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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Mod7
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I ran through the church, the scene before me a gruesome tableau.
White robes stained black, then red. Priests killing priests, the white robes succumbing to the black.
Black was stained with blood, but remained black. White, however, absorbed the crimson, blooming like scattered petals.
The black-robed priests laughed, their voices distorted, maniacal. The white-robed priests chanted, their voices noble, yet faint, overwhelmed.
Something felt wrong.
Even if the black-robed priests were numerous, the white-robed priests, the established clergy, shouldn’t be falling so easily. The church paladins were formidable warriors, capable of handling multiple opponents, especially when bolstered by priestly blessings.
This didn’t make sense.
I pushed the thoughts aside.
“Hehehe… consider it an honor to join our goddess…”
“Her… wrath… cough…”
“H-Help me… Mother Superior!”
Ahead, a black-robed priest held a young child aloft, a knife pressed against their throat, while his foot pinned down an elderly nun.
I ran again. Desperate not to be late, yet silent, unseen.
Closer, closer, until I was right behind him.
A single, swift motion, like cutting through air.
The child, startled by my sudden appearance, stopped crying, hiccuping.
I whispered, my voice barely audible,
“Close your eyes.”
“Huh? What…?”
He heard me, too, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be moving again.
His head spun, blood arcing through the air like a grotesque ribbon.
His body crumpled to the ground with a dull thud.
The child slowly opened their eyes, which widened in shock. The nun scrambled to her feet, pulling the child into her arms.
She looked at me, her eyes filled with fear, her lips trembling.
“Wh-Who are you…?”
“Mother Superior, that… that man…!”
“Stay back, Levin.”
She pushed the child behind her frail, hunched body, a mother protecting her young.
Her voice, though trembling, held a note of defiance as she demanded answers.
Her courage was admirable.
“Get out of here. If you make it outside, report this.”
“What…? W-Wait!”
I didn’t wait for her response. I ran.
Further ahead, two more black-robed priests cornered a young nun. Their lewd smiles and suggestive gestures left no doubt about their intentions.
I closed the distance and ended them quickly. Two swift cuts. Two more thuds.
The nun started to say something, but I couldn’t hear her over the cacophony of screams and dying gasps that filled the church.
I repeated my earlier instructions – Get out. Report this. – then ran again, towards the heart of the chaos, where white screams mingled with black death cries.
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“Hercal, how goes the purification of the church?”
“Smoothly…”
The black-robed man, having finished his prayers before the inverted cross, emerged from the prayer room and addressed the empty air.
An old man materialized behind him, his voice raspy.
Satisfied with the answer, the black-robed man turned as another figure approached.
“Hmm? Is the Saintess dealt with, Antonio?”
“Yes. I’ve placed the bracelet on her. She won’t be able to resist.”
“…If you’re certain, then I won’t question it.”
Antonio, his white robes now stained black, approached. A moon-shaped earring, identical to those worn by the other black-robed priests, adorned his ear.
The black-robed figures walked towards the grand cathedral, the heart of the church.
Stained-glass windows depicted the Goddess and Her symbols, bathing the interior in colorful light. Golden light streamed down from the heavens, creating an atmosphere of reverence.
And in the center of that golden light stood a lone figure in white.
An old man, clutching a black scripture, his white hat casting a shadow over his face.
“What business do you have here? I don’t recall inviting guests of this nature.”
“Hmm… I didn’t expect anyone to still be here. An oversight on my part.”
“…Answer the question.”
Despite his frail appearance, the old man radiated an immense power. The Pope’s eyes glowed, the space around him shimmering with holy energy.
Antonio and the others tensed, sensing the imminent attack, yet their smiles remained fixed, unwavering.
The Pope felt a flicker of unease.
Antonio spoke first.
“Pope, it’s been a while. Haha.”
“…Brother Antonio. Under the circumstances, I can’t say this is a pleasant reunion.”
“A pity. We have no desire for conflict with you.”
The Pope scoffed. They’d desecrated his church, slaughtered his priests, and now they claimed they didn’t want conflict?
Antonio had once been a member of the church, respected, even cherished by some. And now… this betrayal?
His rage boiled, the air crackling with holy power.
Antonio and his companions braced themselves.
“Just checking… you’re not planning on stopping us, are you? Hahaha…”
“Silence, Antonio.”
The Pope thrust his palm forward, unleashing a wave of holy energy. They scattered, dodging the attack, leaving only a handprint scorched onto the floor.
“Is that all—”
“I said, silence.”
Another blast of holy power, this time aimed directly at Antonio. He ducked, and the attack slammed into the wall behind him, leaving a deep crater.
“Ugh…! There are still more of us! We can—”
“Hmph… Impressive.”
“Indeed. He is the Pope, after all.”
His companions seemed more interested in observing the Pope’s power than helping him. Antonio turned, bewildered, following their gaze.
And saw them.
Two massive arms, formed from pure holy energy, materialized behind the Pope. They radiated an intense power, capable of purifying any darkness.
“…People like you don’t deserve Her grace. Rot in hell.”
The Pope clasped his hands together, and the massive arms descended upon Antonio.
Boom!
The impact shook the cathedral, the shockwave shattering furniture and sending dust swirling through the air.
Wind rushed through the cracks in the walls, clearing the dust.
The Pope turned his attention towards the old man, preparing to strike again, when he saw something unexpected.
“My apologies… but we wish to go somewhere else. Somewhere other than the place She resides. And She doesn’t reside in hell, you know. Hehehe…”
“…How did you block that?”
Standing before the Pope, unharmed, was the black-robed man, the massive arms of holy energy held at bay.
Moonlight streamed through the cracks in the wall, illuminating the man’s face, and catching the light, his black, moon-shaped earring gleamed.
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