Chapter 4: A Jail Cell in the Holy Sanctuary

The next day, they resumed their journey. Finally, George reined in his horse before the sheer, rocky wall of a narrow canyon.

Gima had a pretty good idea of what was happening and watched him expectantly. George pulled a rolled-up parchment from his pack, its surface covered in runes that pulsed with a faint arcane power. As he began to chant in a low, resonant voice, the pale green runes on the scroll lifted off, transforming into shimmering points of light that gradually coalesced into an oval-shaped portal.

Teleportation magic can’t take you directly into the human world from the demon realm; it only works at a few specific, fixed locations. And those locations are heavily guarded by the Demon Lords. The moment a portal opens, a flying unit is dispatched to destroy it. This area must be under the jurisdiction of another Demon Lord.

Gima couldn’t help but glance up at the drab gray sky.

Half an hour later, the portal had fully formed. In all that time, only a single, bored-looking crow had flown overhead.

Well, well, well. No wonder the Hero managed to storm my castle so easily. It seems someone “abandoned the darkness and embraced the light.” You treacherous little backstabber! Gima silently, meticulously, added a very disloyal name to the little black book she kept in her heart.

George grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her toward the swirling portal.

Gima couldn't resist looking back one last time at the familiar black earth and pale gray sky of her homeland before stepping through the portal with George. A wave of gut-wrenching dizziness washed over her.

When Gima’s vision cleared, she was nearly blinded by an overwhelming, almost offensive, silver glare.

Looking closely, she saw they were completely surrounded, packed in by stoic, silver-armored soldiers armed with gleaming halberds. They all wore the same style of ridiculous bucket-helm as George.

A hundred identical bucket-helms. I can’t help but wonder if the Holy Sanctuary has a water shortage or if this is just their idea of high fashion.

“Stand your ground and prepare for inspection!” a squad leader commanded, his voice muffled by his helmet.

The Holy Sanctuary guards looked utterly relaxed, their posture screaming that this was all just a boring, routine procedure. Some were even mentally complaining about the stuffy old rules. The great Hero George is powerful and righteous beyond measure; he doesn't need to be inspected. It’s a total waste of time to call everyone out to make a show of force every single time a portal is opened. They stood with their halberds, hoping the inspection would be over quickly so they could get back to… whatever it is Paladins do for fun.

“Begin detection of good and evil.”

At the sound of a cold, disembodied female voice, a faint white light descended from above. A gentle, warm white aura emanated from George, while Gima was instantly enveloped in a lurid, pulsating red glow that basically screamed EVIL.

After a brief, very awkward silence, the guards scrambled to grab their halberds, pointing them menacingly at Gima in the center. The clattering of halberds against silver armor was a chaotic, panicked symphony.

George calmly dropped his holy sword. “Brothers,” he said with unwavering confidence, “this is a captive I rescued from the Demon Lord’s clutches.”

With a dramatic flourish, he pulled back the hood of Gima’s cloak, revealing her adorable, delicate face and her shockingly cute, and very demonic, little horns.

“I will guide her onto the path of righteousness,” George declared.

The captain in charge of the inspection stumbled back two steps and turned to bellow an order. “Quick! Inform the Cardinal and Commander Keaton! The Hero has likely been bewitched by a succubus!”

He then spun back to face George. “Hero George, please raise your hands, place them behind your head, and squat on the ground. Do not move.”

George gave a wry, long-suffering smile and obediently squatted down, clasping his hands behind his head. For a moment, he was exactly the same height as Gima.

Gima almost burst out laughing. She peeked at George’s face. There was no resentment, as she’d expected, only a hint of a pout, like a child who’d been unfairly sent to his room.

What a good, obedient boy.

Before long, a red-robed Cardinal with a flowing white beard and hair arrived. His face was gaunt, with a neat goatee, and his eyes shone with a silver light of piercing wisdom, giving him the air of a world-weary life mentor. He wore a red robe with gold trim, and two silk ribbons embroidered with golden holy precepts hung from his chest.

As he approached, Gima felt as if a mountain were pressing down on her.

The Cardinal glanced at her, his eyes filled with a profound disgust, as if he were looking at a pile of festering, environment-polluting shit. Gima instantly felt as if she were tied to a burning stake, with holy flames licking at her skin. She couldn’t help but let go of George’s hand and take a shuffling step back. Only then did the scorching sensation vanish.

The Cardinal immediately performed a divine spell to check George’s mental state, confirming he was, at least, of sound mind.

“George, what is the meaning of this?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“I want to redeem her,” George said earnestly. “She is just another poor victim of that monster.”

“Do you recall your lessons on the nature of succubus?”

“I do.”

“Then you know this is a deception.”

“I cannot abandon her. It is my oath,” George said, his face a mask of stubborn righteousness.

The Cardinal took a deep, shaky breath. To Gima, he looked exactly like a distraught father whose straight-A, honor-roll son had just announced he was dropping out of college to join a pyramid scheme.

Looks like not everyone in the Holy Sanctuary is a complete idiot.

“You have violated the precepts… But never mind that, you’ve already made an oath.”

The Cardinal thought for a moment and decided against speaking too harshly. George was a once-in-a-millennium genius, and he was at that age where he was full of hot-blooded, heroic passion. It was somewhat understandable that he might be temporarily bewitched by a pretty face. Young people always make mistakes. He needed guidance, not suppression, which might inadvertently push him down an evil path. It was better to be lenient and let him come to his senses on his own.

“You know the penance for violating a precept,” the Cardinal said faintly.

“Car... Cardinal,” George stammered, his face flushing. “Th-there’s one more thing.”

For some reason, Gima felt her own face grow hot.

What could possibly make the brave, forthright, impossibly dense Hero George act so sheepishly? The gossip-loving soul in everyone present was instantly ignited, and they all perked up their ears, straining to hear. The great hall became so quiet you could hear a mosquito buzz.

The Cardinal glanced at the crimson on George’s face and the suspicious, rosy pink on Gima’s cheeks, and a terrible sense of foreboding washed over him. As a Cardinal who had taken an “Oath of Honesty,” he instinctively spoke his innermost thought aloud:

“Don’t tell me this succubus has taken your virginity.”

A wave of barely suppressed, scandalized gasps swept through the hall.

The great and righteous Hero George, the shining idol of the Holy Sanctuary’s younger generation, the divinely blessed child of God who was seen as utterly flawless… could it be that he had… popped his cherry? With a demon?

“No, no! I haven’t! I didn’t do anything like that!” George frantically denied, looking horrified at the very suggestion.

The Cardinal breathed a huge sigh of relief. He felt he’d been overthinking things. This boy had always been popular with the ladies, and the girls he adventured with were all of unimpeachable standing, with beauty that would make a goddess of love jealous. Even so, George had remained a pious, untouched virgin. It was impossible for him to be seduced so easily by some random little succubus he’d just met.

“Then what is it?” he asked, his voice regaining its composure.

George’s face turned a shade of red that clashed horribly with his armor, and he remained stubbornly silent.

His silence only made everyone’s curiosity burn even hotter.

Cardinal Gregory couldn’t help but press, his patience wearing thin. “What on earth happened, George?”

“I… I only want to say it when there are fewer people around.”

Just as Cardinal Gregory was about to nod in agreement, a soft, sweet, and utterly devastating female voice piped up from below. “Oh, it’s just that he accidentally signed a slave contract with me.”

The low, feminine voice was crystal clear in the dead-silent hall, reaching every single ear. It landed softly, but it created a gossip tsunami of epic proportions in the hearts of all who heard it.

“Whoa!”

One of the guards couldn’t help but let out an impressed gasp. The squad leader immediately shot him a glare that could curdle milk. The guard who had stuck his neck out instantly fell silent, but then a whole group of people to his left gasped in perfect, scandalous unison.

“WHOA!”

“A SLAVE CONTRACT!”

The solemn, sacred hall instantly became as noisy and chaotic as a fish market. The Holy Sanctuary had always advocated for austerity and simplicity, vehemently opposing the extravagant and debauched lifestyles of the nobility. The slave contract, a symbol of carnal sin and depravity, was one of the magics the Sanctuary most fiercely opposed. They preached that anyone who signed such a contract was doomed to an eternity in the deepest, darkest pits of hell. Sometimes, they didn’t mind helping those people get to hell a little faster. Ever since a certain Demon Lord was personally sent to hell by the Sanctuary, the nobles had all, quite coincidentally, become much more chaste and well-behaved.

Countless wide, unbelieving eyes turned to stare at George.

George could almost hear the sound of his glorious, shining public image shattering into a million tiny, irreparable pieces. He couldn’t help but cover his face, unable to meet the horrified, yet strangely thrilled, gazes of his comrades.

Cardinal Gregory looked at George, his expression an incredibly complex mixture of pity, rage, and existential exhaustion. He thought of the ancient story of the hero who slays the dragon only to slowly become a dragon himself. He thought of how this news, if it ever got out, would be a major, indelible stain on the Holy Sanctuary’s pristine reputation, second only to the Great Scandal a thousand years ago when a Saintess eloped with a Demon Lord.

This child is pure of heart, his faith is devout, his sword arm is strong…

Maybe I should just burn them both. It would solve everything so neatly.

The terrible, heretical thought flashed through the beleaguered Gregory’s mind.

The culprit behind all this, Gima, watched with unholy glee, her little tail wagging triumphantly behind her. Tormenting the Hero was a joy for both body and soul. The crushing depression from her previous humiliation and forced subservience was swept away on a wave of pure, unadulterated schadenfreude.

Just then, Cardinal Gregory’s scorching gaze burned towards her. His entire being seemed to transform into a roiling mass of crimson holy fire, as if at any moment he might personally tie her to a stake and burn her alive with his bare hands.

Gima instantly felt as if she were engulfed in holy fire. Her triumphant tail immediately drooped, and she scurried to hide behind George’s legs.

“Hmph,” Gregory snorted heavily, the sound echoing with finality. He said to George in a low, dangerous voice, “You will be put on trial later.”

This was basically a guilty verdict.

“I accept,” George said, lowering his head. “But she is innocent in all of this.”

Hearing this, Gima’s heart sank. Isn’t that just adding fuel to the pyre?

Sure enough, Gregory shot her another look. His eyes screamed ‘DEATH TO THE DEMON THOT.’

Why does it seem like I’m the one who corrupted the Hero and led him astray? Gima wisely kept her mouth shut.

“We will discuss it at the trial,” Gregory said, his voice flat. He then commanded, “Take George into custody.”

“Yes, sir!”

With complicated, pitying expressions, the guards removed George’s silver armor and placed him in heavy iron shackles.

Gima, mimicking George, obediently held out her hands, waiting to be cuffed.

A tall, imposing guard, holding a pair of heavy, cold, black shackles, walked toward Gima. The eyes behind his faceplate were full of vigilance and undisguised disgust. He looked as if he wanted nothing more than to use the shackles in his hands to strangle Gima, the wicked succubus who had caused the Hero’s fall, on the spot.

George looked at Gima with profound guilt, acutely embarrassed that he couldn't keep his promise to protect her. Gregory caught George’s pained expression out of the corner of his eye, raised a hand to stop the guard, and said with a sigh:

“She is just a newborn succubus. Have someone keep an eye on her. That will suffice.”

George breathed a visible sigh of relief.

Gima, who had noticed this entire exchange, silently labeled Cardinal Gregory a ‘sly old fox’ in her mental black book. Whether she wore shackles or not had no real bearing on her ultimate fate. But by letting her go without them, the Cardinal had done the Hero a significant favor, putting him in his debt. It seems the people in the Holy Sanctuary aren’t as simple-minded as the rumors say.

Fifteen minutes later, Gima was escorted to a solitary confinement cell. The iron bars on the window were as thick as her arm, and the rusty metal was faintly inscribed with glowing holy runes that made her skin crawl. Inside, there was a stone table, a stone bed, a toilet, and a single, depressingly plain blanket.

Guarding the cell door were two burly, white-haired matrons who looked like they could wrestle bears for fun.

The heavy cell door slammed shut with a final, resounding CLANG.

“This place could hold a dragon,” Gima said aloud to the empty room, a smirk playing on her lips. “I am deeply honored. This finally befits my true status.”

Now, it was all up to George.

Gima believed that with George's reputation and the immense importance the Holy Sanctuary placed on him, he could probably save one little succubus. But whether he succeeded or not would depend entirely on the strength of his resolve.

She sat on the cold stone bed, her heart unexpectedly filled with a flicker of genuine worry, as the sun in the alien sky outside her window slowly began to set.