Chapter 33

The Game Difficulty
Has Gone Crazy

A red flag was fluttering in the large training ground of the Wordsworth estate.

Looking at the symbol of the Heresy Inquisition, Glen let out a low groan.

‘What the hell… why are they coming here?’

The Heresy Inquisition.

It was an organization directly under a cardinal, the Pope’s closest aide, a religious court that captured and interrogated those who went against the church’s doctrine.

Of course, when explained like this, many people imagined them as a fanatic group that arrested innocent people and tortured them, just like how common media described them.

But the Heresy Inquisition in the world of Grey Eden was different.

They searched for heretics based on clear standards and conducted trials carefully so that no innocent people would suffer.

At the same time, they struck down clear enemies of the church, such as the Black Order, without mercy. They were, quite literally, executors of justice.

‘Still, that doesn’t mean I’m happy to see them.’

The fact that a heretic inquisitor, an executor of justice, had come to his family’s estate meant only one thing.

They had come because there was someone to judge.

And Glen swallowed his dry saliva, thinking that there was a very high chance that that “someone” was himself.

Clink—

Hiding the demonic-energy-sealing cuffs on one wrist behind his back, Glen stared at the approaching inquisitors.

Clop, clop—

Five priests rode in on horseback. One of them dismounted.

Red priestly robes, the same color as the flag. Armor worn over them, and a hood covering his head.

Glen had never thought he would feel both dignity and eeriness from a single outfit.

“Beautiful ash-gray hair. You must be members of the Wordsworth Count family.”

The man spoke while making the sign of the cross.

His voice was gentle and soft.

“It is an honor to meet you, brothers and sisters. As you can see, we are heretic inquisitors from Istirenne.”

Then the man removed his hood.

His hidden face was revealed, and Glen’s pupils shook violently.

“…?!”

“And I am Bishop Judit Rossfelt, a high inquisitor. I look forward to working with you.”

The man smiled warmly, but his eyes were blood-red.

Glen knew this man very well.

‘There’s no way I wouldn’t know this crazy bastard.’

Anyone who had played Grey Eden—human or demon race player alike—knew this man.

That was how infamous the heretic inquisitor named Judit Rossfelt was.

Didn’t people say earlier that the Heresy Inquisition were not fanatics, but apostles of justice?

Glen withdrew that statement for this man alone.

‘This guy is the real deal.’

A true fanatic who created crimes through brutal torture, burned people at the stake, and called it the will of God.

At the same time, a butcher who slaughtered hundreds of demon race soldiers in war with his immense holy power and outstanding swordsmanship.

That was Judit Rossfelt.

And that madman had come to the Wordsworth estate to capture someone.

Who could that be?

There was no need to think.

‘Me, obviously.’

Cold sweat ran down the back of Glen’s neck.

Beside him, Tris spoke with cautious eyes.

“I am Tris Wordsworth, daughter of the head of the family, Henry Wordsworth. And this person is—”

“I am Glen… Wordsworth.”

At that moment, Judit’s eyes flashed brightly, releasing a sharp glare.

“Oh… Ooh?! So you are Brother Glen Wordsworth!”

Judit took a step closer.

It was joy beyond simple pleasure.

His wide-open eyes and lifted lips looked exactly like a beast that had finally found its prey after a long hunt.

Seeing that chilling smile, Glen’s usual fake fanatic smile almost looked cute in comparison.

“I didn’t expect to meet you this soon. This actually works out quite well.”

‘As expected… I’m the target.’

The cold sweat increased.

But Glen maintained a calm expression as much as possible.

Showing fear to a beast was the fastest way to make things worse.

As Glen accelerated his thoughts, Tris stepped in front of Judit at just the right moment, blocking him.

She seemed to be worried about the same thing.

“Bishop Judit. I’ve heard much about you. May I ask what brings you here?”

Only then did Judit’s gaze move from Glen to Tris.

“Ah, my apologies. I was so pleased to meet the person I was looking for that I momentarily forgot proper procedure.”

With a polite public smile, Judit stepped back.

A vice bishop behind him handed over a document, and Judit unfolded it.

“We came here under the orders of the Cardinal.”

Tris’s pupils shook violently as she read the contents.

The document contained an order for Glen Wordsworth’s religious trial, along with the Cardinal’s name and signature.

“Now then, Brother Glen Wordsworth?”

Judit’s gaze returned to Glen.

Glen had already prepared himself and wore a calm expression.

‘No need to panic. Even if this guy is insane, there’s still a trial procedure. And I still have moves left.’

The dangerous demonic energy was hidden by the sealing cuffs.

And even if he had to remove them, he could use the newly acquired Gray Ring and its 4-star demonic-energy skill, Demonic Veil, to hide his energy and escape the immediate danger.

“We are not particularly suspecting you, but since this is the Cardinal’s order and the will of God, please cooperate for a while—”

Tris urgently stopped the inquisitors as they moved toward Glen.

The air instantly turned cold.

“Who exactly called you people here in the first place?”

“Sister. Does that matter?”

For a brief moment, Judit’s red eyes filled with killing intent.

Even though it was a clear warning, Tris did not back down and tried to defend Glen.

“There must be some misunderstanding. A religious trial? Glen would never—”

“It’s fine, sister.”

“…Glen.”

Surrounded by inquisitors, Glen gave a faint, twisted smile.

“Why are you so worried? Anyone watching would think I actually committed some terrible crime.”

Tris tried to speak again, but Glen sent her a firm look.

He knew exactly what she was worried about.

If it was Judit Rossfelt, he would create crimes that didn’t exist and try to burn him at the stake.

But there was no need to worry.

‘In fact, because the opponent is Judit, there are moves I can make.’

A firm light shone in Glen’s eyes.

Seeing that, Tris bit her lip and turned her head away.

Soon, two inquisitors escorted Glen from both sides.

They glanced at the demonic-energy-sealing cuffs on his wrist, but didn’t seem to think much of it and looked forward again.

Judit approached Glen.

“Please wait until the trial begins. Ah, and just in case—don’t even think about running away.”

“And if I do?”

“You’ll find out if you try.”

Judit showed his signature chilling smile.

This time, Glen responded with a polite smile of his own.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Clank, clank—

The two inquisitors escorted Glen into the estate.

As he walked, Glen’s thoughts raced nonstop.

The sudden visit of the Heresy Inquisition.

Who called them here was obvious.

‘Edgar.’

Unable to endure his inferiority complex, he had finally made a drastic move and mobilized the Heresy Inquisition.

It was a threatening strike, but at the same time, it was Edgar’s own fatal mistake.

To bring down an opponent, you also had to risk yourself.

Edgar probably didn’t understand that.

‘Then I’ll make sure he learns.’

Exactly who he had provoked, and what kind of situation that would put him in.

Killing intent flickered in Glen’s eyes.

Religious trials in the Papal Holy State proceeded in two stages.

First was the on-site trial, where inquisitors dispatched to the scene interrogated the defendant.

If found innocent, the accused was released.

If found guilty, they were punished on the spot by the inquisitors.

If a verdict could not be reached on-site, the defendant was transferred to the Papal Holy State.

There, they would undergo a high-level trial, judged by high inquisitors.

The trial Glen was to face was the former: the on-site trial.

While Judit conducted the investigation, Glen was confined in the estate’s reception room.

This, too, was a noble’s privilege.

If Glen had been a commoner, he would have been thrown into a freezing underground prison and whipped first.

“Once the investigation is complete, the on-site trial will begin. Until then, stay put.”

The inquisitor guarding Glen warned him.

It was an incredibly loose confinement.

His hands and feet were not bound, and the guarding inquisitor was not particularly strong either.

Roughly around 3-star to 4-star level.

‘If I wanted to, knocking this guy out and escaping would be easy.’

But that was exactly what Judit Rossfelt wanted.

Escaping after overpowering the guard would only prove his guilt.

‘If that happens, forget the trial—this lunatic will personally come to kill me.’

There had been an incident where a noble, afraid of Judit’s interrogation, killed his guard and fled, only to be beheaded by Judit’s sword.

For reference, Judit Rossfelt was a high-ranking holy knight with seven Rings of Holiness.

He was on the same level as Henry Wordsworth, the head of the family—an overwhelming powerhouse.

In other words, if Glen wanted to live even one more minute, he had to stay here quietly until Judit finished his investigation.

Of course, that didn’t mean the on-site trial would go in his favor.

‘Who do you think called him here?’

By now, Edgar was probably fabricating all kinds of fake evidence to create crimes that Glen never committed and submitting them to Judit.

Even if it went to an on-site trial, the situation would not be favorable for Glen.

A true dead-end situation—death either way.

And yet, Glen did not look shaken.

Rather, he wore a faint, relaxed smile.

He had thought of it.

‘A way to solve this situation.’

If he stayed still, he would lose the trial.

If he ran, Judit’s sword would chase him.

Then there was only one option.

‘Prove my innocence to Judit before the trial.’

The newly acquired skill, Gray Ring.

The demonic-energy-sealing cuffs and the loose guard.

His knowledge of Judit through the Holy Relic Ring, and ‘that item’.

‘I have more than enough cards to play.’

A strange light flowed through Glen’s eyes.

The next moment, Glen walked toward the guard.

“What is it?”

“I’d like to use the restroom. Please escort me.”

“…Follow me.”

Clicking his tongue, the guard turned around.

Glen’s gaze fixed on the sword hanging at the guard’s waist.

Glen’s room, where the investigation was ongoing.

Tris shouted in rage as she glared at Edgar.

“Have you lost your mind, Edgar?! How could you do this?! He’s your real brother! Your blood brother!”

“Tris, sister. My heart is not at ease either. I, too, find this situation regrettable and sorrowful.”

But Edgar’s expression looked nothing like sorrow.

“However, before being Glen’s brother, I am a member of the Papal Holy State and a believer who serves God. I could not ignore a heretic who strayed from doctrine.”

“How is Glen a heretic?! You know better than anyone how devout he is!”

Edgar did not answer.

Ignoring Tris, he simply handed over the magic potions and parchment he had prepared to Judit’s vice bishop.

“You…!”

As Tris tried to approach Edgar, two inquisitors stopped her.

“If you cause any more disturbance, we will consider it interference with sacred official duties.”

“What did you say?”

Tris stared at the inquisitor in disbelief.

But seeing his cold, emotionless eyes, she bit her lip.

“This is insane… all of it.”

“We hear that often.”

The vice bishop, Bentillus, who was fiddling with the parchment, adjusted his monocle.

“But with this much evidence, sister, you will soon have no choice but to acknowledge it. The charges against Glen Wordsworth.”

Magic potions and parchment.

Even suspicious materials whose purpose was unclear.

Everything taken from Glen’s room were tools that used magical power, designated as heretical by the Papal Holy State.

Of course, it was true that some of the evidence was poorly fabricated.

‘Most likely prepared by this man to frame his own brother.’

Bentillus glanced at Edgar.

However, that did not matter.

Even without Edgar’s evidence, it was undeniable that Glen Wordsworth was suspicious.

‘Demonic-race prisoner cuffs worn on only one wrist, and Tris Wordsworth constantly shielding him.’

From experience, defendants who gave off such discomfort always ended up committing heretical acts behind the scenes.

Adjusting his crooked monocle again, Vice Bishop Bentillus shook his head.

‘The Wordsworth family, once called a holy noble house, is finished because of this.’

Meanwhile, Judit was sitting in Glen’s chair, reading scripture.

Despite the active investigation by the inquisitors and vice bishop, he seemed uninterested.

“…May God’s mighty hand guide you to the righteous path, and doubt not as you follow.”

Judit read the scripture with warm eyes.

The chilling smile he had shown Glen earlier was nowhere to be seen.

But only for a moment.

“Bishop Judit!”

An inquisitor rushed into the room urgently.

All eyes in the room turned toward him.

“Glen Wordsworth has subdued the guard and escaped!”

At the same time, countless emotions crossed the room.

“A-ah!”

Tris covered her mouth and gasped.

“What?!”

“…Tsk.”

Edgar failed to hide his shock and joy, while Bentillus clicked his tongue and adjusted his monocle.

And then—

“Kuk… k, kuhahahaha…!”

Judit closed the scripture, lowered his head, and shook his shoulders with laughter.

Soon, he raised his head.

Flash—!

Platinum-blonde short hair fluttered.

In the next instant, he rushed out of Glen’s room at tremendous speed.

“Ahahahahaha!”

Laughing madly, Judit drew his sword from his waist.

From the room to the corridor.

From the corridor to the stairs.

He ran through the entire estate like a beast chasing its prey.

“Repent, wicked heretic!”

His red eyes shone with ecstasy.

Madness swirled within his pupils.

“Judgment upon Glen Wordsworth!”