The Hunted Regressor: My Heretic Saint System-Chapter 47: Stop Lying!

The forest clearing was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the wheezing breaths of Silas. The poor bastard lay propped up against a log, his limbs bent at angles that defied anatomy thanks to Ignotus’s "Bone Breaking Theory."

He was left barely conscious, floating in a haze of agony.

Ignotus sat cross-legged right next to him, poking Silas’s shoulder with a stick.

"So... about this mysterious Death Demon. Did it have a cool robe? Something you’d commonly see in the Third Stratum, or no? I feel like those types always wear the best fabrics."

Silas groaned, his eyes rolling back.

’Hm. So I can’t even infer answers from his expression? His eyes didn’t get stuck like that before... Does that mean that I was getting close, and the Demon is from the Second Stratum?’

He began to theorize from the little that he had, but—

Swish. Swish. Swish.

The air suddenly whistled.

Without looking back, Ignotus reached out his hand, grabbed the collar of Silas’s vest, and yanked him towards the sound’s source.

Chuck. Chuck. Chuck...

Three throwing knives buried themselves deep into Silas’s back.

"HAGHHHH—!"

The traitor’s eyes shot wide open for a second, filled with shock, before the light faded from them forever. Meanwhile, Ignotus sighed, lowering the corpse back to the ground.

"I don’t understand."

He pulled one of the knives out of Silas’s ribcage and inspected it.

"Why did you kill your friend like that, hm?"

Casually, he tossed the knife away.

"I went through all the trouble of saving his life, and you just ruin my hard work."

Ignotus looked over at the mercenaries, where one of them—a wiry man with shifty eyes—was standing with his arm still extended.

He had clearly aimed for Ignotus, hoping to take him out while he was distracted.

"Do your people not know how to aim?"

Ignotus asked Gorm.

"He missed me by a mile.... He hit the meat shield perfectly, though. Solid grouping, I’d say."

Gorm, who was sitting nearby nursing his own injuries, looked at the knife-thrower with a gaze that could melt steel.

"You..."

Indeed, he was beyond enraged.

"You attacked the Stranger while we were weak? Just what did you hope to gain from this?! Even if you succeeded, then what? We’d still have seven guards to fight! I understand that it was to avenge Silas, but was this the best you could come up with, you dumb goat?!"

The knife-thrower had finally realized his mistake. He realized that not only had he failed at doing something incredibly stupid and not at all thought through, but he had also pissed off the scariest person in the clearing, Ignotus.

As well as the angriest person in the clearing, Gorm.

His dumb knees buckled, and his dumb self dropped to the ground, shaking.

"I... I just wanted to free us! I thought that if he died—"

"You don’t think."

Ignotus didn’t let him finish and glanced at Felix.

"Spoon, do what you’re best at."

The butler was standing by the fire, holding a ladle.

He met Ignotus’s eyes and straightened his back.

By now, he knew the drill and knew his purpose.

"I shall stomp him with pleasure!"

Felix dropped the ladle and sprinted forward.

The guards, eager to vent their frustration after a long night of fighting, joined the charge.

What followed was a very one-sided beatdown.

Thud. Crack. Whack!

"Take this and this!"

Felix yelled, repeatedly kicking the man in the shin.

"That’s for the poor etiquette of throwing my cutlery!"

After a solid minute of group violence, the knife-thrower was curled into a ball, groaning and bleeding into the dirt, half-dead, and bruised from head to toe.

Ignotus raised a hand.

"Okay, please take a break."

The stomping stopped instantly.

Ignotus walked over to Gorm, looking solemn.

"Hm, I’m sorry for this, Gorm. I know they meant a lot to you, despite their stupidity. So to placate the anger you’re undoubtedly feeling right now, how about this? Let’s take a moment to mourn your subordinate. Silas, I mean. Not the guy on the ground; he’s just lumpy."

Gorm spat at his own feet.

"He’s not my subordinate any longer... neither of these bastards are! One sold us out for power, and the other has no honor!"

Ignotus chuckled while shaking his head and turned his gaze towards the remaining three mercenaries, who were now trembling against the tree.

"Please..."

Ignotus placed a hand over his heart.

"A moment of silence."

"..."

"..."

"..."

They stared at him, confused.

Was he serious? He’d just used the guy as a shield.

Noticing their hesitation, Ignotus’s expression darkened.

He slowly reached for the knife on the ground, the metal glinting slightly as he pulled it up.

"I said, let’s take a—"

"WE’LL DO IT!"

The mercenaries shrieked in unison, squeezed their eyes shut, and bowed their heads so fast they almost gave themselves whiplash.

"That’s the spirit."

Ignotus hummed, while everyone else remained silent.

Yes, he ’hummed...’ that wasn’t at all how one took a moment of silence for someone, but no one really dared to say anything during these passing seconds that felt much, much longer.

"You can open your eyes now."

They immediately followed his command, looking absolutely terrified.

"It’s fine."

Ignotus waved his hand dismissively.

"There’s no need to mourn him, really. He went to a better place, right?"

"Of course he did!"

One mercenary agreed quickly.

"Yes! A much better place!"

The other nodded...

"No, the Hell he did."

Only for Ignotus to shut them down.

"Someone who betrayed people like him is going to Heaven?"

They stared at him in silence, very confused by the sudden U-turn.

"A man who sold out his friends for a promise of power? No way."

He scoffed.

"He’s definitely getting a good roasting in Hell right now. Probably getting poked by pitchforks, too. He can’t go to Heaven."

"..."

"..."

"..."

They kept staring in silence.

That was the only thing they could do.

They didn’t know what to say; if they agreed, they were insulting their dead friend. If they disagreed, that knife might come out and greet them.

"You agree with me, don’t you?"

Ignotus pressed, tilting his head.

"Y-Yes, Stranger!"

"No doubt, none!"

"Hell. He’s definitely in Hell!"

Ignotus sighed, rubbing his temples.

He looked genuinely disappointed in them.

"Why are you all so ignorant, though? Is it because you live in some slum? Is it the water?"

"Hey!"

Gorm protested weakly.

"Why do you have to say that?"

"Oh, this isn’t about whether you received an education or not..."

Ignotus clarified while beginning to pace back and forth in front of them.

"I don’t care if you can’t read. I mean, common sense. Street smarts. You know?"

Gorm sighed, looking defeated, while his men kept exchanging nervous glances.

"We’re mercenaries because we’re ignorant."

And seeing that his people were too scared to speak, Gorm had replied first.

"We know how to swing axes, not to debate the sciences or whatever."

Ignotus shook his head.

"Ignorance has nothing to do with being mercenaries. I was a mercenary myself, so I would know."

Felix raised a brow so high it disappeared into his hairline.

’Since when?! You’re barely seventeen, and you grew up in a mansion!’

Once more, the butler couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

’Stop lying, dammit!’