Chapter 32: Oh No, It

"... Hiss."

Herbert's expression was blank, his lips twitching slightly as he looked down at the battered grass carp on the ground.

When he stepped out of the alien prison and hadn't walked far, he noticed a scene of chaos in the shadows ahead.

「This is the third time, isn't it? 」

Honestly, he really didn't know what to say anymore.

「Bro, are we really that fated? I didn't even go looking for you—how come I keep running into you every time? 」

「Do you have a crush on me? 」

「This is definitely a crush…」

Seriously, be a bit more discreet.

You don't care, but I'm embarrassed for you.

「Watch out—the Fish Lovers Association might come knocking… wait, isn't he already one of them? He's loved it to the point of losing control. 」

Herbert mentally grumbled for a while, then suddenly raised an eyebrow as he stared at the grass carp, barely recognizable as a fish.

Judging from the fish's condition, he realized this brother's situation might differ slightly from his initial assumption.

「His state seems to be getting worse—is he about to go berserk? 」

After the first time, the grass carp still had half a breath left; the second time was gruesome, but it died afterward.

But this third time, the grass carp was already dead and dismembered mid-way—its head twisted clean off, turned into a natural cup.

Brother Grass Carp's outlet methods have grown increasingly brutal and his desires harder to control.

Now he's only targeting fish—will he soon extend his claws to other creatures?

Fortunately, the monastery doesn't keep cats or dogs, or Herbert would now be worrying about those innocent little animals.

Compared to that, the safety of the other monks in the monastery isn't his concern as a newbie.

The monks need no mention—they're either Wu Seng or Holy Knights, their strength highly reliable, with exceptional butt-guarding capabilities.

「As for the nuns, there's even less reason to worry—they always move in groups, and their individual combat power isn't weaker than anyone else's…」

There are no ordinary scripture-reciting nuns in the Mist Monastery—all are combat nuns.

Yes, all—every single one!

None of these combat nuns are frail vegetarian women; all are fierce beings clad in heavy armor, capable of casting spells with one hand while wielding a flail or smashing with a warhammer in the other.

These nun-sisters either serve as war nuns in the Mist Knights Order or as disciplinary nuns in the Inquisition.

One more brutal than the next, one more bloody than the last.

Herbert thought about it, then suddenly realized something was off.

「Hey, wait a minute…」

Animals are safe, monks are safe, nuns are safe… but someone must be unsafe, right?

So, guess who's the lucky one in danger?

「It's me! 」

Herbert's lips twitched, his groin tightened, his thighs trembled, and he nearly bolted.

「I'm the one who needs the most protection! 」

Correct. Reasonable.

Herbert is the weakest among them all!

Low power, noble status, and most importantly—he has an exceptionally handsome face… a perfect victim candidate.

Shit.

This is definitely coming for me!

As the saying goes: until the knife pierces your own flesh, you don't feel the pain; watching others' misfortune never feels excessive.

Now, when someone's about to stab him hard from behind, Herbert could no longer sit still.

Fuck, there's a pervert here!

Herbert's expression turned serious, and he made a firm decision—report him.

Must report him!

「Brother Grass Carp, I didn't report you before out of respect for your hobby—I pretended nothing happened. 」

「But now that you've reached this point, don't blame your brother for striking hard. 」

With resolve set, Herbert moved swiftly, ignoring everything else, striding toward the Inquisition.

My lord, save me!

But when Herbert hurried to the Inquisition to report the "sacrilegious act" to Bishop Thorn, he unexpectedly found he was too late.

The usually eerily empty Inquisition was now packed with people—hundreds of monks and nuns gathered in the great hall.

「Hmm? 」

Herbert had wondered why he hadn't met any monks on the way—turns out they'd all come here already. He was about to greet them when he noticed something was wrong.

Many faces looked grim; even the normally silent monks couldn't help whispering to each other.

What happened?

Herbert didn't need to ask anyone—he saw the answer as he reached the center of the hall: a stone coffin stood there.

Someone is dead!

The corpse's face was covered by a white cloth, blood seeping from its mouth, but its exposed limbs suggested a young monk around thirty years old.

Herbert's eyes narrowed—in that instant, a chilling sensation, like a parasitic worm, crawled up his spine, making his heart lurch.

!!!

Without reason, a powerful intuition surged in him—he felt this incident was unmistakably tied to Brother Grass Carp.

He did it!?

So this guy wasn't just after her body—he was out to kill her too.

Perhaps because the murder scene before his eyes felt oddly familiar, Herbert quickly calmed down and rapidly analyzed the case at hand.

"Did the victim get silenced because he stumbled onto that sacrilegious scene?"

Gulp.

Herbert silently swallowed, feeling a mix of relief and lingering dread.

If he'd come out a little earlier today, would he already be lying on a slab next to the victim?

No.

If he'd always arrived one step ahead and run into him directly before, wouldn't he have been silenced long ago?

As Herbert was thinking, someone spoke up and broke the silence.

"Brothers and sisters, we have lost one of our own."

Bishop Thorn was not present at the moment; the one stepping forward to take charge was a middle-aged-looking Penitent Nun.

Her face was grief-stricken, and her sorrowful voice echoed throughout the entire Tribunal:

"He was a devout cultivator, a warrior willing to devote his entire life to justice and righteousness."

"Each and every one of us feels deep anger over his tragic death."

At this point, the Penitent Nun's voice rose, and she cried out with chilling fury: "But, brothers and sisters, anger alone is not enough—we must also find the murderer who killed him!"

"We must… avenge him!"

That ringing cry was like a signal, and a hundred or so people shouted in unison.

"REVENGE!!!"

As the crowd roared, the temperature in the murder-shrouded great hall of the Tribunal plummeted, making one unable to resist a shiver.

"... Hm?"

Just then, Herbert suddenly felt something and glanced left and right, only to find that the people beside him had, at some unknown point, silently distanced themselves from him.

A strange vacuum zone had formed around him, and pair after pair of cold eyes—whose true intent was unreadable—stared at him in silence.

Herbert blinked, and suddenly realized something was wrong.

Not good—they're coming for me!!?

(End of Chapter)