The Archmage looked at the Inquisitor and the person dragged in by the hands of the priest who had run out upon receiving the request, looked at the Inquisitor, and then looked back at the dragged-in person.

"It seems you mistook the Demon Knight for a Demon Contractor..."

A sigh naturally escaped her.

"I expected as much, but..."

Although the Demon Knight's physical description had been relayed to the Temple, that could not be a perfect measure. There was an inevitable disconnect between an appearance conveyed through words and one seen in reality.

"I... still cannot believe it. How could someone harboring demonic energy..."

"The Demon Knight is different from demon followers!"

"How can you be sure of that!"

Of course, in the Demon Knight's case, his hair color was so unique that he was easy to recognize just by remembering that part... but in this world, there were those like that Heresy Inquisitor who lacked the will and presence of mind to remember it.

The kind of people who, even if you explained a trait completely unique in the world and told them of an incredibly striking and distinct characteristic, would never keep it in mind until it was thrust right in front of their faces.

"The wickedness of demons is something even God has told us to be wary of!"

And when hatred and disgust toward a specific something were added to that, there was no need for further words.

The perspective of such individuals was absolutely not something that could be broadened through words.

"And yet, how could such a person...!"

"Enough! Stop this, Inquisitor Daniel."

"Bishop!"

"I said enough."

Only greater authority or power could stop him.

"But...!"

At that point, the Archmage let out a faint lament. This was why she had wanted to bring the Demon Knight directly to the Temple. A mild sense of regret was a bonus.

"Inquisitor, do you think I am doing this because I don't know your circumstances or your feelings? If that is what you think, I will recommend the confession room to you."

"... Bishop."

"Go cool your head. Right now, your emotions are far too agitated, Inquisitor Daniel."

Regardless of improving relations or figuring out schedules, bringing him in person was the fastest way to inform the local diocese of the Demon Knight's existence.

It meant the quickest method was showing the Demon Knight to everyone and instructing them to absolutely never show him hostility.

"I am being perfectly rational."

"A mind that has no intention of understanding or being persuaded is not called rationality. So I will ask you again. Do you really not need it?"

"... I will go."

In addition, doing so would also allow them to quickly filter out those who prioritized their own beliefs and emotions over the Temple's decisions.

While the Demon Knight unpacked, they could just send those people to the confession room like now, or send them on errands so their paths wouldn't cross with his. As for the people who were already out, they could simply send someone to ask them to keep their distance—and since the Demon Knight always took a bath after unpacking, there was plenty of time—and that would be that.

"... I apologize. The Inquisitor is so stubborn..."

"No, it's fine. It's not like I can't understand his feelings. I used to be like that once too..."

But if they separated as soon as they entered a city like this... incidents like this might happen frequently in the future.

Even so, they couldn't forcefully bring along someone who felt uncomfortable around the Temple.

"Please make sure... that something like this doesn't happen again, Bishop."

"Yes, Archmage."

In the end, there was no right answer either way. The Archmage simply repeatedly sighed as she watched the Inquisitor receive the Bishop's apology.

"If a problem arises, please call me at any time."

"Yes."

"The same goes for you, Inquisitor. You as well."

"Yes!"

"Yes, understood."

Still, at the very least, laying down these words might prevent any future incidents. After earnestly requesting this of the Bishop and the others, she turned her body.

It was her intention to return to her assigned room.

Should she be doing something more? She actively ignored that thought. If she couldn't think of anything right now, then there was nothing.

"I'm dying..."

She lay down on the bed for now due to her increasingly failing stamina. Her body, noticeably gaunt compared to the beginning of the journey, slumped limply.

"I don't know how I traveled back in the day."

However, her mind thought out of habit. The days when she toured several cities saying she would see and choose the location of her laboratory herself, the moment she finally found a place and raised a building, and the image of the person who had been with her through all those times...

"... Oh dear."

The Archmage steered her thoughts away from the long-forgotten memories and the naturally accompanying pain. Even though it was an incident she had overcome long ago, there was no need to deliberately dig up sad memories.

Instead, she changed the subject of her thoughts. That was... she tried to picture the Demon Knight's life before he met them.

"Hmm?"

Then suddenly, her thoughts reached a blind spot she had missed until now.

"... How did he really travel around?"

Let's say that right now, he was traveling through cities comfortably with the Hero and her guaranteeing for him. How on earth did he avoid the Temple's eyes in the past when he had none of that?

If he had killed Heresy Inquisitors, there would be wanted posters for him as a murderer, and even if he just subdued them and ran away, there must have been many people tracking him just by seeing the demonic energy he harbored, right?

In such a situation, just how...?

"... To only just think of this now, I really have gotten old."

Though it was a trivial detail, it was something she could have thought of earlier. And yet, to only ponder it now.

She massaged her head, feeling as though her thinking abilities had deteriorated along with her weight. Then she pondered, tapping the bed with her fingers.

"Registering as an adventurer is just a matter of passing a test, but..."

If you had minimal skills, and if your face wasn't on an active wanted poster.

The Adventurer's Guild would gladly register you.

There was no need for personal information like names or ages either. What the Adventurer's Guild valued was the ability to carry out requests, not the past of the person registering.

"There's no way that guild wouldn't recognize a wanted target, though...?"

Of course, if it was revealed that someone was a wanted target, they would immediately cancel their registration and issue a tracking order. It was partly due to the minimum moral responsibility the guild bore as it grew in scale... but fundamentally, it was because doing so was more profitable.

After all, one shouldn't forget that the Adventurer's Guild was an organization that also made money from bounties.

"Hmm..."

In that case, had the Demon Knight just had the luck to never run into a priest in the cities throughout his entire period of activity? But was that realistically possible?

Some castles even had people from the Temple stationed in front of their gates.

VRRRR.

Just as her thoughts were deepening, she received a call. Should she not answer? The Archmage's conscience and deep annoyance clashed.

"... What is it?"

"Are you outside?"

The one that won was her conscience. Though she couldn't bring herself to deny that the caller's reputation also played a part.

"I arrived in the city just a moment ago... Is there some sort of problem?"

"Nothing major, but about that formula you sent this time. I think things might get a little big."

"...?"

"You probably didn't create it with that intention, but..."

However, the annoyance and fatigue she had barely suppressed through her conscience and the weight of that name instantly flew away.

"This might actually change the landscape of this world. Taking it a step further, it might even be able to revert zombies or... that knight you have with you back into a human."

The Archmage's upper body shot up.

* * *

"U-Um, are you alright?"

It was absurd, but I had been invited.

The child wouldn't leave my side because I kept crying, the child's father was worried about leaving just me and the child alone but couldn't leave the shop unattended for long, and I myself didn't have the presence of mind to assess the situation, so this was what ended up happening.

Crucially, the child's house was also right around the corner.

"... I am fine."

Lastly, if I had to choose between 'crying on the main street vs. accepting the consideration of a complete stranger', wasn't the latter honestly better?

Of course, there might be people who felt otherwise, but at least for my persona, this was the right move. The fewer witnesses there were to me breaking character, the better.

"This is all we have to serve you... I'm so sorry."

"Even this is too much."

Putting that aside, I accepted what the child's mother handed me. It was a liquor with floating fruits—vin chaud.

"Me too, Mom, me too! Give me some too!"

"No. I told you this is only for when you catch a cold."

"But you gave some to the mister even though he doesn't have a cold!"

"That's because he's a guest..."

"Then I want to be a guest too."

"What are you saying, kiddo."

Well, they call it liquor, but in reality, it's closer to a beverage. Most of the alcohol would have evaporated in the process of heating it up.

"... Come here. I'll share some with you."

"Wow!! You're the best, mister!"

"Oh my, you don't have to do that..."

In that regard, it should be fine to share a little bit with the child.

I sat the child, who ran over in excitement, on my lap—I had no choice since the child climbed up first—and carefully handed over the cup. The child replaced the lost warmth of the vin chaud, so it was fine.

I wiggled my fingers around the body heat resting on my lap.

"U-Um, guest. Are you... an adventurer?"

Meanwhile, the child's mother also took a seat opposite me. For her own share, she just had a glass of cold water.

"I asked because you have a weapon..."

"Adventurer!"

However, the conversation could not continue. It was because the child, whom I thought was focused on the vin chaud, reacted to our conversation.

The legs resting on my lap kicked enthusiastically, and the face that had been tilted downward to drink the vin chaud leaned back to look at me.

"Mister, are you an adventurer?!"

"Schutz!"

The vin chaud in the cup sloshed from the rough movement. Much like my heart.

"... I work as an adventurer."

"Really?! Soooo awesome!!"

"I swear, you'll be the death of me."

To calm my startled heart, I wiped the drops of vin chaud that had splashed onto the table with a cloth. It was the one the mother had given me earlier to wipe my tears... but now it was being used for this. It was a good thing I hadn't returned it early.

"Oh my, you don't have to wipe that."

"It is fine."

"Then mister, is that a real sword too?"

"Schutz!"

"It is a real sword."

"Whoooaaa!"

I knew what the mother was worried about, but it was fine.

After making a hand gesture to her, I answered the child's question. The warmth bouncing up and down on my lap was quite lovely. So small and fragile that it almost scared me.

"Can I touch it?"

"If you promise to do it slowly, and only touch where I say you can touch."

"I promise!"

Suppressing a child's curiosity would likely just come back as worse karma later. Therefore, I allowed the child to touch the sword under my supervision.

"Mister?"

"... Here. You just stroke it like this."

Suddenly, I wondered if it was okay to let him touch a sword that had been stained with people's blood. Though it was already too late.

"Wow..."

"This is the grip, and this is the blade."

"Blade!"

"Do not touch the edges. You will get cut."

"Okay...!"

As I explained things one by one in a subdued voice, the child reached out toward the sword. Fortunately, he didn't touch it recklessly out of excitement.

Whether it was because I had only given restricted permission, or because the realization that it was a real sword had actually calmed him down, he only gently stroked the flat side of the blade with his fingers, exactly as I had guided him.

Only then did the nervous mother's face show relief.

"What's this?"

"The guard."

"Why is it put there?"

"It is there to prevent the hand holding the grip from slipping toward the blade."

"It slips?"

"Kid, a broom handle... have you ever held a long stick like that?"

"Umm. Yes!"

"Then have you ever swung them hard?"

"Uh... Mom told me not to because they'll break, so I don't do it these days."

"I see, you did well. Aside from that, after swinging it like that, did you ever find yourself holding a different part from the one you originally gripped?"

"Uhhhh... I think I did! Does a sword do that too?"

"Yes. That is why the guard is there. Unlike a stick that is smooth on all sides, the top part of a sword is sharp and will injure you."

"Whoa! Then what about this?"

"The pommel. It is there to adjust the center of gravity."

"Center of gravity?"

"... When you place a spoon on your finger, if you align it by the middle, it leans to one side. Have you seen that?"

"No!"

If he hadn't seen it, I could just show him. I reached into my inventory to pull out a spoon.

"Um... will this do?"

"... That is more than enough."

But before I could, the mother handed me a wooden spoon. Glancing at her face, it seemed she was secretly finding the explanation interesting as well. Even though it was nothing more than knowledge about swords.

"Here, look. It tilts to one side. The scooping side is heavier than the handle, so it tilts that way."

"It really does!"

"But like this... if you support the scooping side instead of the middle... Here, it does not tilt. This is the center of gravity."

"Wow, whoa!!"

"Going back, this is the reason the pommel exists. Without the pommel, the blade side would be heavier and it would constantly tilt that way, so the pommel is attached to balance it out."

Putting that aside, when someone reacted this enthusiastically, I couldn't help but get excited and explain.

Using light examples, I satisfied the child's curiosity. With every piece of explanation added, the child's eyes sparkled brightly.

"You seem like a nice person, mister. My brother never taught me any of this!"

"...?"

"He's talking about his older cousin. That boy also uses a sword."

"He's a super meanie. I asked him to show me, but he never did it even once!"

I see. I stared blankly at the child's grayish-brown hair before lowering my raised left hand again.

I could go as far as letting him sit on my lap, but I couldn't bring myself to pet him.

"The one he uses is smaller than the one you use, though..."

"That's right. The sword my cousin uses is only this big. The soldiers I saw a while ago used swords this big too. But why is your sword so long, mister?"

"... That is because this is a two-handed sword."

"Is that good?"

"Well."

In terms of power, a two-handed sword would be better than a one-handed sword, but if you lacked the strength and stamina and didn't have the skill, it was better not to pick up a two-handed sword.

... That wouldn't be an appropriate answer to give a child. I picked my words a little more carefully.

"A two-handed sword is heavier than a one-handed sword. Because of that, there are fewer people who can use it, so it is difficult to compare."

"A two-handed sword is heavier?"

"Because it is bigger."

"Ah. Then doesn't that make it better?? Because it's heavier and bigger!"

"Well, perhaps."

"Gasp! Then I need to tell my cousin! That two-handed swords are better!"

The expected result arrived. Naturally, kids around that age were at a stage where big and heavy things seemed the strongest.

"... Two-handed swords are expensive, aren't they?"

... Well. Even if you're older, it's an easy misunderstanding to make if you have no interest in swords.

"... It would be better to hone the one he already uses rather than blindly changing it."

"Ah, you really think so?"

Just in case the mother actually ended up buying a two-handed sword for this 'older cousin', I forced myself to divert the topic. Thankfully, it worked.

"He's not my biological child, but... for the sake of my late sister and brother-in-law, I just end up continuing to look after him. I can feel that he's not taking care of himself, either..."

"That's right. He always goes to work without resting. Dad said if you do that, you'll die early!"

Ah... His parents passed away.

I subconsciously twitched my fingers, offering my condolences to someone whose face I didn't even know.

"And the work he does is so dangerous..."

Separately, this older cousin person, from the mention of him using a sword and his work being dangerous, he must be in a combat profession like an adventurer or a soldier.

He couldn't be a hunter, since they used bows or traps, not swords.

"Is he an adventurer?"

"No... um, he is a Heresy Inquisitor."

However, this wasn't the answer I had been hoping for.

I wondered if I shouldn't have asked, but then I relaxed my mind, figuring that since my persona was already broken, busting it a little more wouldn't be a problem.

Right, even if some rumors trickled down to a Heresy Inquisitor, surely it wouldn't reach the Hero's party, would it?

"If I had it my way, I'd want to tell him to quit..."

"If you tell him to stop, he gets super mad. He's really scary."

"Well, sigh. My sister and brother-in-law... um. They passed away while working as Heresy Inquisitors, of all things..."

However, the mother's tone trailed off slightly as she spoke. Her gaze landed on the child in my arms.

It seemed she judged that what followed wasn't something for the child to hear.

"Huh?"

I gently covered the child's eyes for a moment and mouthed the word. "Revenge?" At the shape of my lips, the mother nodded.

"Mister, let me go."

"Yes... that he would find the killer... and make sure to... do it."

That... was a very definitive reason. After all, there was no motive as intense and difficult to stop as avenging one's parents.

"Misterrr."

"But... since several years have already passed, a large part of me wants him to just quit by now. Especially since..."

The child's mother scratched her cheek, then spoke with a bright smile so the child wouldn't catch on.

"The day my sister and brother-in-law died... he was there too."

What should I say.

"Against an opponent where barely surviving alone was all he could manage... how could he possibly catch them?"

The more I listened, the more this situation reminded me of my own persona.