Chapter 8: The Inquisitor’s Torment

Meanwhile, in the deepest reaches of the dungeon.

“Ahhhhh! Help me! Save me! Please, save me, my lady!” The man, dressed as a guard, writhed in agony within his cell. Blood erupted from every pore, and a putrid stench emanated from his rapidly decaying body.

His flesh began to rot and melt, transforming into a gruesome, blackish pus.

A female official, her face concealed by an iron mask, stood a few paces from the cell door, her hands clasped behind her back. She watched with cold indifference as the guard crawled to the bars, reaching out to her for aid.

The official extended a finger towards the guard. Immediately, searing white flames engulfed him.

The heat of these flames far surpassed that of any mere bonfire, illuminating the dungeon’s darkest depths as brightly as day.

In the fiery glow, a look of profound release appeared on the guard’s face. In an instant, his body turned to charcoal, collapsing within the inferno until nothing but a pile of ashes remained.

The flames flickered and died, yet the steel bars of the cell still glowed with a fierce red light, bearing the unmistakable marks of molten metal.

Standing behind the official, accompanying her, Viscount Dumpty broke out in a cold sweat. He had never before witnessed a divine miracle of such terrifying power.

“My Lord Viscount,” the official inquired, without turning her head, “the killing of your subordinate was a regrettable necessity. Surely, you would not hold me accountable?”

“My Lady Inquisitor jests,” Viscount Dumpty replied with a polite chuckle. “Who here would dare to hold you accountable for anything?”

Viscount Dumpty possessed not only a noble title but also held the crucial position of Chief of Public Security. He was, arguably, one of the most esteemed figures in the region. Most high-ranking officials in the city were either his relatives or his personal friends.

Yet, before this official, whose voice sounded remarkably young, he felt compelled to maintain an especially deferential demeanor.

For she was the Vice-Director of the Central Inquisition, one of the highest-ranking Inquisitors, and a veritable titan within the Church.

Though both were judicial bodies tasked with apprehending criminals, the Inquisition and the local Public Security Offices operated independently of one another.

The Inquisition’s jurisdiction, while nominally confined to religious cases under Church law, proved to be vastly extensive in practice. Any incident, even if merely suspected of undermining the Church’s authority, fell entirely under their purview. From apprehension to judgment and execution, they handled every stage, leaving ordinary judicial bodies powerless to intervene.

Viscount Dumpty might wield immense influence locally, but should he or his associates ever be ‘suspected’ of disrespecting the Church or worshipping a cult, the Inquisition, with a mere permit from the Curia, could directly raid the homes of such local nobles. They would then drag the Viscount into the terrifying Iron Prison of Divine Wrath for interrogation.

To disrespect the Church was unthinkable; to provoke the Inquisition, an even graver folly. This was common knowledge throughout the Empire, understood even by children.

“So, a witch’s curse truly does exist,” Viscount Dumpty murmured, a profound sense of dread lingering as he gazed at his subordinate’s ashes.

“Did you harbor any doubts regarding the Church’s pronouncements before this?”

The Inquisitor’s casual question instantly sent shivers down the Viscount’s spine. “How could I? I merely… witnessed it firsthand for the first time, and was quite understandably overwhelmed!”

“To be ravaged by the Holy Brand for two days and two nights, yet still possess such power,” the Inquisitor mused, her gaze fixed on the depths of the cell. “Truly, she is the Queen of Witches.”

Within the cell, the Blood-Red Queen remained bound to an execution rack.

“You are merely wasting your efforts,” the Blood-Red Queen declared, her voice cold and cutting.

“That remains to be seen,” the Inquisitor countered, her eyes narrowing. “How much strength do you have left to resist? I suspect it’s almost depleted.”

In the dim light, the Blood-Red Queen’s exposed neck and arms revealed intricate, faintly glowing patterns.

A year prior, the Empire’s grand expedition against the Starfall Kingdom had been a monumental undertaking, known to virtually every Imperial citizen.

Few, however, knew that one of the Church’s revered Saints had personally led that army.

During the final decisive assault, facing the combined ambush of the Blood-Red Queen and several Great Witches, the Church’s Fourth Saint had sacrificed their life. In doing so, they had slain numerous Great Witches and branded the Blood-Red Queen with the Holy Brand.

This Holy Brand sealed away most of the Blood-Red Queen’s powers while relentlessly eroding her being.

Should the Holy Brand fully consume the Queen, she would be entirely controlled by the Saint’s lingering consciousness, transforming into a mere instrument of the Church.

On the surface, the Empire had claimed victory in that war. However, considering the Church had lost a precious Saint, the Empire’s triumph could barely be considered a pyrrhic one.

Yet, if the formidable Blood-Red Queen could be turned into a puppet of the Church, it might, to some extent, mitigate their losses.

The Blood-Red Queen’s power and the Holy Brand’s erosion were locked in a constant struggle. The female Inquisitor’s mission was to break this equilibrium as swiftly as possible.

Her strategy involved ordering others to inflict torture upon the Queen. Both psychological torment and physical anguish would weaken the Queen’s resistance, thereby accelerating the Holy Brand’s corrosive effects.

When the Queen was first captured, the Inquisitor had given her troops a chilling decree: as long as the Queen’s life was not directly threatened, they could do anything they wished to her, and the Inquisition would not hold them accountable.

However, the Queen still retained formidable power to resist. Any individual who approached her with ill intent—whether to violate her chastity or to inflict torture—would be met with her merciless curses. Without exception, the initial soldiers who dared to touch her met a tragic end, perishing in agonizing torment.

The Inquisitor understood that the Queen’s power was not inexhaustible. By expending it on curses, the Queen would eventually be too weak to resist the Holy Brand. Even if direct torture proved impossible, a war of attrition, sacrificing lives, would ultimately achieve her goal.

Yet, after several sacrifices, rumors, fueled by terror, swiftly spread through the ranks. No soldier in the army was willing to carry out such a suicidal order any longer.

Even after a brutal war where a Saint had fallen, the bravest warriors had long since perished. No one remained willing to volunteer their lives for the Church.

Thus, the Inquisitor had made her stop in this city, intent on completing the Queen’s interrogation here.

The city’s Inquisition branch and its main prison were both situated in a remote suburb, leaving her no choice but to utilize the Public Security Office’s dungeon.

“The Church’s Fourth Saint sacrificed their life because of you,” the Inquisitor stated slowly, her gaze unwavering. “If I present you before the Pope and the esteemed Cardinals with the Holy Brand still unactivated, I will be utterly disgraced.”

“Then perhaps you should personally undertake my torture,” the Queen retorted, a faint smirk playing on her lips.

“Mere bluster,” the Inquisitor scoffed, yet she dared not approach the Queen.

As an Inquisitor, her divinely bestowed power did not stem from the ‘Bishop’ class, but rather from the ‘Mage’ class, which was far more suited for direct combat.

She was a ‘Grand Magus’ of the Fifth Tier in the ‘Mage’ class, while the Blood-Red Queen was a ‘Banshee’ of the Third Tier in the ‘Witch’ class.

A two-tier difference, coupled with the overwhelming disparity between a divine-tier and a mid-tier class, meant that without the Holy Brand’s suppression, the Blood-Red Queen could annihilate her in an instant!

Currently, the Queen, intent on conserving her strength, only directed curses at her torturers. Should the Inquisitor make a move, she would instantly become the target.

The female Inquisitor turned to Viscount Dumpty. “My Lord Viscount, I require more personnel.”

“Ah, well, to continue sacrificing my officers and guards… I’m afraid that might not be entirely appropriate. They are all my valuable subordinates, after all,” Viscount Dumpty responded, a look of discomfort on his face.

He wasn’t truly concerned for his subordinates’ lives. Rather, the death of a single Public Security officer or guard necessitated a substantial bereavement payment from his office, along with various follow-up administrative tasks. Too many deaths would prove a considerable nuisance for him as Chief of Public Security.

“From the very beginning, I instructed you to bring prisoners for this task,” the female Inquisitor retorted, casting a sharp glance back at him. “It was your subordinates who, blinded by their greed for the witch, volunteered themselves to their deaths. While you may only detain suspects here, surely there are some whose deaths would not be mourned. Bring them to me, one by one.”

“Understood,” Viscount Dumpty replied. He then turned and summoned a Public Security officer.