Chapter 129: The executioner

"You..." Merle whispered, his voice trembling so hard the coffee in his cup rippled. "How much do you know?"

"Enough to be scared," I replied, taking a slow sip of my own drink. "And enough to know that hiding is no longer an option."

Merle’s hands shook as he set the cup down. He stared at me with wide, fearful eyes.

"How... did you know that? You said you weren’t related to the Holy Empire...!"

’Of course I know. I played this world.’

The Lumeveil researchers were arrogant bastards. In their quest for infinite energy, they tried to pierce the veil between worlds to siphon power from the Demon Realm. They wanted to understand the mechanics of summoning.

But tampering with dimensional magic comes with a price. The walls of reality cracked.

Those cracks became the first Dungeons.

The saying "Curiosity killed the cat" was proven on a continental scale. The cat died, and it took half the world with it.

"Well, I know many things," I said cryptically. "You don’t need to know

how

I know. Let me be clear. I bear you no grudge, Merle. I have no intention of exposing your past to the Inquisition."

I leaned forward.

"I only want to end the disaster that swallowed the greatest empire in human history and now threatens to swallow this one. Will you help me?"

I didn’t know the specifics of how this old man spent his youth. How he rose to become a Manager at the institute, how he escaped the collapse, or how he ended up running a pawn shop in the Aurelian slums.

His life must’ve been as tumultuous as the deep wrinkles etched into his face.

But if he had any conscience left—if he truly loved his granddaughter—he’d help me.

"Mr. Lucien..." Merle rubbed his face with weary hands. "Do you really have a way? A way to erase this... Original Sin?"

"Of course," I lied smoothly. "It’s a distant goal for now, but the path exists."

In truth, Kael would do it. The Protagonist was destined to close the rifts and seal the Demon Realm. My job was just to make sure he survived long enough to do it.

Merle looked at me for a long time. He seemed to be weighing the weight of his guilt against the spark of hope I offered.

"If I invest the rest of my life in you... will it work?"

"Invest or not, I’ll make it happen," I said with absolute conviction. "It’ll take time. Maybe you’ll meet the real Holy Executioner you’re so afraid of before then."

"He would kill me on sight," Merle muttered darkly.

I sensed a strange thread in the old man’s words. A resignation.

"...Didn’t you ask if

I

was the Executioner earlier?"

"I came to this meeting prepared to die," Merle admitted, his voice hollow. "I thought you were him. I came to beg for time—just enough to say goodbye to Irina."

The relationship between the Lumeveil Institute and the Executioners wasn’t just bad—it was a blood feud. One brought doom upon the world; the other existed solely to slaughter those responsible.

"I’d have no regrets dying," Merle continued, staring at his hands. "I’m sorry to Irina, but... it’s an atonement I should’ve faced decades ago."

There seemed to be a deeper story tangled in him, a survivor’s guilt that had festered for fifty years.

"But..." Merle looked up, his eyes burning with a new light. "If there’s a way to wash away the Original Sin... to fix what we broke... I can’t die yet."

That longing became my trust. He wasn’t helping me for money or power. He was helping me for redemption.

"Then we’re partners," I said, extending my hand.

"Indeed."

Merle shook it. His grip was surprisingly strong for an old man.

That was enough. Now, I needed to extract the lore.

"Who is the Executioner?" I asked suddenly.

Dr. Eldric in Fern Kingdom, Instructor Samantha, and even Kael—all had mistaken my fighting style for this "Holy Assassin" or "Executioner." Who were they? And why did using a gun make everyone assume I was a mythical assassin?

"I don’t know how much you know," Merle began, leaning back. "But the Lumeveil Dimension Research Institute had the full support of the Imperial Family. Its purpose wasn’t just energy. It was to correct past mistakes."

"History revision?"

"Correct. Time magic. A sensitive topic. Regardless of research progress, there were factions debating whether it was morally right to rewrite the timeline. The risks were catastrophic. And if anything went wrong... well, you see the result."

"Were the opposition all killed?"

"Yes. Purged. With the Emperor allied with the Researchers, nothing was impossible."

Merle’s face twisted in disgust.

"Some might think killing was fine since they could just ’revive’ the victims by changing the past later. It was madness. With no moral restraints, the Lumeveil Empire raised taxes and poured all resources into the Institute. You can’t imagine how much wealth was consumed."

Merle reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out an old, crumbling scroll. He unfurled it on the table.

It depicted a crest: Two Crossed Guns, with a hooded figure standing behind them like a wraith.

"But the anti-research faction... the survivors of the purge... they swore to stop the research at any cost. That is the Executioner. Their precursor."

"Precursor? So it’s different now?"

"Before the Executioners could come for our heads, the War with the Demons broke out. The Holy Empire sacrificed nearly everything to hold back the tide. Now, they reportedly travel the continent, extinguishing the Lumeveil Empire’s lingering evils—people like me."

Merle sighed.

"Above all, what was once a plural term is now singular."

"Only one survived?"

"Yes. It was a catastrophic disaster. That person..."

Merle’s recollection carried a hint of fear mixed with reverence.

"The Executioner of the Church. The First and Last Gun Master. The creator of the Divine Bullet."

****

The Imperial Academy wasn’t always peaceful, but with the continent’s elites gathered in one place, there were few reckless students like in regular schools.

No cutting in line. No whining for more food. No vulgar brawls.

There was the infamous "trash," Lucien Ashborne, but recently, even he had become... complicated. Justice prevailed, or so the Four Great Ducal Families claimed.

Anyway, for the majority of the students, life went on.

[Spring Dining Hall]

"What’s for lunch today?" "Hmm, maybe a salmon salad." "Then I’ll have a chicken salad? The chef said the dressing is imported from the South." "Eek, sounds good!"

The Spring Dining Hall, an establishment especially popular with female cadets, was the epitome of elegance and grace. Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, illuminating tables set with silver cutlery and fresh flowers.

Over half the Academy’s cadets were nobles, royalty, or imperial kin. Even the rest were often heirs of prominent merchant guilds.

Among them were ’special existences’ who always drew attention.

"Oh my, look. Lady Elisha is there." "The Ravenscroft Heiress? Really! I haven’t seen her much lately since she’s been with the other Ducal heirs."

Elisha Ignis Ravenscroft sat gracefully near the window, her posture straight as a rod. She cut her steak with elegant, practiced motions. Every action was like the wingbeat of a swan—effortless on the surface, disciplined underneath.

"Shall we go greet her?" "Yes, let’s!"

Several cadets approached Elisha. The Lady accepted all their salutations with poise and a polite nod, but her violet eyes were distant. Few were close enough to actually join her table.

"Cadet Elisha! It’s been a while!" "Cadet Elisha, good to see you."

However, two ladies naturally slid into the empty seats opposite her.

"Cadet Clara, Cadet Elena. Nice to see you."

Clara von Marigold, with her short pink twin-tails, exuded a lively charm that added to her wholesome appeal. Elisha liked this side of her—it was uncomplicated.

"Cadet Clara, is Marquis Marigold well? I heard his new venture with the Northern Trade Route was a big success."

"Haha, yep! It was with your family, the Ravenscroft, so of course it succeeded!"

"Hehe, thank you. Both of you. Oh... and be careful. You know? The news is full of serial killer stories in the capital."

"Oh, right! I saw that!" Clara chirped. "Me too... it’s scary," Elena whispered.

Elisha was genuinely worried about these two. One was a high-profile target for ransom, the other was a defenseless commoner.

"Everyone, go home early. Especially you, Cadet Elena. I feel like you’d scream in that gentle tone even if someone grabbed you."

At her concerned advice, the two ladies giggled. Clara waved her hand dismissively.

"It’s fine! Elena and I use the Teleport Gate to go straight home!"

Elena nodded slowly. "Yes... straight home."

Elisha gave an awkward smile.

"Haha, right. You both have gate privileges. Then you’re safe. Still, just in case, Cadet Clara, please look after Cadet Elena."

"Heh! Of course! Leave it to me, Cadet Elisha! I’m her guardian knight!"

"Thank you for looking out for me," Elena smiled sweetly.

Patting Elena’s back, Clara lowered her voice and whispered to Elisha.

"Be careful too, Cadet Elisha! You’re in the same class as that trash Lucien Ashborne, right? I heard he’s creepy."

"Ah..."

"...It’s fine. He might not be that bad. No, he

is

a jerk, but... he’s gotten a bit more... competent."

"What?! That Lucien Ashborne?!"

"Just a little. He’s still arrogant... Ahem, never mind. We’re working on this search together, and... he’s gotten better in many ways. So please don’t badmouth him too much."

Clara blinked, surprised by the defense.

"If Lady Elisha says so, alright!"

Elisha smiled, feeling a weight lift from her heart. She stood up, smoothing her skirt.

"I’ll head out then. Enjoy your meals, ladies."

"No dessert?"

"As I said, I’m a bit busy. Bye."

Elisha left the dining hall, her footsteps clicking away.