"Do you even understand what you've done?!"
"Do you know how many innocent people will be taken away by the Inquisition because of your decision?!"
The village chief ignored the silver-haired girl's warning.
Instead, he turned his gaze—burning with hatred—toward Steven, lashing out at him.
This entire disaster had started because of him, yet here he was, standing off to the side, acting like a mere spectator?!
Perhaps it was Steven's mocking attitude that enraged him.
Or maybe it was the fact that his carefully laid plans had just crumbled in an instant.
Either way, at this moment, the old man hated Steven even more than the Inquisition girl beside him.
But Steven did not care.
"The way you're talking… it's like I was supposed to listen to you."
His tone was mockingly casual.
"Whether I get caught or not is my business."
"And if other people get dragged into this— isn't that because you all did something shady in the first place?"
Then, his lips curled into a sneer.
"Or what—were you hoping I'd feel guilty?"
"That you could emotionally blackmail me?"
His voice dripped with amusement, but his eyes were ice-cold.
If what the village chief said was true, then his arrest would indeed lead to a full-scale investigation of the village, which would, inevitably, result in many people being taken away.
But here's the thing, even if he wasn't here, it's not like this village was innocent to begin with.
What, were they going to pretend the whole Church of the Deep situation didn't exist?
Emotional blackmail only worked on people who cared.
And when it came to cults, Steven couldn't care less.
"Save your breath."
"The more you talk, the more suspicious you seem."
He smirked.
"Maybe you should take a page from our little Inquisition friend over there and try proving yourself with actions instead."
With a grin, Steven turned to the petite silver-haired girl, then casually gestured toward the village chief.
"Hey, you know what?"
"I've always had a bad feeling about that old Biden geezer."
"I think I'd like to switch sides—sign me up as a witness against him!"
His words were downright incendiary, making the village chief shake with rage.
Meanwhile, the Inquisition girl—who had initially been listening to gather useful information, was now staring at Steven with visible confusion.
What the hell was wrong with this Ægir?!
She could understand not panicking, after all, the Inquisition wasn't some cruel, unreasonable force.
But this guy?
He wasn't just calm.
He was actively egging people on!
He really didn't fear the Inquisition at all?
"What are you looking at me for?"
Steven shrugged.
Then, with a completely serious expression—
"Go cut him down."
"He's obviously stalling for time—who knows when he'll try to run?"
And just like that, his joke turned into reality.
The moment the Inquisition girl glanced at Steven, the "grief-stricken" old man bolted.
Despite his walking stick and apparent frailty, he moved like a dog that had just seen a ghost.
And as if on cue, another group of villagers poured out from the surrounding houses, forming a human wall to block the girl's pursuit.
"See?"
Steven grinned.
"Told you he'd run."
"Would you shut up already?!"
For the first time, the Inquisition girl snapped at him.
Her patience finally ran out.
"You are still a suspect, you know! Keep talking and I'll have to take some special measures against you!"
With that, she turned away from Steven and once again, raised her weapon.
This time, pointing it at the new group of villagers blocking her path.
She wasn't foolish enough to let the village chief escape just because of a few sarcastic remarks from Steven.
Letting him go had been intentional—a chance to see if he would lead them to someone else.
But that didn't mean she had the patience to tolerate Steven's endless fire-stoking comments.
Her anger?
Yeah, it was very real.
How could someone's mouth be this insufferable?
Had he been locked up in solitary confinement for centuries or something?!
"You can't seriously be this talkative—"
"Does the Inquisition punish people just for speaking?"
Steven gave her an innocent shrug.
Sure, he was willing to be taken in, but that didn't mean he had to obediently follow all of her orders.
"Would you die if you shut up for one second?!"
The white-haired girl clenched her weapon so tightly that she nearly crushed the handle.
She had been knocking out villagers with just enough restraint to keep them alive, but Steven's constant chatter was making her seriously reconsider her self-control.
"Nope," Steven grinned.
"I'd go insane otherwise."
And he looked completely unapologetic about it.
But then, in the blink of an eye, his playful grin vanished.
A long sword appeared in his hand and without hesitation, he slashed behind him.
Blood spurted into the air.
A pair of severed hands fell to the ground, still twitching.
A wretched scream tore through the night.
A dark figure stumbled out of the shadows, revealing the village chief.
The same village chief who was supposed to have already fled.
Even Steven was caught off guard for a moment, but then, realization dawned.
And it all clicked into place.
"So that's why you wanted me to run."
His voice was eerily calm.
"It wasn't to protect the village from the Inquisition's investigation—"
"It was for her, wasn't it?"
His grip on the sword tightened.
"Let me guess."
"The real answer to the question I asked you earlier… was also about her, wasn't it?"
He flicked his sword, and the remaining blood splattered onto the ground.
His expression had lost all traces of amusement.
If they had been targeting Gladiia from the start, then everything else suddenly made sense.
Them being suspiciously willing to host two Ægirs—
The subtle manipulations to make the village seem safe—
The conveniently timed bits of "accidental" information that built trust—
The deliberate attempts to make him distrust the Inquisition—
It had all been a carefully crafted setup.
Not to trap him.
But to lull him into letting down his guard, so they could get to Gladiia.
Too bad for them, they had picked the wrong target.
Steven hadn't been smart enough to see through their tricks, but he didn't need to be.
Because while he had missed the village chief sneaking up, he hadn't missed the slow-moving red dot in the upper right corner of his field of vision.