you want me to do?”

I frowned. I walked into the vast forest, wondering if it would end. Eventually, I found a place I’d been to before. I remembered it well. I turned my head from side to side and looked around. These trees, the shade they cast, and most of all-

“Long time no see.”

A dark cave gaping open before me. I didn’t approach it but stared blankly at its entrance. It was the anthill I once entered.

“…Should I go in?”

I muttered to myself and was about to step forward when a hand rested on my shoulder.

“Brother, what are you doing here?”

A voice I recognized from somewhere. I turned around. The three adventurers I had entered the anthill with. I blinked as I looked at the adventurer leader, Rhea, walking towards me.

“…Isn’t that you, Hero? I’ve never seen you so close before!”

I looked at the adventurers, who took my hand and shook it eagerly. The sensation was familiar. I felt as if I was going back in time and facing them. Rhea’s hand squeezing mine, the flow of magic, the information my eyes took in– it was all there, all real.

Suddenly, I was in the anthill.

“It will only be for a short time, but I look forward to working with you.”

The adventurers led the way. I frowned at the lantern-lit anthill. Vivid. It made me feel all kinds of wrong. I ran my hands along the walls, damp and cold. I could feel every creature that roamed around with my senses. Like before, the adventurers skillfully guided me. As I had promised, I defeated the creatures that appeared, and, as before, the adventurers marveled at my skill.

“Well, our leader is actually a fan of yours, and I thought she’d be thrilled if you could accompany her on this one just once….”

“H-hey, what nonsense are you talking about?”

“B-boss pl-please, can’t breathe here….”

The adventurers’ banter was the same as before. In nostalgia, I closed my eyes briefly, listening to the adventurers’ conversation, and then opened them.

I shouldn’t have.

“I need more food.”

When I opened my eyes again, I saw a giant spider with the upper half of a human body standing in front of me, and at its feet, three adventurers covered in blood. I stared at them, dumbfounded. The male adventurer, Harvey, lifted his bloodied face.

“Hero… run away….”

The spider’s foot stomped his head, popping it open. Harvey’s blood splattered on my clothes.

“Much different, huh?”

The voice of the spider said mockingly. I fell to my knees, staring at the adventurers at its feet. ‘This is an illusion.’ A fiction that the Mist is showing me. They must be alive and well, still adventuring for the kingdom.

“If I had been hungry then, if I had needed to feed myself, would you have been able to save them?”

Arachne said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘It’s not real.’ I shook my head in denial. But I couldn’t help but look at them.

“Hero….”

Rhea looked up, her eyes pleading with me to help. I took her hand in mine, the sensation of her blood and the warmth of her hand all too clear. My hand trembles in hers. ‘No. This isn’t real. I saved them .’

“Maybe you were just lucky because I wasn’t famished at the time, and I wasn’t in much need of food, so I let them go without killing them.”

Arachne chuckled.

“Or maybe you were too late to take me down, and they were captured by the baby spiders and were eaten slowly.”

‘This isn’t real. This is a fantasy, a fog I’m letting cloud my mind.’ I sighed, repeating the thought to myself.

But I couldn’t help but feel angry.

I drew the holy sword and took a deep breath. If the purpose was to slightly unsettle my mind, there’s no choice but to compliment you. You succeeded.

“Do you know what they say about overcoming your past?”

“What?”

Arachne smiled faintly and tilted its head, and I spoke chillingly.

“They call it a mental victory. In other words…”

“Everything from now on is in self-defense.”