Surviving as a Barbarian in a Fantasy World

Chapter 239: Sanctuary of Federica (2)



Chapter 239: Sanctuary of Federica (2)

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]

Chapter 239: Sanctuary of Federica. (2)

The Inquisition of Frederica.

Ketal sat in the interrogation room chair, glancing around as he whistled.

"Grim, isn't it?"

The room was filled with torture devices, the purpose of which was easy to guess.

Dried blood and bits of flesh stuck to them, making it clear they weren’t just for show.

Ketal felt as though he was in a museum, finding something fascinating about it all.

"Focus."

The man sitting across from him spoke heavily, clearly displeased with Ketal’s nonchalant attitude.

He was a rough-looking man, with a face marked by numerous scars.

"I am the Chief Inquisitor, Kostia. I will be the one interrogating you."

"The Chief Inquisitor."

Ketal's eyes gleamed.

It was the same rank as Seraphina.

But the difference in power was clear.

Kostia seemed to be at most of mid-level superhuman strength.

He was nowhere near the top tier.

The Church of the Sun God was the most powerful religious organization on the continent.

Even if two people held the same rank, there was bound to be a difference in strength.

"Pleased to meet you. I am called Ketal."

Ketal greeted him cheerfully, but Kostia ignored him.

Kostia knew little about Ketal.

He was here simply to follow the orders of the Saint, to brand Ketal a heretic.

‘Is this the man Lady Frederica is after?’

On the surface, Ketal appeared to be just an average, skilled barbarian.

Ketal had already hidden the sacred relic of Kalrosia in his pocket, concealing its power completely, so that was all Kostia could see.

‘Why would Lady Frederica want someone like this?’

Kostia was momentarily puzzled, but quickly pushed the thought aside.

He had one task.

To make this man a heretic.

"Then let's begin the interrogation."

Only three people were in the room: Kostia, Ketal, and Liltara, who stood by the wall to assist.

She watched Kostia with calm, sinking eyes.

Kostia’s skin, like that of the Saint, was exceptionally clear.

Liltara’s eyes sank even further.

Chief Inquisitor Kostia began the heresy trial against the barbarian Ketal.

“Frederica, grant me the power to judge this heretic.”

Kostia quietly intoned.

“Kuheit, Book 5, Verse 12. You spoke before hundreds of believers, saying, ‘Among us, there is one who has turned their heart away from me. Let everyone close their eyes, and the one who has betrayed me will step forward. And so, they closed their eyes, and the one who betrayed stepped forward. The traitor confessed their sin and was stoned to death.’”

“Ohhh.”

It was the scripture of Frederica.

Ketal watched with interest.

Holy energy slithered into the room.

It wasn’t a bright light.

It was sticky, like mucus, oozing through the space and clinging to Ketal’s body.

This was the scripture for inquisitions.

It was a power Frederica once used to root out heresy among her followers.

The power scraped away a person’s mind, hollowing them out and erasing all of their values.

No matter how strong-willed a person was, if they fell under this power, they would beg, beg for their lives, confessing their sins and pleading to be killed for betraying her.

“So, it’s a power like this. It’s certainly unique.”

Of course, it had no effect on Ketal.

Kostia was momentarily baffled by Ketal’s completely nonchalant demeanor.

‘...How?’

No, more than that, Ketal was smiling as if he was enjoying it.

Though startled, Kostia didn’t show it.

An inquisitor must always remain calm.

He opened the book and began reading.

“I will now recite your sins, Ketal.”

Kostia coldly declared.

“You have traveled the world without letting the earth touch your bare flesh.”

“I did wear shoes.”

“You ate the flesh of a beast less than a week after it was killed.”

“I hunted it and ate it fresh.”

“You dared to enjoy your prosperity without sharing or discarding it.”

“I do have a pocket, so that’s true.”

“You took pleasure in meals that should have been a burden.”

“Eating is one of life’s joys.”

Ketal answered all the accusations with confidence.

Kostia didn’t find it strange.

One of the powers of the scripture was to prevent lies.

So he didn’t notice the smile lingering on Ketal’s face.

“In total, you have admitted to twenty-five sins.”

It was over.

Kostia closed the book.

“The interrogation is over. You are a heretic.”

When necessary, he could resort to torture devices.

No matter how much knowledge or scholarly prowess one had, they would eventually succumb to unbearable pain.

But this time, it was impossible.

Frederica desired this barbarian.

They couldn’t dare to harm a body that the divine wanted.

"...You are a sinner."

In the end, Kostia could only stubbornly insist, like a child.

Ketal did not deny it.

“Well... as you say, I might be a sinner.”

“If so...”

“So, let me ask you one question. If I repent, if I receive baptism from you, can all my sins be forgiven? Of course, they can. That was the very first sentence in the book of doctrine.”

“...That is correct.”

“Then I will repent. I will become your follower and abide by your values. I will not indulge in abundance but follow the path of starvation. Will you accept me then?”

“......”

Kostia hesitated.

He could not accept him.

Because their goal was to brand Ketal a heretic and offer him to Lady Frederica.

In the end, Kostia could only say one thing.

“Rejected.”

“Rejected.”

Their voices overlapped.

Kostia's eyes widened as Ketal laughed in amusement.

“Oh. It hit the mark.”

“You, you.”

Kostia stammered.

This barbarian had predicted that he would refuse.

A chill ran down his spine.

‘...Who is this person in front of me?’

Was he really a barbarian?

Who was he interrogating right now?

‘Whom does our god truly call?’

Fear crawled up from the ground beneath him.

He knew nothing about Ketal’s power.

But his knowledge, his values, and his ideology were terrifying.

Kostia began to see Ketal as something other than just a barbarian.

He stammered as he spoke.

“It seems you are tired, so we will stop here. The interrogation will continue another time.”

“No. I can keep going.”

“No. You are tired.”

Kostia refused any rebuttal and gathered his things.

His departure was more like fleeing.

Liltara watched the entire scene with a somber gaze.

* * *

The next day after the interrogation ended, Liltara came to see Ketal.

“Mr. Ketal. The result of the interrogation is out. You are a heretic.”

“Hmm?”

Ketal, who had been quietly observing the prison, widened his eyes.

“Wasn’t the interrogation supposed to continue later?”

“According to the interrogation, you confessed your sins in front of Lord Kostia. It has been decided that you will be offered to Lady Frederica tomorrow.”

“...Ah. Information manipulation. That would make sense if they wanted to wrap this up quickly.”

Ketal muttered as if he understood.

Liltara's face twisted in anguish.

“...Yes. That’s how it turned out.”

“You seem to have a lot on your mind.”

Liltara, who had kept her mouth shut, finally spoke as if spitting out the words.

“Is this... is this truly Lady Frederica’s will?”

To achieve one’s desires by any means necessary.

This was utterly contrary to the values of Frederica that she had learned.

Her lifelong faith was being shattered.

“Come to think of it, I never asked. How was the Saint's skin?”

“...It was very clean and smooth.”

“As expected.”

Ketal smiled.

“Liltara, I know the answer to the doubts you have. I can show it to you.”

Liltara.

A young believer who had grown up in the sacred land of Frederica all her life.

From the journey's start, Ketal had planted a seed of doubt in her heart.

As time passed, that seed had steadily grown.

And now, it was time to harvest the fruit.

“Do you want to know the answer?”

Ketal asked.

His question was like the temptation of a demon to a believer.

But the reason believers fall into corruption, even when they know the other is a demon, was because that temptation is so sweet.

Liltara squeezed her eyes shut and nodded.

Ketal, as if he had been waiting, grabbed the iron bars of the prison.

The iron bars crumpled lightly, as if they were made of marshmallow.

[Translator - Night]

[Proofreader - Gun]


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