Mistaken for a Masked Munchkin

Saint

The Cultists' branch had been seized in an instant.

Not a trace of the congregation remained in the pitch-dark underground. The Director and every last one of his subordinates had been cleaned out.

They'd had plenty of blood on their hands. He felt nothing for any of them.

'Not many of them even looked human anymore...'

Prolonged exposure to dark mana had warped every one of them into something grotesque. Limbs that were abnormally large or shriveled small. Bodies covered in writhing tentacles. A few had fused together entirely and were crawling on all fours like animals.

Honestly, they were as disgusting as any Mutant he'd come across.

'Would anyone choose to worship the Evil God knowing they'd end up like that?'

The thought crossed his mind, but he shook it off. Devotion to a cult wasn't so different from mental contamination. Once you stepped in, you never stepped back out.

He cleared his head and got back to work.

The Director's office was splattered with blood and bits of flesh in every direction. He was combing through it systematically, turning everything inside out.

'Last Word.'

A special item that could only be obtained here, and one of the main reasons he'd hit this place at all.

'White Knight.'

The one responsible for plague among the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The most iconic Apostle. The Evil God faction's top boss.

And the Last Word was the catalyst for summoning it.

Leave it here, and the cult would use it whenever they pleased.

'To be precise, second year, first semester. Right after the final exams.'

The White Knight would descend on the Academy.

And a lot of people would die.

'The Second Calamity. White Night.'

An event that could tip straight into a bad ending.

But recovering the Last Word here could change a lot of futures.

'The Apostles of the Evil God... they need offerings, sure, but they can't be summoned without their own Last Word.'

Which meant he could skip the Second Calamity entirely if he wanted.

On top of that, there was always the option of using the Apostle himself.

Normally, the Last Word was classified as an unusable item for anyone outside the Evil God faction.

'But.'

He had a shortcut.

Bugs.

In the system's language, Windfalls.

An 'unusable' label wasn't any kind of obstacle.

'So just turn up.'

He'd already figured out exactly where to use it. Wiping the sweat off his face, he dug through the tightly packed rows of desks.

"Hff... hff..."

How was he already out of breath?

Moments like this, the body felt like a genuine liability.

E-rank stats across the board. Trash, by any measure.

'Can't even beat a goblin without bugs...'

He couldn't blame anyone for it. The one who'd set the difficulty this way was no one but his past self.

Ding!

[Difficulty: Impossible]

-Challenges you with the highest difficulty.

[Additional Option: Hellpath]

-All spawned monsters maintain a berserk state.

-Difficulty of all hostile factions increases by 300%.

-All of the player's base stats are fixed at grade E.

All stats locked at E-rank.

Don't even dream of raising them. That was the deal.

'Shame, really.'

He'd scraped through every hardship so far by leaning on bugs. But relying on bugs alone meant hitting walls just as often. A stamina shortfall slowing him down. An agility deficit costing him reaction time. In those moments, the gaps showed.

'The Red Knight was like that. Professor Glinbert too. Neither of them was someone bugs could've subdued.'

And it wasn't just those two.

Plenty more ahead that bugs simply wouldn't touch. He couldn't go around digging traps every time, or dragging in another calamity to do his dirty work.

"...Haah."

Bugs were powerful enough on their own. Add even a bit of base stats to that, and the synergy would be something else entirely.

There was actually a truckload of bugs he couldn't use at all because his body wouldn't cooperate.

"Come on... no point griping about things I can't change."

The sigh came out rough, like he was hacking something loose.

Still rummaging through the lab, he spotted something tucked away in the corner. A safe, shoved off by itself into an out-of-the-way spot.

"Is this it?"

He didn't hesitate. The scythe came out.

Clang!

"Engage. Awl."

Thud!

The blade deflected off, then reversed and bit in deep. He wrenched it into the lock and pried the lid clean off.

"Ngh...!"

Crack, crack-crack!

The inside of the safe lay bare.

For something that size, the contents were sparse. Just a single dust-covered old tome, sitting alone.

"Bingo."

He picked it up.

Ding!

[Unobtainable item 'White Knight's Last Word' obtained.]

Secured.

Out of curiosity he cracked the cover. Strange characters filled the pages, line after line, in no language he could read. Not anything a normal person could decipher.

'Have to look at this more carefully later.'

He slipped the tome into his robe.

That wrapped up his business in the lab. Rolling the stiffness out of his shoulders, he stepped out of the Director's office.

Ding!

A chime, completely out of nowhere.

He pulled up the screen. A quest completion notification was waiting.

[Sub Quest cleared!]

-Title: Finish What You Started!

-Objective: Apprehend the informant hiding within Grandia Academy.

[Through a remarkable display of ingenuity, you have apprehended the informant!]

-A reward will be provided. Click to confirm.

"Oh."

The quest that had been sitting in pending status was now marked complete.

The faculty must have finished processing the detainment.

Grateful for the quick turnaround, he clicked the screen as prompted.

'The reward for this one was listed as... a clue about ■■■, wasn't it.'

He tilted his head.

Censored characters.

They'd appeared in his own status window too.

―――

[Status Window]

Name: Viktor

Title: Collector of Windfalls

Items equipped: Evil God's Mask, Evil God's Robe, A Very Discreet Necktie

Active set effect: The World as ■■■ Sees It.

.

.

Titles held: Collector of Windfalls, Saint, Executioner

―――

Seeing text censored like that was new to him.

He'd never encountered it in all his time playing the original game, either.

Maybe he didn't know this world as completely as he'd assumed.

Ding!

His outstretched finger pressed down on the screen.

The moment he did, the message twisted and convulsed.

[ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERROR] [ERR͉̩͈͖̣̟͇̩̳͎̫̬̈́͒̀̀̉̀̄͑͑O̝̤̘̟̝̭̜͉̿̽͋͗̂R̝̮͙̬̙͎̮̮͖̦̀͒̉͛̃̎̃]̝̜̖͉͖̭͇͈̤̓̈̄̉̇̑̒ [̖̖̠̟̊̓̿̋̈̆̒E̤̤͉̤̗͚̬̯̰̟̅͗̿͊R̭͉̰̣͙̣̦̳̬̓̄̀̏̌͊̽̀̋͊R͎̣͚͍̋͂̈́̑̃͐̀Ọ̙̞̩̭͇̘͕͎͈̒̿͑̓͋͌R͓̘̯͔̞̋̑̂̂]͙̪̘̯͕̒͌̂̍̀̑̂ [͉̫̖̱̗̳̟͔͓͐̂̂͗́E̲͓̲̭̤͓̥̪̥̠͈̠̍̆̋̍͆͆̇̉̈̚R̙̯̰̗̭͗́͐̊͌̐͐̚R̥͍̮̖͙̘͚̯̥͈͗̃̔̉̾̌̍̆̑̉Ȍ̜̭͉̪̱̯͐͌̈́̒͂͆̆̉R͖͎̠̭͖̦͇̟̈̂͒̔̒̉̎̀͒̾́]̗̦̟̰͇̘̞̰̭͌͊͂̎̈̄ [͚̮̥̱̣̄̋̓̅͐̒͗̚È̬̱͙̯͈̈̿̎͑̓̀̾̓͗̅R̳͉͚̤͋̅͌͌̒͗̚R̘̙̣̥̭̥̣̳̘̪̥͛͐̓̈͌͑̽̋̄̀̈Ò͔̟̮̟̣̘̤̘̦̒̀͌̈̿́̅̂̇̈R̮͓͔̠͑̈́̓͋̂]̤̳̮͇̰̲̥̬̊̀̓̾̽͊̐̎̀̀ [͖̫͚̜̉̊̏̐͑̑̍̐͛E̘̦̳̞̮͉̞̓̒̈̍̐͊̚R̗͖̪̰̖̝͓̗̯̫̓̓́̂̀̔R̙̲͖͎͎̞̣̠̦̖͚͐́̃̊̐͂̓̈́̎̂̀Õ̱̫̞̣̦̮̤͎̥̇̓̽͐ͅR̰͚̬̘͓͙̯͓̘͇̥̥͑̔̂͛̀̓̔̐̎̑̀͑]̙̗̣̗͎̮͚̠̖̱̟̀̍̎͌͋̀̆ [̝̯̩̬̣̫͍͍̝̎͛͂͌̉E̳͕̖͇̥͈̪͚̿̇̓̚R̗̫̞̰̩̜͔̭͍̱͎͊͋͑͋͊̔̏̀͌̑Ŕ̦̫͈͚̒̀̊͒Ȯ͇̬̭̖͓̥͈̎̏̒R͚̲̝̤̘̙͈͇̆͆̆̃͒̅̐̐]͎̭͍͙͔̩̙̥̖̝̎̅̑̉̓̿ [͍͔̜̖͉̫̊̔̀͛̏ͅE̯͔̜͎̦̰͕̠̞̭͈͕̎̊͆̏Ř̰̲̰͎̠͇̫͙͕̫͙̌̓͗̏R͔̥̖̬̖͓̰͚̭̉̐̍̄̔̆̽͂ͅO̰͉̝̞̳̤̬̬͈͚̗͂̈́̾̈͒̄͐͌̓̊̍̏R̫͙͇̲̘̬̜͒̈́̒̿̐́̅̈́̑̆̎]̦̲̟̭̀̌̃͊̏̒́ [̫̳̦̙̞̪̖̠̩̠̿́̉̃͆ͅẸ̤͖̖̈̀̿͊̊̒͋̅̅́̏̐R̪̤̳̟͎̤̐̑̓͂́̋̎̉͂ͅR͕͓̮͉͓̲͓͈̳͈̘̀̀̄͌̎͋O̗̩̥͎̝̝̟̭̔́̍̂̒͐ͅṚ̩̱͉͌̂͑̊̓͊̆̈]̜͈̜̦̫͈̣̪̠̗͙̩̽̽̔̐͂̿͌̄͐ [͈̯̲̣̦͇͍̰͇̳̯͒̇̿̉̀̑̃E̱̭̱͕̘͓͖̘͉͊̇̓͒̓́̏͋̂ͅR̤̥̩̣̪̯̫̟̖̙͐̌̆̅̐ͅR͔͚̗͕̈́͋̃̿̚O̲̤͓̭̫̫̩̍́̏̓͋͑̔̀͋R̳͉͍̮̥͕͊́́́̀͂̄̄̔]͇̮͕̠̰̣̙̳̮̱̬͐̈̌͗͆͆̅͒̇̾

"...?!"

The screen went pitch black.

He flinched.

"......"

It flickered for a long moment, then went dark. When he brought the status window back up, everything had returned to normal.

As if the whole thing had been a momentary hallucination.

'...What was that.'

A clue about ■■■.

What the system had produced was nothing but a few meaningless questions.

He stood in the corridor, motionless, staring at the status window.

'What was it trying to say.'

Remember, it had said.

Remember what?

Those questions that meant nothing to him?

Or something he'd actually forgotten?

He turned it over and over, but no answer came.

'Strange.'

A low sound slipped between his lips.

A peculiar unease lingered.

But he couldn't stay here brooding over it. Carmilla had gone ahead to check on the survivors, and she'd be waiting.

'Leave this for later.'

He steadied himself and started walking again.

Then the status window chimed once more.

Ding!

[Tip. Activate the title 'Saint.']

Activate the title Saint.

It was the one he'd earned after dismantling the New Kingdom Vampires' Human Ranch. Unlike his other titles, there'd been no visible benefit listed when it was active. He'd tried wearing it for a few days and noticed nothing different. So he'd written it off as a decorative title, a label with no real substance, and gone back to keeping Collector of Windfalls active at all times. Titles slotted in one at a time, after all.

'Saint...?'

Still skeptical, he followed the system's suggestion anyway. It wouldn't give him pointless advice.

"Hmm..."

Nothing changed.

His status window updated to show [Title: Saint]. That was it. He tried closing and reopening the screen. Still nothing.

'It can't be entirely pointless.'

His fingers tapped idly at the mask.

Strange messages all day. Not a question he was going to solve right now.

He left the title equipped and crossed the long corridor.

'For now, just finish this quest...'

Thirty minutes. That's how long it took to find out what the system had been trying to tell him.

***

While he'd been tearing through the Director's office, he'd asked Carmilla to handle the isolation cells.

The isolation cells were where the test subjects were kept, one to a cage. People kidnapped by the Cultists and put through god knows what.

Those already dead were beyond saving. But for whoever was still breathing, he wanted to do what he could.

"Viktor. These are all the survivors remaining. Twenty in total. Fortunately, some hadn't been experimented on yet, and the rest had only been through basic interrogation."

"None at all beyond that?"

"There are about ten more, but... their state isn't normal. Some have already begun to mutate, and others won't regain consciousness, whether from a broken mind or something else."

"I'll look at them too. There's a chance I can handle it the same way as before."

"Indeed... if Ghoulification could be reversed, dark mana shouldn't be any different. For now, all survivors have been left in their isolation cells as they were. I did as you asked and told them the Slayers had come to rescue them."

Twenty survivors.

Ten more contaminated by dark mana.

Word had already been passed to the living through Carmilla. He'd settled them down the same way as the Human Ranch, the same routine, the same reassurances.

And with that came the familiar names again. Slayers. Garulik. Manre.

Carmilla stood nearby, a red mask covering her face.

"Good work."

"It was nothing."

He gave the girl's head a light pat. By now this kind of contact had become routine. Carmilla didn't push him away. She stayed still and let it happen, silver hair spilling through his fingers, her head tilting faintly with each stroke.

"I'll take it from here."

He moved past Carmilla and walked up to the cells.

Cells was generous. They were barely wider than metal cages.

Inside one stood a woman, hollow-eyed and haggard. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying.

"Let's get you out."

He spread his palm flat.

"Engage. Saw."

Squirm.

The jet-black gauntlet shifted into the shape of a saw blade. He ran it along the thick iron bars a few times and tore the cage open.

"Come on out. Garulik, deputy commander of the Slayers, is here to rescue you."

"Sob, hh... th-thank you. Thank you..."

She broke into tears and came toward him. She took the hand he offered and stepped carefully out of the cage.

He was about to pass her off to Carmilla when,

Ding!

The status window chimed, noisier than it had been all day.

But this notification stopped him cold.

[You have saved another person's life!]

[Your selflessness and dedication shine bright.]

[The special ability of the active title 'Saint' activates.]

Light wrapped around him all at once.

Even through the flashing screen, the status window kept updating. The line where the title was listed was filling up with text, row after row appearing in rapid succession.

―――

[Status Window]

Name: Viktor

Title: Saint

Items equipped: Evil God's Mask, Evil God's Robe

Active set effect: The World as ■■■ Sees It.

.

.

[Saint]

-> Saving another person's life accumulates Merit Points.

-> Merit Points can be used to improve the user's base stats.

(This title's special ability takes priority over all other restrictions within the system.)

―――

'...What.'

The screen was rolling past faster than he could follow.

Then another message appeared.

[Merit Points will be used automatically.]

-Grade of base stat 'Stamina' will be improved.

-50 out of 50 acquired Merit Points will be consumed.

Ding!

[Base Stats]

Stamina: E -> E+

Strength: E

Agility: E

Mana Sensitivity: E

Ding!

[Base stat 'Stamina' has improved from E to E+.]

[Merit Points remaining: 0p]

"...What... is this."

He stared at the screen, stunned into stillness.

In the span of a breath, the grade had climbed on its own.

'Base stats...'

An E-rank body, across the board.

A setting that had locked his base stats at their lowest.

Something that had never budged no matter how much he trained.

'That... just broke open.'

He stood there, staring.

The word Saint, stamped right there under his own name.

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