Fate Savior - Chapter 101 - Vol. 2 - Chapter 9: Executor

Zepia shared a bit more information about the village and assured them he wouldn't interfere with their activities in Blackmore. With that, the two left the windmill cottage.

“Never expected even the Director of the Atlas Institute to show up... This village really isn't simple,” Shiomi said, standing on the hillside overlooking the valley below.

From the windmill’s vantage point, he had a clear view of the cemetery and the swampy terrain beyond. That area sat higher than the graveyard, making it hard to see from ground level.

“But I didn’t think you’d only ask for something like that in the end,” Aesc said, adjusting the edge of her hood as she pulled it back over her head.

Shiomi crossed his arms. “Come on, at least try to recognize your own value. Most Clock Tower Magi claim Servants are just familiars, but they’re all secretly dying to study their mysteries. Especially someone like you—if the Clock Tower doesn’t want to research you themselves, they’ll just sell your information to the Wandering Sea.”

In other words, only the Atlas Institute, with its focus on alchemy and its primary goal of retrieving the seven ancient contracts issued over the past two thousand years, had little interest in someone like Aesc.

Even so, Shiomi had decided to secure her secrecy by making Zepia owe him a favor—ensuring he would stay silent about her continued existence after the Holy Grail War.

After all, if things escalated to a fight with the Director of the Atlas Institute just to keep her identity hidden, it wouldn't stop at Blackmore Village, population under a hundred. The fallout would be far worse—definitely not in Shiomi’s best interest.

Better to reach a quiet, mutual understanding.

“Cautious as ever... that’s so you,” Aesc murmured with rare praise.

Clear on the little things, never missing the big ones.

Shiomi held Aesc’s hand as they walked slowly down the hill and soon ran into Gray, who had come looking for them.

“Um, Mr. Belsack asked me to show you around the village,” Gray said. She wasn’t wearing her hood this time, and her demeanor seemed subtly changed now that she was facing the two of them.

Aesc pulled her hand from Shiomi’s and extended it toward Gray.

“Thank you kindly. The road’s a bit rough, so I’ll trouble you to hold my hand, Gray.” Her voice was composed, regal.

Even through the cloak, Gray was quietly captivated by Aesc’s presence. Just like Shiomi had earlier, she offered her hand to Morgan without hesitation.

“Sorry, I need to head over to the church. I can’t join the tour,” Shiomi said to Aesc. “Gray, I’ll leave her in your care for now.”

“Alright, go on,” Aesc said with a slight tilt of her chin. Their eyes met briefly in the shadows beneath her hood.

Shiomi nodded and turned toward the church on the village’s northern edge.

In truth, he drew much more attention than Aesc did. She looked like a cloaked, conservative woman, but his clearly Eastern features stood out starkly from the local villagers.

Every time he passed someone on the roadside, he could feel their curious stares.

But Shiomi had anticipated that and made a point of acting completely natural, heading straight toward the church without doing anything suspicious. The villagers assumed he was affiliated with the church and didn’t give him a second thought.

Church layouts rarely varied much. He slipped through a side door near the end of the chapel, walked a few steps into the corridor, and was promptly stopped by a voice calling out to him.

“I didn’t expect you to still be here,” a woman’s voice called from behind.

Although they’d only exchanged a brief greeting yesterday, Shiomi recognized the voice immediately.

“Are you talking to me alone?” He turned with a smile. “Or do you mean the others too, Executor?”

Sister Ilumia’s expression shifted at once. The mild displeasure on her face was quickly replaced by a sharp glint of killing intent.

“Of course I mean the woman with you,” she said. “But to recognize I’m an Executor... You’re clearly not an ordinary Magus.”

“Naturally. For various reasons, I’ve had to work with Executors from the Holy Church as part of my duties with the Mage’s Association,” Shiomi replied, watching her closely. “People like you, who’ve mastered mysteries beyond just the Sacrament of Baptism Rite, can be recognized from a mile away.”

Ilumia’s face slowly returned to neutral, like a mask of polished stone. Her right hand slipped from the sleeve of her habit, fingers pinching the hilts of several Black Keys.

“I’ve heard of you—the Eastern Magus from the Association.”

“Alright, alright, no need to glare like that.” Shiomi lightened his tone, signaling that he had no hostile intentions—and certainly wasn’t a spy sent to probe the Church. “Actually, this could be a perfect opportunity for us to work together. Question is—do you have the authority to respond to what’s coming?”

“What?” Ilumia narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“Don’t judge me just because I’m a Magus—I’m quite familiar with how the Church operates,” Shiomi said as he slowly stepped closer. “The Church aims to stamp out dangerous beliefs before they take root. And here, the devotion to the Black Madonna and King Arthur is far more intense than anywhere else.”

Her sleeve fluttered as she quickly pulled her hand back, letting go of the Black Keys.

Because Shiomi had hit the exact nerve.

To the Church, King Arthur was undeniably a heresy. The reason people believed Arthur was aligned with the Church was that his legend had become so deeply entangled with local faith.

While much of the Arthurian mythos was indeed shaped by Church doctrine, the figures that filled those tales—court magicians, witches, and royal heirs—were inextricably bound to native beliefs.

“So what is it you’re planning to do here, Magus?”

“Something that’s in the Church’s best interest, of course.” Shiomi held up a finger. “Even Executors, with your unshakable faith—surely you’re tired of this endless surveillance assignment? As someone who stands at the top of those permitted to practice the Church’s secret rites, I imagine it wears on you.”

He spoke deliberately, every word aimed to persuade—because it was the nun, not the bloated priest, who truly held power here. That man was merely her subordinate.

“Especially now, after that girl in the village underwent a transformation... The long-dormant faith of the past thousand years is stirring again. If you don’t act fast to suppress it quietly, this will spiral into something the Church can’t easily walk away from.”

Ilumia responded with a practiced, formal smile.

“Then let’s hear what you came here to do, Magus.”