The Game Difficulty
Is Insane
The old priest with a powerful presence who appeared in the chapel of Ursula Monastery.
The moment Glen saw him—someone he had seen hundreds of times in the original story—his gaze sharpened.
‘To think I’d see that bastard here.’
Beveluga.
One of the Prophets (Farseers) revered as the highest priests of the Black Cult.
Among the seven that existed, he held the second-highest rank.
Because of his high rank, the missions he handled were especially troublesome for players to deal with.
In the original story, he infiltrated the Papal State disguised as a Minice priest, then seduced cardinals and other high-ranking clergy, throwing the nation into chaos.
‘He shows up in the mid-scenario, and his whereabouts before that were unknown… I never thought he was hiding in a place like this.’
Yet in the original story, even if you visited Ursula Monastery in the early scenario, Beveluga was never here.
It seemed the Black Cult’s movements had changed due to the consecutive destruction of their parishes by Glen.
“Who are these people?”
“Oh, this is Young Master Glen Wordsworth from the Wordsworth Territory. Young Master Glen, this is Bishop Lawrence, the head of Ursula Monastery.”
Monastery Head Lawrence.
Wearing that mask, Beveluga was pretending to be a priest of the Minice Order.
The reason he could perform such infiltration despite being unable to use even a trace of holy power lay in his unique latent ability.
‘Kahash’s Black Tongue.’
A truly villainous latent ability that shook a person’s soul through words, inflicting mental-type status effects and even manipulating memories.
And because Glen knew the effect of that ability well, the mere fact that Beveluga was in this monastery allowed him to grasp the truth behind the contradictions surrounding Honello Village.
Why did the Honello villagers, who wore the Black Cult’s dark crimson priest robes, believe themselves to be devout Minice followers?
The answer was simple.
Beveluga had manipulated their memories with his ability.
He exploited Honello Village’s custom of moving together as a group to pray at the monastery due to monster threats.
Disguised as the monastery head, he altered the memories of the villagers who came to pray, turning them into Black Cult believers and making them carry out various rituals.
Then, by the time they returned to the village, he altered their memories again—making them believe they had simply attended an ordinary Minice prayer gathering.
In other words, every time the villagers went to Ursula Monastery, they unknowingly committed the horrific heresy of participating in a Black Cult assembly.
‘And the villagers Hawkney saw wearing dark crimson robes were probably Beveluga and the parish leader’s group.’
It was only an inference based on circumstances, but Beveluga had pulled tricks like this many times in the original story.
‘It’s troublesome, but this way he can avoid exposing himself while turning an entire village into Black Cult believers.’
A cunning religious crime using memory manipulation—something no ordinary person would even imagine.
‘Good thing Romina sensed that creepy half-baked demonic energy flowing in Black Cult believers and grabbed me when I tried to leave, and that I recognized his face instantly.’
If they had returned to the village as planned, Beveluga’s scheme would have progressed to the next stage without being detected by inquisitors—or anyone else.
‘I don’t know what comes next, but if it’s something that bastard—the second worst in the Black Cult—is doing, it’s obvious how bad it’ll be.’
Recalling several insane acts Beveluga committed in the original story made Glen frown.
Fortunately, the mastermind behind this filthy truth was standing right in front of him.
‘Then there’s only one thing to do.’
“Nice to meet you, Bishop Lawrence. I am Glen, son of Henry Wordsworth, Lord of Wordsworth.”
A polite, outward-facing smile.
Glen slowly walked toward Lawrence.
Monastery Head Lawrence also smiled faintly and bowed his head.
“It is an honor to meet a descendant of the sacred Wordsworth family here. May you always find peace within God’s providence.”
“I hope the god you’re talking about is Minice.”
“…Pardon? What do you mean by that?”
The tone was questioning.
But Lawrence—no, Beveluga—was frowning.
“What do I mean?”
Glen’s voice sank.
In his hand was Einheria, its blue blade already gleaming sharply.
The moment Beveluga’s gaze shifted to the sword, Glen swung it.
“Don’t you dare bless me in the name of some small-fry god like Kalungod!”
A streak of blue light slashed diagonally toward Beveluga.
At the same time.
Hawkney and Felix were walking through the dark Honello Village.
“Uh, sir—”
“Call me Sir Hawkney!”
“Y-Yes! Sir Hawkney…! Whew…”
Felix’s body stiffened at Hawkney’s booming voice.
Felix had dealt with plenty of nasty seniors in the Blacksmith Guild and even pushed back using skill as leverage—but in front of Hawkney, he could barely breathe.
It wasn’t just because Hawkney came from a noble family.
‘This guy himself is overwhelming!’
He was disciplined to the extreme.
Felix thought that kind of person was usually found among trainee knights or low-ranking soldiers.
Yet this Hawkney was ranked sixth in the famed Gray Wolf Knights.
Someone who should have been lounging around and disciplining juniors instead still carried razor-sharp discipline.
“Oh, and I’ll teach you a few important manners for addressing the Young Master.”
“Y-Yes… I understand……”
“Hm. Your speech is also an issue. Well… it’s fine. If I help with full effort, it’ll improve quickly.”
“Th-Thank you.”
If their superiors saw this, they would praise Hawkney as a model knight and soldier.
‘Honestly, that kind of thing only gets praise from above. The people below are just damn uncomfortable.’
‘And didn’t I start this conversation?’
Felix had spoken first, yet Hawkney was the one talking while Felix listened—an absurd situation.
Even in the guild, Felix had never been this tightly held by a senior.
But talking back to a senior was one thing—talking back to a noble was another.
With nothing to his name, Felix could only quietly listen to information he didn’t even care about.
For days now, the Young Master’s personal maid had been nitpicking him, and now there was one more person lecturing him.
He started worrying that even that quiet trainee female knight would soon discover the joy of bullying commoners.
“…Still, no matter how I think about it, something’s strange.”
“What… is it, sir?”
Hawkney stopped walking.
“This village is suspiciously peaceful.”
“Aren’t all backwater villages like this?”
“Usually, yes. But not when preparations for a Holy War are in full swing.”
A strange glint passed through Hawkney’s eyes.
“You roughly know this too. Once the Holy War begins under the Pope and the Saintess’s declaration, all territories of the Papal State prepare for war. Knights then move and collect supplies from each village.”
Hawkney’s eagle-like eyes scanned the houses one by one.
“But this village looks far too relaxed to have supported a Holy War.”
Throughout their exploration, Hawkney had examined storage sheds, homes, and carts to gauge the village’s condition.
“Couldn’t it just be that this place is remote, and the lord’s knights and recruiters arrived late?”
“That’s possible. But coincidentally, there are few men here. That means conscription and war support are already finished.”
Felix swallowed dryly.
“Th-Then…”
