The Priest Who Exited as Soon as He Appeared

Perhaps the crows gathered around the church were too noisy, for a nun emerged from the entrance. Though her eyes were closed, she still accurately found the path beneath her feet.

"My apologies, but may I ask who the visitor is? This church refuses entry to anyone associated with violent organizations, so please come back another day—or repent for your actions and atone before entering—"

"I'm Aozaki Aoko."

"Hmm, so it's Aoko. If I remember correctly, it's been a long time since you came here during the day."

"Yeah, because I'm always called here at night. And it's been almost a year since we had a proper chat, though we never really had the chance before."

Aozaki Aoko said irritably. If she could help it, she would rather never come here again.

"But you've really disappointed me after growing up. Your aura is so vicious—you're nothing like an innocent young beauty."

The nun was surprisingly sharp-tongued. On the surface, her conversation with Aozaki Aoko seemed unexpectedly harmonious, but Michael could sense the undercurrents beneath it. This must have been the legendary battle between women.

"Then, this gentleman is...?"

The nun "looked" in Michael's direction. Due to congenital amblyopia, she was now almost completely blind, but her other senses could indeed serve as her eyes to some extent.

"I'm Michael. Is the priest here?"

"He is. May I ask what business Mr. Michael has with him?"

"I just want to have a chat with Father. It won't take long."

"You wish to see Father? May I ask for your name, sir...?"

Michael raised his right hand and snapped his fingers, cutting off the nun's words. An invisible wind gently pushed the nun and Aozaki Aoko aside. As he entered the church, a barrier formed by crows sealed off the building, forbidding anyone from entering or leaving.

As though he had long anticipated Michael's arrival, the priest stood quietly at the far end of the chapel. His body was wrapped in black priestly robes, and the cross hanging before his chest gleamed with golden light.

He did not look like a priest, but more like a university lecturer, carrying an air of scholarship. His somewhat thin frame did not resemble that of a combat-oriented Executor, and a gentle false smile habitually rested at the corners of his lips.

"Oh my, Mr. The Fool, have you come to confess your sins before the Lord? I am Fumihito Eiri, the head priest of this church."

The priest's voice was exceptionally steady and devoid of emotion as it echoed through the empty chapel.

"Sorry, I'm not in the habit of remembering a dead dog's name."

Michael shrugged. Without wasting another word, he attacked without hesitation. It seemed word of his presence here had already spread, and his plan to keep the news contained had fallen through.

Still, even if the plan had failed, it did not stop Michael from collecting a little interest. If he could deal with one of the Holy Church's dogs, it would at least let him vent some of his anger.

Boom—

In the blink of an eye, he crossed more than ten meters. The gale unleashed by the sonic boom sent the surrounding pews flying, while his pale fist rapidly filled Fumihito Eiri's vision, leaving him no time even to react.

The intelligence he possessed was rendered completely useless by that punch. Clearly, the Holy Church's files were outdated. Michael was now far stronger than before, at least fifty percent stronger.

Besides, who attacked the moment they met? Fumihito Eiri had not reacted at all. Given enough time to prepare, he could at least have exchanged a few moves with Michael.

But his body's instinctive reaction saved his life. His arms crossed before him on reflex, blocking the fist's trajectory. If that punch had struck his head, it would probably have exploded like a watermelon.

Crack—

His arms bent at an impossible angle as Fumihito Eiri was sent flying. He crashed into the piano placed on the platform, and his clothes, capable of stopping small-caliber bullets, offered no defensive effect whatsoever.

"Cough, cough..."

He struggled to rise, trying to calm his surging blood. His arms had already gone numb, and his head was swimming.

His vision grew increasingly blurred. His body became hot and weak, as though what flowed through his veins was not blood, but scorching magma.

Fumihito Eiri shook his head, his face deathly pale. Even standing had become difficult. Sweat soaked through his clothes and dripped under gravity, forming a shallow puddle at his feet.

"As expected of The Fool."

He drew a deep breath, forcing a smile onto his face. His arms trembled violently, then suddenly the world spun before his eyes, and intense nausea surged up from within.

"Bleurgh—"

Fumihito Eiri dropped to his knees. His stomach churned, and he vomited up a black, viscous liquid that reeked of blood.

Even the dullest person would have realized something was wrong. A sickening stench of decay emanated from his injured arms as black venom coursed through his veins, devouring the life force within him while reproducing rapidly and spreading to erode the rest of his body.

"It's... poison..."

"Congratulations, you got it right. Too bad there's no prize."

At some point, Michael had slipped a Knuckle Duster over his fingers. Sharp spikes protruded from it, glimmering with an eerie black light.

In the span of only a few sentences, half of Fumihito Eiri's body had already decayed. This was no ordinary poison, but a virus-like microorganism Michael had created through alchemy. It had been enhanced specifically against living creatures and would reproduce at a terrifying rate as long as it had sufficient magical energy.

These microorganisms had short lives, lasting only a dozen or so seconds. Upon dying, they released toxins while stimulating the remaining microorganisms to reproduce even faster.

This had originally been a weapon Michael prepared to deal with the Progenitors of Dead Apostles. Unfortunately, it was utterly useless before principles capable of rewriting the world. It could only be used against the Heirs and those dog-like Executors.

Perhaps Fumihito Eiri truly was strong, but he was completely countered by this Alchemical Virus designed specifically against living beings. He did not even have the strength to struggle.

"Seeing how pitiful you look, let me give you a little warmth. No need to thank me—it's just a small favor."

Michael snapped his fingers, and roaring flames ignited over Fumihito Eiri's body. Since the Alchemical Virus had already completely eroded his vocal cords, he could only make hoarse sounds before finally turning into black ashes that radiated heat.

Among the ashes lay dozens of short blades of varying sizes. These were weapons hidden beneath his cloak. Fumihito Eiri might have looked thin, but he was undeniably a combat-oriented priest. Had he fought Michael normally, the outcome would not have changed, but he would at least have caused Michael some trouble.

Michael crouched down and took out various materials from his Imaginary Pocket. He arranged a transmutation circle around the pile of still-warm ashes. After adding Fumihito Eiri's cells, irregular masses of flesh swelled outward, then took the forms of nerves, bones, and muscles.

Soon, a new "Fumihito Eiri" appeared before him.

However, this Fumihito Eiri was merely an empty body. Michael could perform human transmutation, but only human transmutation; he was not yet capable of resurrecting the dead.

However, by collecting fragmented soul shards, he could create an artificial soul. Though it was unstable and would collapse before long, that was already enough. Michael added a little something extra to this body.

There was no longer any doubt that Tōko Aozaki was the informant. If Tōko Aozaki and Fumihito Eiri met again, she would receive a little gift she would never forget for the rest of her life.

Michael had tricked quite a few people with this method. He had none of the arrogance expected of an ancient Dead Apostle. Black cat or white cat, any cat that caught mice was a good cat. If something could be solved with one unit of effort, there was no need to spend even one more.