Cutting Throats

The man's eyes brimmed with terror. With his last ounce of strength, he pointed a finger at Du Pont as though begging for forgiveness and mercy. Yet the boy before him merely watched coldly as he slowly lost strength. Only after the raised arm fell back down did Du Pont remove his foot from the man's throat, silently cursing his bad luck.

He had known that some priests in this church liked little boys. If one fit his tastes, he would not have minded pretending to be a cute young boy, but this old man could get as far away as possible. Don't insult my eyes.

Looking at the man beneath him, who was nearly at his last breath, Du Pont leaned against the wall with an indifferent expression.

Unlike the first time he killed a cow, he felt neither fear nor pity this time. Seeing the man's pleading expression stirred nothing in Du Pont but deep disgust.

Perhaps this was what Boulderstone meant by having a just cause?

But after calming down, Du Pont realized he had run into no small problem.

Although he really had encountered a pervert and was the victim, once he regained consciousness, he had not gone out to call for help. Instead, he had directly killed the scum. Clearly, that was against the rules.

No leader liked subordinates who caused a major scandal. If he encountered some idiots who liked to smooth things over, this would definitely bring him plenty of bad consequences and trouble.

But leaving this bastard alive was even less acceptable.

Unlike mages, who relied on self-improvement, priests were somewhat like warlocks. Although divine spells and divine favor were not inherited through bloodlines, the vast majority of priests had powerful families behind them. With the knowledge and connections accumulated by their families, they could more easily become priests. As long as their perception was not too poor, they could easily become noble priests through those advantages. Even if they did not study hard, they could still become spellcasters through divine spells bestowed by the gods.

This could be called the most overpowered profession, even easier than warlocks awakening their innate bloodline talents. If one had sufficient talent and could win a god's favor, it was not impossible to rise directly from a level-one acolyte to a high-ranking priest. It all depended on the gods' will.

Putting himself in the other person's shoes, if Du Pont had somehow survived someone's attempt on his life, then once he recovered, he would definitely make that person die. And if he had spared this pervert, the man might even turn around and accuse him of seducing him.

Could a powerless little apprentice like him endure that?

As an adult, Du Pont would not leave matters concerning his life and future to whether a group of strangers was fair, hoping their noble qualities would help him escape trouble.

Some things had to be handled personally.

But there were plenty of spells with criminal investigation functions, and acting directly would have been too foolish. Du Pont leaned against the wall as though frightened stupid, blankly watching everything that happened in the room. Only when the system informed him that he had gained 2,000 Experience Points did he finally breathe a sigh of relief inwardly.

Ignoring the robe on the floor that was already stained with blood, Du Pont opened the door and shouted down the corridor in a tearful voice, "Help! Cultists are trying to kill me!"

Du Pont's miserable cry alarmed the entire church. Even the High Priest, whose health was poor, was disturbed.

When the people who arrived afterward saw the scene, they were dumbfounded.

How had one of their priests been killed by a little apprentice who had only come to volunteer today?

But soon, merely from the traces at the scene, several of the church's higher-ups all fell silent.

The dead man was named Simon. He was one of only two official priests sent from the capital, Yarhel, this year. The reason he had come was because he had violated church rules there and had ultimately been exiled here to atone for his sins.

The lower-ranking deacons and acolytes might not have known exactly what he had done, but the several higher-ups present knew very well.

He had used the convenience of his position to lure young believers away, then carried out his filthy, despised desires.

This should have been an extremely serious crime, but Simon, who had been able to become a priest in the capital, was naturally not some pervert without connections. His family had paid a considerable sum to redeem him, had him exiled to this barren northwestern land for ten years as punishment, and gave the families of those victims a very generous compensation before the matter was finally settled.

Afterward, Simon came here and had lived here for several months, behaving himself well enough.

Everyone had thought that he had turned over a new leaf and begun walking the path of redemption. Who would have thought that he had not changed at all, and had even caused a death.

Only, the one who died was himself.

This was an absolute scandal that could not be acknowledged. Once exposed, not only would the church's reputation suffer, but if the matter grew too large, even the important figures in Yarhel who had decided on exile as punishment might be held accountable.

After all, he was a repeat offender, and his conduct had been vile enough to include using divine spells to bewitch believers. If the public learned of it, it would absolutely undermine the church's authority.

This was something they could never accept.

Today, he had been killed in self-defense by this little apprentice who had come to pray, but if they truly investigated, might Simon have succeeded many times before this?

Several higher-ups exchanged messages through Message. Dorothy took away the little volunteer, who was still badly shaken, to comfort him, while Simon's corpse was also removed. Then the priests drove away the curious onlookers who had come to watch the commotion.

Before long, a priest came out to clarify today's bloody incident.

"Our enemy, Shar, the Evil God who has brought endless terror and suffering, has begun causing trouble again. Her weak lackey, Veil of the Night, dared not wage an open and honorable war against us. Instead, they curled up in the darkness to carry out an evil scheme, resulting in this grave tragedy. The specific circumstances still require investigation. Please, fellow believers, hold fast to your hearts and remain vigilant against suspicious individuals at all times. If you encounter anything strange, remember to report it promptly, whether to the church or the academy."

The turmoil outside had nothing to do with Du Pont. At that moment, he was sobbing uncontrollably in Dorothy's soft embrace, nuzzling into her again and again.

Dorothy comforted him softly. She seemed unaware of Du Pont's movements, but her slightly flushed pretty face betrayed how she truly felt.

Yet when she thought of what the beautiful boy in her arms had suffered, Dorothy's disgust toward Simon deepened even further.

Those people from the big cities were always so self-righteous. They came to the northwest, this so-called countryside in their eyes, and committed all sorts of evil as though no one could control them.

But this was ultimately a matter that could affect the reputation of the entire magic church. Whether for her own future or for the church, she could not say much more. She was even somewhat glad that Du Pont's faith was devout enough that he only believed a Cultist had infiltrated the church and attempted an assassination. If he started shouting nonsense, just thinking about the trouble it would cause made her head ache.

What should she do to ensure that he would not spread this scandal?

Dorothy narrowed her eyes.