Bellikian—also known as “Hound”—was an executor serving the inquisitor of the Ellington Holy Alliance’s Sixth Diocese. A Grand Chevalier-level swordsman from a mercenary background, he had followed the Beheading Priest ever since the man saved his life.
If the Beheading Priest was a mad dog obsessed with hunting heretics, Bellikian was a bloodthirsty hound. Had he not walked the path of a mercenary, he might have become the worst kind of criminal.
“Haah!”
Bellikian plunged deep into the rear ranks of the suspicious group targeting Viscount Loti Solard and his knights. He let out a powerful shout as he swung his longsword.
“Kraaaagh!”
“Uaaaagh!”
Outwardly dressed like mere mercenaries, they had never imagined facing someone with Grand Chevalier-level prowess. With a single sweep of Bellikian’s blade, fountains of blood erupted from the archers’ bodies, accompanied by agonized screams.
“Where is he?!”
“T-The rear!”
“There’s only one of them! Respond!”
Though caught off guard by the surprise attack, the bandits moved swiftly to counter. As the rear archers scattered and retreated in unison, around twenty swordsmen waiting on the left and right as reserves advanced to intercept Bellikian.
It was just one swordsman who had infiltrated. Though his single strike had heavily damaged the rear archers, the commander assumed it was due to the unexpected ambush and judged that the seasoned swordsmen on the flanks could handle it. But that was a grave misjudgment—he had failed to realize Bellikian was a Grand Chevalier.
“Foolish bastards!”
Bellikian roared powerfully at the bandits charging fearlessly toward him. An aura blade began erupting from his sword.
A Grand Chevalier’s aura blade boasted overwhelmingly greater power than an ordinary Chevalier’s aura. The moment it surged from Bellikian’s longsword, the charging swordsmen could only sense impending death.
“Kraaaaagh!”
“Kuhuk!”
As Bellikian’s eyes flashed sharply, sword light burst forth. Over twenty swordsmen were butchered, collapsing in pools of their own blood.
“Damn it! Aura blade!”
“That guy isn’t just a mercenary! He’s a Grand Chevalier!”
“S-Shit. Didn’t we already know that?!”
Grand Chevalier—a calamity on the battlefield. At the appearance of such a being, the bandits panicked greatly and temporarily fell back. Astonishingly, however, they did not lose their will to fight. As they retreated, they swiftly re-formed a solid defensive formation to prepare against this Grand Chevalier disaster.
The withdrawing swordsmen picked up long spears from the ground and aimed them at Bellikian, while shield-bearers stepped forward. Archers nocked arrows directly behind the spearmen, sending sharp glares.
“They’ve been trained, haven’t they? There must be reinforcements nearby.”
Their numbers approached sixty, and they had formed a sturdy defensive line, but that alone was insufficient to give them confidence against a Grand Chevalier-level swordsman. Anyone—not just Bellikian—would not need much time to slaughter them if they were a Grand Chevalier. Yet Bellikian, a seasoned mercenary who had survived the brutal Venik conflict zones for years, intuitively sensed they were trained and had reinforcements close by. Despite witnessing his aura blade, they not only refused to break morale but reorganized into counterattack posture with disciplined precision.
“I need to kill them all before they stall for time.”
Thud thud thud thud!
Sure enough, even before Viscount Loti Solard could react, a group of bandits kicked up dust as they charged from the north. Numbering nearly a hundred, all mounted, they appeared as bandits from afar, but closer inspection revealed they were regular troops or mercenaries concealing their affiliations. They seemed poised to arrive before Solard and his knights.
Seeing the bandits reignite their fighting spirit with the reinforcements’ arrival, Bellikian smiled silently. Before that smile could fade from his lips, a massive paladin—clad in robes blending red and white, thick steel breastplate, and wielding a greatsword—charged forward to block the incoming cavalry.
“Do the imperial church’s watchdogs always struggle this much with keeping appointments?”
At Bellikian’s light provocation, the man responded not with words but by igniting a brilliant golden aura blade on his greatsword. It was none other than Aren Valerian, viscount and paladin of the imperial church.
“For His Majesty the Emperor!”
Viscount Valerian ignored the taunt, bellowing the emperor’s name as he swung his greatsword—infused with golden aura blade—toward the charging enemies.
Whoooosh!
A storm of special divine power, born from deep faith in the emperor, erupted and engulfed the cavalry. The divine storm became razor-sharp blades, mercilessly slashing the mounted bandits.
“Kraaaaagh!”
“M-Mercy… Kraaaagh!”
“That monster…!”
Caught in the ambush, the bandits screamed as they sprayed blood in all directions. But when Viscount Valerian—reciting prayers—placed a finger to his lips with an annoyed expression as if interrupted, silence began dominating the battlefield.
When the divine storm finally subsided, only around a hundred corpses remained before Viscount Valerian.
“All this is because His Majesty the Emperor’s grace is as vast as the heavens.”
Having massacred nearly a hundred cavalry in mere seconds with ruthless might, Viscount Valerian solemnly offered a prayer praising the emperor’s greatness. Bellikian could only wear an incredulous expression at the sight.
That guy’s truly insane.
As an executor of the Sixth Diocese following Inquisitor Podric Kendal, Bellikian had seen countless fanatics. But he could confidently say none matched the imperial church paladin before him.
Viscount Valerian’s demeanor—mentioning the emperor in nearly every situation and line, constantly reciting prayers of praise and adoration—radiated a certain madness.
Viscount Valerian, slaughtering a hundred cavalry and praying to the emperor, and Bellikian, marveling at him. Watching this, the remaining sixty-odd bandits hastily prepared to flee, realizing they should not face these madmen. But Viscount Loti Solard and his knights arrived faster than the bandits could scatter.
The few remaining bandits were annihilated by the knights’ assault. While Viscount Solard checked for friendly casualties with his knights, Bellikian rummaged through the corpses and found several familiar insignia and encrypted documents.
“These seem like southerners…”
True to his veteran mercenary roots from the Venik conflict zones—often called a regular gathering spot for mercenary bloodshed—Bellikian identified the disguised bandits’ origins from just a few items scavenged from the bodies.
“If they’re southern, could they be mercenaries working with the Southern Merchant Guild?”
Viscount Loti Solard, having approached, asked politely. Before departing on the search, he had received an imperial decree from Cain to report immediately any evidence linked to the Southern Merchant Guild.
The Southern Merchant Guild was under the control of Duke Cossack Tiberius, who managed the Five Imperial Dukes’ finances. The decree aimed to secure as much evidence as possible to tie them to black magic.
“Even if many caravans belong to the Southern Merchant Guild, it’s hard to say they completely dominate the south. Their influence is certainly strong, but there are other major guilds. Still, if they’re southern mercenaries, the chances they’re connected to the Southern Merchant Guild are far from low.”
Unable to give a definitive answer but noting high probability, Viscount Solard nodded slightly, his expression indicating that was sufficient.
“These fellows were likely the last. With this, all the miscellaneous troops guarding the suspected black magicians’ hideout have been eliminated. We will prepare to assault the moment the Beheading Priest arrives.”
At Solard’s words, Bellikian nodded instead of replying. He pulled a communication artifact from his pocket and sent a brief magical missive to Podric Kendal informing him all preparations were complete.
A black magician’s hideout was nearby. That was why a Holy Alliance executor was involved in bandit subjugation near the capital Granada.
“The priest of Ellington is the one running too late, if anything.”
Viscount Valerian, having finished his prayer praising the emperor, joined them.
“His beloved Majesty the Emperor has decreed the subjugation of wicked beings scheming near the capital. Swiftly eliminating those exhaling impure breaths is the true proof of loyalty and qualification as an imperial knight.”
Viscount Valerian began showing anger.
“Though Viscount Solard is not of the imperial army, you are an imperial knight, so I have no doubt you agree with me.”
Valerian’s words seemed to advocate subjugating the black magicians before the Beheading Priest arrived. Bellikian frowned and retorted.
“If you’re thinking of charging in alone without knowing what kind of black magician is hiding there, I won’t stop you. But as a heresy hunting expert, I’d advise caution, you imperial church blockhead.”
“I feel His Majesty the Emperor’s sacred power. Death’s verdict awaits those who oppose imperial authority—this too is fate.”
Yet Bellikian’s warning fell on deaf ears with the imperial church paladin. Viscount Aren seemed unwilling to listen unless the emperor himself spoke. Having no real desire to dissuade him further, Bellikian added nothing more. In the end, Viscount Aren Valerian began moving to attack the black magician’s hideout, accompanied by Viscount Loti Solard and the knights.
“Haa, annoying.”
Despite spitting rough profanity, Bellikian had no choice but to follow the imperial church paladin and imperial knights. Withdrawing when a heretic’s location was identified violated the Sixth Diocese’s heresy extermination code.
“Since I’m following anyway, might as well watch how an imperial church paladin fights?”
He could not help feeling both irritated and curious. For long years, the imperial church had secluded itself, concealing its power. Amid the imperial family’s decline—as foolish claimants ascended the throne—they offered secret loyalty from the shadows to avoid exploitation.
Waiting in the darkness for a true emperor, they had finally emerged with Cain. As a warrior, Bellikian held pure curiosity to witness their combat style firsthand.