Chapter 65: S2. Resentment Wished Upon The Stars – 8
The fanatics, clad in white cowls, circled the mansion, letting out incomprehensible shrieks, much like moths drawn to the dim glow of a faded lamp, embodying a sparkling innocence.
Intoxicated by religious ecstasy, they drooled and cackled madly. The white flames consuming Abraham’s mansion only fueled their faith and belief. The stars sang, blessing this sacred place.
In the midst of this whirlwind of joy, Saintess Tara found herself—
Uwegh.
A sickening revulsion so intense that she felt the urge to vomit.
From the shadows of those clad in white, Tara saw the priests of the Goddess Church. They blindly followed, ready to sacrifice everything to fulfill the will of the one they served. Tara could not understand it at all.
How can you laugh like that? The flames are hugging your body, burning from your limbs! Your ankles are twisted and swollen from dancing carelessly, ignoring your own well-being!
The flames seemed to writhe as if trying to erase everything a single human had left behind. Memories engraved in the house, his tender paternal love, brief moments stitched together— all consumed by that snow-white faith, reduced to mere entertainment for the fanatics.
Her vision wavered, tears pooling and making everything blur.
If living as an accessory to a god, discarding all other values, truly brought such joy… If abandoning family and friends was something you could so easily do for that joy—
Then, what truly needed to be abandoned was—
TARA-!!
Someone grabbed Tara’s shoulder and called her name loudly. As if awakening from a dream, Tara shuddered, shaking off the numbing thoughts clouding her mind.
As she regained her focus and looked forward, she saw a man with ash-gray hair covering half of his face. The colors from the flames reflected on him, making him appear ghostly pale at a glance.
A person with whom she had bickered incessantly in such a short time.
Bennett.
“Snap out of it! This isn’t the time! Niolle went into the mansion first. I’ll hold off these lunatics, so you go in and save Abraham!”
Bennett said, drawing his longsword and charging forward. The fanatics, unwilling to allow anyone to disturb their festival, screamed and chanted spells, all while burning their own limbs in the process.
Crashhh-!
The sound of breaking, slashing, stomping, and the very atmosphere shaking. Despite the noises of battle resonating close by, it felt like they were coming from a distant place. Her head felt hazy.
Right. Abraham.
Saintess Tara stumbled into the mansion, her mind filled with only one image.
The house where her mom and dad lived. Her triumphant return. As she pondered what to say upon their reunion, she placed her fingers on the doorknob, twisting her wrist to open it. One step forward, intending to pour out the worries and love she had bottled up for a month.
Cautiously calling out names.
The door slowly opened, revealing the interior of the house from the right side. The shelf decorated with family memories, her dad’s favorite round chair, the pillar that marked her growth over the years, the round table where they gathered for meals. And then—
Pale fingers.
Haggard wrists, forearms, shoulders—two corpses sprawled out. Flies buzzed around, the smell of decay wafting through the air, unidentified liquids staining the floor, swollen feet, and…
A wooden statue of the benevolent Goddess, gazing down upon it all from the left wall.
Having already lost loved ones once, she felt she couldn’t bear to lose again.
So please, let this time be different.
“Abraham!”
Her thoughts echoed, filled with the agony of repeated regret. Let it not be too late this time.
===============================================================
The pale flames seemed to burn through time and space. If those flames grazed her while wandering the mansion, rather than causing blisters, they generated wrinkles and age spots instead—as if aging her on the spot.
Saintess Tara enveloped herself in mana. With this shield, she could resist the snow-white flames. She entered the mansion, looking anxiously around. There were no signs of Abraham at their dining table, nor in the cozy armchair by the fireplace.
Then, on the wall leading to the second floor, she noticed an arrow drawn with a pen. It seemed Niolle had left some directions. Saintess Tara raced upstairs, following the arrow.
The arrow led her to a trapdoor. An entrance to the rooftop where the stars could be clearly seen. Saintess Tara climbed the ladder that had already been lowered from the trapdoor, gripping the last rung and pulling herself up.
The night sky greeted her.
Though the mansion burned, casting a snow-white glow, the stars above shone brightly and clearly. Saintess Tara sensed the watchful gaze of something. Each star felt like someone’s eye, as if a grand, holy being observed her every move.
Looking back down to the ground, she spotted Niolle standing still, gazing blankly. She stood before the table where Abraham stored his observational data.
“Niolle! Where is Abraham?!”
Silence answer her. Perhaps that silence was the answer itself. Tara shook her head, refusing to accept it.
No. No way. And carefully, she stepped forward, intention of grabbing Niolle and asking her.
If it was Niolle, with her keen eyesight, she surely could find a trace of Abraham. If only she could say, “It seems Abraham has escaped. He is definitely still alive.” If only she would admit it.
But before Tara’s outstretched hand could reach Niolle, she collapsed. It was as if an immense, unbearable weight had settled upon her shoulders.
Then, the truth behind her silhouette was revealed.
On the table lay Abraham’s decapitated head, offered up as a burnt sacrifice.
===============================================================
The fanatics appeared frail, lacking any defensive measures. Their reaction speeds and movements were at the level of ordinary people unable to wield mana, thus making it easy to defeat them with mere physical force.
However, their lethality was chillingly high.
KKEUAAAAAAAH!
Crackkkk. Snap.
One fanatic completed their chant, contorting like a twisted towel, dying in a spiral shape. At the cost of their lives, the power of a grand being roaming the cosmos was unleashed—a bullet warping space itself.
Their magic seemed to blend elements of Black Magic and Divine Power—sacrificing something to cast it and borrowing power from beyond.
“Instant Glaciation.”
Shaaaah-!
Bennett conjured ice beneath his shoes, sliding away just in time to dodge the spell. Even merely avoiding the spells was enough to diminish the number of fanatics. They could win simply by playing defensively without overexerting themselves.
As a Magic Knight wielding both magic and swordsmanship, his skills shone in this defensive battle. He countered various variables with magic while relying on his swordsmanship for lethality.
“Rock Generation.”
Thus, Bennett had broadly learned various spells instead of focusing on just one type of magic. Magic was merely a tool to compensate for lacking utility.
Whoosh-!
Thwack!
A pointed rock thrown by Bennett shattered a fanatic’s skull. After landing the hit, Bennett smashed through a wall and dove into a room within the mansion. A deluge of magic poured down upon the vanished afterimage of Bennett.
Rooooooooar-!
With a trembling sound resonating through the air, the mansion’s outer wall twisted and collapsed. Bennett emerged from his hiding, throwing two more rocks beyond the broken exterior.
Th-Thwack.
With nearly simultaneous sounds of impact, two more bodies tumbled down. Their forms flopped and fell, consumed in the snow-white flames, decaying without leaving even a burnt stench behind.
He could likely last another hour fighting like this, but…
The mansion creaked as it burned and crumbled. It would be foolish to rely on it for cover, for it might collapse before he could save Abraham.
However, fighting in the open without cover posed great danger. While the Saintess could block the incoming spells and Bennett could defend using his sword, the consumption of mana was considerable. They had no idea how many enemies could appear, so it was wise to conserve as much mana as possible.
Bennett had a solution to all these dilemmas.
Black Magic.
This was also why he didn’t limit himself to a single school of magic. Magic involving souls as materials could amplify tremendously in power, regardless of how haphazardly it was learned.
Should he utilize it? But—
If Saintess Tara detected the remnants of Black Magic, it might pose severe trouble. The Saintess would never accept a Black Magician; that meant Bennett would have to kill both Tara and Niolle.
As he contemplated, the fanatics turned their heads and gazed up at the night sky, as if waiting for something. Now? Bennett felt a profound unease swell within him.
He glanced upward. The night sky appeared swollen.
What once seemed flat now had an odd curvature to it. Like a balloon about to pop, ready to unleash something upon the earth.
Without a second thought, Bennett dashed out of the mansion. Whatever was on the verge of happening, they needed to get out of there quickly. Following the arrows left by Niolle, he sped toward the rooftop.
And there, he faced Abraham’s severed head.
===============================================================
Tara, apparently in severe shock, lay sprawled, vomiting tears and bile. Niolle stood frozen, her eyes vacant, staggering as if lost in a nightmare. And Abraham had been decapitated.
The mansion blazed around them. Each flicker of the flames cast dozens of shadows that danced about before vanishing. The scene was nothing short of hellish.
What on earth…
Bennett steadied himself and surveyed the horror surrounding them.
Abraham’s head had been mutilated, resembling something butchered like pig or cow. His tongue lay severed, his eye sockets hollow and dark, and his lips sewn into a grotesque, frozen grin. His forehead bore the mark of a living sacrifice.
A burnt offering.
Someone had offered even Abraham’s soul. Bennett understood what the act of offering a soul meant, and the agony tied to it. Abraham must have endured unimaginable pain, and perhaps, even now, he was still screaming in torment.
There was writing found, scrawled in blood.
“As we have received a flawed female goat, we are naturally grateful and thus offer this.”
It was a nonsensical rant, the delusions of a madman.
A furious blaze ignited within Bennett. However, he did not let rage consume him. He still had tasks to complete. They needed to escape this dreadful fate and vacate the premises.
“Tara! Niolle! Snap out of it!”
“This time… I was… too late… again…”
!!
Slap!
Bennett struck Tara across the face. Her head snapped to the side, and for just a moment, the vacant gaze in her eyes sharpened with focus.
“We need to get out of here! The night sky looks strange! Something is coming! If we stay put, we’ll die like dogs! Hurry up and let’s move!”
Seeing Niolle still unresponsive, Bennett hoisted her over his shoulder and seized Tara by the wrist, dragging her along. If there had been time, he would have wanted to take a moment to give Abraham’s severed head a proper farewell, but right now, the priority was to save the other two.
With that, Bennett ran for their lives. The dreadful presence looming above the mansion only intensified with each passing moment. He dashed away like someone fleeing a time bomb, until finally—
He halted at the spot where he’d first met Abraham.
A refuse collection site. The boundary separating the slums from the outside world. The clothing bin seemed to shine a welcoming green for their reunion, while a broken street lamp flickered feebly.
Bennett set Niolle down and released Tara’s wrist. He slumped to the ground, exhausted, and gazed back at Abraham’s mansion.
Some thing—
A shape formed from the night sky and stars, an indescribable entity so vague, so formless it was impossible to predict its substantial effectiveness. It blinked eyes shaped by constellations and flicked its tongue, dark as the vast universe.
It opened its mouth wide to swallow the entire mansion. Then, as if in compensation, it spat something dark and formless onto the ground. From a distance, it was hard to make out clearly.
But there was no denying that they were monsters.
Monsters had been unleashed into the city.
Niolle, standing in a daze, bit her fingertip until it bled. Then, she scraped her bloodied finger against the rough asphalt, writing.
“If I hadn’t tried to save that person, would Abraham have lived?”
“No, he would’ve died. Stop thinking useless thoughts. The Silver Twilight Church bastards would have attacked, whether we were there or not. I would’ve abandoned Abraham, no matter what you two say.”
“Thank you for saying that, Bennett.”
“Stop it already. Don’t write anymore. It’s a waste of a healing spell just for your finger. We need to conserve our mana. We should head to a safe place.”
The temporary base mentioned in the report: 201 Carter Street, East Shopping Mall, 2nd Floor.
They had gathered items collected during their scouting missions, making it the best alternative now that they no longer had a home. They had to move. Just as Bennett was about to urge Tara and Niolle to speed up when…
“We’ll depart for the secret safe house mentioned by the investigator. In 10 minutes.”
Bennett allowed them a moment. It seemed they needed a little time to stitch their broken hearts, mourn, and gather the strength to rise again.
As the stars and moon held hands, eyeing the earth with mockery, the only comfort was the flickering light from the street lamp.
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