This Isn’t an E*otic Game?

The combat priests and holy knights of the White Order, along with investigators from the Imperial Intelligence Agency known as the Black Fortress, arrived on the scene less than ten minutes after I beat the Collector to death with my belt.@@novelbin@@

“It was all for my personal gain! I was just an illegitimate son from a minor barony! They asked if I’d consider worshiping the Evil God, promising that I’d have power and wealth if I did. What did I have to lose? So I agreed! Then one morning, my father and older brother mysteriously died! That’s how I inherited the barony!”

“You’re spilling everything so easily! Good! Keep talking! Every word adds more wood to the pile beneath your feet!”

“Ughhh! Please spare me! Spare me! I knew this would happen if I got caught, but I couldn’t stop myself! Who would reject getting everything they wanted? The factory workers who burned to death? They weren’t my concern! Those beggars could burn for all I care! …Waaaahhh!!”

“The Silent Order of the Pantheon and the Black Fortress investigators will treat you with great care. You’ll wish you’d never been born!”

“Aaaagh! Please! Please!”

Baron Hanson screamed his last desperate pleas as he was dragged away.

Trailing behind him was the overweight factory manager.

“N-No! I didn’t know anything! Hanson was a devil worshiper? I didn’t know! I swear I didn’t know! Have mercy!”

“If there’d been even a single report of you clashing with Hanson or complaining about him over drinks, we might’ve believed you. But after a ten-minute investigation, we found countless testimonies that you passionately supported him. If you weren’t a devil worshiper, then we must question your mental state.”

“Nooo! Please! Please! Saint, help me!!”

The factory manager reached out to me, pleading desperately.

I smiled brightly in response.

“Even if you’re not a devil worshiper, your mental state is just as bad. Be sure to burn him at the stake next to the baron.”

“N-No!! Please! Mercy!! Mercy!!”

There’s no mercy for you, you bastard.

With their shrill screams echoing behind them, Baron Hanson and the factory manager were dragged away, and only then did I allow myself to relax.

I was exhausted. I’d used too much mental energy.

What a night.

I just wanted to go back and rest—

“Saint Amayel.”

“Healing Saint.”

“Amayel, Saint Amayel.”

Before I knew it, an enormous crowd of people had gathered, filling the entrance to Baron Hanson’s mansion.