One by one, the villagers put down their weapons and squatted down with their hands over their heads as instructed.
"You did a great job... Irene."
Dario's pleased voice came from behind her, Irene turned around in surprise:
"Teacher! Mr. Vane? When did you...?"
"We've always been here."
Vane casually picked up the conversation, and Irene was taken aback, then immediately understood, her cheeks flushing red.
"So... you all saw everything that just happened?! How could you...?"
You've grown up.
Dario's voice calmed the girl down.
Irene looked up and met the teacher's deep gaze.
There was weariness, relief, and a kind of recognition she had never seen before in his eyes.
He repeated it again, each word heavy with meaning:
You've grown up.
"Yes!"
Irene unconsciously straightened her back, a confident smile spreading across her face.
Dario closed his eyes and remained silent for a moment. When he opened them again, he had regained the solemnity characteristic of Inquisitor.
"Irene!"
"Exist!"
"Based on my long-term mentorship and observation, I confirm that you possess the core qualities and character required of Inquisitor. Upon your return, I will formally submit a letter of recommendation."
Under Irene's wide-eyed gaze, her teacher spoke in an unprecedentedly gentle voice:
"Congratulations in advance on officially becoming an Inquisitor."
"Teacher... I..."
Overwhelmed with joy, the girl was so excited she could barely speak, and instinctively wanted to rush forward and hug her teacher.
Hi hi~
Vane's languid voice broke the warm atmosphere.
"Now that the little bird's onboarding assessment has successfully concluded, would you two... please move aside for a moment?"
"Move over?"
Irene turned her head in confusion.
"Are they being escorted to trial? Isn't this too hasty?"
"Trial?" Vane tilted his head. "That's not entirely wrong."
He paused, his tone casual, as if discussing the weather:
"Hmm... the verdict is death penalty for everyone."
"... What?"
Irene froze, then frowned, her voice tinged with anger:
"Mr. Vane! I've said it many times, this kind of nasty joke isn't funny!"
Who told you I was joking?
Irene's expression froze.
She carefully observed Vane's expression—his face gradually faded from an angry flush to an incredulous paleness.
Seeing the girl's hand holding the sword begin to tremble and her breathing become rapid, Vane raised his hand and made a "pause" gesture.
"I have my reasons for making this judgment."
Irene stared intently at him, her chest heaving, waiting for an explanation.
"You really want to know?"
Vane suddenly turned his gaze to Dario.
"Your Inquisition's psychological treatment capabilities must be quite good, right?"
Dario's expression suddenly darkened. Vane said nothing more, turned around and walked straight towards the back of the village where the villagers were gathered.
The villagers immediately stirred. In a moment of panic, one man jumped to his feet, trying to block Vane's path.
The next moment.
Buzz--!
The crimson blade swept across, grazing the hair of the crouching villager, but severing the standing one... at the waist.
Rumble--
The blood-stained blade continued its trajectory, flying into the distant darkness and cleaving a stone house in two.
The deafening crash of the collapse perfectly masked the dull, sticky sound of half the body falling into the mud.
Silence.
Vane picked up the scythe again and waved at Dario, whose face was ashen.
"Don't make that face. Bring these guys with you, and I'll show you... the truth that supports this verdict."
Dario suppressed his surging emotions and reached out to press down on the shoulder of Irene, who was about to rush out.
"Calm."
Under the dual threat of the Inquisitor's sword and the even more dangerous "monster," the remaining villagers moved forward with deathly pale faces.
Soon, the group stopped in front of a sturdy-looking warehouse building. Vane kicked it—
"Bang!!"
The heavy door and bolt shattered with a crash, and a strong odor wafted out.
Vane stepped aside to make room for him to leave.
Dozens of thick, rusty iron chains hung from the roof beams, below which was a huge, deliberately dug pit.
At the bottom of the pit, more rusty iron cages can be vaguely seen.
On each of the hanging iron chains, a body was bound and suspended.
The moment Dario saw what was inside the door, his body stiffened abruptly.
He remained tense for several seconds, and finally, as if all his strength had been drained, he closed his eyes heavily.
Irene's gaze was firmly fixed on those hanging "things".
Sea-blue skin, a smooth, reflective surface, and twisted, extending tentacles...
"These are... Seaborn? But something seems off about them?"
The creatures before me had a vaguely discordant... distorted outline.
They were unusually quiet, swaying only slightly with the iron chains.
Confusion drove her to instinctively take a step forward, so she could get a better look.
A hand blocked her way.
"Don't go any further, little bird."
Vane's voice was colder than the night wind as he stared into the depths of the pit.
"Ahead... is hell."
"What are you talking about...?"
"Help... help..."
Irene turned her head sharply and looked around, but the alley was deserted.
Immediately, she realized the source of the sound and her gaze snapped back to the interior of the building.
Just then, the dark clouds that had been obscuring the moon parted.
Moonlight poured down, slowly illuminating the hanging "Seaborn" from below.
Moonlight swept across the slippery tentacles, climbed up the mutated limbs, and finally... illuminated their heads.
"!!!"
Irene was struck dumb, staggering backward. She covered her mouth tightly, her whole body trembling uncontrollably, and her stomach churning violently.
"I told you... not to look."
Vane's voice drifted over, devoid of any discernible emotion.
He turned around, casually picked up one of the shivering villagers, and dragged him to the edge of the pit as if he were carrying a bag of goods.
"The assimilation ability of the Seaborn is extremely strong; even the lowest-level Dreadfish have inherited this characteristic."
"On the other hand, fish infected and mutated by the Seaborn —that is, the Dreadfish —usually do not become completely assimilated if their flesh is ingested in small quantities by other organisms."
"This means that Seaborn's 'assimilation' can be continuously diluted through the layers of metabolism and transformation within an organism."
Vane swept his gaze over the pale-faced villagers and looked at the swaying Irene.
Do you know what this means?
No one answered.
Vane didn't expect an answer; he casually raised his free hand.
A dark vortex formed in his palm, and the debris in the corner suddenly exploded. The boy Aegir screamed as he was pulled out by an invisible force and dragged to Vane's feet.
"Forget it, the technical jargon is too boring."
"Let the witnesses of all this explain it to you in their own words."
Aegir, my race, and the origin of my misfortune.
Like most people, I had a happy family during my childhood.
The father is cheerful, the mother is virtuous, and the family is quite well-off.
Although our Aegir identity occasionally causes us some trouble in our lives, it doesn't matter much because of our family's good reputation.
Until...
"Stop! Stop! How could my wife be a member of the Deep Sea Cultists!?"
The mother was arrested; the charges against her were obvious.
When a perfect family is broken, all sorts of misfortunes follow.
The father lost his job and began to drink and gamble.
Our home was lost, and we were forced to start living on the streets.
During our wanderings, we encountered the origin of that misfortune.
Church of the Deep...
The father joined them and became a believer.
As for me...
I had no other choice.
As the days went by, things didn't seem so bad; at least the smile on my father's face returned.
We were given the task of propagating the doctrine.
Everything went smoothly until we came across a village.
They had absolutely no interest in the doctrines.
Too...
A person on the verge of starvation has no time to care about such things.
The father refused to give up. He found a family and, after discussing the matter, took the elderly person away from the house.
The old man blended in with the We Many, and the father brought back food.
The villagers noticed this and began to secretly talk to the father.
Soon after, everyone reached an agreement.
Each household selects one "useless" person to periodically return to the We Many in exchange for a "gift".
No one refused, not even those who were chosen.
With our help, the village gradually improved. People had enough to eat, and my father organized the villagers to build houses.
Buildings rose one by one, and smiles filled people's faces.
For the first time, I didn't think the Church of the Deep was so bad.
At least, it allows us to live like human beings.
It's just like...
When did this new misfortune begin?
Another useless person was chosen, but this time there were complaints.
"Why does it have to be me! Aren't there plenty of people in other villages!?"
"..."
I don't know if his words were premeditated or unintentional.
But it was too late.
He did not rejoin the We Many; instead, an elderly, widowed woman from the next village took her place.
The atmosphere in the village has changed... Everyone has gone mad.
One innocent person after another was deceived or robbed, and the long-empty warehouse became "rich".
There will be no more "useless" people in the village.
The father didn't stop them; he was laughing.
I didn't stop it.
I had no other choice...
Misfortune struck again...
Many villagers have experienced physical assimilation due to long-term consumption of the "gifts."
They found their father and angrily questioned him.
"That's for sure. Accepting the gift and returning to the We Many is everyone's destiny."
Ugh... that's so stupid.
This explanation from the father naturally did not earn the villagers' forgiveness, and this time...
The father became a "useless" person.
The remaining villagers came to me and pressured me to reveal a solution.
But what do I actually know?
I could only give them my father's notes, but ironically, those notes actually contained a solution.
They began feeding the "gifts" to the people in the warehouse, their faces beaming with smiles.
I've seen that smile before... on my father's face.
The first person to be assimilated has appeared.
People no longer need the We Many of "gifts".
No... feeding new food requires a "gift".
We need new "useless" people.
But where are the "useless" people?
Ah...
I am a useless person.