Ah.
"You really did recognize me. Or rather, you investigated me."
A bitter, hollow laugh escaped Rimuru's lips.
Vissela and his squad completely froze. The Grand Inquisitor's face drained of all color.
"Black Princess! You… you truly are as despicable as the rumors say!" Vissela snarled, his voice trembling with a mix of absolute rage and profound terror.
How could he not realize it now? The Church had been completely played. They weren't just the bait; they were the executioners Altrouge was using to sever Rimuru's ties to the human world.
She had just deliberately exposed his true identity. And Vissela's brain had already matched the name to the dossier.
He realized, with a sinking dread, that he could never, ever win Rimuru over to the Church's side now.
Even if Rimuru rejected the Black Princess, Rimuru couldn't let the Executors walk out of this courtyard alive.
Rimuru Tempest.
The last heir of a fallen noble house. The brightest rising star of the Mage's Association. The Blue Lecturer. A Lord of the Clock Tower.
If word got out that a man of his political standing was harboring a Vampiric Impulse, a condition that guaranteed an immediate, lethal Sealing Designation, the political fallout would tear the Association apart.
The Church would be forced to hunt him to the ends of the earth.
Rimuru had to kill them to keep his secret. Altrouge had just forced his hand.
"Honestly… whether it's you scripting a fake rescue to win me over, or you digging into my background… I really hate being manipulated."
Rimuru looked at the tense, hyper-alert Executors, then back to Altrouge. His voice was frighteningly calm.
"But I can guess what your next move is. I know what you're going to threaten me with."
Rimuru slowly turned his head. He looked at the nun standing on the porch, who was watching this nightmare unfold with wide, uncomprehending eyes.
He looked back at the vampire.
"Was she part of your calculation too, Altrouge?"
"No."
Altrouge blinked, genuinely surprised by the utter deadness in Rimuru's golden eyes. She shook her head slowly.
"You've guessed wrong. I never intended to use the nun as leverage. Like I said, my plan was to play the hero. In my original script, I was going to intervene after you had already said your goodbyes to her on the road."
"I may be cruel, but I am not that cheap." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to an intimate, seductive whisper meant only for him.
"I told you, Rimuru. You misunderstand us. Why not stand by my side? Open your eyes and see the world for what it truly is."
"I have no interest in seeing your world. And I don't care what your 'original' script was."
Rimuru rejected her with a cold, mechanical shake of his head. He swept his gaze over the armored Executors surrounding the yard.
"Because it doesn't matter if you threaten me with her or not. We've reached the endgame. The moment this standoff ends, if word of this night leaks, the Church will purge her for harboring a heretic. She will burn on a pyre."
"And she is entirely innocent."
"So, what is your decision?" Altrouge asked softly, the edges of her smile sharpening. "I will not use her against you. But I can make you a promise. If you join me… I will take absolute responsibility for everything that happens here tonight. I will announce to the world that this massacre was my doing alone. The truth of your identity, and this town, will be buried forever."
Because, other than the nun, no one else in this courtyard was going to survive.
Altrouge watched him in absolute silence.
Rimuru didn't look at her. He turned around, facing the silver-haired nun on the porch.
To her, the gentle traveler who had cooked her meals and swept her courtyard was gone.
The boy standing before her, bathed in demonic green fog and sporting massive, spectral bat wings, looked like a total stranger. A monster from the abyss.
Rimuru looked into her single eye, his voice cracking with a bitter, profound exhaustion.
"To turn a blind eye to the innocent is a sin. To drag the innocent into hell with you is a sin."
"But if I plunge myself into darkness, just to protect the innocent…"
"I ask you, Sister."
Rimuru spread his arms, the demonic aura flaring around him like a shroud.
"Tell me… Do I have sin now?"
…
Above, thick, bruised clouds began to swallow the crimson moon.
The heavy, suffocating mist carried Rimuru's voice across the courtyard. He stared at the silent nun for a long moment. Then, he turned. The bitter exhaustion in his eyes hardened into absolute, freezing killing intent, locking dead onto Vissela and his squad.
Altrouge's lips curved into a breathtaking, triumphant smile. She pinched the edges of her black gothic skirt, executing a flawless, mocking curtsy before elegantly stepping aside. Resting her delicate chin on folded hands, she watched his back.
"After you," she purred softly. "White Knight… Rimuru."
Rimuru's shoulders stiffened.
Vissela, however, practically vibrated with furious disbelief. "Are you truly going to throw your lot in with the Dead Apostles?! Rimuru Tempest! Have you forgotten the honor your name represents?!"
"I never said I was joining them." Rimuru tilted his head, his voice dripping with icy condescension. "But whether I accept her invitation or reject it… that's a conversation for after I kill you. Isn't it?"
Honestly? Rimuru was sick of this guy.
Even though he had initially leaned toward using the Church as a meat shield, the Grand Inquisitor's shrill, self-righteous preaching was grating on his last nerve.
Vissela hadn't offered a single practical compromise. No mention of saving the nun.
No mention of a pardon. Just that high-and-mighty, utterly hollow screeching about honor.
Negotiation 101, buddy: you need actual chips to play at the table.
The Black Princess knew what Rimuru wanted. She knew what he cared about. She offered to bury his secrets and protect the innocent bystander.
The Church? If Rimuru surrendered, Vissela couldn't guarantee his safety even if he wanted to.
The Burial Agency wasn't a dictatorship; Vissela would just drag him before a tribunal, leak his Vampiric Impulse, and trigger a massive political circus between the Lords and the Pope.
Working with Altrouge was making a deal with the King. Surrendering to Vissela was begging a middle-manager.
"Besides," Rimuru sighed, a lazy, mocking drawl entering his voice. He locked eyes with the Inquisitor. "You seem to be forgetting something. The name 'Tempest' represents a bloodline born from the union of Phantasmal Species and humans. We are literally what your Church defines as peak heresy. Tell me, Vissela… when has my family ever cared about your twisted definition of 'honor'?"
He raised his hand.
"I was planning to use you lot as bargaining chips against the Princess, but…"
….
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