"You hid your fangs quite well at the Academy, Cadet Lucien," Rumina murmured, letting the silence stretch before delivering the killing blow. "Or would you prefer I address you by the title my Intelligence network has been chasing? The Executioner?"
’Here we go again,’ I sighed internally, suppressing the urge to rub my pounding temples.
"I don’t know what you are implying, Your Highness," I replied, keeping my voice perfectly even despite the exhaustion weighing down my bones. "I have said it from the start, and I will say it again—I have absolutely no relations with the fallen Holy Empire."
Rumina let out a rich, echoing laugh. It wasn’t a laugh of amusent; it was the sound of a predator cornering its prey.
"Are you truly still sticking to that tired story, Cadet? Even after the undeniable spectacle you put on over the last few days?" Rumina paced slowly toward the foot of the bed, her amber eyes gleaming. "Do you think no one noticed that sothing was fundantally wrong with you?"
"I am simply a good marksman, Your Highness."
"Do not insult my intelligence," Rumina countered sharply. "No one ’one-shots’ monsters that even high-grade enchanted arrows cannot pierce. Let alone with bullets, which the rest of the continent abandoned as re toys decades ago. If firearms possessed that much raw, penetrative power, the Imperial Army wouldn’t be using swords and bows."
She leaned closer, her gaze pinning down. "According to the Empire’s deepest hidden records, only the Holy Assassins and the Executioners of the old world wielded such power. Your bullets were coated with mild, but undeniable, Divinity."
Before I could formulate a counter-argunt, the smaller figure near the door finally spoke.
"And what you perford a day ago... can you really call that a fluke of marksmanship?" Celestia asked, her voice quiet but ringing with analytical clarity.
The youngest princess stepped out from the shadows of her heavy white hood. Her ice-blue eyes were fixed on , analyzing every micro-expression on my face.
"You could easily explain the sudden manipulation of the earth—the bedrock spikes and the defensive wall—to be the hidden ability of a lost artifact," Celestia continued, her sharp mind piecing the puzzle together flawlessly. "But what about the blinding holy light? What about the absolute Divinity emanating from those spikes that burned the monsters’ corruption to ash?"
I stared at the two royal sisters, my mind racing to find a plausible excuse that wouldn’t end with being dragged to the Capital’s interrogation dungeons.
"Would you believe ," I started slowly, "if I said that the holy light was also just the localized effect of the artifact?"
Rumina chuckled, a sly, victorious sound. "Of course I would believe that. No mortal can unleash Divinity to such an apocalyptic extent without the aid of a Supre Holy Artifact."
I felt a brief wave of relief. Good. They bought it. But then Celestia tilted her head, delivering the killing blow to my alibi.
"However, that only brings us to another, far more dangerous question," Celestia said softly. "How did you get your hands on a Divine Artifact? And more importantly... how are you able to unleash its power?"
My breath hitched slightly.
"You do know the basic laws of ancient magical theory, don’t you, Cadet Lucien?" Celestia asked, her eyes narrowing. "You cannot activate a holy artifact if you do not possess holy mana yourself."
Rumina nodded in agreent, her arms crossed. "Exactly. That is why, even though the Empire has hoarded dozens of holy relics—so insignificant, so supposedly world-shaking—over the past century, they sit gathering dust in the royal vaults. At the end of the day, they are just pretty historical paperweights. No one in the modern era can use them because no one possesses the Divine Force required to wake them up."
Rumina smiled, her tallic eyes flashing. "Except for you."
I froze.
So, did I just hit a brick wall? my mind raced frantically.
How the hell was I supposed to explain this to them? Could I tell them that I can use the divine artifacts because I have a literal video ga System implanted in my soul that grants Divine Force? Or should I tell them I am not actually from this world at all—that I was brought here by a god who spilled a soda on my keyboard to save their universe from a demonic apocalypse, and I even have a glowing welco letter from him to prove it?
I let out a long, silent exhale.
It would be so easy to just nod, agree with their deductions, and accept the title of the ’Holy Executioner.’ It would instantly explain away all my abnormal powers and grant a terrifying layer of political protection.
But I couldn’t do that. Because I wasn’t the Executioner.
If I agreed to the title now, and later the real one popped up, I would be entirely screwed. Thanks to my knowledge of ga’s lore, I knew for an absolute fact that the real Executioner—the genuine, terrifying last survivor of the Holy Empire—was still out there wandering the continent. He was scheduled to show up in the middle of the Academy’s second year.
If I stole his identity and drew the central Church’s aggro, the real Executioner would undoubtedly hunt down and kill for impersonating his sacred lineage.
Caught in this massive, life-threatening dilemma, I closed my eyes and massaged my temples, falling into a deep, agonizing silence as I frantically tried to construct a third lie.
I was entirely unaware that my prolonged, heavy silence was causing a massive misunderstanding in the minds of the two princesses.
Seeing lower my head and close my eyes, completely unable to refute their flawless logic, Rumina and Celestia exchanged a deeply aningful look.
To them, my silence wasn’t the panicked stalling of a transmigrator. To them, it was the heavy, resigned silence of a man who had finally been cornered. They thought I was tacitly admitting my hidden identity, choosing to remain silent to protect the sacred secrets of my fallen Empire.
Rumina’s expression softened just a fraction. She had finally unmasked the anomaly. She had gotten her answer.
"I see," Rumina said softly, her tone shifting from an aggressive interrogator to one of quiet, profound respect.
She stood up straight, adjusting her black fur cloak.
"We will not press you any further tonight. You have bled enough for the Empire," Rumina said, her voice carrying a strange, gentle finality. "Rest well, Lucien Ashborne. Or whoever you truly are."
Celestia offered a deep, highly respectful nod—a gesture a royal almost never gave a re cadet—before turning to follow her sister.
The heavy oak doors clicked shut.
I was left sitting alone in the freezing dical ward, my hand still resting on my temple, blinking in utter bewildernt.
Wait... what? What was with that dramatic exit? They didn’t even wait for to formulate an excuse. After rambling on for so long and trapping in a logical corner, they just... left?
I stared at the closed door, a deep sense of foreboding settling into my chest. Sohow, I had the terrible feeling that my silence had just caused a butterfly effect far more dangerous than the monster horde.
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