I Made a Game Featuring Constellations-Chapter 90.1

"Kneel, you bastard!"

Thwack!

"Urgh!"

A middle-aged man collapsed powerlessly to the ground under the force of the Inquisitor's brutal kick.

Bound by chains on his wrists and ankles, the man could do nothing but endure the blows.

The sight that greeted Oscar as he rushed out after reviewing the new list of designated heretics was grim.

‘...McGuy.’

Oscar bit his lip as he took in the pitiful state of McGuy Zaborg, who had been arrested alongside other heretics.

Even as the Inquisitor-General, his authority couldn’t override the absolute orders of the higher council that designated heretics.

Oscar had no way of freeing McGuy.

"Inquisitor-General, sir!"

The Inquisitors, escorting dozens of bound heretics and suspects, saluted as Oscar approached.

He returned their salute with a grim expression, his face remaining stern.

"My, my. McGuy Zaborg, a heretic? How tragic."

Oscar’s lieutenant approached, pipe in mouth, smirking.

"Looks like we’ve lost a useful source of funding. What a pity."

It seemed the lieutenant assumed Oscar’s sour mood was due to losing an important “benefactor.”

"...Yeah."

Oscar pulled out his own pipe and lit it.

"Truly... tragic."

It was a goddamned reality.

After ordering the Inquisitors to treat McGuy with care, Oscar hurried back to his office and began scouring the historical records of past heretics.

Was there a loophole?

Was there any precedent of a heretic surviving once marked?

Was there a way to prove one’s innocence and escape execution?

There wasn’t.

Once someone was marked as a heretic, they all died.

Whether they fought against their fate, accepted it on the gallows, or begged for mercy, none escaped death.

Not even the Inquisitor-General’s authority could save a confirmed heretic.

However, there was something unusual.

Among those marked as confirmed heretics, there was a commonality:

Every single one of them had broken at least one law.

It didn’t matter whether it was a cruel decree or a mundane rule.

Even if their crimes hadn’t been discovered at the time of their arrest, the interrogation process by the Inquisitors would uncover the violation.

McGuy Zaborg, for example, had committed a severe offense by smuggling out heretical suspects, a crime known only to Oscar.

"...This doesn’t make sense."

Oscar realized the absurdity of the situation.

Heretic designations were not made by Inquisitors.

They were unilateral directives from the higher council.

How, then, did the council—sitting comfortably behind their desks, uninvolved in investigations—know about these hidden crimes?

A chill ran down his spine.

What exactly is this heretic designation process?

How does it work?

Knock knock.

"Sir, as per your orders, all the other heretics except McGuy Zaborg have been interrogated."

"Good work."

"What should we do with McGuy Zaborg?"

Visit fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm for the best novel reading experi𝒆nce.

"Keep him in the underground interrogation room. I’ll handle his interrogation and execution personally."

The protocol was clear: confirmed heretics were to be executed on the same day.

The public execution ceremony was imminent.

Oscar considered escaping with McGuy beyond the empire’s borders, but with injured suspects in tow, such a journey was impossible.

There was only one way to save McGuy.

In the dimly lit underground interrogation room, McGuy sat bound to a chair.

Seeing Oscar enter, McGuy’s expression was one of resigned acceptance, as though confirming his suspicions about why he had been marked.

Oscar wanted to correct the misunderstanding but didn’t have the time.

"McGuy Zaborg, listen carefully."

"...?"

Oscar pulled a small pill from his coat.

"This pill will make you appear dead for three hours. Everyone will believe you’ve died."

The pill was a common narcotic, typically harmless, but combined with specific agents, it would temporarily halt all vital signs.

Oscar had learned about its effects during his time as a security captain.

"I’ll sneak you out by passing you off as a corpse. You’re skilled enough to make it out of the empire alone, aren’t you?"

"...?"

McGuy stared at him, utterly bewildered.

"We don’t have time!"

Without further explanation, Oscar forced the pills into McGuy’s mouth.

"Mmpph! Mmm!"

A moment later, McGuy went limp, his pulse undetectable.

He looked convincingly dead.

Oscar slung McGuy over his shoulder and stepped out.

"Hey, you there!"

"Yes, Inquisitor-General!"

"The heretic died during interrogation. Who’s handling the bodies today?"

"I am, sir!"

"Good. You’ll assist me with the corpse disposal. Notify the others."

Oscar carried McGuy out, maintaining an air of authority.

He placed McGuy among the other bodies in the wagon's storage compartment, keeping him hidden.

The wagon eventually reached the central headquarters of the grand council, located in the heart of the capital.

‘...Why is the disposal site here?’

Oscar found it strange.

Rather than an isolated location, the site was heavily guarded and near the central council chambers.

The wagon descended into an underground facility, stopping in front of a dark, ominous incinerator.

"This is strange..."

Oscar’s unease deepened as he observed the peculiar black flames within the incinerator.

There were no visible materials being burned, no staff operating the incinerator, and yet it consumed the bodies completely.

‘This flame... could it be...?’

Just as the realization struck him—

[A heretic within the Inquisitors themselves?]

Whoosh!

The black flame surged out of the incinerator, grabbing a nearby Inquisitor.

"Arghhh!"

The flame, taking on the form of a hand, dragged the screaming Inquisitor into the incinerator.

His body melted away grotesquely in an instant, his final expression etched with agony.

"Dammit!"

It was clear the flames had detected McGuy’s survival.

Staying here any longer would be suicide.

Grabbing the limp McGuy, Oscar leapt onto one of the wagon’s horses, cutting the reins free.

"Hyah!"

The horse galloped toward the exit as the black flames pursued them.

Using [Infernal Dominion], the power of a contracted demon king, Oscar unleashed a wide-area lava attack to block the flames.

Crash!

The wagon smashed through the heavy gates, and Oscar burst into the open.

He didn’t stop, pushing the horse onward, distancing himself from the city.

***

Escaping the outskirts of the imperial capital wasn’t as difficult as Oscar had anticipated.

Though he didn’t know the true nature of the black flames, his status as the Inquisitor-General remained intact for the time being.

"Greetings, Inquisitor-General!"

Every soldier they passed saluted him.

By simply claiming to be on a special mission, he was able to bypass every checkpoint without issue.

They had traveled far from the capital when a rustling sound came from behind him.

"Inquisitor-General?"

McGuy stirred from where he had been slumped in the back of the saddle.

"What... what’s going on?"

Oscar explained everything as he continued riding:

How he had faked McGuy’s death to save him, the black magic deeply rooted in the heart of the capital, and the fact that they were now fleeing toward the imperial border.

"This... is hard to believe," McGuy murmured, still processing the revelations.

Oscar understood.

Even he, having witnessed it all firsthand, struggled to grasp the full scope of the truth.

How could McGuy trust him, not knowing for sure if he was truly an ally?

"Whatever it is, thank you for saving me," McGuy said finally. "To risk so much for me..."

"...It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done."

Oscar thought back.

To him, as a player who could restart after death, the risks felt insignificant.

But for McGuy, the stakes had been fatal.

Despite the danger, McGuy had saved countless lives.

His actions were far nobler than anything Oscar, a mere bystander, could ever hope to achieve.

"I’ve seen it all through your memories," Oscar said.

"My memories?"

"You didn’t know? Inquisitors can read the memories of their subjects during interrogation."

"...What?"

McGuy’s face turned to one of shocked disbelief.

"I saw everything. Your deeds, your sacrifices. Using your own resources to save the innocent... I saw it all."

"...Inquisitor-General..."

Oscar smiled faintly.

"Hah. Compared to a true hero like you, I’m nothing. To risk my life for a man like you—it’s a small price to pay."

"Inquisitor-General, I..."

"Enough. I’m no longer the Inquisitor-General. Call me Oscar."

Oscar focused on the reins, guiding the horse forward.

"It’s unfortunate that your mine and guild have been confiscated. But beyond the border, there are people you saved.

"With their help, you can rebuild. And if you’re worried about those left behind, we could form a group to rescue more heretical suspects.

"With your resourcefulness and my past authority, what could we not accomplish? So, what do you say? Will you join me as a friend?"

"...Of course, Oscar," McGuy replied with a faint smile.

"Truly? I’m honored!"

"To be honest, I don’t care about the guild anymore. I feel lighter knowing I can save even more people outside the Empire.

"And to call someone like you a friend... the honor is mine."

"Ha ha ha! Good."

Oscar felt elated.

He had saved McGuy, abandoned the oppressive role of Inquisitor-General, and now had a noble goal to pursue.

The thought of forming a rescue group with McGuy filled him with purpose.

The horse carried the two men toward the imperial border.

Their first objective would be to rescue the heretical suspects left behind in McGuy’s confiscated mine.

However, Oscar’s thoughts took a sudden turn.

Wait... There’s something I overlooked.

He, too, had received something from the Empire.

The power he’d used to interrogate McGuy—the special ability granted to Inquisitors.

That power wasn’t his own.

If the council has access to beings capable of granting such powers...

How did I even manage to escape this far?

As the horse approached the border—

Wooooom.

A black magic circle appeared beneath Oscar.

The sigil erupted upward, attempting to engulf him.

Time seemed to slow.

Oscar realized he couldn’t avoid the circle.

One thing was clear: the sinister energy radiating from it promised nothing good.

As the magic circle surged upward—

Thud!

Someone shoved him with incredible force.

Crash!

Oscar hit the ground, thrown from his horse.

Slash!

From where he lay, he could see McGuy atop the horse, now split in two by the black magic circle.