Under Father Kaplan's supervision, the farce ended as quickly as it had begun.
In barely more than ten minutes, the two monastics who had "maliciously reported" Herbert were escorted to the Confession Pool.
There, they would spend twelve hours under surveillance, until they had recounted every one of their sins.
That alone was enough to break them, never mind the interrogation afterward. That was the real punishment.
It was not merely physical torture, but mental devastation as well... oh, the lovely ladies among the Tribunal's Penitent Sisters preferred to call it a "baptism."
With the farce over, Herbert remained in the great hall.
He held his back perfectly straight, calmly meeting the varied gazes of the monastics around him.
Inside, Herbert was not nearly as calm as he looked.
This time, he had successfully cleared himself of suspicion and left quite a deep impression on everyone else.
But what about next time?
Would he be lucky enough to talk his way out again?
Herbert sighed inwardly:
Strength. It all came down to strength...
If he were strong enough, they would never have challenged him so readily. They would have had to think twice.
If he were strong enough, he would not have come to the Tribunal seeking protection in the first place.
I have to find a way to get stronger. At the very least, I need to be able to protect myself.
Growing stronger was now an urgent priority. Herbert had to find a way to get through the third zone, the Lightless Prison, and find an opportunity to have a proper talk with the dark elf archmage.
Look, friend, if you want to shut yourself away, fine. If you don't want to see me, then don't.
But don't stop me from entering the next zone!
Let! Me! Through!
Herbert was so eager to enter the fourth zone of the Foreign Races' Prison because it contained the terrain he needed most right now.
The fourth zone-Lava Hell.
In that scorching region filled with flames, he should be able to use the Dragon King Inheritance to rapidly strengthen his body.
How can I drag her out of her hole? Luring her out with food probably won't work anymore. Who knows what dark elves like to eat...
As Herbert pondered this, he instinctively tried to stroke his chin. But raising his left hand pulled at the muscles in his palm, reopening the wound that had yet to fully scab over.
Hiss.
His brow twitched slightly, and he forced down the urge to suck in a breath.
Just then, a glistening drop of blood slid from his lowered palm and fell to the floor.
Sss-
When the drop of blood hit the floor, it actually caused a change in the great hall's dark surface.
A circle of light a meter across appeared around the drop, revealing vividly colored patterns on the floor, so ornate they were almost bewildering.
!!!
"Huh? Did he use holy water?"
"What?"
The Tribunal's monastics were familiar with this change in the floor. The same thing happened when they washed it with holy water during their monthly rites.
Only under the light of holy power did the great hall reveal its original appearance.
"Is that... holy blood?"
Kaplan noticed it too. Knowing more than the others, she stirred her brow slightly and asked Herbert, "Herbert, did you deliberately create holy blood today?"
"Yes."
Herbert nodded calmly as he picked up a scrap of cloth and bandaged his hand again. "A prisoner attacked me in the Foreign Races' Prison. I had to use holy blood to protect myself."
He spoke with remarkable composure, recounting the heart-stopping experience in the most matter-of-fact tone-although, in truth, it had not been all that difficult or dangerous.
It had only been a useless vampire who had been starving for who knew how long and was practically a dried-up corpse.
Not worth mentioning!
Herbert thought little of it, but the others had no idea what had really happened!
For a moment, everyone looked at Herbert with awe.
To the others in the Monastery, any prisoner confined in the Foreign Races' Prison was a terrifyingly powerful and extremely dangerous being.
Yet Herbert had actually managed to escape from those women, even if he had paid a price!
It was truly an incredible feat.
Kaplan knew a little more about the situation inside. She knew that as long as the warden did not act recklessly, he generally would not suffer any harm beyond mental distress.
She frowned and asked in puzzlement, "Why didn't you take holy water from the sanctuary?"
Outside, holy water could serve as a source of income for the Divine Church, sold to all kinds of adventurers. Inside the Monastery, however, it was practically worthless.
Not only could anyone take it freely, but some rites even used holy water for washing. It was scarcely more precious than ordinary water.
"I was allowed to use it?"
Herbert smiled at that and shrugged, saying casually, as though he did not care, "No one ever told me that before. I didn't know whether I was entitled to take any."
"..."
The monastics fell silent again. This time, sympathy and admiration joined the looks they directed at Herbert.
None of them were fools. They all understood the implication behind Herbert's words-he had been singled out.
If he could not even use holy water, anything else was out of the question.
Combined with what had happened earlier, Herbert's image gradually took shape in their minds.
He was like a proud swan.
Even when suspected, he had disdained explaining himself, only fighting back when forced to.
Ostracized by others, he had refused to bow his head. He would rather hurt himself, break his own wings, and use his own blood to create holy blood than stoop to "stealing."
"..."
Kaplan's perpetually calm expression finally changed, a hint of anger emerging. She turned toward a nun who had lowered her head and understood the reason.
Some of the monastics harbored ill will toward Herbert because of his former status.
Although no one had acted openly, some of them had indeed been quietly excluding him.
Kaplan stared hard at the nun until her shoulders began to tremble slightly, then withdrew her gaze.
She did not lose her temper on the spot. Instead, she descended from the raised platform, came to Herbert's side, and gently took his hand.
A warm light shone, and Herbert felt an unbearable itch in his palm as his flesh rapidly regrew.
A few breaths later, when Kaplan unwound his haphazardly wrapped, bloodstained cloth, the wound had indeed healed completely.
The Penitent Sister released Herbert's hand, gently patted his shoulder, and said slowly, "...From now on, you may take any resources you need from the sanctuary."
"Thank you, Father."
A little while later, Herbert left the Tribunal with the other monastics.
Earlier, he had quietly told Kaplan about Grass Carp, but she had shown little reaction.
Kaplan had only said that the Chief Inquisitor already knew about it, told him not to worry, and instructed him not to go around telling everyone else.
Kaplan's overly calm reaction left Herbert feeling uneasy.
He did not know whether the higher-ups were setting a trap or doing something else, and he did not want to know.
Herbert was only concerned about his own tender flesh. He did not want his future to include the shameful history of having "sold his ass to preserve it."
So, after thinking it over at length, Herbert decided to save himself.
That night, for the sake of his own safety, Herbert did not obediently return to his room and stay there.
Instead... he went somewhere else.
"What are you doing?"
"Hmm? Can't you tell?"
Dressed in a nightshirt, Herbert turned and smiled at the oddly expressioned Valentina. "I came to sleep with you!"
"...Huh?"
Valentina: ???
Before you continue