39 Violence is the Solution

A weighty languor descended upon the room at the boy's bold accusation.

"That is simply outlandish!" I exclaimed with all indignance available. "How dare you plaster such allegations upon my name? I'll not stand for this malign besmirchment, child! I am a man of the cloth!"

"How else would you explain what I had witnessed?!" Lotfi demanded. "I had a night of little sleep - awake when you left the barrack. Out of curiosity and boredom, I decided to watch what you were about to embark on, only to witness a cruel scene like that!" he shivered. "You crushed their skulls like grapes! It's no wonder that you are dubbed the Heretical Crusader!"

"Now, wait, let's allow for level heads to prevail," Arthur interrupted, standing up with his chair's legs grinding against the concrete floor. "Lotfi, how can you be sure that you weren't witnessing some sort of devilish illusion taking the form of Ioann?"

"I never took my eyes off him from the moment he left!" Lotfi wailed. "There was no way for a Devil or Magician to have taken his place throughout that sequence of events, and my vision pierces through illusions just as it does all obstructions! I pray that it isn't true, I hope, indeed, but there was no room for such deceit."

"Then why didn't you tell us earlier?" Wilhelmine questioned, clearly uncomfortable for whatever reason.

"We are six Exorcists, Mientje. Six Exorcists with the duty to stave off dozens of foes," he replied. "As I said, I have deliberated. The chance of a deception muddling my mind to shatter our morale, whether or not I should speak the truth even if it was no ignis fatuus, and various other niggling thoughts. It was a difficult decision, knowing our trying circumstances, but this is my choice. My conscience demands it, and my heart knows as well as my brain!" Lotfi pointed an accusatory finger at me. "That man butchered two good soldiers, I know it, but I will hear his side of the story before resorting to more extreme actions. Speak, criminal!"

All eyes turned to me, and a bit of sweat began rolling down my back.

Damn him. This debacle is salvageable for now, given my reputation and the fact that we are at war with filth, but damn him.

I must rely on the absurdity of his proclamation to avert immediate incrimination and potential incarceration. Past that, only fate may spare me.

"I, frankly, find these accusations foolish and narrow-minded. It is unbelievable that you, my comrades, would even entertain them! Why on earth would I brutalize and murder those two men? All I did that morning was go on a lengthy walk to clear my head, and you attempt to decry and excoriate me!" I declared, pointing my own accusatory finger at the whelp. "Clear your mind of that permeating arrogance, Lotfi. Beings of unknown powers prowl the battlefields of this war, and you have the gall to claim your vision to be infallible."

"Hence my rumination," he shot back, finally closing the door and walking over to the table. "I pondered and brooded for hours, and after much thought, all I've determined is that there was no point for anything nefarious to occur. You woke up, left, went on your jaunt through the streets, had a short conversation with those men - a conversation that turned into an argument - and then you murdered them! You even casted an invisibility spell to stalk the camp unimpeded afterward."

I scoffed. "Yes, I casted an invisibility spell to bypass the curfew. No, I did not vanquish two unfortunate men beforehand. Do you all not hear the incongruity of these claims?! Nay, your eyes haven't been merely tricked - you have been subject to most vile sorceries that subverted your mind. The Devils are forcing you to sow seeds of discord among our ranks! Perhaps you were the cause of those comrades' untimely deaths! It is a theory equivalently ridiculous as what you yourself claim."

"Lotfi, to be truthful," said Marcelo, "I'm having an easier time believing Ioann. The fact that a somewhat lauded Exorcist just woke up and decided to murder a few men is… unnatural, you could say? Uncharacteristic. Either way, a murder mystery is not a good use of our time before a potential battle. Lord knows we'll hardly be able to defend anything as is," he muttered the last sentence.

Curious. I never engaged in much conversation with them past our initial introductions, and it seems everyone has come to the same conclusion.

There is nothing much we can do preemptively to prevent or minimize the damage of an attack. The most we can do is perhaps defend a few notable characters, such as the General, and retaliate against our foes.

But that is irrelevant, now.

"Indeed," Arthur nodded. "With something like this, where it's one - potentially deceived - man's word against another's, it's best to relegate this to someone with authority when we are swapped out. Someone capable of telling lies from truth can simply question Ioann, and they go from there." He nodded again, satisfied. "Yes, that would be best, with fulfilling our duties coming beforehand."

The sweat running down my back turned cold, and I noticed the beginnings of a titanic sweat spot on my armpit. Quickly, I tried my best to clamp down on my roiling sentiments with an iron fist, as that tramp, Dubravka, was inspecting me closely. Never was I a master in the ways of deception, being a righteous fellow through and through - her observations might have gleaned something already, for all I knew.

Lotfi let out a weary sigh and leveled a glare at me. "I hope you prove me wrong."

I let out another scoff, one belying my panicked inner thoughts. Solutions to my predicament were rapidly being theorized, everything from self-hypnosis to various applications of other Magic to sabotage being cycled through.

But one thought prevailed.

I made a horrific mistake. I fumbled.

I should have silenced Lotfi beforehand, given that he informed us of his ability the day before my folly.

…

Lying back on my bed, a disgruntled exhale escaped my nostrils.

That ramshackle mess of a team had given the accuser and I, the accused, a few questioning glances throughout the day, but overall, it had been swept under the rug and left for a later date. It was expected of apparent professionals, though I could tell Wilhelmine, the naive girl, had nearly decided to broach the topic a few times.

There was nothing anyone could do other than hope it wouldn't be a debilitating source of contention, after all, and I was perfectly content with such a state of affairs. For the time being, it allowed me to collect my thoughts and begin damage control.

But, yes, the day continued. Arthur had continued to propose combat tactics and situational plans in the tense makeshift briefing, and with the occasional addition or correction from the other participants, practical simulations were enacted. There was no reason to not begin after any objections were addressed.

I refused to use any of my Holy Energy during them, however, as my reserves could only be replenished twice or so via the objects I had formerly imbued as emergency 'batteries'.

They were essentially mock battle scenarios to see if each cog knew its place and expected duties in the overall system, and it had continued until dusk. Arthur, ever the leader, would shout out what was imaginatively happening in the 'simulation', and everyone would react to what was theoretically presented. Corrections and advice were doled out until a rough - though consistent - cooperation in the midst of combat was achieved.

According to the man behind it all, he would advise us on what to do in the chaos of a real situation, anyway, so a general understanding was preferable over a rigid outline to account for especially anomalous variables.

It was an efficient emulation, I'll give him that. The 'Astute Actuator', as is Arthur's alleged title, was skilled with planning and performing computations thanks to his crutch of a Sacred Gear - its title and physical manifestation currently unknown to me - and so his overall duty would be to watch, call out instructions, and contribute where was needed to come out triumphant. His ability was miraculous, making him out to be a miracle-worker when theorizing and executing machinations, considering how optimal courses of actions were implanted into his brain.

I envied it. My heart ached for such a power.

Imagine what a practitioner of Magic could do with it. The combat applications could be similarly stunning, depending on its limitations. Perhaps I could even fully understand those blasted textbooks of advanced science, the damned things that continued to elude me. With such a tool, I could solve any predicament - it would be an assurance of a victorious outcome in whatever would plague me. But that was not where my thoughts had lain for the day.

I would be excommunicated if I was brought before a truth-teller. An obvious outcome, but one I might, perhaps, be able to forestall. Even now, I should be on my knees, thanking the Lord that no one here can afford to leave when the base could be attacked at any moment - praising God for the fact that we lack methods of remote communication.

That would be inefficient, however, and indicative of guilt to watching eyes. Rather, I should grasp the window of opportunity that divine providence has granted me and twist it to my favor.

A vague outline, but that is why I am meditating on my thoughts rather than having a petulant tantrum.

There were a few options. A risky but easy one would be to hypnotize myself with whatever magical means I had on hand - risky, as the actual truth-telling power of a Sacred Gear or such could potentially bypass such measures, and I was unskilled with such abilities, but easy, considering I had little to do in the grand scheme of things.

There were a few of such natures, but to skip to the end, the most secure option, one that also played into my strengths, is to… be rid of this team. Make sure that they cannot and do not report anything. Successfully executing this means there will be no truth-telling interrogation, never any suspicions or watching eyes cast my way, worrying over the black mark on my record. Excommunication via the crimes this gaggle of mongrels dares to plaster on my name would be impossible.

What would be more possible is execution for treason and such drivel, should the truth come to light. But that is avoidable, should I properly time my backstabbing. Sabotage during an enemy assault would be most optimal, as otherwise, my chances of success are abysmal.

Being truthful, my teammates pose a significant threat. My Holy Energy is not debilitating to them as it is to Devils and Vampires and such - to win, at least a few would need to be dead from the get-go for obvious reasons -

Lotfi jumped out of his bunk, eyes a crystalline blue and staring up at - or, rather, through - the wall, yelling, "We're under attack!"

A boom rang out, numerous other noises following suit - screams among them, though they were largely drowned out by the numerous others.

Throwing myself out of bed and pounding a hole into the wall to view out of, I was greeted with a sight of spell bombardments of flames, accompanying conflagrations, and explosions beginning to descend from the sky, all somewhere around the central area of the camp. Humanoid figures floated above them, only visible by the illuminations of nearby Magic Circles and the light of the fire itself.

A smile creeped up my face.

My prayers have been answered.

And I'll not blunder in retribution a second time.

…

"Ioann, shoot the one in green!" Arthur commanded, most of us standing on top of a still-intact building. Dubravka had been placed on guard duty with the General beforehand, as keeping him, at the very least, alive was paramount, while Wilhelmine was setting up an advantageous battlefield for us with her barbed wire.

I had no qualms with Arthur's command. My scope revealed the forms of ten Devils, blocking out the starlight and raining down their vile hellfire. Occasionally, multiple Devils would collectively work on a spell to create stronger blazes.

An explosion from the more faroff section of the camp housing munitions and ordnance revealed the position of the other Devils, though they were a later target. The only chance for us to win was to take out one group with our full power before moving onto the next, rather than spreading ourselves too thin and accomplishing nothing, and thus was the plan.

Besides, the Devils could continue rampaging over there for all it mattered. Our team never possessed the faculties to prevent attacks such as these.

The goal was retaliation, and aiming my rifle at roughly a forty-five degree angle from approximately five hundred meters away, I was about to make steps towards that end.

I pulled the trigger - and promptly missed.

Muttering an unkind word or two, I cycled the bolt.

Sniping involves accounting for wind direction, elevation, and drop. I had no idea how to deal with any of those when firing upward, especially not when suffocating infernos were affecting the atmosphere and winds. Their heat shimmer also distorted my distance vision, effectively twisting my perception. Additionally, bracing the rifle stock against my shoulder while aiming up was not quite what one would call optimal stability.

All of this is to say, I missed by several meters, judging by the fact the Magic Circle my bullet inadvertently shattered was nowhere near my target.

"I missed."

Arthur let out a shaky sigh, running his hands through his hair and glancing at the street where Wilhelmine was setting up her measures. "...Very well. That is within acceptable margins of failure. Now, just -"

An unseen yet savage blow crashed into my skull, leaving me dazedly contemplating why I took off my helmet before the failed snipe, and sending me into oblivion.

###

MC is harboring murderous urges (that I accidentally caused with the unearthed murder development) while they're under attack from a Devil regiment. What could go wrong?

Also, yeah, the low number of Exorcists sounds weird when you view things from a total war scenario, but this isn't really total war yet (the Magicians (especially Simon Magus) view it as so, though, for reasons not shown just yet, as seen by how they sent more people than is really expected from them). If it was a super serious thing, the Four Satans would've leveled Europe and the Angels would've come out to play.

I forget exactly when/how I explained the details, but the reasons for the war were generally that Heaven/the Church was throwing their weight around too much and making everyone tense, and both factions were beginning to get particularly ambitious/greedy with gains in the mortal world.

TL;DR: The factions aren't in a hateful total war yet, and since the Church is worried about conserving the secret of the supernatural, they've refrained from sending everyone available and limited themselves to people that can probably pass themselves off as just supersoldiers.

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