Summoned by the Heretics – Even in Another World, the Zealot Who Worships Death Remains an Outcast

“Duke of Aquitaine”

As the match concluded and Sukui was giving an analysis of the battle to Horo, a man emerged from the doorway ahead and called out to them.

“Oh, so you were here.”

Duke Aquitaine’s face broke into a sudden smile, though Sukui tilted his head slightly, a bit perplexed.

He was an odd man. Dressed in loose white clothing with a high collar that obscured his mouth, his sleeves were sewn together, rendering his arms unusable. His head was hidden under a hood, and only his eyes, shut in a gentle expression of kindness, were visible.

“He’s Deacon Martir, someone akin to the right hand of Priest Mistl.”

Horo understood from his expression. They were going to suggest that he battle Deacon Martir next.

The words “so you were here” implied that he believed Deacon Martir would be able to defeat Horo.

He couldn’t stand the thought of being underestimated. Horo resolved to win overwhelmingly in the next match, using magic as well. But Sukui stepped forward quietly, standing before Horo.

“Master?”

“Duke Aquitaine, this is troublesome. While entertainment is one thing, are you not forgetting that we’re keeping Priest Mistl waiting?”

Before Horo could question Sukui’s actions, Deacon Martir interjected, expressing his disapproval to Duke Aquitaine.

“Ah, yes, you’re right.”

Seeing Sukui stand in front of Horo, Duke Aquitaine seemed to decide there was no need for a fight and agreed readily.

This essentially confirmed that Sukui thought Horo would lose to Deacon Martir in battle.

Horo wanted to demonstrate that this wasn’t true, but he hadn’t come here just to fight aimlessly.

If Sukui was stopping him, there must be a reason, and Horo convinced himself to accept it.

Moreover, Horo sensed an odd aura around Deacon Martir, one similar to Sukui’s. It was clear even to Horo that he was no ordinary man.

“If we’re keeping him waiting, we should hurry.”

Ignoring the exchange of glances and silent understandings in the room, Sukui took a step toward Deacon Martir, indicating the direction of the discussion.

“As the hero says, it was a fine bit of entertainment.”

Duke Aquitaine praised the knights as he led the way.

Deacon Martir, seemingly uninvolved in the discussion, watched the three of them disappear through the door in silence.

He had no eyes or ears—likely no tongue, either.

As they passed, Sukui discreetly verified this.

It seemed he hadn’t even fitted artificial eyes; the shape of his closed eyelids revealed empty eye sockets.

With Sukui’s sharp gaze, he could also see into the hood and confirm the lack of ears.

Moreover, whenever he spoke, his mouth and facial muscles didn’t move at all.

Perhaps it was some sort of magic, though the purpose of such a spell was unclear.

Even if he couldn’t comprehend it, acknowledging that the person before him was beyond understanding was crucial.

And then there was Priest Mistl, who commanded such a man, representing the Religion of Love.

Sukui pondered whether they should be wary.

After a short walk, the three arrived at the room where Priest Mistl was waiting.

“Excuse us.”

Duke Aquitaine opened the door, revealing a woman inside.

She was still young, with lively brown skin suggesting she was nearing thirty.

Her thick, smoky-brown hair was tied up on top of her head.

“Apologies for the wait, Priest Mistl. These are the heroes who destroyed that organization, Lord Sukui and Lord Horo.”

She was nothing like the image of a priest that they had envisioned.

Though she wore a white, pristine robe typical of the clergy, her sharp eyes assessing them gave her a more underworld vibe.

She was examining them, as if gauging their worth.

“Aah, well, well, well.”

Priest Mistl stood up, approached Sukui and Horo, and extended her hand.

“Nice to meet you. I am Priest Mistl.”

She used polite language, but her movements were far from courteous.

One arm hung loosely by her side, and her gaze lingered on the two as if appraising them.

“It’s an honor to meet you. I am Sukui Kensei, and this is Horo-san.”

“Oh, so you’re Sukui.”

Then she looked at Horo. She confirmed this as a matter of course, and without waiting for a response, she flopped back into her seat.

Duke Aquitaine, seemingly accustomed to her manner, took his seat beside her and gestured for Sukui and Horo to sit across from them.

“I’ve heard of your reputation. With Duke Aquitaine, I imagine you must have undergone some sort of test of strength.”

She added, seemingly curious about what they’d accomplished, remarking that, after all, mere knights wouldn’t be a match for them. Sukui explained the format of the trial.

“Horo-san defeated the knight captain in a one-on-one, bare-handed battle without magic.”

“Oh?”

Priest Mistl glanced at Duke Aquitaine’s expression, likely piecing together how the match unfolded.

Seeing Duke Aquitaine’s faint expression of frustration, Priest Mistl allowed herself a satisfied smile.

Then she turned her interested gaze toward Horo.

“As expected of Sukui Kensei’s partner, the hero himself. I hear you’ve shown some interest in our Religion of Love.”

“It’s just an interest.”

It seemed Priest Mistl knew of Horo’s visits to their church, and she addressed him with a hint of pleasure. Sukui, however, interjected as if to voice his dissent.

“Just interest is enough. We don’t seek strictness in religion, after all. Peace of mind, a guide for life. Though I serve religion, I believe it should exist for the people.”

Religion should not be a burden on people. Rather, it should support them.

“It’s unthinkable that faith should cause suffering to its followers. I wouldn’t object if one were to call religion a tool to be used.”

Though, of course, only if one fully understands its greatness, she added.

“No, I…”

Horo attempted to respond but found himself at a loss for words.

Being a devout follower of the Religion of Love, he wanted to refute Priest Mistl’s perspective on religion, yet felt it would be unwise to promote another faith too openly in front of Sukui.

“I feel it’s a bit unsettling to think of using religion in such a way.”

Barely managing to respond without mentioning the Religion of Love directly.

“A serious perspective. More so than me, the priest.”

As if this was a common reaction, Priest Mistl tilted her head upward, unfazed.

“Ordinary people like Duke Aquitaine and myself often find ourselves in positions of religious authority. In that sense, she’s a remarkable devotee,” Mistl said, adding, “and you as well.”

She looked up while shifting her gaze solely towards Sukui.

“I hear you worship death—not the god of death, but death itself.”

“That’s right. After all, there is no god of death,” Sukui replied as though it were obvious, yet he felt a subtle sense of unease.

What was wrong with this priest before him?

It wasn’t her being a woman, nor her youth, nor even her eccentricity.

Was it her faith?

While her view on faith was hardly commendable, it wasn’t that she lacked it; she simply saw religion differently from Sukui.

Even though her language sounded extreme, the idea that religion should serve people was hardly rare.

So what was it that made Sukui feel such unease?

He began to ponder it slowly.

“Indeed, there is no god of death, nor of life. Life and death are concepts beyond the gods themselves.”

The concepts that gods embody exist as gods in their own right.

These gods each created the human world from the concept they embody, bestowing humanity with magic corresponding to each concept.

“It’s a pitiful thing.”

Sukui muttered to himself.

An existence that neither lives nor dies, forever bound without the salvation of death.

To Sukui, it sounded like a vision of hell.

“So, you kill to grant salvation?”

“Yes. The destruction of that organization was for this purpose.”

Duke Aquitaine’s eyes widened at Sukui’s casual explanation.

Understandably so; the idea that the downfall of a notorious criminal organization wasn’t about justice or proving strength, but about offering salvation through death.

That he so calmly justified killing as an act of mercy.

A zealot.

A murderer.

Duke Aquitaine didn’t want to believe what he was hearing, but the conviction in Sukui’s words was unmistakable.

Horo was a bit uneasy with Sukui’s intense statements, but Priest Mistl showed no signs of alarm.

On the contrary, she seemed almost as though she was coming to terms with it.

“Regardless of the validity of your faith, few reach such martyrdom.”

Even as someone who serves a different deity, she spoke with a certain respect for Sukui’s spirit of devotion.

“By the way, I’ve always been curious—how do people know so much about the gods?”

Sukui shifted the conversation as if on cue, asking Priest Mistl.

“That there’s no god of death or life, for instance. I’ve never met a god, but I often hear people speak of them with great certainty.”

“Ah, our hero isn’t well-versed in religion, it seems.”

Duke Aquitaine’s initial expression of puzzlement shifted to understanding.

Given Sukui’s unique faith and his poor fit with established religions, it made sense he wouldn’t have much information.

“It’s through oracles.”

Priest Mistl responded as if it were the most obvious thing.

“Certain priests, myself included, can hear the voice of the gods through a magical artifact.”

Oracles—Sukui had heard of them.

He recalled that the oracle was what had declared the magic of the hero and the holy sword to be S-rank.

He had also heard that holy magic and profession magic were given to the hero’s allies to defeat the Demon Lord, as per an oracle.

However, he hadn’t encountered much information about oracles themselves.

Sukui tended to deliberately avoid discussions about other religions.

“Essentially, one can ask questions and receive answers from the gods. Questions about how to gain magic, how to face monsters; it’s thanks to such divine guidance that humanity has progressed.”

In this way, it’s possible to confirm that the Demon Lord spawns monsters and learn about heroes and the existence of gods.

To Sukui, it seemed remarkably generous.

Having proof of a god’s existence as a source of faith was clearly reassuring.

“Of course, more often than not, there’s no response, but to receive the gods’ counsel is a blessing.”

Sukui saw genuine gratitude in her expression, unadulterated by self-interest.

That she was thankful for the benefits granted to her and thus devoted to her faith—dismissing that as mundane would be difficult.

“It seems some, like the hero, can even communicate directly with the gods.”

“Communicate with the gods?”

Sukui thought for a moment, recalling a distant memory before his transfer.

The conversation with an entity he could only describe as an angel, who had distanced him from death and sent him to this world.

Could that have been a god?

In that moment, Sukui had not let his guard down.

It wasn’t in his nature to be distracted when facing an unfamiliar person; he could manage multiple thoughts simultaneously and wouldn’t let a fleeting memory show outwardly.

But at the precise moment he recalled that memory—

Priest Mistl faintly smiled.

“Ah.”

Seeing her expression, Sukui understood the source of his unease.

The intense discomfort he felt toward Priest Mistl.

She held no interest in their combat strength or political influence.

Why? Sukui wondered.

That was supposed to be the purpose of this meeting. Duke Aquitaine certainly thought so.

While their conversation about religion seemed like an introduction, Sukui felt a distinct interest from her.

She was interested in Sukui and Horo’s faith.

But what was her goal?

He immediately dismissed the idea that she intended to recruit them into the Religion of Love.